A Blog About Parents: “It Is What It Is”
Jun 29, 2009 Family, Out with the Old Wicked in with the New Wicked, Parenting, Thoughts and Perceptions, Wicked Wisdoms, love
My parents weren’t go-out-and-do-shit parents. Meaning, you know how there are those one parents where every weekend they had this hike or that museum planned to go and do? Yeah. My parents weren’t those parents. For most of my youth, we were poor so it was hard to do stuff.
Looking back I could say that I wished that they were those parents. But I don’t. Not really. We have never really been ‘that family’. We did go and do things. The things we did do were fun times. So I like the fact that what we did meant something… because I think that, from the outside looking in … many of those families are not happy ones behind closed doors. Generally speaking anyway.
(Yes I am aware that this is not all cases and that there are those truly happy 50’s white picket fence chocolate chip cookies when you got home from school families.)
When I was really little my dad drove truck so he was gone during the week a lot of the time. I remember missing him a great deal, and I think that him being gone is the main reason why I was drawn to him the way that I was. I would wait and wait to see or hear his semi truck pull up outside and run as fast as my little feet could move me across the gravel into his bear-arms.
I have always thought that my dad was the coolest dad on the planet.
I remember this one time when he came home, he wanted to take me and my mom out to dinner. As promised, we went to dinner in his truck. When we got there, he came around to get me out of the passenger side. I was so small then; the length of the step from the truck to the bottom step seemed a mile long. I blindly, and in an excited hurry grabbed the steam/exhaust pipe instead of the handle.
I can still feel the pain on the palm of my hand when I think about it to this day.
I screamed and cried as he rescued me and rushed me into the restaurant where I promptly placed my hand in a big glass of ice water. He sat right next to me and told me jokes to try and make me forget about the burn.
“How about I punch you in the other arm. You won’t feel your hand then.”
We used to wrestle.
He used to give me “Monkey Bumps” cause he thought that shit was funny.
He helped me with my math homework. I really suck at math.
He likes to sing. He has a pretty good voice.
He tried to get me to golf. I sucked.
My dad taught me how to drive.
He made me walk to the store when I got my period to buy tampons.
We fish. A lot less than I would like, but…
As I grew into into me, only a hormonal teenager, we began to beef on a daily basis. I don’t know where the rift began, but I know where it ended: When I moved out. He and I are so much alike that it is frightening. Our strong personalities under one roof with one of them being an authoritative figure was like mixing oil and water.
I pushed, he pushed harder. I yelled, he yelled louder. I slammed doors, he slammed harder. But when push came to shove, I knew that he loved me. Maybe that is why I pushed so hard. Maybe … that is why he pushed back that much harder.
Would I change it? Nah. I think that all of the tumultiousness that was our father daughter relationship made us that much more awesome today. He has put up with a great deal of shit with me and my wanting-to-do-it-the-hard-way every time.
When I enlisted in the Navy, and actually followed through with leaving for boot camp,and then tech school… and then a ship… I think that he realized that there was something within me that I actually took away from the things he used to preach to me as a kid. When I returned home, and saw him for the first time, wrapped in his bear-arms again, I truly felt like a little girl again and I remembered that I loved him. We just kinda fell into something pretty great from that moment.
But it wasn’t perfect. *I* wasn’t that great of a daughter all of the time.
I got married before D and didn’t tell my parents until afterward. My selfish ass didn’t consider that maybe my dad wanted to walk me down the isle.
I got my dad fired from Metro. (I didnt know at the time) He had bags of bus fare in his room to turn in, and I stole so.much.change. What I didn’t know, is that he almost faced criminal charges for it. (I later found this out after jokingly telling him that I was the one who stole the change)
The cops were called to my house several times. Because of my fight instigation.
I am pretty sure that I told my dad that I hated him angrily… one time too many.
Above all, my dad has always embraced me for me. He has expressed his thoughts as to who he thought that I should become, but understood (after some adjustment) and accepted who I chose to be and how I chose to live my life and conduct my business. I think that I can say that he is proud of me.
