My daughter, 34, was online-searching to rent a B&B last month when she found “the perfect” cute and cozy one, over a garage.
Unlike me, she has a flawless track record finding perfect rentals. And yet somehow, via text and link, she felt compelled to assure me that this one deserved my happy Hurray!
“Nice!” I replied, to which she declared, “And it has a CO detector. I know you were about to ask.”
Huh?
One time, I must have. Right? Maybe in some hyper-vigilant moment, I’d envisioned some suicidal landlord in the garage below, engulfing my daughter in poisonous fumes. And now forevermore, she would hear that nagging voice, checking in on the CO detector.
The whole exchange made me realize that it’s nearly impossible to parent without creating earworms, those casual words, uttered in a moment and then forgotten by the parent but hanging through old age and playing relentlessly in the child’s ear. It’s terrifying.
I carry a few of my own. My dad, a vigilant accountant-type meticulous at calculating risks, told me once in response to something I’ve long since forgotten: It only takes once. I’ve managed to apply it both to my credit and detriment for decades.
It comes in handy when I’m tempted to check that text message while driving. (Thanks, dad, even though texting was uncommon in your lifetime.) Not so handy when I passed on zip-lining in Costa Rica for fear of a rough landing. An earworm like It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity would have been more productive.
On the other hand, some of his earworms are unabashedly helpful. On the odds of things going well in selling a house or meeting a romantic partner: Don’t worry. It only takes one.
Not so helpful, my mom’s declaration Beauty knows no pain. But I do appreciate her Stitch in time saves nine.
All this makes me wonder whether in the new year, it might be a good idea to conduct a sort of earworm audit. I could examine the playlist I’m carrying in my own head and also the ones I’ve unintentionally created for my children and grandchildren. Are they useful? Not so much? Do I even remember how this music was first composed? Maybe I could still set everything straight!
I suppose it’s only natural to want to do this now that the children are long out of the house. My mom, whose earworms also included If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all, once set out to correct any childrearing missteps by being bold.
“Was there anything I did, raising you, that was harmful?’ she asked. I believe she had just read a magazine article about adult children whose parents had badly transgressed.
I was so touched by her nervous courage and well-intended parenting – and so tuned into her earworm – that I scrambled to find a transgression that would simply make her laugh and move on.
“It was really embarrassing,” I told her, “when the other kids wore bathing caps in the backyard wading pool, and you made me wear a shower cap to save money. I still have the picture to prove it.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, sufficiently relieved.
So maybe, if my own offspring carry the politeness earworm, this new year audit will go no place at all, and maybe I secretly hope that’s the case. But I should probably be at least as brave as my mother was.
Meanwhile, I am relieved that my daughter will not be poisoned by carbon monoxide. Whew.
Copyright 2023 Pat Snyder
