Have you ever really thought about it? That we parents were once children and our parents were once children and so it goes?
We, as children never think about our parents being children. We see the pictures of them, young and carefree, out exploring the world or sitting with family members at a Christmas dinner but we don't think of them as being young. We see them at a sort of static point in our lives. We see them as parents.
My parents have been dead (I am not PC in using the word dead, it is a fact. I did not lose them or any of the other euphemisms for this condition) now for many years. As I think back now that I am heading off into the sunset myself, I realize that I didn't know my parents, not as they were before me, when they were young newlyweds, before they met, or growing up. There are a couple of stories and a couple of black and white photos that show them before parenthood, before me.
Why is it we don't ask our parents if they had dreams or aspirations before becoming parents? Are we so self-centered (as children) to think our parents had reached their goal in life, had climbed their personal Mt. Everest? They became our parents, how glorious is that???
As proud as I am of my two sons (you know who you are), I remember vaguely having a life before them. A very different life than I live now, especially since my husband and I have gone up one step in the parenthood game by becoming grandparents.
I remember lazy summer days after being released from another torturous year of school. I had a hard time in school and wasn't the best of students. I often heard the phrase that 'I didn't apply myself'. School was boring. Back then the teachers as a general rule, were trying to push square pegs into round holes. Girls were suppose to be housewives, that kinda 'woman' thing and boys, well they got the fun jobs and supported us girls. It was before the sexual revolution, before women started demanding equal rights, it was still the time of crinolines (look that one up), gloves and hats.
I didn't like crinolines, hats or gloves. I wanted to play with trucks and climb trees. I wanted to do what the guys did. Do my kids know that about me? Do they know that if given a chance I would have been a heavy machine operator, or a welder? Oh the things I would have done if I had only realized I could have done them.
Do they know that I had many, many confrontations with my parents? That I couldn't fit into what they thought I should be and that this sense of failure dogged our relationship until they were gone (okay one euphemism)? No they don't. Because in the parent/child relationship we don't talk about these things but as parents our childhood experiences can easily become that of our children and our own relationship with our parents can become the one we have with our children. It's a cycle that repeats itself and sometimes you can't see it until your child has left home.
What do I want my sons to know about me? There was a lots of smiles, laughter and love in my life growing up. Yes, there was a lot of teenage angst, bad girl attitude and screwing up on my part. We had issues, all parents and children do. Maybe some of ours were a little more difficult because my parents were not my biological parents and biology, knowing where you are from, links to your past, does play a part in accepting who you are in life.
I have finally found at this time in my life that I am okay with who I am. I will never be skinny (Reubenesque is the word for my curves), there will always be something to overcome either physically or mentally, I will never have a perfect relationship with my sons or my daughter-in-laws because there is no such thing, the sun will rise and it will set. I will shed tears over those who have died and who I miss. I will always wish I had made that snappy comeback or I told someone how important they are in my life. I will not live my life in regret. I cannot change the past but I can choose on how I wish to remember it.
I am doing a project right now in which I am going through the many slides my Dad left me. I am only choosing the ones with smiling faces and happy memories. I don't need the scenic vistas or faces of people I don't recognize. I do need to see those faces so dear to me growing up. The small group of aunts, uncles and cousins, sitting at the picnic table in our backyard, or visiting at someone's house or even gathered around a table for a long ago Christmas dinner.
We, as children never think about our parents being children. We see the pictures of them, young and carefree, out exploring the world or sitting with family members at a Christmas dinner but we don't think of them as being young. We see them at a sort of static point in our lives. We see them as parents.
My parents have been dead (I am not PC in using the word dead, it is a fact. I did not lose them or any of the other euphemisms for this condition) now for many years. As I think back now that I am heading off into the sunset myself, I realize that I didn't know my parents, not as they were before me, when they were young newlyweds, before they met, or growing up. There are a couple of stories and a couple of black and white photos that show them before parenthood, before me.
Why is it we don't ask our parents if they had dreams or aspirations before becoming parents? Are we so self-centered (as children) to think our parents had reached their goal in life, had climbed their personal Mt. Everest? They became our parents, how glorious is that???
As proud as I am of my two sons (you know who you are), I remember vaguely having a life before them. A very different life than I live now, especially since my husband and I have gone up one step in the parenthood game by becoming grandparents.
I remember lazy summer days after being released from another torturous year of school. I had a hard time in school and wasn't the best of students. I often heard the phrase that 'I didn't apply myself'. School was boring. Back then the teachers as a general rule, were trying to push square pegs into round holes. Girls were suppose to be housewives, that kinda 'woman' thing and boys, well they got the fun jobs and supported us girls. It was before the sexual revolution, before women started demanding equal rights, it was still the time of crinolines (look that one up), gloves and hats.
I didn't like crinolines, hats or gloves. I wanted to play with trucks and climb trees. I wanted to do what the guys did. Do my kids know that about me? Do they know that if given a chance I would have been a heavy machine operator, or a welder? Oh the things I would have done if I had only realized I could have done them.
Do they know that I had many, many confrontations with my parents? That I couldn't fit into what they thought I should be and that this sense of failure dogged our relationship until they were gone (okay one euphemism)? No they don't. Because in the parent/child relationship we don't talk about these things but as parents our childhood experiences can easily become that of our children and our own relationship with our parents can become the one we have with our children. It's a cycle that repeats itself and sometimes you can't see it until your child has left home.
What do I want my sons to know about me? There was a lots of smiles, laughter and love in my life growing up. Yes, there was a lot of teenage angst, bad girl attitude and screwing up on my part. We had issues, all parents and children do. Maybe some of ours were a little more difficult because my parents were not my biological parents and biology, knowing where you are from, links to your past, does play a part in accepting who you are in life.
I have finally found at this time in my life that I am okay with who I am. I will never be skinny (Reubenesque is the word for my curves), there will always be something to overcome either physically or mentally, I will never have a perfect relationship with my sons or my daughter-in-laws because there is no such thing, the sun will rise and it will set. I will shed tears over those who have died and who I miss. I will always wish I had made that snappy comeback or I told someone how important they are in my life. I will not live my life in regret. I cannot change the past but I can choose on how I wish to remember it.
I am doing a project right now in which I am going through the many slides my Dad left me. I am only choosing the ones with smiling faces and happy memories. I don't need the scenic vistas or faces of people I don't recognize. I do need to see those faces so dear to me growing up. The small group of aunts, uncles and cousins, sitting at the picnic table in our backyard, or visiting at someone's house or even gathered around a table for a long ago Christmas dinner.