But most importantly, my dad is an honest man. He treats my mom with the utmost respect. My dad (thinks he) is funny. He lives life with an “it is what it is” motto. He isn’t perfect, but he always stands up for what is right and what he believes in. I may not like it at the time… but that doesn’t matter. I know when I call him and I ask him for his advice, he is gonna give it to me. No sugar coating. No bullshit. None of it.
And that is more than I can say for most people in the world.
What kind of relationship do you have with the dad in your life?
Have you ever done something that made your dad burst with pride?
What is the worst thing you ever did as a teen/kid and got busted for?
Tags: adolesence. mom, dad, daughter, father, fight, love, mom, mom and dad, Parenting, respect, teenager
June 30th, 2009 at 02:01
I’m a total night-owl. I get this from my father.
My mother is an alpha female and a mentally disturbed one, at that. My dad is like me. He spends hours on the internet researching science and technology; prior to the internet he used to read encyclopedias when he used the “bathroom” instead of other books.
Gosh, it is hard to contain how much I love my dad is this one blog. My parents divorced when I was 8, my sister, Jenny was 5. I lived with my mom until I was 13 and she beat me to a point that I was done.
I made plans. I worked with my grandma (to this day my best friend in this world and the coolest woman I have ever known….I still remember the day Dick Cheney was in Seattle (I worked downtown at the time) she told me not to bring my nail clippers to work that day. I asked, “why?” She said, ‘well, if you run into Cheney you might want to clip off his penis. And you know he has a small one!” More on her later).
So, here I was 13 and living my dad. My dad had lived alone (minus the state allotted one month of summer vacation per month per parent). I understand there are a lot of deadbeat dads out there but I have a REAL problem with a state that forces a 13-year-old to go to counseling and then testify before a judge just because she wants to live with her father! (Its’ funny my friends that think I am such a feminist are always surprised to hear me defending WA state paternal rights.
Anyhow, so I moved in with Dad. My Dad’s house is large, around 4,000 sq feet so I had 2 bathrooms to myself if I wanted them.
The first few months were strange. I read a lot (My mother censored me to be cruel and it was nice just to read).
My dad bought me an old orange Schwin bike. I used to ride that bike everywhere (and yes, I rode it to buy my own tampons. I was so grateful to have a parent that did not consistently criticize me I really did not care).
When I was 14 I meowed for six solid weeks. I wanted a kitten. Dad did not think I could care for a kitten but I knew different. Taylor cat is still alive and well at 16 years! My dad even said to me last month, Christy, you need to have children, look at how well you have taken care of that cat!
My dad dated a lot. He was ‘6 “5 and some of the other single men in the neighborhood called him the “Kennydale chick magnet” lol
But despite the gold digger girlfriends I loved my father.
When my father was able to attend parent/teacher night I have never seen a man so happy. He came home after 9th or 10th grade parent/teacher night and he talked with me for hours about what teachers he had met, etc.
When I decided to write a paper on “Women in Film” in 10th grade it was my dad who took me to Scarecrow video in the U-District to rent old Marilyn Monroe, Theda Bara and Ingrid Bergman films. Even when I had writer’s block and threw the dining room table chair on the floor cause I could not pull the words from within me my dad, calmly worked me through my block and I ended up getting a 4.0 in that class!
My father recently re-married in October. The day after he proposed he called me. He said, I had to tell you first. He went on to say I want you to be involved in my wedding planning which I was.
I could go on forever. Three of my closest friends from high school lost their fathers to cancer. My dad let them celebrate Father’s Day with him. I get facebook requests from people for my dad’s e-mail address! What 62-year-old do you know that receives those requests?
And last, a cute one. My dad and I used to LOVE the sugar-free flavored popsicles. However, neither one of use liked the grape flavor. Soooo…. we used to eat the cherry and orange ones and throw the grape ones in the outside freezer. One day, my sister, my dad and I went to the to the outside freezer and there were around 300 grape popsicles in the freezer!
LOL
Also, dad used to watch “Lois and Clark,” and “Melrose Place” with me. (I think he watched Lois and Clark because he thought Teri Hatcher was hot).
What is so funny is when he watching “Melrose Place” and he said, “I bet the AMA is pissed off this show is on the air. It really portrays doctors in a bad light….” LOL
Anyhow, I could go on and on and ON about my dad but I think I typed enough for one (late) night.
Zandria Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 04:55
“…I could go on forever. Three of my closest friends from high school lost their fathers to cancer. My dad let them celebrate Father’s Day with him….”
Your dad is awesome.
.-= Zandria´s last blog ..TMI Thursday: I’m a Little Ashamed of This, But Not More Than HE Should Be =-.
LivingWicked Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 08:04
Yeah.
This totally explains why you are a daddys girl Christy. I could see that about you… but this totally explains it.
June 30th, 2009 at 04:51
For about 10 years, my grandfather was the dad in my life. Legally, he was my father since he adopted me when I was but days old. My best memories of him were when he’d get up with me early every Saturday morning and take me to the mall bookstore (Waldenbooks, I think) so I could load up on my weekly stash of books. I LOVED TO READ, and I went through books so quickly that it was hard for him to keep up. But he did. We’d go eat breakfast at Denny’s and hit the mall, and he and I would walk through Waldenbooks for up to a couple of hours until I knew exactly what I wanted. He’d carry a bag of my books and I’d have to carry the rest stacked up in my arms. I remember people would smile at us as we walked by.
When he died of a sudden heart attack, I was devastated. Sure, he was older than my friends’ dads…he was 67 years old when I was born. People who knew us back then said that having me around kept him young. I like to think that.
After his death, I went to live with my aunt and uncle. My uncle was the type who loved to play basketball and baseball, you know, a real athletic type guy. So he would try to involve me in sports as much as possible in order to expose me to something other than my books. He’d come to my soccer games, and now that I think about it, he was much more INVOLVED in my upbringing than my aunt, even though SHE was my legal guardian. He also helped me with my math homework…EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. I know I used to frustrate the hell out of him because I JUST DIDN’T GET IT…ever, but he hung in there with me. He was also the one who would go up to bat for me in dealing with my (sometimes overbearing) aunt. Sometimes I think he is the reason I am still alive today, but that’s another story for another day.
My aunt gave up on me and sent me to live with my mother, but I don’t think my uncle would have had it been entirely up to him. I don’t regret going to live with my mother; indeed, I am grateful for the two years I did spend with her before she died, but I think my life would have turned out a lot better had I stayed with my aunt and uncle. He was the only one who understood that I was a work in progress.
.-= Zandria´s last blog ..TMI Thursday: I’m a Little Ashamed of This, But Not More Than HE Should Be =-.
LivingWicked Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 08:14
We are all works in progress my dear.
I think that each of the people in our lives are there for a specific reason, be it good OR bad.
<3
Zandria Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 08:49
Indeed <3
June 30th, 2009 at 05:11
You know that old saying “it takes a village” .. I am a person who is a product of that kind of upbringing… I can remember very few bad memories of my childhood.. I grew up in an environment that was not only filled to the brim with extended biological family, but also with all the other “aunts and uncles” who were part of my parents lives. As a child I probably spent one weekend out of three at home with Mum and Dad, the other 2 weekends I was at one or the other of my Grandparents houses… I was incredibly lucky, growing up I had amazing relationships with my Dad, my Grandparents, my Uncles (both actual and non-related) … I was the first Grandchild on my Dad’s side and the first Grandaughter on my Mum’s so I grew up feeling particularly loved… then when I was 18 my parents split up … and suddenly things weren’t so rosy with some of the men in my life… I was old enough to see the traits in my Dad that I had previously been shielded from, and for a time it affected my relationship with him in a bad way … things became very complicated when my parents split… I lost the majority of my village, and even at 18 I stuggled with that a lot, all these people who had been a part of my life since the day I was born (in one case literally, I was almost born in their front room) and suddenly, they disappeared.
