Just Because My Middle Name Is Carmel Doesn't Mean I Had Bad Parents

I’m pretty sure my parents’ motto while raising my brother and I was “no child will ever control how I live”. These are parents who thought overprotective meant having a baby monitor; but I’m not dead so their philosophy has to hold some water. Fair enough I say, but I have to tell you that your parents going about their lives as they would if you weren’t there (not in a neglectful way, but in an empowered parent way) can result in some pretty embarrassing moments.

One particular incident, or should I say “recurring item of nightwear”, comes to mind in regard to this credo. My dad had a favourite night dress, he’d probably say it was a nightshirt, but that’s just semantics. Anyway, this nightdress was short and made of a thin fabric – I guess you would call it a summer night gown, it looked like something Kim Kardashian would be wearing in a sexy photo shoot where her hair was all tousled and her bra was showing. My dad was a teacher at my school so anything he would do in front of my friends meant that the shame factor was immediately squared. One summer’s eve I had a sleepover with some girlfriends and, in true dad style, my father stomped up the stairs at about 10’o’clock to tell us to shut up. Fine, it was his house and his rules. But of course he was clad in aforementioned gown. No one said a thing, we promised to keep it down and that was the end of that, until a week later at school when one of the girl’s asked in front of the rest of our group why my dad wore a dress at home. No one ever let me live that down and I’m pretty sure everyone kept an eye out when they stayed over for their favourite science teacher in his house dress. I breathed a sigh of relief when the worn out old nightie ripped up the side, “the end of an era” I lulled. And it was, until dad returned from the shed, gaffa tape in hand and gave that puppy a whole new lease on life. Believe it or not that motherfucking dress lasted until I finished high school.