50. the real parent trap

Here I am, giving some thought to parent-child relationships and trying to fathom the kind of parent I'd like to be. Sound good? Wanna join?

Hola amigos de internet! Welcome back to the experience of reading my newsletters. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I have a lot to be grateful for.

If you’re thinking “Hey! that was a great movie, omg, loved it, that’s my childhood right there”. No, this has nothing to do with a twins-separated-at-birth Disney movie. Although it has a lot in common with Lindsay Lohan, since I’m talking about a real-life problem.
Not in a mean way, but I think we could all agree that woman has gone through a lot.
I recently heard (saw somewhere on the internet, who speaks to people anymore, well, hah, I do) she’s going back to work, so, good for her. Plus, she will always be a queen.

OKAY, NOW, TO THE REAL TRAP.

Too many times I remember being locked in my room, frustrated, crying hysterically, thinking to myself “I will never do that to my children, I will never become you”.
That “you” was my father. I was raised by my father from the age of six (6) to the age of eighteen (18), moment I decided it was no bueno to live with him anymore.

My father is a great man if you know him a little. But being raised by him was much more than knowing him a little. [This is by no means a roast your parents’ essay]
So yeah, of course, I will have some complaints about some of the aspects of being raised by a Dutch male baby boomer in his thirties and forties. Don’t we all have daddy issues?

(If you’re wondering why I was raised by my father and not my mother, the answer is quite long and it does touch some of my early childhood trauma, so let’s just leave it at she wasn’t spiritually ready to be a mother to someone other than herself. And that is something I completely understand and respect now.)

It’s not like my father treated me badly, but he did treat me poorly, in a very not-motherly way (duh, Ale).
Did any male baby boomers treat their children in a gentle and conscious way? → honest question.
I think he wanted a baby boy, but he got a baby girl. And since I’m an only child, ha! that’s all he got. The thing is that… I’m almost 100% sure he didn’t think I was a person, only a kid. And I see this happen constantly, for some reason and some people, there is a disconnection between the concepts “children” and “person”.
You could argue a child is a person, right? However, for these individuals I was mentioning two seconds ago, a child is a future person. To them, “person” equates to “adult”. Here’s how they do their math:

So, as I was saying, my dad thought I was only a future person and he was waiting for me to become one in order to treat me like one. And if I wasn’t A PERSON yet, what was I? HUH? WHAT WAS I, DAD?

I think the answer is, I was HIS child. Not only in the cute, loving “my daughter” way, but in the real estate "property” way, too. So I was his person. I belonged to him.
(We’ll get into how was it for my mom when I’m able to joke about it and not cry, okay?)

So I always felt my Life was this thing happening within his Life and I felt little, tiny.
My dreams were “unrealistic” and my soliloquies, annoying. They still are, but hey! now I’m fucking the person I give them to. And no, fucking my dad was always an out-of-the-question thing. Hehe, did that make you uncomfortable?
GOOD.
You know? Everything GOOD happens outside of your comfort zone. So, never get too comfy.

Assuming your kids are less “person” than you only because they’re younger than you is such an entitled way of viewing your children. But would I fall into the same trap?
THE REAL PARENT TRAP.

When it comes to educating and raising humans, good intentions and ideas can get smashed by being tired, sleep-deprivation and the annoying “limited hours” in a day thing.
Also, I doubt my parents were fully conscious of what they were doing when they decided to conceive. I picture them being like:

-Hey! let’s make a family! I want to have a baby, let’s have some sex.
-Yeah, let’s do that, I really want to have a huge belly and feel like I’m in a movie.
-Sure, I’ll go to work and tell my coworkers we’re on our way to FAMILY.
-Aw, lovely! This is my dream come true! I’ve always wanted to be a mom.
-I’ve always wanted to be a dad! Got the job, got the wife, now baby needs to come.
END OF THE CONVERSATION, PROCEED TO: LE INTERCOURSE.

The exact opposite of what’s going through my mind when I think of having a baby:

“First of all, Ale. WHY do you want to have a child? Is it because you want to fill a void in your life? What’s lacking in your life? Is this a selfish thing to do? OMG, but the world is on the brink of ending. Does that being want to come here? Am I disturbing that loving soul? Fuck, I don’t want to spoil their time on the void, I miss it so much!
But I really want to have many of them running around the house. I want to learn the fresh information they’re going to bring! Teach me how to live young hooman! Little version of me + Le Boyfriend*.”

(*) Naughty information alert: Le Boyfriend is no longer Le Boyfriend, but Le Fiancé. Isn’t that fancy? Yeah, he gave me a ring, I said “Of course I will marry you, you’re the love of my life” and we kissed. Isn’t that cliché? Yeah, but it’s also beautiful and I wouldn’t marry any other person so shut up.

You shut up, Ale. WILL I EVER GET TO THE POINT?

What I would like to avoid is The PROTAGONIST DISEASE. That disease we all suffer from time to time and distorts the image of what’s really happening. You think you’re having this dreamed life of yours and everyone else: supporting roles. YOU ARE THE MAIN CHARACTER, they’re only little workers helping the plot of your Life, making sure it never gets boring.
Hmm, cute and sometimes inoffensive (some other times it will cost you relationships, so careful there).
Pay close attention when it comes to children because just like IA, you’re giving autonomy to a creature. That creature seems like it’s part of the cast of your movie, but the thing is… they’ve got a movie of their own going on. That movie starts the very moment they open their eyes for the first time.

Yes, I am all the versions of me, together, combined. Like a layer cake, but make it hot.

So is my dad and my mom, and everyone I know.

As I grow up, I understand more and more what happened in my childhood, from a different perspective. I just want to make sure I fully comprehend -or almost fully- what it is to bring a child into this world. I want them to feel their own. I want to cherish and appreciate their souls.

But who am I kidding? That will never happen in the mind.
Only in the flesh. When that baby does come out of my vajay.

-So, why all of these words, Ale? What for, huh?

Yeah, sorry. I told you my soliloquies were annoying and often go nowhere.

Nevertheless, wasn’t this fun?

Time 2 Go now.

See you next week, if you’re a paid sub, if not, see you in a month.
Remember you can get my newsletters every week if you go paid:

bye bye bye,
by all means, have a quick look at this before you leave.

Break that Matrix, be your own character.

with love, ligh, lust and more love,

Alejandrita Smits ; )