Indian Food & High School

                                                                                                       

                I just took my kids out to eat at The Jaipur in Rockbrook Village.  We had outstanding food and above average conversation (considering it was me and two teenagers who barely talk to each other on the daily).  When we left, there was a band setting up to play; weirdly enough, it was a band I’ve seen before, most notably when I was like a junior in high school.  I think it was the homecoming dance or something, but this band played in the parking lot of my high school 20-some years ago.  Reggae, ska, 70s funk – you know the kind of band I’m talking about – the kind where everyone dances the whole time.

                Here’s what was different:  I am now roughly 145 years old.  The people trekking in chairs to watch the band tonight were mostly very old and gray (and they probably go see every band that plays there on Friday nights, because they have nothing better to do every weekend), and this time I couldn’t stay to watch and dance.  I totally would have stayed, except I had these two teenagers with me.  And even THEN, I would have asked my kids to stay for a while and listen, except I had already made a promise to drive all the way back to the distant suburbs so that the youngest could go see a movie.  Oh, and I didn’t just have to pick up her friend, I had to drive to an even further ‘burb in order to drop them off, get out of the car, and sign them in to see an R-rated movie.

                Here’s the thing:  I don’t mind driving my kids around and doing the parental duties, but I find it infuriating that whenever I find something that might pique my interest, my needs are secondary to everyone else’s.  Tonight, there was really no question of staying or not staying, because I’d already offered to drive the kids to a movie on the other side of another town. 

                Why?  Because I have no social life, so it’s not crazy for my kids to think that I should just buy them expensive Indian food (because, after all, that’s what I wanted for dinner…) and then to take them back to the house so they can do whatever makes THEM happy.

                Tonight, I saw the guy who was the lead singer back in my high school days, and I walked up and talked to him for like 15 minutes, while the kids hung back, but what I REALLY wanted to do was just kick off my shoes and dance for a couple of hours with some familiar music and a guy who remembered my high school homecoming, even if I don’t really know him. 

                I’m whining, I suppose.  I shouldn’t want anything.  When a person has kids, they should succumb to the Christ-like attitude that individuality and independence of movement doesn’t mean anything after one has children, but the whole post-dinner situation made me sort of angry.  I have entirely forgotten how to be selfish, but my kids have it down to an art.  I guess I’m just jealous of their freedom.  If they don’t want to do something (for the most part) they don’t do it.  If I don’t want to do something, I do it anyway, because I have (somehow) convinced myself that’s what good parents do. 

                I need someone to help me be the parent I should be AND the parent my kids want to be like.  I am failing in this capacity, I think.  Selfishness can definitely be a virtue, and I need to practice it.