What To Pass On Before I Pass On

The other night I was watching one of my favorite television shows, “Grey’s Anatomy.” One of the characters in the episode was a single mother that was dying of some terrible lung malady. She was having a difficult time accepting her fate. So difficult, that she was unwilling to share it with her teenage daughter. Eventually, she gave in and then had to have a talk with her daughter about last-minute advice she wanted to pass on to her. Some of it was heartbreaking and I cried like a baby thinking of myself in her place. However, some of it was kind of funny. She told her daughter that no matter how bulky it felt, she should wear underwear beneath her pantyhose because it looks less slutty. She told her that at her wedding she should only have one glass of champagne because there’s nothing worse than a drunken bride. She also told her to marry a man that loves, not lives with, his mother. (I thought that one was pretty good.)

So this got me thinking: What kernels of advice would I pass on to my children at that fateful moment? I’m sort of the self-declared queen of the inappropriately-timed comment. We’ll be in the middle of a serious family discussion and I’ll suddenly have this intense need to point out that my husband has a crumb on his upper lip. Because of this, I have this terrible feeling that my last words of advice to my kids would be something like: "The dog pooped in the northwest corner of the backyard. Can you pick it up before somebody steps in it?" Really. I have no doubt in my insane ability to make a poignant moment into a “Huh, what?!” kind of moment.

In an attempt to rid myself of any dumb advice I might dispense, (leaving only the really important things to say,) here are some of the nuggets I’d like to pass on to my kids: I’d like to tell my daughter to always carry a tampon in her purse because one day she’ll be wearing white pants and she’ll need it. And if that happens, she should tie her sweater around her waist. I want to tell my son that he should make sure that his fly is closed when he goes on his first job interview but not as he’s walking in the company front door. I want to tell both of them that when they buy their first house, they should always shovel the sidewalks right away after it snows because it shows you’re a good neighbor. I’d suggest that they never press “send” on an angry e-mail composed at work, especially if it’s addressed to their boss. I’d tell them that no matter how awesome the 3-D Collector’s Edition DVD is of their favorite movie, it’s rarely worth the extra cost. I would want them to know that they will never dance worse than when they’ve been drinking too much.

Now that I think about it, there’s nothing really wrong with this advice. It’s not bad, it’s just ill-timed. And even if it’s not useful, in and of itself, it serves an important purpose. It will, someday after I’m gone, make for fabulous stories that my kids will share for years to come.