You Betta Recognize

There was a period of time when I thought my parents would easily qualify for the Worst Parents Ever award. I had a pretty sheltered life, and my models of comparison were mainly limited to the parents of my friends--most of whom were only-children in two-income families and vastly over-privileged. (I was the oldest of four in a single-income household. Do the math.)

I won't go so far as to say I was entirely wrong in my hasty judgment of the parental units. I still feel there are a lot of things they could have done better, a lot of things they did "okay," and a lot of things they just plain fucked up. But I do acknowledge they were young, they were inexperienced, they had issues of their own, and to coin a phrase, they did the best they could do with what they had to work with.

I have come to this realization over the years as I've grown up and met other people. People who had it a lot better than I did. And people who had it a shitload worse. I've also had my own experience as a parent to add to my judgment criteria--I've been a parent in a shitty two-parent situation, a single parent, a parent in a step-parent household. I've been the parent of a seriously emotionally disturbed child. I've been the parent of a "bad kid." I've been the parent of a "good kid." (Yes, even Bob has had his moments.)

More and more, I find myself looking for parental guidance. In the beginning, I trusted my own instincts, because I quickly came to the conclusion the parenting magazines were, for all practical intents and purposes, full of shit. I then started consulting my peers with similar-aged children, because after all, if the moral majority is doing it, it must be right--right? Lately, however, I've reverted back to trusting my own instinct, and when I feel like I need a second opinion, I find myself asking the question I never thought I'd ask--

What would my own parents do?

Sometimes I agree with them and follow suit. Other times I wonder how my siblings and I made it out alive and choose the opposite action. Either way, it helps to either have the voice of affirmation in my corner--whether it's saying see, they did it this way and you turned out halfway normal; or see, they wouldn't have had a clue how to handle this, you're doing the right thing.

I just hope I can maintain this perspective--and gratitude--when my mother spends Sunday afternoon taking jabs at me for my inability to consume mass quantities of Cadbury Cream Eggs this year. And refrain from punching her.