At age 12 I told my Irish Catholic parents I was an atheist and wouldn’t be going to church anymore. Dad beat the crap out of me. I was stupid, I said, “Go ahead, hit me again. It won’t change anything.”
It didn’t, I never went to church again.
Right before Christmas 19 years ago, I needed to let them know that I’d just eloped with a divorced, bearded, non-Catholic who I’d only dated for 4 weeks.
When we broke the news to them, Dad’s first question was “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
I wasn’t. Not for another year. Mom didn’t hear the part about only dating 4 weeks till Dad’s funeral this year. Yeah, I’m a coward.
That while they were away on holiday a collection of police and two sniffer dogs had turned over the family home. It was a while ago, I don’t do that sort of thing now…
Ha. Baby stuff.
I’m not that talkative, I prefer visual aids. My Mom saw me smoking dope through a coke can in the backyard. She wasn’t impressed and I felt real bad for getting a bad case of the giggles.
“I’m moving out.”
I actually got to use that one twice: First with my parents and then, a few years later, with my then-husband. Heh-heh.
Well… they managed to find out many things about me through other people (friends, the FBI, etc.), but I still hide some of the major things from them. I guess the hardest thing was calling my mom after a car accident when I was 16. I rammed my mom’s minivan into another car and totaled it, hitting a gas line and nearly blowing up the town. Nobody was seriously injured, but I felt like a total idiot. But I have a hard time talking to my parents, so I was shaking when I called my mom. My parents and sister still bring it up all the time, even though it was nearly 3 years ago.
Do go on, Eve, I’m intrigued…
On Christmas Eve of 2001 I told my parents that I had been suicidal for the bast two years. I went to the mental hospital on the day after Christmas, which resulted in me getting better.
That I was in NYC and that I wasn’t coming home.
(They’re in Australia)
With my Mom, nothing really.
With my Dad… well lets just say there’s a bunch of stuff he still doesn’t know. One being that I got a tattoo… and if I end up going swimming in New Years with them he’s gonna find out as it’s revealed by my swimsuit. That’ll make a fun start to the new year I’ll bet…
“Yes, Mom, I admit stealing that money from you.”
Do I know you? You wouldn’t happen to work for a magazine, would you?
No, Juanita.
You have an Aussie friend in NY?
“Mom, Pops, I’m not going to college, I’m joining the Marine Corps.” Semper Fi
“Um, dad? I’m on birth control.”
Eventually, though, I’m going to have to come clean on this one, seeing as I haven’t told my dad yet:
“Um, dad? I’m engaged.”
It’ll be loads of fun, I’m certain…
That I’d been arrested for having sex in a movie theater…
I was fifteen.
We wern’t actually having sex…
I was 16 with VERY VERY Baptist/Fundi parents.
On the phone to my mom:
“I ate a 10 strip of acid, thought I was God and drove 200 miles to the neighboring state so I could bring them closer to me. On the way there, blue and red demons started to chase me, to prevent me from spreading the True Word. I was doing pretty well out-running them until one jumped out in front of me and took me down to Hell. Can you come bail me out of jail?”
:click:
I was still tripping hardcore when I went in front of the Judge. I just thank God it’s not on my permanent record. Note: this was my first and only experience with LSD.
Really innocent stuff, since my life is pretty uneventful.
I told mom last year that I sold/sell my blood plasma for money. I had to tell her, otherwise she would notice the needlemarks and make a big fit in front of others. Instead I told her via chat before I arrived home. She flipped… I mean, I know I can’t drain my parent’s money, so I save what they send me, my attempts at getting a (paying) job have proven unsuccessful…I need/needed some extra cash. I don’t drink alcohol, don’t smoke, don’t use illegal drugs…
She promised not to tell no one else…I don’t know if she kept that but no relative say anything about my arm. Then again, I had the spot covered most of the time and no one except a mom pays attention to your inner elbow.
One year later, one week until I see them again…I again need to get the needlemarks fade as much as possible. 
Karl, I wish I had half your drive and determination to make something of myself. Keep it up…
Yous parents should be nothing less than proud of you.