quote:My mother used to talk to me about how hard it was to raise us and how sorry she was about the mistakes she made. But we also talked about how horrible it would be to have had "perfect parents" you never could hope to live up to.
I had them. I have them. I will never be as pure or good or loving as they are (and I'm okay with that, I like myself the way I am).
But it isn't horrible. It isn't.
Today, of all days, I'm glad to have the parents I do.
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No, I'm old enough now* that they put each other before me (and have for a while). Most of the time it's cute and I don't blame them. But yeah, I just wanted to say that having "perfect" parents (mine aren't perfect, but they're the sort of parents that I think people mean when they talk about perfect parents) isn't horrible.
My mother was speaking of plastic parents -- never a raised voice, every surface perfectly polished, no spills no messes no mistakes ever ever ever. Instead, I got to watch how a family can be loved, nourished and supported without hardly any material things at all.
Yes, they smoked when I was little. Both of them fought a losing battle with giving it up. My mother also was afraid of paperwork, and she'd scrape together enough cash to pay for doctor's visits because the insurance paperwork was just to much for her. My father sometimes forgot and called me "Sally," his first daughter's name.
*shrug It didn't matter. That's the kind of imperfect my mother and I were talking about.
(Remember, too, that both she an I have a history of depression with OCD issues. This made for an actually quite charming picture -- she and I reassuring each other under the stark bulb that lit the kitchen table: "It's okay not to get it perfect. Sometimes you can just let it go." )
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I did too, and I'm glad that I had good parents because when I start having kids I'll have at least somewhat of an idea of what to do with them because I saw parenting done the right way firsthand.
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My dad raised me on his own in a time when men didn't really do that. He got so much pressure to remarry, because I "needed" a mom. So, he did remarry, and it was a nightmare for all three of us.
He looks back and thinks of himself as a terrible parent, and that made me bust out crying. This was as he sat by my hospital bedside for ten days straight, through a whole shift of nurses, which is twelve hours.
He did marry again hen I was thirteen, and they are still happily married.
So,I had about every type of family situation there is: single parent, two parents, two parents with siblings.
I think those bumps and imperfections shaped who I am, and I am pretty darned happy with my past and my present.
[ March 10, 2005, 05:21 PM: Message edited by: Elizabeth ]
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quote:My mother was speaking of plastic parents -- never a raised voice, every surface perfectly polished, no spills no messes no mistakes ever ever ever.
Well, see, this is sort of what my house was like. My parents hardly ever fought when I could see or hear them, and our houses were always immaculate. I mean, I see things a bit better now, and yes, my parents do sometimes disagree about things, even important things, and sometimes they snap at each other and stuff... and there are, sometimes, stray specks of dust or dirt that aren't immediately purged, and there are spills or dropped cakes or whatever... but still...
...I guess the reason what you said got me thinking was that I'm not sure plastic parents in the sense you seem to have meant it exist at all, so I just assumed that you were talking about parents like mine when you said perfect parents. And I wanted to stick up for them.
quote: Instead, I got to watch how a family can be loved, nourished and supported without hardly any material things at all.
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