Ah, parenting. We all have our own styles and rules and ways of parenting. We read books, watch videos, and seek advice from family and friends. However; despite our best intentions, your children all become their own person, both good or bad.
For instance; I am oldest of three girls. At the time my parents had me, I was over protected due to my mom having given birth to a stillborn son a year previously. I also suffered many bouts of bronchitis, manage to get multiple concussions when learning to walk due to the instability of a toddler and the extremely hard concrete floor in the home my parents rented. As I developed, I became extremely shy and very introverted. I had/have an overactive imagination and love alone time.
My sister was born 22 months after me and was a good baby. Hardly ever sick. Didn’t complain and was all around happy go lucky. She never met a challenge she didn’t embrace, running headlong into life like she was born to rule the world.
My baby sister was born 5 years after me and suffered from colic. My mother, after nearly having a breakdown due to the constant crying immediately had her tubes tied so she’d not have to endure another.
Now, we all were raised by both parents; but we are so vastly different that it amazes me that we’re related. The reason I bring this subject up is because I was listening to a pod cast yesterday and the speaker made comparisons to a few siblings and how one was so bad and the other so good and it got me thinking about how we raise our children.
One thing I do notice about parents is that if you were lacking in love as a child, most shower their own children with love. If you lacked (food/clothes/attention/money, etc) you tend to make sure your child has what you didn’t. What we didn’t have mostly becomes a priority.
My middle sister hates comparison of any kind. While in high school, she never had to crack a book, didn’t do any homework and made fairly passing grades, to the great frustration of my father. She could easily be an A student; but put forth no effort to do so. On the other hand, I had a reading comprehension problem, took special classes to help me and struggled hard. I graduated with honors and it came to me with hard work and determination. My father once asked her why she didn’t put forth any effort, especially when they watched how hard I was struggling. A simple question that resulted in her rebelling against him further. Why? Because my father dared to compare us. What comparison? I never understood it and to this day, she is still resentful of it all.
This woman still harbors anger over things that she feels were slights against her. I had to wait until I was 8 years old to get a barbie. She got one, too, because I needed someone to play with. My mom walked me to the bus stop every morning for Kindergarten. My sister ran down each afternoon, alone, to meet me at the bus. I was not allowed to walk or ride my bike to town (about a mile from our home) but as soon as I was allowed, at the age of 10, she came with me.
Some might think this is unfair. I, however; never did. I loved it. Remember, I was the shy introvert, so I needed a companion for my exploits and who better than a sister? I never cared. She was outgoing, brave and fierce. She was everything I wanted to be. And yet, she still hates me to this day.
We grew up in the same circumstances, with the same parents, but for some reason, I’m the problem. We were both molested by our uncle. We both had abusive relationships with men. I stood between us and my parents when discipline was necessary. I stood up for her when I couldn’t even stand up for myself. And yet….
My baby sister is another story. She blames me for abandoning her. She was still in school when I joined the USMC and moved to the other side of the world. I was her champion and she resented the fact that I left her.
Both of my parents worked long hours. Mom was a bus driver and my father worked in the NYS Correctional Facility and also was a contractor. While growing up, I took care of the girls after school, making sure chores were done, helping with homework, and that dinner was prepared. Because I spent so much time with her, she looked up to me, so when I went away, I stole her security from her and was then the bad guy.
How did we get so screwed up? I haven’t a clue. So, I confess that my relationship with the two of them is non-existent. I remember speaking to her ex-husband when they were getting a divorce. I reminded him that even though they have irreconcilable differences that at one time they were in love, she was still the mother of his children, and they should work at being civil for the children’s sake. I refused to take sides with either of them. Shortly after that conversation, I got a screaming voice mail from her that I was dead to her and how dare I take his side. When I tried to explain, she wanted no part of me and my “lies”. For the sake of my own sanity, I will not allow myself to be part of her life anymore; because she is toxic to me.
Unfortunately, the summer before that my son and parents went out on a cross country trip and stopped by her house for a week long visit before heading further out west. Apparently while they were there, my father and sister got their drink on and spent that time bashing me as a horrible person. They told my son things that were not at all true and really hurt him badly. He called me up crying. I asked him if he’d ever seen such behavior from me in his life and he said no. I then told him that the opinion of others about me didn’t matter, because he knew the truth. I then called my mother and asked her with the heck was going on and she had no clue; because she’d gone down to their travel trailer early for a break from the family. She then went to my son and “fixed” it.
What’s strange is that my father, about a year ago, brought up my “bad behavior” in front of my mom, son and myself. Upon doing so, I gave him a strange look and asked him where he’d heard such lies. He seemed taken aback that I’d not acknowledged the lies as true. I didn’t defend myself, either. I just let the statement speak for itself.
We all have distorted memories. We all tell our story the way we see it. There are 3 sides to every story. Yours, mine and the truth. I guess I’ll know the truth of it all when I get to heaven. I only know the truth I remember. 😀
Parenting would be so much easier if we all conformed to the same formula, as clones. LOL!
❤
Irishgoddess 