Now don’t get me wrong. Writing in my blog is not to get back at anybody, or aimed at anyone. My shrink thought it was a good idea to write about my life, and needy person that I am – I still need feedback, good or bad, and anonymous people on the net is a good start, don’t you think?
Like they say in the movies (and in Despicable me it’s my favorite) : “Any relation to persons living or dead is completely coincidental…” *snicker*
But I digress.
So for me growing up in a single parent home was the norm. Now when I say single parent I actually mean my nanny Willemien. She was our (me and my brother’s) live in maid for most of our formative years. She was a wonderfully warm, chubby, loving and giving soul, who grew “maroggo” in the back garden, and cooked it like spinach and gave it to us with pap. She made “Cool Aid” icicles with the ice cube tray and stuck toothpicks in them to give to us on hot summer afternoons after our round of “rugby” with the neighborhood kids in our back yard.
My mother? well, she was at work. Always at work.
And when she was not working, she was out with her many male friends, or at a work party. One of the last visits we had approximately in 2007 I invited them over for a Sunday lunch. They arrived 3 hours late, to cold food, and during lunch conversation she told all of us:
The one thing I truly regret from when you and your brother was young, was that I was a telephone mom. I used to call home and ask Willemien, has the kids been fed, did you bath them, are they sleeping, did they do their homework…
True she was only 17 when she had my brother, 18 when she had me, and divorced my dad when I was around 3,
but none of that was any of our fault.
(I took me many many hours of therapy and lots of money on therapists fees to finally realize this). Since my little girl was born in 2004 we have made it our priority to always be there (be it my husband or myself, in the afternoons. He made sure she got her bath, and I made sure everybody was well fed, and when sleep time came, I read her bedtime stories every night until she was 4 and 3 quarters. In 2008 her brother was born and from then her daddy carried on the tradition of reading bed time stories. Now that they are both a bit older (and she can read), she takes great pleasure in reading to her brother at night, from her VAST library of books we bought to read to her over the years. We may not be perfect parents, and we are doing the best in raising our kids based on what little parenting experience we gained from our own childhoods, and complementing this greatly with helpfull advice from carefully selected friends (from stable homes, with kids the same age as us), and some great parenting books.
All in all I’d say our kids are doing fine. Great even. And rarely do they miss out on a bedtime story!