Talk Thursday: Mea Culpa

Having failed Spanish through out school, I never attempted Latin or Legalese. So I had to look up Mea Culpa. Yes, that is the Girl Scout’s honest truth, while I’ve tried to own up to my guilt(s) through out my adult life, I have stayed away from most acts carrying potential legal ramifications – ergo, I’ve never been faced with Mea Culpa and had to swear an oath on a stack of Bibles.

I pondered…nope can’t admit to that one. I contemplated… Oh, no no…that one is off limits. Hmmm, ohmigawd my daughter reads this I’m not posting that one. So I was going to tell you about the time I rammed my dad’s VW fastback through the garage door. Yeah, I know, I’ve owned that one for years.

But now, charges have been brought up against me in the court of blog that I must address- that of being the mother of a latch-key, McGyver loving, scientific adolescent. Had I known the potential danger involved I would have kept the two teen girls (and their uninvited boyfriend) on board who’d been babysitting her. Wouldn’t that have been lovely?

Instead I had the lady next door keep an “eye on her”, (the opportunity for a sense of freedom and responsibility – or so I told myself) I came home on my break, and was off work by 5 o’clock. Apparently it wasn’t enough. I noticed something was up when my spoons began disappearing (to this day I don’t have matching spoons.) You’ve undoubtedly heard of bee’s knees – well I’ve had the elbows, wings, and bee butts too, cryogenically preserved for a future examination/dissection/experiments that never came along. I frequently had to vacuum out my freezer to find the chicken potpies.

Suddenly, to my horror, I discovered the orange juice was missing. Orange Juice. What the heck is going on with the orange juice? She looked sincere and honest when she said she’d not drunk all the orange juice. Then I found the roll of film. Doused completely in OJ, I’m not sure what was on the roll originally I only saw pulp. Knowing the amount of ammo in our house and being an avid follower of Myth-Busters I am happy to say I found no locks (and therefore doors) with burn marks. It could have turned out sooooo much worse.

Isn’t hindsight amazing? I thought I’d been doing the best I could. My daughter was my life, she was my support system, heck she raised me. She’s long been the voice of sanity in my adult life – I’d fight through hell and back (if I believed in Hell) for her if need be. While she was growing up I gave her my evenings, my weekends, every effort and opportunity I could, and the best of myself – As a parent you know it wasn’t enough.

Sadly, inside yourself you know it’s never enough. I’m not asking absolution, I can’t find absolution in myself – and heck she can’t give it because she loves me and sees it differently. Now I look back realizing I was even worse a parent during her teen years. If possible I’d take it back, do it differently. Yes, I have long felt guilt, heavy smothering guilt over my parenting (or lack there of.) And still despite me, she turned out a great person and a much better parent than I’d ever hoped to be. Isn’t that the strangest fucking gratification? I tried to make this funny, sadly it’s not, it’s just honest.

Guiltily,
Cele