I now have an amazingly close relatonship with my Dad, we see each other for dinner once a week, and he is teaching me to drive so we are seeing each other more often then that quite a lot… we talk about almost everything, Dad was the disciplinarian in our family.. Mum was totally soft and could be easily convinced to let us off our punishment.. but Dad, he spanked… and I knew just which buttons to push … but we never saw him as the bad guy… it never occurred to us to be traumatised by a spanking… we just knew we had really pushed it too far… and now.. I am his confidant when there are problems with my stepbrother or stepmum … I have always loved him to bits.. but I think now.. knowing his flaws, knowing he is not the perfect father I believed him to be, has made me appreciate the man so much more..
I am also lucky in the fact that my Mother remarried the most amazing man in the world… I was 22 when they married, but that didn’t stop him embracing my sister and I like we were his own (nor my Mother with his 2 kids) , he was so excited when my sister had her now almost 6 year old.. he is Grandad and those boys adore him…
I think my Dad is proud that I have begun this degree, the only time he has ever really shown pride in me otherwise was when I managed to get through a reading at the funeral of my Grandfather (My Mum’s Dad) .. I’m not great at speaking in front of a group of people anyway, but to then have to speak in that time of intense grief at he funeral of a man I adored.. was one of the harded things I have ever done, and everyone who knew me well, knew just how hard it was.
I was a pretty good kid really… I didn’t attend school for about half of year 8 cos I was being bullied, and finally got caught and grounded… apart from that … at 18, just after my parents split… I lied to both of them, told them I had a job in New Zealand, and travelled to Auckland to meet and move in with a man I had been chatting to online, who I was meeting in person for the first time, at the airport of another country… that caused a 3 month non speaking period with my Dad when he found out …
I am lucky, I grew up loved and protected and I never ever for one moment doubted just how loved I was by everyone.. as an adult some of my relationships with different family members have changed, evolved, there have been periods of estrangement and massive amounts of emotional pain…. but as a child.. I had nothing but love and support and encouragement…. it’s because of my Grandma that I have such a great love of music and books and live theatre and art… it is because of my Grandpa and my Babcha (Mum’s mum) that I have my love and talent for all things cooking related, it’s because of the love of that village, of the family and friends that made up that village, that I am the person I am today, all of my good traits are what they are because of the people that surrounded me during my upbringing…
Kylie Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 05:16
something else that had a big impact when I was a teenager and affected my relationship with my parents in a good way… a friend of mine had a huge huge fight with her Dad, her and her Mum both, so big in fact that he decided to sleep in the caravan parked in the driveway to let everyone cool off…. he fell asleep with a cigarette in his mouth and died that night, and for the rest of her life she has to live with the fact that the last words she ever said to her father were ” I hate you” , from the time I was 14 years old, I have never ever let those be the last words I said to anyone ever again, because I couldn’t bear those words being the last thing someone remembered me saying to them…
LivingWicked Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 08:20
Your family sounds wonderful. You are truly blessed.
This story above is tragic. It makes me sad, but grateful that the times that my dad did sleep outside in the truck …
<3
Kylie Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 13:46
Yeah … I think they are… growing up mine was always the place all my friends congregated to as well.. one even came to live with us for a while, she has said to me that to this day, neither of my parents have ever asked why she had to come and stay with us for 2 months, they just opened their door and their arms and made her up a bed… that was just the way of my parents… particularly my Mum… I used to have huge pyjama parties… boy/girl.. we were all just friends, between 15 and 20 of us alll crammed into the loungroom and would watch videos all night … I lived in a beach suburb so we would all walk down to the beach, to the end of the breakwall.. then we would go and watch the sun rise…. and my parents never complained…
LivingWicked Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 13:59
That is too cool.
June 30th, 2009 at 05:47
I think it’s in the Kenyon genes – fathers and daughters are way too much alike for their own good.
When I think of your dad, I always think of his laugh. The “I don’t care if it’s embarrassing, I think this is funny and I’m going to laugh really loud” laugh.
And his lasagna. And the way he and your mom always have ice in their milk (which to this day I still think is really gross for some reason).
I am looking forward to seeing them in a couple of weeks
As a teenager, I was so wrapped up in myself (who wasn’t?) that I don’t really remember any moments where I knew my parents were really proud. I mean, the obvious HS graduation but nothing else really comes to mind. I lived in my own little world and didn’t really pay attention to anyone else.
