Since time began we have heard stories about horrible parents. In modern times TV brings it to us on a daily basis. And those are just the parents that are caught. The parents I’m referring to are so neglectful or downright evil that their children end up dead. It is far beyond the term “bad parenting.”
Earlier in the week I read about two adult siblings who sued their mom for “bad parenting.” Their father, an attorney, represented them in court. They had an upscale upbringing in a beautiful Chicago suburb. Their claimed damages were (and I quote from the news article): “Cards they didn’t like, checks not in the correct amount, and gift bags they didn’t like.” Apparently there were other similar slights. The daughter was “forced” to be home at midnight after a homecoming dance, etc. Basically, they felt their mother was a cold person and their father, divorced from the mother, was all too eager to sue his former wife on their behalf. Based on the offenses these poor suffering children experienced I could soon find myself in prison.
First, our court systems are so overburdened with horrific crimes and civil suits over outrageous corporate shenanigans I’m completely stunned this case saw the light of day. One must wonder what the judge thought when this case appeared before him/her. Disgust I hope. I also hope there was a judicial scolding for all parties.
Second, these people walk amongst us and I’m terrified. People with the mentality of these “children” are truly the ones ruining our society, not some poor undocumented worker slipping over a fence south of the border.
Finally, I blame it all on TV.
So my parenting “skills” were far more egregious than the aforementioned Chicago mother. For one, I ruled with an iron hand but I didn’t have many rules. I was often criticized because I gave my kids so much freedom. My kids were pretty much allowed all the room they needed to screw up and they did. I did have a few rules and if they were broken I became a screaming banshee.
Once my son, aged six, decided to play at a neighbor’s house without telling me. He had been in the house watching TV and then he was gone. I did the usual searching and went outside and started hyperventilating. I knocked on that particular neighbor’s door but no one was home. I thought. I had spent about ten horrific minutes and was about ready to call 9-1-1 when my little towhead moseyed on down the street. I saw him, he saw me, and the race was on.
Nothing is more slippery than a terrified six-year-old. I could not catch him. He ran into the house and into his room and slammed the door. I stood on my porch and did deep breathing. During this exercise I remembered my three-year-old was inside sleeping (I hoped) so I went inside and sure enough she was sound asleep. I stood there wondering what I was going to do then decided I needed to know where he was NOW and what he was doing. When I opened his door he was standing on his bed with his back pressed against the wall. His skin was white and I think his hair was standing on end.
To make this long story short(er), he had indeed gone to see if the kids were home at the neighbor’s house. They were and they were all in the back playing and the mom was gardening. No one heard me ring the bell or knock on the door. The first words out of his mouth were “I forgot tell to tell you I was going to play.”
To this day that’s all I remember about the event except I can still see his terrified face as he stood on the bed. One would think that I was a child beater and that he received beatings with a two by four on a regular basis. Nothing could be further from the truth but I think I scared him to death with my mere presence and appearance. Though he was white as a sheet and cold and clammy with fear I believe I trumped him. My eyes hurt from bulging them out with fear, my skin hurt from extreme tension, I had chest pains, and I was wearing my nightgown as I charged through the neighborhood. Did I mention this was early in the morning?
Once in the middle of the night I heard a noise in the kitchen. I thought one of the cats had found something so I ran down the hall toward the back of the house. As I approached the entry to the family room and kitchen I noticed an orange glow. I immediately thought a fire had started but when I rounded the corner I found my daughter standing on a chair looking down at the stove. All the burners were on. I had the presence of mind to not scream as I looked at her long blond hair and instead made a small noise and calmly said “oh, you shouldn’t be doing that” and she smiled and backed away and got off the chair. I continued toward the stove and turned it off and took all the knobs and threw them in the trash can in the garage. For the remainder of our time in that house we had to turn the stove on with a pair of pliers. The stove was old and over the years manufacturers have made stoves more difficult for children to “play” with. I think I know why. Again, I don’t recall what happened after that discovery except I think I had that “scary mother” appearance and I remember she ran to her bedroom as fast as her little legs could take her.
Once she was gone I do remember I threw up and coughed and choked and cried and ended up in the bathroom for two hours.
Spanking was still in favor when my kids were little and they did get the occasional spanking. The two events above were not spanking events because I think I might have not been able to control myself so instead I just internalized all the anguish and let it go through my digestive system.
There were other events over the years but eventually I learned the secret to discipline and it was better than spanking: removing privileges for offenses. Screw up, no TV, can’t go to party, can’t go to dance, can't use car, must stay in room for ten years and so forth.
When they started driving I only had one car and we all shared it. I used it for work and they fought over it the minute I got home. However, terrified of poor teen driving I forced them to drive with me when they obtained their learner’s permit every single day for two hours when I got home from work. In the rain, on the freeway, all over town, and so forth. Not only did I insist on daily intense driving I paid for expensive lessons. In those days it wasn’t required. Also back then they were allowed to have friends in the car when they became licensed drivers so I had digestive fear every time they left the house. I did do one rather naughty parenting thing. I lied and told them that we had limited insurance and that if they even got one ticket for any offense we would lose our insurance and would all have to take the bus everywhere we went.
After my daughter had been driving a few months she told me I needed to get different insurance because none of her friends had such strict insurance about tickets. I was ready. I immediately responded, “Well, your friends must be rich because this is all I can afford.” She bought it. They are now 38 and 35 and neither has ever gotten a ticket or into an accident. I wonder if they have ever questioned their insurance carriers about what would happen if they do get a ticket.
As parents we all make colossal parenting mistakes. I’m not talking about the monsters in the first paragraph. Just us ordinary moms and dads who screw up during the 18 odd years of parenting (and beyond) and if all of our kids grow up and sue us I think we may finally develop birth control that works.
I hope they don’t read this. I don’t want the process server knocking on my door.
[No part of this content may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author. Blog series began in March 2009.]
