hrgawlik
Sep 23, 2015
Undergraduate / Why I can't eat my waffles like pizza anymore [6]
All my life I had cut my waffles into little triangular slices and eaten them with my fingers, kept my socks in a mix-matched pile that towered over the basket, and hosted huge slumber parties for my birthday each year, but everything changed when my dad got remarried, and a near stranger named Rhonda became my legal mother.
To her, these tendencies were unacceptable occurrences that reflected a clear lapse in judgement by the figure in authority. "Children should learn their manners, do their chores without being told, and more than one friend over at a time is simply ridiculous." It was difficult not to immediately label her as the enemy- after all, she had invaded my comfort zone, and now began rewriting the laws. I felt helpless, voiceless, as if I was about to sit in the audience as the entire character of my family transformed; watching my cozy, laughter-warmed home morph into a strange, formal place that requires the removal of shoes upon entry.
In accordance with my predictions, change did happen- a new schedule, new city, new school, new wrongs, new rights. My stepmom believed all this change was right. I believed it was so very wrong.
However, one night, my dad made a comment,expressing a discovery of a commonality between myself and Rhonda. Naturally I took offense, "I would never be so strict!", I decided indignantly in my head, but then I glanced around at my tidy bedroom floor, at my color coded closet and my hand sanitizer collection. I thought of what I would do if entered a new family where I was met with three young kids and a mountain of chaos. Probably die. No, but I would surely struggle, and I would without a doubt impose order where I saw fit. If I had been taught that utensils were always required, I would, too, cringe at the sight of a ten year old eating a waffle like it was pizza.
Realizing that, though our beliefs may be opposite in many circumstances, there was no need for battle; that we both longed for the same goals- a happy family- mended holes- I decided that her intentions were solely good, and so I owed her nothing less than honest and full respect. Though It was difficult, I accepted each new rule, met each new expectation, and did my best to refrain from complaining. When I felt discouraged and began to brood over the loss of my seemingly pertinent rights, I reminded myself of how much more Rhonda had sacrificed in her decision to take on this challenge, and I kept quiet.
Her input greatly effected the dynamic of my family. Under her jurisdiction, I was appointed greater responsibility. I packed my own lunch, evaluated my own report card, signed up for my own activities, and shopped for my own groceries by the time I was in high school.
As I matured, It became evident that I had been ultimately naive in my perception of Rhonda's actions all along. While she may have seemed a thief; stealing many of my prized privileges, she was in fact a savior; preventing me from forming into an entitled spoiled brat- to be frank. She grew up with an alcoholic mother, nearly raised herself and her twin brother, and thus uncovered the value of self-sufficiency. The touch of this varied energy in my home is the reason I have developed a self starting attitude. Without her, and the discipline she inspired me to instill upon myself, I might still be expecting my dad to slice my apples for sack lunch.
Everyone responds differently to outside influences, and in my interaction with Rhonda I chose to respect them, to consider them and in the end to uphold them. People possess the incredible power to share their unique backgrounds for the benefit of others. Not only did my Rhonda demonstrate this power and spark my independent personality, but she diminished any fear I had of encountering new people and places where my opinions may contrast with the status quo. Now that I recognize the incalculable value of these distinctions, I am ready to dive headfirst into a complete exploration of the immense diversity that the world has to offer.
All my life I had cut my waffles into little triangular slices and eaten them with my fingers, kept my socks in a mix-matched pile that towered over the basket, and hosted huge slumber parties for my birthday each year, but everything changed when my dad got remarried, and a near stranger named Rhonda became my legal mother.
To her, these tendencies were unacceptable occurrences that reflected a clear lapse in judgement by the figure in authority. "Children should learn their manners, do their chores without being told, and more than one friend over at a time is simply ridiculous." It was difficult not to immediately label her as the enemy- after all, she had invaded my comfort zone, and now began rewriting the laws. I felt helpless, voiceless, as if I was about to sit in the audience as the entire character of my family transformed; watching my cozy, laughter-warmed home morph into a strange, formal place that requires the removal of shoes upon entry.
In accordance with my predictions, change did happen- a new schedule, new city, new school, new wrongs, new rights. My stepmom believed all this change was right. I believed it was so very wrong.
However, one night, my dad made a comment,expressing a discovery of a commonality between myself and Rhonda. Naturally I took offense, "I would never be so strict!", I decided indignantly in my head, but then I glanced around at my tidy bedroom floor, at my color coded closet and my hand sanitizer collection. I thought of what I would do if entered a new family where I was met with three young kids and a mountain of chaos. Probably die. No, but I would surely struggle, and I would without a doubt impose order where I saw fit. If I had been taught that utensils were always required, I would, too, cringe at the sight of a ten year old eating a waffle like it was pizza.
Realizing that, though our beliefs may be opposite in many circumstances, there was no need for battle; that we both longed for the same goals- a happy family- mended holes- I decided that her intentions were solely good, and so I owed her nothing less than honest and full respect. Though It was difficult, I accepted each new rule, met each new expectation, and did my best to refrain from complaining. When I felt discouraged and began to brood over the loss of my seemingly pertinent rights, I reminded myself of how much more Rhonda had sacrificed in her decision to take on this challenge, and I kept quiet.
Her input greatly effected the dynamic of my family. Under her jurisdiction, I was appointed greater responsibility. I packed my own lunch, evaluated my own report card, signed up for my own activities, and shopped for my own groceries by the time I was in high school.
As I matured, It became evident that I had been ultimately naive in my perception of Rhonda's actions all along. While she may have seemed a thief; stealing many of my prized privileges, she was in fact a savior; preventing me from forming into an entitled spoiled brat- to be frank. She grew up with an alcoholic mother, nearly raised herself and her twin brother, and thus uncovered the value of self-sufficiency. The touch of this varied energy in my home is the reason I have developed a self starting attitude. Without her, and the discipline she inspired me to instill upon myself, I might still be expecting my dad to slice my apples for sack lunch.
Everyone responds differently to outside influences, and in my interaction with Rhonda I chose to respect them, to consider them and in the end to uphold them. People possess the incredible power to share their unique backgrounds for the benefit of others. Not only did my Rhonda demonstrate this power and spark my independent personality, but she diminished any fear I had of encountering new people and places where my opinions may contrast with the status quo. Now that I recognize the incalculable value of these distinctions, I am ready to dive headfirst into a complete exploration of the immense diversity that the world has to offer.