I remember quite vividly in my 30s I proudly said out loud to my Mom while I was cooking one day how I was glad Dad taught me how to cook hamburger meat quickly.
Her response was the opposite of my proud exclamation. She responded with disdain and being miffed, "Your Dad never taught me that."
As I stood there baffled at her words coming at me, it was a moment in my life that taught me quite a bit. Not about how to cook hamburger meat, but about learning. And what we learn as a child, or to be exact, how we learn in general. Also, that my Mom took what I said completely personal.
My Dad never once said to me as he was cooking one day when I was a child, "here, after you put the cold and raw hamburger meat in this pot on the stove, you then cover the pan with a tight lid. You check it pretty soon after, and turn it over to get the other side brown so it gets an even cooking on both sides. Then, after a little bit more time, you stir the hamburger meat so it all gets cooked pretty evenly. The lid on top helps cook the hamburger meat so much faster than without a lid."
No, not what happened AT ALL.
As a kid, I just saw my Dad cook hamburger meat in a pot with a lid and noticed how fast it cooked the meat.
Yet my Mom stood there defiant, hurt, and upset she wasn't taught something, anything, by my Dad. But, I bet she had - she just didn't realize it. And it hurt my heart to realize I might have hurt her feelings; that she may think I didn't learn things from her, too.
I then shared this story with my Mom, to try and express that what I saw as a child from her was also learning from her. How I learned through not direct explanations and teachings, but from non verbal words from her too:
My Mom and I used to go to the hill country about every other weekend when we could (sometimes more often). While I'm packing the dang car, trying to get the dog in the car, rushing through the house seeing what else we forget, there's my Mom, DOING THE DISHES.
Even as I type this I have this clear picture of her washing all the dishes that were in the sink and putting them all on a towel.
She must have done that a thousand times.
I never once asked her why she was washing the dishes or why she would sometimes make us late leaving because she was washing the dang dishes, it was just something she did, something I noticed, and was part of the routine before we ever went out of town.
When we came back home from each trip exhausted from a FUN-FILLED weekend, there were never dirty dishes laying around, or food stuck to them with flies flying around (remember, I grew up poor), or even any house chores to do. We came home to a clean kitchen!
Did she tell me why she stood there doing that? Did she explain in detail to me how I needed to learn to do this? No, of course not. But guess what? I wash my dishes before every trip now, too! I have my whole life since the day I stepped into my own place.
So, I learned from you too, Mom. Not with specific explanations or detailed reasons, but by watching, learning, and emulating.
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