Ravenous Bugblatter Beasts of Traal Make Bad Parents | Whiskey in My Sippy Cup : Surviving Parenting. Kinda.

Last week, I received a few emails from some people who took issue with my birthday post to my daughter. I believe their point was that I was, oh, full of myself and a wretched excuse for a human being who doesn’t deserve her children, or something like that.

Why? Because I stated that I wasn’t too sure about having a girl when I got one.

Now, I could take issue with that and be all pissy and defensive, or I could just realize that most of you have better things to do with your time than read through 3 1/2 years of archives to figure out what the hell I’m talking about, and in all fairness, I can almost see their point. Starting the Happy Birthday post with “Yeah, not so excited at first” could come off as the slightest bit horrendous, I guess, if you don’t know the history (and you don’t bother to read the rest of the post. Bygones.)

So maybe I should cover that history for a second. Just a second, I swear.

See, here’s the thing. My family has dark, dusty storage lockers rented out all over the East Coast full of skeletons. Everything is hidden. I didn’t even know my mother’s actual, legal maiden name until I tried to get a Social Security Card when I was 17 and the girl at the counter felt badly enough for me for clearly knowing none of my family history that she told me.

Growing up, I knew that my mom’s mom was abusive and the slightest bit nuts, I knew that my father’s mom and sister had some issues with substances and sanity, but I never knew details. No one knew details. No one talked about anything. My whole family tripped through life with a bag over their head, hoping that if they just didn’t acknowledge anything at all, it would all magically go away.

No one ever sat me down and explained that mental illness, severe mental illness, is swarming in my gene pool. No one ever told me what drugs were, let alone that we’re all freakishly predisposed to addiction. No one utter the words “child abuse” or “substance abuse.” The word “sex” was never spoken in my house. All we knew is that private parts were dirty, that god wants parents to beat their kids, and that those kids need to shut up and pray.

So when it all fell apart, none of us knew why or what to do about it. I used to have teachers come up to me and ask direct questions about my home life, and it never even occurred to me to talk about any of it, because I just thought no one talked about those things. I just thought that was everyone’s life. I didn’t get it that normal people do talk about these things, and that my life wasn’t normal.

It took me a long time and a long series of breakdowns and some self-mutilation to work through everything once I left home. It took hours in darkness, mulling over blurry memories, piecing stories together, writing about it and talking through it before I realized that I was at the bottom of a long, twisted spiral of DNA gone haywire. I thank the flying spaghetti monster every day that I was at least given the intelligence to be able to see these things and make sense of them in the end.

What if I hadn’t been able to sort it all out? What if I had just once cut deep enough, when that was the only coping tool I had at my disposal, and I’d never figured it out? What if I’d never really learned that nothing that happened to me had anything to do with me, just with my situation and with the brain chemistry of my relatives? I probably wouldn’t still be here, that’s what.

Now, I got really lucky in that my family’s particular brand of nutsosity has seemed to lay off me for the time being. Usually, it hits hard right after you have your first girl. I’m three years in and still don’t think I can see the molecules coming out of the thermostat. I’ve never once called a priest to inquire about and exorcism for my daughter. (Though, honestly, I can almost see the reasoning behind that one.) (Kidding.) (Maybe.) I’ve never wanted to beat her until she bled, I’ve never once felt like all my problems are her fault, when her father and I split up, it never occurred to me to try to beat her father out of her.

I think I’m in the clear, here.

But what if she’s not.

What if she grows up, has a baby, and all of this starts for her? What if I fuck up royally sometime in the next 15 years and she can’t understand why? What happens if she grows up thinking that her mom had it so easy, and that all women naturally take to parenting, and then she has her own children and struggles like I did 8 years before she came, when she couldn’t have seen it or known about it?

What fucking good is keeping my past a secret going to do for her? None. But it might really help her to know someday. She might need that information. She might need to know that it’s okay to be afraid to be a mother, to be so humbled by the awesome responsibility of bringing up a child that you are terrified of doing it poorly. She might need to realize that her mother is so very fallible, but fighting every day to be better than she thinks she can be.

I just want all of my kids to participate in their childhoods. I want them to know that alcoholism and drug addiction runs rampant on both sides of their family, that mental illness is right there in the corner watching them, and that I KNOW those things. I think it’s important that they know about the limitations they may possess; that maybe drinking isn’t a hot idea for them, and that taking uppers is WAY OUT, and that the second they feel like they’re slipping, mom is going to be there to catch them. I don’t want big, dark secrets. I want my children to know me, to know where I came from, to trust me and come to me when they need to. I want them to know I won’t bullshit them, and I won’t pacify them, that I will believe them and can probably relate to them when and if the time comes. I want them to know that I love them so much, I’ll tell them things I don’t like to talk about anymore, because it’s important that they know.