And the only thing I really remember getting busted for was the first time I stayed out WAAAAAAY past curfew (like, 5 hours past curfew) and came home. As a parent now, I have a better idea of what they were thinking, but at the time I was a smart ass and told them to MYOB and go back to bed.
We were bad kids.
But Mike was much worse! (Though he got kicked out at 16 so…. maybe he had the right idea to escape. I think all of us Kenyon kids did better once we moved out.)
LivingWicked Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 08:29
I have to agree with the last statement.
We were bad… but we were always good when we needed to be. HA HA HA.
Yeah my dad still has that laugh… and the ice in the milk. ROF that you remember THAT out of everything else.
June 30th, 2009 at 06:27
Wow! That is pretty wild. I can only imagine what my daughter is sure to do to me…If I have one.
.-= justjp´s last blog ..Downer Dude =-.
LivingWicked Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 08:31
…. remember that when you pick a wife or a babies momma. Your daughter will turn out JUST like her.
June 30th, 2009 at 07:03
I love your dad. Will he adopt me? I even come a couple ready-made beautiful grandchildren if that helps.
I never had a father. I had the fuckhead that tried to destroy my life and nearly succeeded until I figured out that I don’t have to be his victim forever. I have his name and his ugly crooked nose but he’s not my father.
LivingWicked Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 08:32
I am sure he would. He likes everyone elses daughters… just not his own.
(I am kidding)
April Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 09:08
meh… It is what it is
LivingWicked Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 09:08
Well I love the shit out of you… so there.
April Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 10:58
Love you too
June 30th, 2009 at 07:16
I slammed doors too.
But MY dad took them off their hinges.
Lesson learned…
.-= LiLu´s last blog ..A Different Kind of Gay Porn =-.
LivingWicked Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 08:32
HA HA HA HA.
Surprisingly, my dad never did that. I think he wanted me behind another door so he didnt have to hear my mouth.
June 30th, 2009 at 08:08
I have a horrible relationship with my father. He’s the head of our church and that is his life. He cannot distinguish between church & family. His position in the church is his identity. Nothing I can ever do will ever be good enough for him. I still try with everything I do to make him proud, but it hurts because I know it won’t.
Hmmmmm that I got BUSTED for? It’s the police’s fault. They told my parents that I was a run away and caught in a crack raid. I wasn’t (really), and wasn’t, but I got grounded for life anyways. That weekend is still one of my most cherished memories anyways.
LivingWicked Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 08:33
Ohhh yeah we have talked about this.
How did you not and not and have the police say you did and did.
STC Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 08:45
lol I was visiting my best friend in northern cali for a week – my parents sent me there, then were going to get me back when we all met up at the camp grounds for our annual camping trip. My best friend and I took a side “trip” for a few days to visit some of our friends
Long story, but the land lady was prejudiced, and kept calling the cops on the guy we were visiting saying they were squatters in the apartment. While the police were there talking to B, they got everyone’s names/ages, and when they found out I was 13, with a 17 y.o. and my parents didn’t know we were at the guys house….
I have no clue how the crack raid part came into it, but maybe that’s just what my mom took away from the message on the answering machine….
LivingWicked Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 09:08
HAHA. Selective hearing. It doesnt JUST affect teenagers.
June 30th, 2009 at 08:49
Oh my dad… he was a fishing boat captain off the coast of Miami. I spent countless nights sleeping in his giant captains chair at the very top of the boat, rocking and swaying feeling like the ocean was using her hands to rock me to sleep. It was the most wonderful feeling. Dad would drink budweiser and smoke cigars while he played poker on the docks till 3am. I remember “helping” him with his game. I was home schooled so being out late was the norm. I don’t think we had many struggles until I was 11 and he got sick. I was so angry at him. I hated and resented him for it. He died just after I turned 13. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I know he knows I love him and I know he loves me still. It still hurts though, just knowing that I was so selfish. I can’t help but wonder what life would have been like if he had stayed around. I miss him…. I’m afraid that I’ll forget the sound of his voice or the way his hugs squeezed me so tight that I lost a little breath. *le sigh*
.-= Lessa´s last blog ..Bricks =-.
LivingWicked Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 09:06
<3
Thanks for sharing this honey.
June 30th, 2009 at 09:20
I call my dad a couple of times a week.
I was scared of him when I was little. He was immature and selfish and emotionally manipulative. He was hard on me more than my brothers and sisters. He made bad choices. But he was also funny, good-looking and charismatic. These latter traits brought him into the arms of another woman leading to my parents divorce when I was in the 3rd grade.
It destroyed my mother. I feel sorry for her, but she let it.
It was the best thing that ever happened to my father. He married this other woman and lived happily ever after until her passing several years ago. This other woman, dispite her slip with a married man in the early 80s, had so much heart and character. And my dad understood the importance of both. He has always had heart. Even when he was dick and mean and saying nasty things when I was little, I never doubted for a second that he loved me with all his heart. But over the course of his last marriage, which lasted almost 20 years, he became a better man. The man he always wanted to be. The man my grandfathers would be proud of.
Not long ago he called me out of nowhere and said that he only had a minute, but that he didn’t want to die some day without telling me that he was proud of me. Not the way I have squandered my multiple artistic talents and not the way I never rose up to use my wicked high IQ to be something more successful. He was proud of me because he knows I am a good man. I have very high cahracter. He knows that that is the most important measure of a man.
I have always loved my dad as much as he loved me. I am just as proud of him.
LivingWicked Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 09:29
You and I have had a conversation about your dad before.
June 30th, 2009 at 10:20
I can honestly say that I’ve never had a fight with my dad. Not over anything serious. We jokingly argue all the time, and it’s just part of our relationship.
I have an amazing relationship with my dad. He’s one of my best friends in the whole wide world. He hasn’t always been the best dad, but he’s come so far and I’m so proud of him. He’s my hero. And I know I make him proud all the time. I’m probably the perfect daughter most of the time. I don’t get into trouble and I don’t ask for money. I never have. I make sure my dad knows how much I love and appreciate him all the time.
Any husband of mine will always come second to my dad. It’s a good thing Walter knows that. I am such a daddy’s girl (with a tattoo to prove it!) and I always will be.
.-= Jaime´s last blog ..Oh geez. =-.
LivingWicked Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 10:31
Your dad is lucky to have you.
Jaime Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 10:48
I know. He tells me all the time when I randomly call him or text him just to tell him that I love him and he’s the best.
.-= Jaime´s last blog ..Oh geez. =-.
June 30th, 2009 at 13:13
THIS is exactly what I wanted from these blogs.
I love that your dad drove a truck, and that you thought it was cool. I get the ‘looking forward to him coming home’ bit – I had it when my dad would go to the Phillipines or whereever.
I’m still processing the rest.
xoxo
.-= Squish´s last blog ..I Don’t Wanna Grow Up… =-.
LivingWicked Reply:
June 30th, 2009 at 13:58
Were you a military brat? I feel like I should or already do know this about you.
Process away.
June 30th, 2009 at 20:00
This choked me up more than a bit. Daddy had his first chemo treatment yesterday. I was excited to hear he handled it pretty well and ate dinner last night. My response was to tell him that he could kick cancer’s ass. It was better than crying.
Which is certainly something I do quite a bit when I talk of my dad lately.
My relationship with my father…is a lot like me. It’s a aurvivor and I’m grateful for it.
July 1st, 2009 at 06:15
I didn’t really have a dad until a little over a year ago. I mean he was around but my moved moved out and across the country before I turned one so all I knew of him was a week once a year.
Anyway, now it is so good! Not perfect, and in some ways we are still just getting to know each other, but he and my step-mom became family somehow and I am a much better person as a result.
.-= Miss Tricky´s last blog ..Even though today started poorly…. =-.
July 8th, 2009 at 09:30
that was awesome!! i wish i could write like you do and tell the tale of my two dads..
.-= Cassi´s last blog ..I dream of… MJ?? =-.