Since IntlExptr (from Here, There, and Everywhere) posed the inquiry in the comments to my last post, and since I'm in a writing mood, I thought I'd offer a little description of a young AcadeMama in the making. What was I like at 11 years old?
Well, my parents had just divorced, and my Mom got full custody after a very long, drawn-out, nasty court battle. At the time, in my head, I thought this was a horrible thing because I saw her as the disciplinarian. You see, while my Dad was off in the Middle East on an oil rig for a month at a time, my Mom was raising my brother and I, and she didn't have a lot of help. Shortly after the divorce, my Mom was diagnosed with a rare disease, Guillain Barre Syndrome (pronounce gee-YAN bah-RAY)...a rapid sickness, mediflight to Home State Capital City, and within a matter of hours, she was paralyzed from the neck down. One of her lungs collapsed, and she was on a ventilator for weeks. So, my brother and I "got" to go live with my Dad, who'd found himself a young, little barfly to act as stepmom/babysitter for us, while he continued to work. Oh, and he also told my brother and I that my Mom had a form of AIDS because she was, essentially a slut.
So, how does that affect a young girl like me? Well, I thought I was ugly, and thus adored my father's attention, despite the fact that he literally put the fear of God into me with his voice when he was angry. I was smart, I liked to play independently, but I knew more about adult things than any 11-year old should know. People around me didn't think that I was listening, but I was. I didn't always understand, but now I do. I felt horribly ugly and awkard. I was very tall, slim and athletic build, with no chest (things that resulted in me being tormented about for years). Add to that the fact that my stepmother decreed that I was not allowed to wear make-up or shave my legs, and I was virtually the laughing stock of 6th grade. I desperately sought attention from boys, even though I didn't "chase" them, if that makes sense. But never, I repeat NEVER, did I speak to my father or mother with the kind of disrespect with which Hannah speaks to me. If it were my father, I would have been hit with a belt...this was, after all, the man who headbutted me for opening a can of soup for breakfast. With my mother, and once I was a teenager, I was a smartass and sarcastic, and I thought I knew everything. I was shady and tried to break all sorts of rules (usually with great success...stealing her car in the middle of the night, drinking and smoking at friends' houses, etc.). But I always knew where the line was with her, and I never crossed it. Hannah? She jumps right over the line and doesn't even realize it.
I didn't have to try to do well in school. Basketball was the one thing that made me special because I was good...really, really good. But it wasn't enough to make me popular or pretty or rich enough to buy cool clothes (another hard thing to find when you're 6' at about 13 years old). I was non-confrontational because I had no self-esteem. I had an absent father, which simply added to my desire for a male voice that confirmed my worth. I thought I knew everything I needed to know, and I actually was mature in some ways. I always managed to balance my mischief with very clever deception, good grades, and the appearance of "normal behavoir."
Much of what I see from Hannah didn't come with me until I was well into my teens, and I'd decided to move back in with my mom (after she recovered and got out of the hospital). When I told my Dad that I wanted to move back in with Mom, he told me to take every picture of me in the house with me because he didn't want anything to remember me by. What does that do to a 12-year old?
I'm still trying to figure that one out...but none of it was good, which is why I have lots of baggage. I don't know how to be the parent Hannah needs me to be, the kind of wife and co-parent Hubby deserves, and carry all this baggage around too. Obviously, I had a fantastic mother, and my father taught me everything I needed to know about what *not* to do. I know what I need to do for myself, but I just don't have time to fit therapy in my schedule right now. There are some skeletons I'm just not ready to deal with right now, and taking care of my kids is my priority. For now, I pray....I pray for patience, strength, less swearing, less anger, the ability to distinguish between enabling a poor work ethic in Hannah and offering the opportunity for her to learn from failure. I pray with thankfulness, though, for all the gifts we have: health, each other, and the willingness to get through this together, no matter how long it takes. I literally fall asleep in prayer most nights, and I hope God understands.
Showing posts with label blended families. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blended families. Show all posts
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Adult Children
Hubby and I have come to the conclusion that having adult children must be a difficult thing. Groundbreaking, I know, but there you have it.
