I never did give the conclusion to that other story, did I? Well, here’s how it really ended. My mom called me later and asked if I needed a kit to repair my glasses. I had already fixed them. I said yes.
But it seems like my life is lived in a slight tension between my mom and me. So, I continue to write, and I don’t think I’ll ever be out of material.
The situation: ROTC. As you may or may not know, I’m applying for an army ROTC scholarship for college. Yes, it means I will serve in the army for four years after I graduate, and, yes, it means I will be paid ($200 a month) to go to college. Now, I’m strong enough, fast enough, and far more than bright enough to receive a scholarship. In fact, I already have received it. There’s two minor, very minor, problems.
1. Asthma.
2. Eczema.
I hate these two words. They seem to define my life. Currently, they define my lack of an ROTC scholarship.
In order to finally receive my scholarship, I have to convince the ROTC board that neither of these conditions will affect my service in the army.
Asthma is easy. I was on the track team for a long time. I can run, I can sing, I can surely breathe.
My eczema was a slightly different matter. It’s a skin condition. In the winter, the cool air causes my legs to become cracked and itchy. In the summer, irritants cause my legs to become itchy. It’s a lose-lose.
So my legs don’t look so great. They have a couple of “Hmmm…what’s going on there?” sores, and my mom is always looking for new ways to help my legs.
We’ve tried every cream, every lotion, everything.
Way back when I was home schooled, she had me sit outside and have my legs under the sun for 20 minutes a day. Then, we moved to the solution (lol?) of water and Epson salt. Essentially, that’s like putting your legs in the ocean for 20 minutes a day.
Then, she thought she had hit on the final solution.
Clorox.
You think I’m joking, don’t you?
My mom read an article in USA Today. I really hate that phrase. It seems to define her opinions of me. She has explained to me how every person you meet online is a child molester, how video games will rot young minds, and, most importantly…
How Clorox will heal eczema.
She made me do this a while back. After about a week or two, she more or less gave up on me. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing you can say that will make me think soaking in diluted Clorox for 20 minutes a day is a good idea.
She’s always just like this. I wasn’t allowed to watch either The Lion King or The Wizard of Oz on account of them being “too scary.” Harry Potter was banned from the house on account of it being “glorification of the devil,” and Dungeons and Dragons was a game that only “Satan worshippers” played. Okay, mom. Whatever.
I would probably trust my theology teacher before my mom. In class the other day, he said, “I don’t understand why the Catholic Church is so against the Harry Potter books. There’s so much Christian imagery in them, it seems stupid to just write them off as anti-religious. I mean, the last book has a RESSURECTION scene! How much more Christian can you get than that?”
The defining moment came when I was younger. I obsess about this moment now that I’m older, even though I didn’t think too much of it at the time.
We were walking through a store, and I saw a pack of skittles. I don’t know what gripped my mind to want them, but I did. I was young. I was impressionable. So I asked my mom for them. What did she say?
“You can’t have those. They have wheat.”
I had a wheat allergy when I was younger. It was only when I got into high school did I figure out that she was lying. That’s probably what’s driven me apart from her the most.
In order to convince ROTC that my asthma wasn’t a problem, I took a breath test, which showed I was in the top of the average for lung ability.
For my eczema, I had to go into the doctor’s office the next Friday. It was on the previous Friday when she stated that I should be soaking in Clorox for 20 minutes a day.
I did it on Friday. Partially to humor her, I guess. It wasn’t really the fact that I didn’t like taking baths. I read my Fantasy Short Story book while taking my baths. I last read a story about a futuristic world where no one ever dies.
On Saturday night, while I tried to get the screw back into my glasses, since it had somehow kept coming out, she reminded me to take a bath. I figured I just wouldn’t do it. That would be the end of it.
On Sunday morning, it started innocuously enough. I woke up, ate breakfast, worked on some schoolwork, then went back to eat lunch.
Both my mom and dad were sitting at the table. They were eating a kind of brunch while I retrieved leftovers from the fridge for my lunch. Then, she popped the question.
“Did you take a bath in Clorox last night?”
“No,” I responded.