So, if that means that I have to tell them that I was scared shitless every time I saw that + on the stick, then so be it. Because maybe they’ll be scared shitless, too, when they see their first +, and at least they’ll know they’re not alone.

daysgoby

Thursday, 9 October, 2008 at 18:24

I love this post. LOVE it. And wow, your commenters too. Especially I M Able, who with her ‘So I can’t just *ask* her what it was like scraping through the dark for her own version of normal’ made me go all shivery.

I M, if you have a blog, I’d love to read it. (jessalogic@yahoo.com)

About a month before I had my son my mom sat me down and told me that for the rest of my life, my mission was to make it better for my kids. To make them ‘better than me’, in that they’d have more opportunities, more choices. Be better equipped. Not make the same mistakes (instead making their own!)

I’m so hoping that what I give (and have given) these kids doesn’t include alcoholism or food issues, diabetes or alzheimers. (My husband and mine’s genetic cocktail)

Sometimes I’d give everything to have a window into the future for just a few seconds, to see that everything turned out okay….

Beautiful post. Beautifully done.

Once upon a time, daysgoby wrote..memories in wood and frame

Zoeyjane

Thursday, 9 October, 2008 at 18:34

I’ve never, in all the blog reading I’ve done, read someone explain my exact motivations before.

For me, it was the grand huge bitch of a fact that I spent about 18 years in counselling, off and on, 7 on some form of medication, off and on, 2 breathing powder of the gods up my nose and so far 15 binge drinking when the occasion called for it. I wondered why I chose to starve, shlosh, snort and scream from an age when half of those abilities shouldn’t even be comprehended yet. And it wasn’t until I was being treated for pre-post-partum depression that I was diagnosed with a melange of disorders of the melon. And when I told my dad he said, “Yeah, that’s what they said about your mother too. When she was in Riverview, after you were born.”

Which really, was like, the ‘why the fuck didn’t you mention that, say the first time I cried for 2 days straight and then spent every cent I had on a spice rack – when I was eight years old?’ moment of a lifetime. Isobel will never know that – she will never have to wonder why she’s different, if she is.

Once upon a time, Zoeyjane wrote..My Fantasy

Kim

Thursday, 9 October, 2008 at 19:20

Dude..this is your next BlogHer speaker post.. you are an amazing mother.. and f*ck anyone that cannot see that..

Once upon a time, Kim wrote..Hi, My name is Kim. I am NOT Perfect.

tiff

Thursday, 9 October, 2008 at 20:07

I can relate. I was scared of having a son because of my father and his…misdemeanors.

You have every right to say what you want, when you want. Don’t sensor for those few who think they know better than you.
I know, I know I should practice what I preach. *sigh* I can hear the hurt in your post. The fact that you feel that you need to explain yourself speaks volumes.

Your kids are very lucky to have you.
They will thank you for your honesty.

Once upon a time, tiff wrote..Photography.

Beth

Thursday, 9 October, 2008 at 20:10

Awesome post, as was the birthday one. I’ve only recently started to read your blog, and I thought it was perfectly clear from the birthday posting what you were talking about… &*^% the trolls!

Also, like the many, many other commenters here, I’d like to say that you rock for being so open and honest with your kids (not to mention with everyone else!). Plus, there’s lots of evidence that having a safe, loving environment during childhood is a very important modulator for those who are genetically predisposed to things like addiction and other mental illnesses (oops, that’s my geek speak coming out) Basically, research shows that early life trauma affects the development of brain structure & function, and of stress hormone function, in a way that make people more vulnerable to addiction and mental health problems later in life… so providing a safe, loving, nurturing environment to grow up in may actually be helping to lower the chances of your kids developing addiction and mental health problems at a physiological level. That, combined with, as you say, being aware that they should be on the look out for early signs of addiction and mental illness, will go a long way in helping them to have awesome lives!

Once upon a time, Beth wrote..Why Do Americans Have to Register To Vote Over a Month Ahead of their Election?

Linds

Thursday, 9 October, 2008 at 20:29

You are a GREAT mom. ‘Nuff said.

