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Behavior
Analytic Autobiography
My Jewish Mother
Harry Beecher said, “There is no friendship, no love, like that of the parent for a child.” I truly believe this is true of my parents, even though there were times when their behavior presented as extremely harsh and relentless. When I thought more in depth about my parents and my history with them, I began to realize that I have always been out to please my father; my Jewish Mother.
My father grew up in Arvada, Colorado. He is the oldest of ten siblings, all presenting their own individual neuroses. My father, being the oldest, was shaped into an obsessive compulsive care-taker at an early age. He learned quickly that resources needed to be utilized effectively (e.g. each child being able to take a hot shower, or each consuming the appropriate amount of food), based on the feedback he received from his mother (his Jewish Mother!). Even though my father only had three children (not 10), he still utilized these principles while raising us. In addition, he instituted additional rules of his own, believing they were in my (and my sisters) best interests.
One of my first memories is brushing my teeth, while watching sand pass through an hour-glass. This was one of my father’s first rules: my sisters and I had to brush continuously, for three minutes, every morning and evening. My father used the sand timer, because we could not manipulate it (press buttons), once it had been set. If his supervision was needed, to ensure that our toothbrushes were continuously moving, he had no problem sitting on the toilet seat (arms crossed, and eyes fixed). In his opinion, dental health was not something we should joke about. I agree with this position now, and am happy to report that I (or my sisters) have never had a single cavity. Related to brushing were my father’s rules about acceptable foods. I had intensive orthodontic work completed as a child, and my father would always restrict sticky candy and biting into apples and pizza crust (among other things!). Still today, even though I know that my teeth can perform properly, I slice apples and us a fork and knife when eating pizza. I still fear hearing the corrective words, “Shouldn’t you cut that?” or “Should you be eating that?” As a result, I religiously brush my teeth at least twice a day, for three minutes. I know my father is no longer waiting outside the bathroom door to check the timer, nor is he at the dinner table with me watching what I eat (and how); but the behavior still maintains.
Next, I remember the scheduled homework time I had. Whether I was completing a math assignment, or defining spelling words, if I requested help from my father his first response would always be “Look it up,” or “Try again.” Not until he could tell I was really struggling, would he provide a hint or assistance. Therefore, even as an adult, I always reread, retry, or look up additional information on the task that I am having a difficult time with. I feel as though I have not put forth my best effort, if I haven’t tried every avenue on my own, before I seek additional assistance. This has no doubt, turned me into an overachiever and perfectionist. Also supporting these feelings were my father’s responses to report-cards. It was unlikely to hear only, “Good job, I’m proud of you.” Typically what followed was, “Five As, but why the A-?” I know it wasn’t that my father was not proud of my work, but he always knew that I could do more. I think this had contributed to my constant drive for additional education. Somehow, I feel, if I am able to receive my Ph.D., I will finally hear only the words, “I am proud of you.”
I also remember completing chores as a child. More specifically, loading and unloading the dishwasher. My father would sit, or stand, in the kitchen observing every cup, plate, or utensil that I placed in the dishwasher. When I was finished, if the space was not utilized as efficiently as possible, my father would have me take everything out and try again. If he was not pleased after the second time, he would “model” the behavior for me. My father would also sit in the kitchen to observe me unload the dishwasher. He would inspect each item as I removed it (through his periphery) and make suggestions such as, “Wipe that off,” and “Put it in the correct drawer,” as I worked. As a child, I lived in fear of my dish week. As an adult, I live in fear of cleaning dishes when I return home, constantly obsessing over whether or not the large plate should go here (or there!). However, I must say that in my own home, my dishwasher space is utilized very effectively. I’ve also begun to train my husband on the appropriate location of items in the dishwasher, and that silverware should be head-up in the tray (which presents the question of whether I’m becoming his Jewish Mother?).
Another example would be that of the “grammar wizard.” My father has always valued appropriate speech and the correct use of grammar. Thus, when I was younger and used a word inappropriately, my father would start a tally. At the end of my statement, he would provide me with the results (e.g. “You used like inappropriately ten times during that sentence. Try again.”). I would then have to restate myself, using only correct grammar. However, despite the torture of having to repeat myself a number of times, I am grateful for his method. I have found that I do not use “um,” “like,” or “can,” when these words are not necessary. I also, on occasion, have taken it upon myself to record the incorrect grammar of others (e.g. colleagues) during a presentation run-through or other event. Again, this is another trait that I have inherited from my Jewish Mother.
Finally, I remember the “water,” and “light” fairy. The light fairy was the magical creature (e.g. my father) that would go around and count the number of lights left on in the house, in rooms that were not being used at that time (e.g. upstairs bathroom). The water fairy had a different role, he observed the pressure of the water being used to wash dishes or brush teeth, and the length of time the faucet was left on. Both fairies strived to not waste resources (as my father worked for the Environmental Protection Agency). If wasted resources were observed, we were immediately corrected by “Turn that water down/off,” or “Go turn off the light show.” Often, I found myself cutting warm showers short following the bang on the bathroom door (after hearing, “it doesn’t take twenty minutes to wash your hair.”), or getting additional exercise from trotting around the house turning off lights. However, both are behaviors that I carry over into my life now. My house has its own water and light fairy, who meticulously watches for misused resources.
Revisiting Harry Breecher’s thought, that there is no friendship, no love, like that of the parent for a child, I in no way doubt my father’s love for me. In fact, I am forever indebted to him, for molding the adult that I have become today. If it wasn’t for my father, I may not be the motivated, dedicated, perfectionist that I am. If it wasn’t for my father, I may not be as successful as I am. Most of all, if it wasn’t for my father, I would not be me; I would not be a miniature Jewish Mother.
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