Childhood

I grew up in a pretty nice household. People always seem confused when I defend my mother or dislike when people insult her, but perhaps that's because they don't realize that honestly, my childhood was pretty damn nice and normal before I became a teenager.

My mother called me last night all upset that my aunt found out I was going to CA before she did. I explained I figured she'd see it on FB and also I didn't have TIME to call, just like I didn't have TIME to go home for Spring Break for god's sake. Also why the hell was she insulted/upset that I'd go home for Easter? I wasn't going home JUST to see my grandmother for god's sake, it would have been to see her too. But I can't anyway.

Then she thanked me for a post I made on FB. It was a quote by Neil deGrasse Tyson, about how parents these days don't let their kids do anything, and I was thanking MY parents for giving me all kinds of nerdy science things, and letting me be a kid.

The quote described how parents don't let their kids play with pots and pans, or in dirt, or break things, or anything. My mother explained how she actually learned from HER mother to LET the kids play with the pots and pans. It kept them entertained for hours. It wasn't a "Oh god no, don't make noise" thing in my family. It was more of a "Oh god please play with this and make noise, I need a break from watching you." thing.

There is a picture in the family photo album of my brother and I on top of a MASSIVE mound of dirt, from when they were putting the expansion on the house. We were free to play with it, and also throw around the concrete that was in it (I'm not sure how we didn't cause major property damage). My mother just made sure we didn't throw it at EACH OTHER. Apparently she and my father bought my brother TONS of playsand, which frustrated my father sometimes, but my mother said that eh, that's what kids do. She didn't mind us getting dirty.

She told me sometimes she would get frustrated with my brother for breaking so many things, but in the end she'd always feel guilty about getting annoyed. It's people that matter, she said, not things. Things could be replaced, it's not a big deal.

And the science books I had. I guess I always had a fascination with science, and my parents were happy to give them to me. My mother told me it's what I wanted -- had I wanted to be an English major, they would have bought me English books. And so I had hordes of Zoobooks, science quest, life quest, astronomy, meteorology, books about constellations. If it was a science, it fascinated me as a kid.

I could tell you that cheetahs could not roar, but could purr. I knew at a young age that our sun had a finite lifespan, and would someday swallow the earth. It worried me for a while, then I realized I'd be long dead by the time it happened. I could identify different clouds, told you what they meant about the weather, about storms. I knew how hurricanes and tornadoes were formed. I knew how the Titanic could have saved itself from sinking, and all of the reasons it was flawed. I thought J. Bruce Ismay was a JERK, and I hadn't even watched the movie.

I loved going onto Microsoft Encarta and reading articles over and over, or listening to the animal calls. I can still imitate the wolf. I played Magic the Gathering because I was a DORK, and by 5th grade wrote in my diary all excited that I had beaten my father for the first time, because he got a bad deal and I got a good one (no seriously, I documented the exact reasons it happened. Told you I was a dork.)

I got a cheap telescope at a tag sale once and when I showed an interest in watching the stars and moon, my father's friend donated his more powerful, legit telescope. I still have it in my room.

I got CatFancy subscriptions. It was one of their articles that allowed me to teach Sparkles tricks (this cat was sort of brilliant). She remembered "wave" literally until the day she passed away, on Monday :( It's really weird and sad to think my trickster cat is gone and won't be waving for my food every time I come home. RIP, my kitty. <3

When I started writing, my family was supportive, and my father even wanted to read some of it. If I left writing out, my mother would read it; this horrified me, but I realize now that it's a lot better than her being like "Oh hm my daughter is a writer? PSH WHATEVER NOT INTERESTED."

In terms of school I was bad at interpersonal relationships, granted, and my teenage years at home were kind of special. But as a little kid, I can't remember anything particularly traumatizing. I wanted science books? I wanted to play in the dirt? I wanted a goldfish? Sure no problem. Hell, to get rats in high school all I had to do was a bunch of chores and prove I was ready to take care of them. And I did. My parents never had to take over. As for my goldfish? Sure they were in a one to two gallon bowl by themselves (I only had one at a time) which wasn't ideal, but my father changed their water regularly, and I happily fed them daily, and one of them probably would have lived longer if my father didn't forget to dechlorinate the water (he felt bad about that for YEARS.). Hell, one day I brought home a freakin' CRAYFISH from some science excursion thing my parents signed me up for and my family let me keep it. And once I got to eat venison and drink strawberry tea at some archaeological excursion. Seriously: if it was science, I loved it.

So I know I can thank my parents for who I am, and I know that is almost entirely a GOOD thing. I likely wouldn't be an engineer if my parents didn't happily buy me everything science, because I wanted it. I probably wouldn't be such an animal lover if it weren't for my parents teaching me that (at one point our household held three cats, two dogs, and three rats. You kind of HAVE to love animals in that kind of situation XD ). And yeah, I probably wouldn't have quite so many interesting mental health issues, but well, can't be perfect.

And furthermore.... I joked with my mother that sometimes she probably wished she didn't have kids.

She told me seriously that no, she never regretted a single day of having three children. Not even when I was screaming with colic and she was having Peachtree schnapps to try and escape, alcohol style. Not when she was having to debate with the school about how no it was NOT a problem that my autistic brother covered his ears during fire alarms. Not when she was having to debate with the schools about what to do about my sister, who has Down Syndrome and autism.

She never regretted a single day.

Not one.

(Bonus: Adorable story! When my sister was very little they were trying to teach her sign language so she could communicate, since she is nonverbal [it was mostly successful. When she's not being lazy.] They showed her a picture of mittens. My sister signed back/said "kit kat". They kept trying but no matter what, she signed the same thing. When my father came to pick my sister up, they asked did they feed her a lot of KitKats? She kept signing that for "mittens".

My father told them "No, we have a cat named Mittens."

I LOVE that they couldn't figure that out. I can imagine my sister being like "WTF, guys, that's the CAT, what do you WANT from me?")