Once upon a time, Linds wrote..Thursday Thirteen – My 9th – 13 Things I Am Thankful For

Toni

Thursday, 9 October, 2008 at 20:44

Being honest with your children about mental illness and addictions that run in your family is a brave and wonderful thing to do for your children. My mother and grandmother were both alcoholics. My mother had mental issues for as long as I can remember but in my family things like that were not discussed with children or around children. I drank, did drugs and came and went as I pleased when I was very young because my mother was to consumed with drinking to care what I did. It wasn’t until I was 15 that I started to figure out on my own that something was wrong with my mother and that I didn’t want to end up like her. I finally went to the only person that would talk to me about these things when I was 16, my mothers cousin. She told me everything. It was through her that I came to except the fact that my mother was never going to be a part of my life because of her drinking and mental issues and that I didn’t want her to be a part of my life. My cousin taught me to separate who I am from who and what my mother is. I feel that I am a strong person who makes the right decisions most of the time but I also feel that if my cousin hadn’t been honest with me I very well may have turned out like my mother.

Once upon a time, Toni wrote..Expressions for Women having Really Bad Days…

Michelle

Thursday, 9 October, 2008 at 20:59

As I am 57 comments (or so) down you may not get to read this. I am a new reader and love your blog. The birthday post to your daughter was the first one I read, and I thought it was great. You did not have to explain your feelings at all, but thank you for doing so. Not everyone gets what they want, or what they think they want and it is OK to feel like that. I have 4 boys–boys I love more then life itself, everyone one of them, but guess what? I wanted a girl, just one. I was beyond devastated upon finding out I was having another boy. Doesn’t mean I don’t love him any less. This is just one of those things we are not allowed to admit in society or it means we don’t deserve our kids. Sorry you had to deal with those negative comments.

Once upon a time, Michelle wrote..And then my heart melted…

janethesane

Thursday, 9 October, 2008 at 21:19

I totally wish you lived close enough that we could go out for coffee sometime. And by coffee I mean Coke Zero. Oh wait, no one serves Coke Zero. Bastards. Diet Coke then.

Once upon a time, janethesane wrote..Stupid Hives

Tara R.

Thursday, 9 October, 2008 at 21:59

I promised myself that my kids would have it differently than I did growing up. Breaking the cycle can be done.

Once upon a time, Tara R. wrote..Flutterbyes

Alison

Thursday, 9 October, 2008 at 22:14

Perfect. :)

Once upon a time, Alison wrote..Not Fun

Leslie Dillinger

Thursday, 9 October, 2008 at 23:17

You are amazing. Totally amazing. And wonderful in all of your flaws. Your kids are so fucking lucky, dude. xos

Chip

Friday, 10 October, 2008 at 0:09

Looking back to when my wife told me she was pregnant all I can recall is terror. My dad was not such a great role model. I pretty well knew how NOT to be a dad, but that kind of left a whole lotta ways to screw up. In the movie Parenthood, Keanu Reeves says in effect “You have to have a license to drive and have a dog, but anyone with working genitalia can become a parent.” That was never more relevant than that moment.

Not being subject to post-partum depression, I did nevertheless plunge deeply into depression as a Stay-at-home Dad. It was the most fantastic thing my wife and I have given our kids (either parent being home is very cool), but 70% of stay at home Moms suffer from depression. 100% of the dads I know who stayed home did (that’d be me).

You are courageous and brilliant. You are facing your life head on and being honest about who you are. That right there is the greatest gift you can give you kids, the donor and yourself. It’s much easier to remember how to behave and who to be when it’s just yourself.

Those who rail against honesty and introspective writing probably aren’t wading out into the deep end of the pool anyhow.

Once upon a time, Chip wrote..10 Hottest New Bike Gadgets for Gearheads

Friday, 10 October, 2008 at 0:10

um… that’s not my writing link in that post… but this is. Heh… I iz a n00b.

Once upon a time, Chip wrote..My Shrink Laughs at Me

Surfer Jay

Friday, 10 October, 2008 at 1:01

Dam there are just too many comments. i want to be noticed toooo, but really….
Why are you so popular and why do I keep reading! Don’t know but it’s fun.

Once upon a time, Surfer Jay wrote..

Gnilleps

Friday, 10 October, 2008 at 1:46

u.suck don’t even know why you bother… (wink) jk jk jk jk

u.rock really. Almost as much as me! We have addiction issues in our family?

Kelley

Friday, 10 October, 2008 at 4:53

Babe, as others have said, you didn’t owe that explanation. But I totally understand why you felt you needed to.

I wonder if your concerned readers are the same as mine?