!!!
“If you don’t bathe in Clorox then your legs won’t clear up!!!”
“I know,” I responded, “I know.”
“I don’t understand why you won’t do this. It’s only 20 minutes a day and your legs will clear up perfectly! I’m not asking all that much of you!”
I threw my lunch in the microwave, “It’s just that I don’t think it will have…”
“They’ve done studies that say…”
I hate this phrase of hers, too. She used it on Saturday when she tried to get me to clean my room, after she told me I had to get a haircut.
“Studies show that people with clean rooms do better than people with messy rooms.”
Okay, mom. Or perhaps people who do well like to keep their rooms clean? I’ve stopped arguing with her on things like this. Maybe that was why I didn’t take the bath that night?
“…bathing in Clorox will heal up skin.”
“It’s just…I’m not sure how effective it is.”
“If you don’t do this, then the doctor won’t write that your legs have cleared up for the exam on Friday!”
Diffusal of a situation lesson A. Put blame on yourself.
“It’s not the Clorox, I just scratch my legs too much, that’s all.”
“If you don’t get your legs cleared up you won’t get the $200,000 ROTC scholarship!”
Watch her make the link…watch it…waiiiiiit for ittttt…..
“It’s just a matter of soaking for 20 minutes a day for five days for $200,000! I don’t see what’s so hard about this!”
BAM! Initiate rebuttal, “I don’t think that not soaking in Clorox is the only reason I would be rejected from ROTC.”
“You just don’t want to go into ROTC. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“I…” STOPPED. I’m getting angry. Anyone can see my rage would be perfectly justified. But I disagree with anger, and it disagrees with me. I’ve learned my lesson about these conversations. I’m going to throw it out as plainly as possible.
“I’m not going to argue with you,” I watched my plate of spaghetti turn in the microwave.
That didn’t stop her of course. It went on, with “If you don’t get this scholarship, we’re not going to pay for your college, and we’re going to have to take out a loan to pay for your tuition.”
As I stood there, though, I felt the twitch.
I was almost about to cry.
I guess that’s why men get angry. It’s all just a block to prevent this from happening. The last time I really cried was in 7th grade, when I learned that kids weren’t naturally nice to each other.
I decided to talk away, and just left my lunch there in the microwave. I walked back into my room, and checked on the status of my college applications. After a while, my dad walked into the room.
“Your plate is done.”
“I’ll get it in a minute. I’m checking on my colleges.”
I trust my dad. He once got in an argument with my mom, trying to explain to her that just because some Satan worshippers play Dungeons and Dragons does not mean that all people who play Dungeons and Dragons are Satan worshippers. He always struggles to keep his mouth shut during family reunions while my mom’s side of the family gives long speeches about how Obama is the Anti-Christ.
After a while, my mom came into the room. I looked up at her from the Yale website.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I won’t pester you about it anymore. You know what, you know what’s best for your legs.”
Huh. I guess that’s okay.
“Give me a hug,” she said.
I stood up from my chair to give her a hug. I closed my eyes. Unfortunately, little did I realize that my cockatiel Caesar was sitting on her shoulder. He considered me a villainous cur, and proceeded to bite me on the nose.
I retracted from my hug a little bit.
That’s why I didn’t want to take Clorox baths. It wasn’t because I didn’t like taking baths, and it wasn’t because I didn’t believe it would work. It was because I didn’t want my decisions to be made for me by someone who still believes that Harry Potter will draw young people’s minds to witchcraft.
And yet, both of us can somehow be okay with that. We may disagree on a lot of things, but we’re still a family, darn it. We always want what’s best for each other, even though we may disagree on what the best is.
And, I still love my mom. It’s hard, this whole family thing. But I like it this way, hard, rather than simply saying “I hate my parents” like it seems all the cool kids are doing these days.
So, I went to the glasses place and got my glasses fixed. I got a haircut, too. But I have yet to clean my room. It will happen…eventually.
((I received a clean bill from the skin doctor, and my breathing was labeled “above average.” Keeping my fingers crossed. ^_^))
Maybe you've had disagreements of this sort with people you know? What did you do?
