How NOT to Parent

One thing I say to Seth whenever he says we aren't great parents is "We are better than 80% of parents! Are we perfect? No. But do we love our kids, provide for them, teach them? Yes. We are really good parents so stop overreacting."

Today, I take back every word of it. For me at least. Today was not a good mom day.

Going through this world shattering situation with my family has made me feel like I have zero control of my emotions. Some days, I'm perfectly ok. I go about my day, I get the kids off to school, I work two jobs, I make dinner, clean the house, get the kids taken care of, read books to them, snuggle them and sing them to sleep. Other days, like earlier today, I feel so depressed that I can't move. I stare blankly at the computer screen at the THREE (yes three) email inboxes that are overflowing with things that need my attention. I accomplish some things, but not much. What I do accomplish is little in comparison to what I needed to get done. It just feels like the world is piling more and more on top of me and I'm unsure how I'll ever claw my way out again. The other days, I'm filled with rage. A deep-seated unsettled feeling of pure anger. I'm angry at all of the men in my life who have caused so much pain and trauma. Angry at the men who run this state and country and continue to do poor job of it. Angry at the divide that exists between men and women in the workplace. Angry at the unfair balance of home responsibilities that continue to fall on the mother (even the mother working 2 jobs currently). I'm just fed up with it. I'm disillusioned. I'm exhausted. But I'm exhausted being so angry. But I refuse to keep my mouth shut and pretend that all is ok with the world, when it clearly isn't. So I keep simmering. 

The depression was deep today, but I got out of the house and went to visit my 92-year-old grandmother. It was the perfect fall day that I long for all year. We sat outside and basked a bit in the sun. As a result, the depression lifted. Not long after I left, the rage began to build again. As a result, I was a complete shit parent.

While I was simmering with anger I went to pick up Millie at her cousin's. She was upset to be leaving and the entire night went down the toilet. She was mad about leaving. She was enraged and scared about the flu shot we are getting next week, she was awful to her little sister and just being an overall stinker. So I decided she was grounded for the rest of the night. After hearing her slam doors and throw things for awhile, I gave in, and let her come see her grandma. Grandma always can calm her down. She moped around and glared at me, she was ungrateful to her grandma. She was mean again to her sister, but also to the neighbor kids, and of course to me. I thought it would be a good idea to just get her to snap out of her mood by tickling her (which she loves). She was laughing but apparently mad-laughing. How do I know she was angry? Because my 8-year-old BIT me. That's right. BIT my hand. I would have laughed due to the absurdity of it, but I was shocked. And boy did it piss me off. 

So I sent her back to her room. The neighbor kids saw me yell and stared at me with wide eyes above their little masked faces. My mom saw me yell, and gaped at the entire situation. It was not great and everything went down hill after that.

A list of things NOT to say to children:
-"Your sister is being a poo, a massive foot-long poo." This will result in your 3-year-old neighbor telling her mom and dad that Becky is saying naughty things. 

-"You think YOU have had a bad day? You have no idea what I am going through! I may never speak to my dad again. I am fighting with your dad. I am trying to do two jobs. You and your sister kept me up last night. You had a bad day because you had to leave a playdate early. DEAL WITH IT!"

-"You have GOT to get over shots sis. You are going to get shots your whole life. Pain is part of life. You are going to have babies. BUCK UP kid. Good grief, get over it! It's not the end of the world."

-"You know what, I'm done with you today. Your dad will be home any minute. Eat a bowl of cereal for dinner. I just can't anymore. I'm going across the street to have pizza."

 A list of things TO say to children:
-"I'm sorry Millie. I'm sorry I was so angry. Mom is going through a really hard time right now. You and your sister are my biggest joy. But you are NEVER to bite me again ok?"

-"I'm sorry Tilda. I love you so much and I'm sorry I was so upset tonight. Let's all get some sleep and everything will feel better tomorrow."

How to best recover from your shit day:

-Pizza. Because carbs help everything

-Alone time. Preferably in a dark room with candles lit.

