coming clean ... a little

Me: "Mr. Mullen, remember when you duct taped my side mirror on my old Sundance after I hit that car?"

Mr. Mullen: "Of course."

My mom listened in on this conversation, HORRIFIED. Where were we? Church. For a friend's wedding ceremony. What better a place to come clean about past lies I'd told my mother than a church?

Isn't it funny how after a certain number of years pass we feel it is okay to start leaking the truth to our parents? As a teen I had my share of hidden gems and probably your share and your friends' share as well. I kept them tucked away in my memory and some written in code in my journal. These tales became twisted over the years as my memory isn't what it used to be. I often wonder how honest my truth actually is - am I even remembering it the right way?

I did a lot of foolish things after high school. I was carefree, reckless ... invincible. Or so I thought. I spent a lot of my nights partying. I looked to my friends to be my family. And they were. Or so I thought. My father did a lot of the same things I did so I didn't really think my parents had a case to argue. My mother had never been drunk a day in her life. She lumped pot in with crack and heroin. It was all the same to her. She was nosy and overprotective. Or so I thought. I remember her demanding that I stay home just one night a week - and I refused. WHY would I ever do that? (Now, to get me out of the house on a Saturday night it has to be well worth my while). I did whatever I wanted to do. I stayed out all hours of the night, didn't come home at all a lot of times. How could my parents stop me? They couldn't shackle me up in the cricket playground (cellar). They couldn't take my car from me since I bought it and paid for my insurance. What were their options?

I filled the calendar years with harmless white lies. I figured what they didn't know wouldn't put them in the ground. When the passenger side mirror was hanging from my car I explained to my mother that some cretin must have hit my car in the parking lot while I was working. I think she actually felt bad for me (which kind of breaks my heart) - if she even fell for it. The truth: I had hit a car while backing down a street clumsily and chose to speed away and avoid that street for two weeks. It wasn't until six years had passed that I fessed up - to my mom anyway. (I still feel horrible about the hit and run. Feel free to think even less of me).

Slowly I am fessing up to a lot of the dumb things I did during those years. What made me feel so cool back then makes me feel like a huge asshole now. Funny how that happens, huh?

Becoming a mother has made me aware of sooooooooo many things. I look at the world with different peepers for sure. The mere thought of Scarlett doing to me (and my husband) what I've done to my parents is almost too much to handle. I will deserve every rotten word she says to me and I'll need this post to remind me of why I am being punished after being such a loving and gracious mom.

Sorry, Mom. Those crappy years were just my stepping stones. I needed to treat you like dirt to become a wonderful person I guess. Hehe.

Do you come clean as years pass or are you keeping your secrets forever? 

Has becoming a mother changed the way you look at your own past life?