Parents Need Parents too.
This is going to be an emotional one for me…
I have kids of my own and still need my mom. Parents should be there for you. Not just in your youth but into adulthood. There are so many days I just need to talk to my mom, I just want to joke and laugh with my dad…
My story is long and full of misguidance, heartache, and questions left unanswered. I love my parents! My father passed away about 7 years ago now and my mom is still alive.
I am the oldest of six kids. This story could be a book but for the sake of it just being a blog I’ll keep it a bit shorter. We have lived in California, Oregon, Washington, and now Montana. We moved to Montana when I was around 10 (fifth grade), it was my mom and us two older girls, our German Shepard, Iguana and my cat Boots all in a 1970 Impala.
My dad and two brothers stayed in Washington for a year. Talk about confusing and sad for my sister (who was only five) and I. We found out shortly after we moved that my mom was pregnant. That too is a whole other blog. The whole situation was stressful and being kids we really didn’t understand fully or know how to process the emotions we were feeling and going through. With half our family in another state and a new sibling on the way we were lost.
When my dad and brothers finally made it to us in Montana we were so stinking excited! My dad took that baby and made her his. He became the father she didn’t have. He loved her like he loved the rest of us. He WAS her dad because of that love and care. She IS our sister.
My parents didn’t really get along that well. There was always arguing, drinking, leaving, staying… There was a lot to process as a child. Or like me block out, suppress and ignore for the sake of not only my mental health but for the protection of my siblings. I didn’t know at the time that that is how I was coping. I just thought I was doing what I should. I actually have several memories that people will bring up to me and I have zero recollection if them.
We all lived together in a small two bedroom one bath house in an alley. We were your common everyday white trash low income family. We knew it. As children there wasn’t anything we could do even if we knew how…We went to school dirty in poor fitting clothes. We shopped at the thrift store because we had to not because it was cool (I love me some thrift shopping now though).
When we lived in different houses us girls (mom, myself and 2 (later to be 3) sisters) lived with mom and my brothers lived with dad. Oddly we literally lived on the same block just around the corner. I would get up several mornings and get my school aged sister ready, walk her to the end of the alley, wait for my brothers, send them off to school and then head back to the house to take care of my youngest sister.
Mom would still be passed out in her drunken state and someone would have to take care of the baby. This went on for…well most of my life. so when she was pregnant again I knew I’d have that much more responsibility. Don’t get me wrong…I was so excited for the new baby! I held the hope that because she didn’t smoke or drink while she was pregnant that she could just stay sober and we could have a “normal” life.
The hopes I held so tightly to for those 9 months were always shattered and life would just go back to our normal. There was rarely, if ever that I saw either of my parents without a beer in their hands. My dad was the social happy drunk and my mom on the other hand was the polar opposite. Dad liked to have bonfires and hangout laughing, Mom liked to scream and fight.
This was life. This is how we lived. This life is what killed my dad those 7 years ago, this life is why I have my mom blocked from any form of contact. I love my parents! So damn much! But I couldn’t change who they were. I’ve always had guilt and questioned if I’d done enough or what more I could have done. That answer is still hard to live with. That answer is Nothing. Nothing… I was a kid, that was their choice.
So to the reason I’m writing this blog in the first place…I am a mom. I am a daughter. I called my sister this morning (my siblings are my best friends) and she was busy at the moment so we were going to talk later. So as I drove home from dropping my kids at school I thought “who Could I call and chat with” I know! I should call dad! Instant water works!
The point is guys… is that sometimes you just need to hear their voice. You just want to hear them tell you that they’re proud of you. You want them to tell you that they love you. No matter how messed up they raised you, no matter how shitty they were at times… You grew up to be a pretty damn OK person.
You buy your groceries with cash, all of your bills are paid, your house isn’t a cloud of cigarette smoke, your kids go to school clean and in proper fitting clothes, they have full bellies and happy hearts, they aren’t embarrassed to invite friends over (COVID hinders the friends over thing currently), They will have gifts under the tree that were purchased by us and not given to us through a program…
None of the things I have listed or said made them bad parents. These things and programs were the light so many times for us growing up! In fact those things they did to make sure we had some kind of food or gift made them good. They did what they had to despite pride for us.
It makes my heart so happy to know that for the last several years I have been able to give to those programs, to shop for children and get them something or things that they have on their short modest lists. To give to the food bank… These things warm my heart more than I could ever explain to anyone. Not all of us have what I now do. Keep going, keep praying, keep your chin off that ground and know that you CAN.
My children know that they can come to me for anything, with anything and no matter what. My children are young but they need to know this now so it sticks for the future. They don’t see me with a drink in my hand, they have never seen me drunk. I cook, I clean, I take them to school, I take them to gymnastics and as a parent I try my hardest never to argue with their dad in front of them.
I am far from perfect! Their fathers aren’t perfect (I birthed one and have bonus twinsies), Their mother and step mother aren’t perfect. Thats OK and they know that it is ok not to be perfect (they have a good idea what perfect is because I tell them I am!)
We all bicker, we have our bad days. We hug, we apologize, and we carry on. That is what I am here for! I am here to guide them and to teach them what love and life are. I will mess up ( I do daily! Don’t tell them that) but I will hug and say sorry for what I did and we will learn and grow together. I really just wish I could ask for help now and then, to hear a reassuring word on the other end of the phone…. Mommies need Mommies too!
I would like to thank my parents for all they tried to do. I thank them for showing me a life I have steered clear of. I have made my own way! I can live this life and do these things because I worked my ass off. My husband is now the provider and I get to be the mommy!
