Life as an Extreme Sport

parental love

My father is cute; he just recently started signing his emails:


It’s like those two extra letters to type are just too hard. It’s typical for my sort of emotionally repressed Dad, who just started giving grown-up me hugs about two years ago, when I just said “fuck it” and started insisting on it, but I think he likes knowing that I want the hugs, and it makes me smile to see this small bit of affection on his part.

The ways our parents choose to express their love and care always amuses me. My father is your stereotypical male who likes to fix things; he always comes here with the goal of making my house more functional. Better living through carpentry and ingenuity! Mom, on the other hand, is all about shopping. She buys and buys because she can, and it shows how much she cares. Only recently have I learned to be careful about expressing that I like something, because she’ll automatically go try to find it in my size. In fact, Monday had us getting in a fight over whether she was going to buy me a jacket; although it looked great on me, it was priced higher than I thought it was worth. Mom agreed, but after we looked around a bit, she thought it was best we go back and get the one that fit perfectly. We ended up resolving it well (I managed to get 25% off the cost, putting it in a range I was okay with), but I still found it funny – fight with Mom over how she’s going to spend her money on me.

It’s not really about money, though, and I have to remember that. It’s about love. And Dad doesn’t really think badly about my house, or my health, or anything else. It’s just that he communicates over fixing things (this email he just sent that brought a smile with the signature? He wants to look into switching me onto their family cell phone plan, to see if it will save me money). For Dad, fixing things and making life easier is also all about love.