Lately we have seen an unhealthy cycle of behavior, wherein my oldest daughter gets in trouble, gets very upset (usually the level of reaction is disproportionate to the consequence she is faced with), and then calls my mother. A recent example is that she was at a sleepover and stayed up until 4:30 a.m.(!), after being told explicitly by her friend's mother (at 3:30 a.m.) to go to bed. Her consequence was being grounded from the computer, DVDs, and playing outside with friends for the remaining four days of school break. Enraged and in tears, off to the computer she goes to Skype with my mom, sobbing the whole time, giving an incomplete account of the events, then adding how unhappy she is at school and how mean people are to her (news to me?!). This amounts to her "tattling" on me, and then my mom asks to speak with me.
Not cool people. My mom claims that she's merely there to listen to her granddaughter anytime she needs to talk, thereby implying that I am not, but she questions me as if she has any clue what goes on in our house--half a world away--with our children! Needless to say, I was in no mood to have a conversation with her about my parenting, and I am still shocked that (after raising me!!) she can't see how she's being manipulated.
I realize it must be difficult, as a grandparent, to get a phone call from a grandchild who is upset and for whom you can do nothing because of, among other things, a huge distance of space separating you. I understand that, as a grandparent, your perspective as someone outside the household may be different from those on the inside, which perhaps enables you to notice things the "insiders" don't notice. However, you (the grandparent) are NOT the Mama (or the Daddy)! You have to realize that your adult children may not parent the same way you did, and this could actually be a good thing. We understand your experience and wisdom, but we also deserve some respect for the hard work we do every day with our children. Considering that my mom has never really had to co-parent (not only b/c my parents divorced when I was 10, but also b/c my dad was rarely home when they were married), and considering that she has never experienced a blended family, I really don't see how she thinks she can make judgements about the way Hubby and I parent our children.
The only conclusion I can come to is that having grown-up kids is just as hard as having young ones. They drive you crazy. And when they're young, it's your job to jump in, correct, play judge and referee, and dole out consequences. When they're adults, especially adults with kids of their own, they still drive you crazy....But you're supposed to sit still and keep quiet, at least until your opinion, advice, etc. is requested. This must be maddening. I hope I'll remember it when I'm a grandparent.
Lately we have seen an unhealthy cycle of behavior, wherein my oldest daughter gets in trouble, gets very upset (usually the level of reaction is disproportionate to the consequence she is faced with), and then calls my mother. A recent example is that she was at a sleepover and stayed up until 4:30 a.m.(!), after being told explicitly by her friend's mother (at 3:30 a.m.) to go to bed. Her consequence was being grounded from the computer, DVDs, and playing outside with friends for the remaining four days of school break. Enraged and in tears, off to the computer she goes to Skype with my mom, sobbing the whole time, giving an incomplete account of the events, then adding how unhappy she is at school and how mean people are to her (news to me?!). This amounts to her "tattling" on me, and then my mom asks to speak with me.
Not cool people. My mom claims that she's merely there to listen to her granddaughter anytime she needs to talk, thereby implying that I am not, but she questions me as if she has any clue what goes on in our house--half a world away--with our children! Needless to say, I was in no mood to have a conversation with her about my parenting, and I am still shocked that (after raising me!!) she can't see how she's being manipulated.
I realize it must be difficult, as a grandparent, to get a phone call from a grandchild who is upset and for whom you can do nothing because of, among other things, a huge distance of space separating you. I understand that, as a grandparent, your perspective as someone outside the household may be different from those on the inside, which perhaps enables you to notice things the "insiders" don't notice. However, you (the grandparent) are NOT the Mama (or the Daddy)! You have to realize that your adult children may not parent the same way you did, and this could actually be a good thing. We understand your experience and wisdom, but we also deserve some respect for the hard work we do every day with our children. Considering that my mom has never really had to co-parent (not only b/c my parents divorced when I was 10, but also b/c my dad was rarely home when they were married), and considering that she has never experienced a blended family, I really don't see how she thinks she can make judgements about the way Hubby and I parent our children.
The only conclusion I can come to is that having grown-up kids is just as hard as having young ones. They drive you crazy. And when they're young, it's your job to jump in, correct, play judge and referee, and dole out consequences. When they're adults, especially adults with kids of their own, they still drive you crazy....But you're supposed to sit still and keep quiet, at least until your opinion, advice, etc. is requested. This must be maddening. I hope I'll remember it when I'm a grandparent.
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