Lucinda T. Rose

Mess up – Own Up

1476558_687247004632783_1297819023_nYesterday, I made a mistake that could have gotten me fired today.  I knew it within a few minutes of getting in.  Check and verified that I was suppose work yesterday and didn’t show up. In the end it was my fault and once I realized what happen, I felt terrible.

I sat there, wondering for a moment, if I should say anything. Then how I should say it. Fear and anxiety making me twist myself into knots.  I knew it wasn’t really a choice. It was the right thing to do and I would hate a piece of myself if I didn’t come forward.

Finally I got to my boss’s desk right when someone was coming up to let her know that no one covered the phones.  Not a good thing for the water park  or my future employment. Owning up for your actions is one of the lessons every child is suppose to learn. I think back to my own childhood and things generally did go better for me if I fessed up. The reaction and/or punishment was dependent on which parent or grandparent received the news.

My birth father was a strict and incredibly adept at layering guilt. He learned from his mother. It didn’t matter if when I realized my mistake, I confessed. All crimes were treated with an equally with an unfair punishment. I am still not sure what I did to warn building a deck, but I do remember the time that my brother had to shovel all the driveways in the neighborhood for driving our stepmother’s car in a blizzard.   Disappointment at virtually everything I did oozed over every action through my teenage years and the fear of punishment, no matter what the consequences walks with me.

It sat with me this morning and screamed at me as made my way to my bosses desk.

And then it sheepishly hid its face in the corner when my bosses handled the news and accepted my apology.  It helps that in the four summers, I have worked her I have always communicated with her my supervisor.  This summer, I am their go to person for back-up.  All of these and my willingness to own my actions helped.

I firmly believe that as an adult, we have to own our actions.  We can’t blame our parents or others for the things we do; even if they influence us or misinform us.

Owning up or as one of my co-worker’s says “Putting on your big girl drawers and get to it.”


Things My Papa Says

This week at my Mom’s suggestion here are a couple of things that my Papa has said or done.

The weekend we celebrated my grandfather’s 90th birthday, I ate too many clams and was in terrible pain. It was so bad that my boyfriend at the time went next door to my parents room. Papi went to the only convenience store open in the town to find something to help with the indigestion. The clerk didn’t have anything and suggested he purchase a bottle of vinegar. At three in the morning, he was making me take sips of vinegar and walking me up and down the street. Finally after about an hour, I belched. It turned out I had really bad gas.  I hated vinegar then and still do. Papi loves it and always offers it to me, grinning as he does.

Last Friday Night when I took the kids at my school to grad night, my Papi couldn’t understand why I was taking seniors to the park. He thought I was taking senior citizens to Universal.

A couple of months ago, we brought him a stuff animal that looked Booger, my step-puppy, the disabled veteran and biggest little tough guy around was cuddling it night after night.  One day, we looked in his room and little Booger was turned facing the wall. We asked why and Papa said he had been barking and had to be disciplined.

Recently, Booger has been hanging out in the living room with Snowball, the robotic kitty, we brought him.  Papa said he was lonely in the bedroom.

My Papa isn’t my birth father, but he is the man who I call Daddy and I am his daughter.