What goes around comes around. This is and always has been my Mother's mantra. Actually, even at this moment I hear her voice in my head saying these five words. Only she's laughing this time, gleeful that I am finally dealing with what she had to decades ago during my youth.
What goes around comes around. It was a phrase my Mom used particularly when my sister and I were being difficult teenagers. At the time I thought she meant it as some sort of hopeful prayer to keep her sanity. Now I know it was more of a hex, one that would someday stick.
I do not deny I was periodically problematic during those awkward teen years. Not verbally defiant (that was my sister's department). Mine came in the form of being the Queen of NO. Not coming out and actually saying I hated something, but not willing to try it or give reasons why. And I admit shopping excursions were a mite tense. Especially those involving the purchase of specific types of under garments. Ok, bra shopping.
But you have to understand, that was a long time ago. I didn't like the colors that were offered. Some were too tight, too loose, too constricting, too whatever. It was frustrating for me. But I wasn't to blame. Really. Still, it got to the point where neither my sister nor my mother would shop with me, deeming me "difficult."
I never saw it that way, though. Discerning. That's it. I have discerning tastes. But, I have found, rarely do we see those 'special' traits that annoy our beloved familia. That is, until our own children toss it back in our faces and it's hard to miss. When our own children act as a mirror image to our youth.
What goes around comes around. And here we arrive in the present day and I offer up a slice of department store discussion (or lack there of) with my son:
Me: "You said you needed a few new golf shirts. Is that right?"
Teenage son: "Yuh huh."
Me: "What color would you like? There's a ton here."
Teenage son: "I dunno."
Me: "How about this?" I hold up a striped shirt.
Teenage son: "No."
Me: "Ok. How about this one? It would look nice with your eyes."
Teenage son: "Uh, no."
Me: "Ooooh. How about this one? It's really soft and..."
Teenage son: No comment, just a pursing of the lips and shaking of the head.
Me (getting really angry): "How about I just buy three white ones and call it done?"
Teenage son: "Can we do that?"
Me: "No! Can't you just tell me what you want? What you like?"
Teenage son: "I dunno."
What goes around comes around. And so goes the vicious cycle that has become shopping with my own beloved child. It's painful. Poking your eyes out painful. Still, I hopped back on that roller coaster ride of non-committal again because we had to buy a nice pair of slacks and shirt for the First Communion of a family friend.
I prepared for the worst. Ready for the 'no' train. But this time he was a different person. My teenager listened to the salesman and smiled when he offered ideas. The child of my loins pointed to which shirts he liked with which pants. He even trotted to the dressing room without snarling one little bit.
I think my chin almost hit the ground in surprise. Who was this kid and what did he do with my "I dunno" guy?
Then I realized. What goes around comes around. That's it! He coming around! Or is it going around? Damn. I think I'll just call and ask my mom.