-Write. Write terrible a blog that no one will read. Write because it's therapeutic. 

-A glass of red wine and some popcorn are usually quite beneficial

-Get into bed earlier than usual. 

-Read until you can't keep your eyes open.

-Give yourself some grace and recognize that tomorrow is a new day. A better day. Another chance to get it right. Because these girls deserve the best of you. Don't let your past or other's actions get the best of you.

Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

Today is your birthday, you are 69-years-old. For the first time in 39 years, I won't speak to you on your birthday. I won't buy a greeting card that talks about being daddy's little girl. I won't call and hear you answer, in a voice just like Grandma Avery, "hel - oooooo!" There won't be barbecues at your house, where you insist on cooking the meat long before anyone arrives and leave it to warm in the oven. I won't hear "Hi skkkkkkkkinny girl!" when I walk through your door. It's election season there will be no political discussions between us. Gifts of flashlights, pistachios and political biographies will not be given. I won't chastise you for the amount of salt you dump on your food (who salts a hamburger!?) I won't walk through your soft and perfectly manicured lawn, as if you took a large comb and set every blade of grass just so. I won't hear you say how much you brag about Seth and I, knowing well that you exacerbate the truth to bolster us. We won't sing happy birthday and celebrate you. Not this year. Maybe not ever again. 

It's been a week since my world turned upside time. It's been a week since my perception of you changed. It's been a week where I have been filled with rage, then despair, then pity and back again. Of course, I can't say I am surprised to have learned what you did. Tiny pieces of your issues have been breaking through the surface for a decade. These tiny cracks stirring up memories of small ways you have objectified women. The final issue cracking the facade and shattering everything. And while I was the lucky one, your baby, others weren't. Does this mean I have to tell you goodbye, write you out of my life in solidarity with those that you hurt?

It's sometimes impossible to reconcile the dad that raised me, with the dad from the stories I have heard. To me, you were the dad that I always felt safe with and snuck into bed nearly every night, tapping your broad shoulder wrapped in a blue blanket so you would roll over let me crawl in.You were the dad that made up "coo little poo poo", a song the whole family sang to me whenever the garage closed with all of us tucked into the suburban. The dad I knew would rock me in each night, the wood burning fireplace heating the basement, as you watched the Utah Jazz game. I would always pretend to fall asleep so you would carry me to bed. My dad proudly exclaimed "that's my girl" when I caught the softball hit off the tee coming straight at me when I was 7. It was me who would look into your eyes during your divorce and ask you if you had been crying. You were the dad that never missed an important event in my life. You cherished my choir performances and plays, thrilled that one of your children shared your same interests. It was you that sobbed at my wedding breakfast, as we listened to Butterfly Kisses. Always your little girl. Always told to "stay little" while pushing down on my head. 

So much of who I am today comes from you. I'm strong, independent, assertive, a leader. While you used those same traits in ways that I never will, I do have you to thank for them. You also passed along a lot that I wish I didn't have. I'm stubborn to a fault. A fear of seeming complacent. Life-long body image issues. The goddamn patriarchy. You did teach me to stand up for myself. And that is what has led me here today. 

Those more vulnerable than me, need me to stand up for them. Those that suffered at your hands need ME to lead them through this hellish time. Those that don't want to face, or can't face their demons, need me to be their protector now. They are what matter to me. You have left a path of destruction in your wake and I will come through and try to clean up the aftermath. Your aftermath.  And slowly we will pick up the pieces of our broken family. Our family will never look the same,  but we will all begin to heal. We will come out stronger now that we are in an honest place.

The best I can wish for you dad, is that you own up to your mistakes. You need to admit them, you need to apologize for them and you need to begin making reparations. Because from where I stand, you are still my dad. And no matter how angry, and hurt I am, you are still my dad and I don't want to have to cut you completely from my life. I will if necessary. We begin the long process of healing and I hope you join us in that.