Do You Knock First or Just Enter?

My son stopped by after work the other day. He works really early hours and is off by about 9:00 a.m. He walked into the house, greeted my husband and I, and all the animals, grabbed a bowl of cereal and sat down at the dining table with his earbuds in, and ate. He had an appointment later in the morning and didn't want to drive all the way home just to turn around and come all the way back. That's cool.

I left for work shortly after that, but I realized as I drove away that I was grinning. I mean, I love my son, he's got a wicked sense of humor, but why was I grinning?

That's when it hit me. I didn't have that kind of relationship with my mom, even though I considered us close. I still needed to call and arrange to see her. I'm pretty certain I knocked instead of walking right in. Don't get me wrong, the formality never bothered me. She respected my privacy when I lived at home and always knocked before entering my room and wasn't a snoop. But we treated our kids that way too. When they still lived at home, we knocked and received permission to enter. Yet my son feels comfortable enough to treat this as his home away from home and that makes me deliriously happy. (For the record we still have a son at home, but three have fledged.)

I loved my mom beyond measure, but she was a very different mother than I am and that's okay. We walked into motherhood with completely different backgrounds. Her parents didn't win any awards and her childhood wasn't happy. Where as I never doubted that my parents loved me and I had a very safe, secure, and happy childhood. We raised our children under very different circumstances too.  She was a single mother before it was accepted and I have a husband, partner, co-parent that I'm still deliriously in love with. I'm not stupid. I know some of the reason I can live this 'storybook' parenthood is because of how hard Mom worked to keep me happy and secure. I have no idea how she did it. I have nothing but respect for the successes she did have in parenting.

But it doesn't change the fact that I didn't feel I could just walk into her home. Yet, I believe she deserves a tip of the hat for the fact the my kids feel that way.

What's one thing you do in adulthood that your parent(s) didn't? Or if you aren't quite to full-on adulting yet, what do you hope to do different?


  1. When they were alive I just walked in. I was home no matter what. I miss that. What a beautiful post.

    1. There is something so special about 'home' isn't there? Thanks, Juneta.


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