I talk about my dad, and how irritating it was that he pulled me away from the majority of my family, then tried to get me a stand in mom (insert evil step mom), and went through a few years of depression during a crucial part of my adolescent development... But also how inspiring he was through it all. He ended up teaching me (most likely unintentionally, because that's our family in a nutshell- accidentally awesome!) he taught me how to be aware, understanding, analytical, and fair. Even If he wasn't those things as much as he could have been. He took a brat, a spoiled brat, and turned her into a bit less of a brat... With a very open view of the world. My dad isn't biast, he's not quick to judge but he is quick to talk so he often says the wrong thing and it sounds judgemental but dad is far from it. I remember him explaining things to me like skin color, and souls. And how all living things have souls, and all of our souls are the same and so on. I remember him giving me hot wheels and a big track. We clamped that track down everywhere. And races cars, and he never got tired of it. He was definitely my protector. He saved me from drowning twice. Even so I never did trust him while he held me over the water. Dad was a balls to the wall kind of teacher though. It was fight or flight, Except he would stand behind you so you couldn't back out or run away. So it was more like "guess I'm doing this" I remember being so ashamed that my dad saw me at school, in first grade, and I was unable to do a single chin up. I worked all summer that summer and by the end of it I was doing 13 chin ups. 7 years old. I remember getting the chicken pox, I had it between my fingers. Dad broke a straw, placed it between the infected fingers and taped the fingers up. I walked around looking like "we come in peace". I had lice that year too (dad couldn't catch a break) and they told him to comb mayonnaise through my hair.... Yea... Yuck. A whole jar of mayo later I was bug free and about as oily as a pepperoni pizza. Speaking if hair and fashion, Dad also didn't care about what I dressed like. As long as I liked it. The only thing he fussed about was me trying to wear flip flops in the winter. Oh I had to explain the "twit flick" the other day to my boyfriend. It's something my dad came up with. Essentially when someone is being a twit, you flick them on the forehead. Right in the middle. I had to explain to my boyfriend why I flick him in the head so much. My point is the alternative to that life would've could've been, a house with two parents and my brothers (which is give anything EXCEPT my dad And nanny for) my brothers that is. I could care about two parents... But two patents would mean family dinners, family vacations, family outtings that kind of life. As opposed to fish sticks and koolaid watching scooby doo. Or liver (yuck) and greens (yuck) because payday is still 4 days away... Trade offs are fun, but the grass is deceptive! I had fun with my dad and I hope I'm as patient and funny as he was/is. (And hope I never go through a depression like he did) I can say this tho. I have a strong family, all around and I am so glad.
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
Think back
When I really think Back, I wouldn't change a thing. Except my step mom, I'd love to delete her from my life but you know... How many kids can say they pranked their authorities soooo much and essentially got away with it. Yea I was grounded all the time, regardless of the pranks too... But either way, worth it. Oh the stories. Maybe she was my buffer to the cruel world. I had six years of conditioning to deal with this bullshit! Every mistake I can think of, brought me lots of tears and agony, but also made me a friend, or gave me opportunity to grow. And it's sad that in order to make ourselves open to the possibilities we have to make drastic changes in our life or attitude and understand that those close to us will not be along for the ride. Choices we make everyday. All of us. No one is exempt. Remember we were all innocent victims once.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment