In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “I’ve Become My Parents.”Do you ever find yourself doing something your parents used to do when you were a kid, despite the fact you hated it back then?
When I was a kid, I hated when my mother would drink. She was loud and stupid. I’d hide in my bedroom. Angry because I couldn’t stand to listen to her loud voice that slurred as she got louder and louder. My dad wasn’t a drinker, so he didn’t bother me. She would also visit her girlfriend and talk all day over coffee. That particular friend of hers lived in the most child unfriendly house I’d ever seen. I was bored out of my skull every time we went to visit. She and her friend would ignore us the whole time, and we were left to ourselves for hours. I never did that to my children, but I’m just saying, I think I must’ve been only four years old. It was while visiting her friend that I fell going down a steep hill with concrete stairs and had to get three stitches on my chin. Children need attention and it’s a bonus if they are having fun. It’s not hard to ignore your kids so don’t do it.
I also hated my parents fighting. They didn’t stay together for very long after my dad gave my mom a bleedy nose. Those were horrible times listening to them fight at night when we were trying to sleep. It disturbed us a lot. It’s not ok to fight in front of your children, but I can imagine it happening to my kids if I had a husband. Fighting isn’t something anybody likes.
My mom was never a heavy drinker, but it’s one thing to hear your friends drink and swear, but when my mother did, that was just wrong. I am a prude when it comes to drinking myself; I‘m like my father who doesn’t drink anymore and who doesn’t talk a lot, but when it comes to being a bitch I’m my mother. I don’t like going to parties or bars where there is a lot of alcohol. I have no use for drinkers. They disgust me. I’d much rather have fun to play board games or Pictionary or watching movies and eating morsels of food. But surely one beer at night is good for the heart, isn’t it? If you are as old as my grandmother, I swear it is. She was 91 when she died