My husband Mark is a very nice person who seldom holds grudges or takes instant dislikes to anyone.
With the exception of Dr. Rick.
For people who don’t own a television, Dr. Rick is the spokesperson on those “don’t be like your parents” ads for an insurance company. Every time a Dr. Rick commercial comes on, Mark’s response is predictable.
“Don’t be like your parents? Kids should WANT to be like their parents. Especially kids today. They should be so lucky to be like us. I hate Dr. Rick.”
Click. Channel change and all is serene until Dr. Rick pops up again.
A little backstory here. Mark and I eloped and when he called his parents to tell them they had a new daughter-in-law, his dad’s first words, even before “Congratulations,” were “Do you have health insurance?”
That simple question instilled a fear in the two of us so deep that throughout our entire marriage we’ve never been without health insurance, not even for a week. Peace of mind has always meant full coverage in our house.
I can see how it’s funny, sort of, to laugh at how your parents do things and don’t do things. Mark and I have provided our sons with hours of entertainment when we thought we were being clever, but they thought we were acting so stupid they looked at each other with mutual “how did we wind up with these two?” expressions.
Like the time we bought walkie talkies to keep in touch with each other around the house. Our sons almost passed out from laughing at us as we carried on our remote conversations.
“This house has one story and a basement. You can yell easier than use a walkie talkie,” one of them pointed out.
We knew that but walkie talkies were fun. Anyone can yell but how many people can say “Coffee’s ready. Over.”?
And how about that Halloween when everyone wanted to dress like a nerd and Mark and I were asked to provide outfits from our own closets for our sons and their friends since we consistently dressed so nerdily?
I too once found it quite amusing how out of touch my parents were about so many things. I knew they weren’t globe-trotting sophisticates, but they were responsible, and I wanted to grow up to be a responsible human being too, someone who paid the insurance bill on time and was able to figure most problems out without having to call home for instructions.
Once I became a mom, I realized that whoever said a parent’s job is to make themselves obsolete was absolutely right. All parents want their kids to be able to survive without them around. And we’d like them to do it with a minimum of eye rolling and at least a modicum of respect which is why, I suspect, more kids than parents find Dr. Rick amusing.
Moms don’t think they’re being annoying when they ask their kids to let them know when they’ve gotten home after a visit. Moms don’t CARE if they’re being annoying. They need to know their kids have gotten to their destination safely so they can go to sleep and not worry about getting a phone call from their offspring or the authorities. You can tell yourself until you’re blue in the face that you’re sure your kids are home by now so go to sleep already, but until that text message comes through good luck getting any decent shuteye.
How about all those things dads do that aren’t giggle inducing, things like knowing how to change the oil in a car and the best way to get squirrels out of your attic or unstring Christmas lights?
Sure, you can always Google how to do those things, but it’s awfully nice to have someone around who will show you, in person, what to do without a single eye roll.
In the end, it doesn’t matter if Mark and I find Dr. Rick irritating. We accept we’re not the demographic anyone’s going for with the exception of AARP. So just as long as the mute button on our remote-control works, we’re good.
Nell Musolf is a freelance writer based in Mankato. She can be reached at nmusolf@gmail.com.