Hi, my name is Joe Carney and I am becoming my parents. That’s right the very people I spent my entire teenage existence , my hard partying 20s and now, most of my parenting 30s avoiding any similarities to. It is not that they weren’t awesome parents or that they were creepy or smelled funny. They were actually great parents, and still are, but I think that it is common nature to want to choose an alternate path than your parents did, have a different outlook on life, and raise your kids just slightly (or totally) different than you were raised. You want to wear cool clothes that fit correctly with ‘non-sensible” shoes. We don’t want to spew corny or clichéd sayings at the kids and maybe, just maybe, stay cool enough to play wiffle ball with the neighborhood kids. These things weren’t constantly on my mind but they are certainly first in line in my subconscious and they will claim victory or failure when they come to pass.
It happens gradually. At first people had to point out little things I did that reminded them of my father, or certain things I would say that would echo my mother’s wise-ass sayings. It was not until the past year or so that I have become fully aware of my metamorphosis into not just one of my parents, rather a constant race for the finish line of full transformation into both. There are constant things that will remain with me that have also remained with ‘The Old Man’.
I have inherited something from him, one of his many traits. Is it his work ethic? No. Is it his attention to detail? No sir. Is it his ability to drink club soda and remain the designated driver at all functions? Absolutely not. No, I have inherited his unhealthy and bizarre addiction to “testicle talc”. I cannot function without an abnormal amount of Gold Bond poured down the front of my drawers first thing in the morning and every 2 hours after. It has gotten to the point that our bathroom looks like Chernobyl. I have enough powder on my ass that it looks like it spent the weekend with Lindsay Lohan. On some occasions I have created paper mache underwear. It’s starting to chafe.
The more I become like my father, the more annoyed I get at myself. Not because it is happening but because I’m also like my mother and everything my father does annoys her. I am keeping a close eye on all the symptoms. Some are too new to worry yet. I am keeping good notes and will be brutally honest every week with who is in the lead and how they got there. Stay tuned.