When we were kids, one of the best things about the games we played with Mom and Dad was the “Do Over.” Baseball never had only three strikes. Your move in checkers wasn’t over when you lifted your hand off the checker. Realizing you had just played the wrong card meant you could pick it up and try again. We were learning the rules even as Mom and Dad ignored them for us. We still lost games and learned to deal with our mistakes and our failures. The older we became, the more we played by the rules, but it always seemed like games with our parents were more fun and we won more often than they did. Eventually the “Do Over” became more important in real life than it was in our games. Still, we could count on Mom and Dad for that second or third (or fourth or fifth) chance.
Some of those Do Overs were pretty expensive: a crushed fender on the car (or a total loss!), a speeding ticket, dropping a class, a changed major (or college), out-of-hand credit card charges, bounced checks…. Late night calls home brought calm and reassurance and the encouragement that the next time—the Do Over—was a sure thing.
It was even easier to change major life decisions with help from Home. Who was there with the best advice when your heart was broken (again)? Who listened to your plans and tried to help the dreams become realities, and then understood when it seemed the whole castle came crashing down or you decided once more to go in another direction?
When I become a parent and crossed over to the other side of that Do Over equation, I gained not only a much different perspective but a much greater appreciation for what I put my parents through, and how much I owe them! I can only hope that I have been as much help to my sons as my mom and dad were for me.
One of the things about those Do Overs that I came to fully understand as a parent: home was the one place I could count on for unconditional love…no matter what I did. Oh, I was often reminded that I was in the wrong or had done something really stupid, but that never meant my parents didn’t love me. I was always sure of that.
If my sons know anything for sure, I hope it is that—as long as I live—they will always be loved and always have a place to call home. With Mom and Dad, there is always a Do Over.
Speaking of Do Overs: Happy New Year!
