Don't Ask, Don't Tell

I've followed a "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy years before it came up for national debate. Mine was a bit different, as it had nothing to do with orientation, merely, I want to remain like Sgt. Schultz "I see nothing, I know nothing" when it comes to the intimate details of my parents' and my children's lives. In exchange, I have no plans to disclose mine to them either. Everyone wins. The plan for my weekend was to be low-key, full of creativity. I planned to write and draw, hide away from my "weekend warrior" that planned to cut holes through walls for his latest "geekfest". All started out smoothly as planned. Listening to Tupac as I reworked a portrait of him I've been drawing. I'm pretty sure Death Row records didn't anticipate a 50+ year old Caucasian woman to ever be in their target market. Once finished with that, I slowed things down a bit with Quincy Jones, while I began journal entries for some of the mundane moments of my week, hoping to find a gem that would whisk me into a writing frenzy. I was in my "ZONE", it was peaceful, serene, so very calming. Suddenly, it all came to a screeching halt. My 21 year old son came up asking me what I thought of "50 Shades of Grey"? Had I watched it yet? What is it all about? Apparently his girlfriend was plotting out movie night, and she wanted to see what the hype was all about. Well, being the wise, mature person I am, nah, who am I fooling. Alarms went off in my mind, I began stuttering, while my face turned 50 shades of red. Then as if a plot against me, my 20 year old son came up a short time later with the same set of questions. By then, my sons are beginning to sound much like Charlie Brown's teacher. Because my dad felt compelled to overshare somewhat private information, finding much amusement in embarrassing me with all that gross adult stuff when I was growing up, I made a vow that I would never, EVER do the same to my kids, and that is why the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy was created. I remember as a teen sneaking out to go see "Lifeguard" and "Finding Mr. Goodbar" with my friends, hiding a copy of "Wifey" in my nightstand drawer. I didn't ask my mom or equivalent to this weekend, my dad for their thoughts or reviews of that material. The last thing I wanted was my mom's critique of my entertainment choices. Life remained normal, no waves crashed. Now that I've been consulted by my sons' and their entertainment choices revealed, I have no intention of waiting up to find out what they thought of the movie. Adulthood, that time in life that creates a lasting friendship with our children rather than the parental role in their lives, where we begin treading new waters. This weekend has left me reassessing these girlfriends, who until now have portrayed the vision of innocence. The military may have finally gotten rid of their "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy, which was a bad policy to begin with, however, I'd like to continue following my version. Red is not a good color for me.