Cause girl, apparently I don’t deserve my kids either.

Love you. And I am not alone.

Once upon a time, Kelley wrote..Biz Cas Fri

molly_g

Friday, 10 October, 2008 at 7:04

You have hate mail now? You’ve officially hit the big time sister! Congrats! ; )

Once upon a time, molly_g wrote..Three year blog-aversary

ali

Friday, 10 October, 2008 at 8:31

hugs, my beautiful friend.
many many hugs.
this was a great post.

Once upon a time, ali wrote..dumped. dunked. and decluttered.

rebecca

Friday, 10 October, 2008 at 10:30

Socrates – The life which is unexamined is not worth living. Oh, yes, every family struggles to dust off, expose, and dispose of our skeletons. I don’t see how pretending everything is wonderful helps out at all.

I never wanted kids. My husband did and so it was part of our marital contract. People can say what they’d like about that, but I’m a good, if imperfect mother. No one who knows me could question my dedication to, admiration of, and love for my children and based on your birthday blog alone, the same is true of your relationship with your daughter.

I’m not sure why all this judgment, but it’s rampant and hurtful especially among mothers who should really support each other. Don’t we so lust after finding someone else’s weakness to make ourselves feel better?

Once upon a time, rebecca wrote..Er, uh, "Bird Friends" – You heard me!

tenakim

Friday, 10 October, 2008 at 11:21

you sooo didn’t need to explain yourself! Where do these people come from and why aren’t they sending me these same comments- I’m not complaining.. fuck ‘em- not literally, of course!

Once upon a time, tenakim wrote..Friday Fragments

Sherendipity

Friday, 10 October, 2008 at 12:22

I have a huge amount of respect for you, your choices, and your brilliant attitude. Your children will, too.

Audubon Ron

Friday, 10 October, 2008 at 12:55

Yeah, so you’re a lousy parent. We knew that. We’re working on that. But you get 72 comments. How do you get 72 comments? I haven’t gotten 72 comments all year. I hate you. Well, not really but I bet you think you’re some really hot stuff now. I’m taking my blog and going home. I don’t want to play anymore.

Once upon a time, Audubon Ron wrote..Dog Day Afternoon

Robina

Friday, 10 October, 2008 at 13:23

Okay, I had to go back and read the birthday post first, and I have to be honest and say, “What the hell are those people talking about?” Never ONCE in there did it sound like you didn’t WANT a child, just that you were scared shitless, and I completely understand that. Aren’t most parents, at some time or another, scared? If not, they don’t know what they are in for.

As you know, you and I have similary backgrounds. Alcoholism, drugs, mental illness, abuse, and I was scared, too. I didn’t want to be THAT type of mother, which was NO mother at all.

But I’m a good mother. And you are a good mother, and we both know it. We shouldn’t have to explain the reasons to anybody, but I love the way you DID explain it.

Once upon a time, Robina wrote..Do you have a cat, cause something is lickin’ me

christy c

Friday, 10 October, 2008 at 16:27

I didn’t see those comments, but I never get why other people’s feelings bother people.

At all.

I happen to like your feelings (you’re welcome! I know you were worried!), but if I didn’t? I’d just shut up.

If I do like them, I’ll try to make your journey easier by saying so.

I’ve had some people try to “call me out” on the bogus nature of my feelings–that’s right, MY OWN FEELINGS–and say they didn’t want to be part of the “greek chorus” that was positive toward me on my journey.

Now? I want them dead.

(Just kidding. Kind of…..)

Peace, and please don’t change a thing!

Once upon a time, christy c wrote..PMS, HIV….all the same, right?

Darla

Saturday, 11 October, 2008 at 11:19

Hugs. You are a great mom and don’t let anyone tell you different. I love your posts and from reading you or um, cyber stalking for about 2 years now, anyone who isn’t living under a rock can tell you LOVE ALL of your children.

Hell, I’ve been a mom to Ty for 5 years now and I’m still scared shitless everyday!!

HUGE STRONG HUGS to you!!

Once upon a time, Darla wrote..The Bride and her Lovely Maids

maggie, dammit

Saturday, 11 October, 2008 at 15:26

You are a good, good, good mom. And person.

Once upon a time, maggie, dammit wrote..Awareness

Erica

Sunday, 12 October, 2008 at 0:29

“My whole family tripped through life with a bag over their head, hoping that if they just didn’t acknowledge anything at all, it would all magically go away.” OMG it’s like we’re related. Welcome to the family. :P

Once upon a time, Erica wrote..Inside Voice