So caught up has my little family been in all things Buffy that our drivin’ around time of late has featured zero radio and all this, and if you think it’s not funny to hear a five-year-old belting out verses about penis diseases and priceless to hear each of us assuring the rest that we can face anything if we’re together, then you’ve got another thought coming, mister.
Then came a day when the CD I’d burned inexplicably stopped working1 and we were forced to listen to the radio. I knew that Pink had a new song out that people said was kind of fabulous but it wasn’t until I was alone in the car driving back from the grocery store that I finally heard it.
There might have been a small tear, or if I’m being completely honest with you2 it was a big tear, and then many big tears. And then as soon I got home and put the fish sticks in the freezer I downloaded the song, found the lyrics and vowed to slip it on my daughter’s mp3 player at the earliest opportunity because what almost-teen doesn’t need to hear this:
Pretty, pretty please
Don’t you ever, ever feel
Like you’re less than
Less than perfectPretty, pretty please
If you ever, ever feel
Like you’re nothing
You are perfect to me
My teenage music choices were encouraged only in the sense that whatever they caught me listening to was immediately deemed inappropriate and unworthy of my attention. At one point my mother came across a mixtape a friend had made me3 which was unfortunately queued up to Fat Bottomed Girls. “This is horrible,” she raged, and thus was solidified my never-waning devotion to Freddie Mercury.4
I had some vague idea before my children arrived that raising them would be difficult not only because in so many ways I lacked good role models but also because it would be difficult to see them at ages where I can so vividly remember the abuse and general fuckupedness present in my own childhood. While this has certainly been true, I had no idea how how knocked-in-the-solar-plexus can’t-breathe extreme those emotions would be or how many times I’d be leveled by a thought, a word, a song.
Even at the best of times I worry that there’s a vanishingly small hope that I can raise these small people to have few5 lingering after-effects due to my parenting blunders. At worst I feel utter despair at the idea that I could ever give them a proper upbringing, because really, how can that happen? How can I give away something that I didn’t have to begin with? How can I manufacture from nothing and with no help from an unconcerned (or non-existent) Sky Daddy the ingredients necessary to produce healthy children?
This is not a rhetorical question. How?
- Not from overuse, surely? [↩]
- And why would I not be after all this time and all we have been through and everything you know about my ass. [↩]
- Shuddup, younguns. [↩]
- For crying out loud that song is practically custom-written for — oh. Now I think now I understand their objection. [↩]
- Or none? How about that? [↩]
I first saw this song as a video, and I burst into tears at the end (which is quite unlike me), when the mother tells her daughter she’s perfect. Like you, I grew up imperfect, never quite good enough, and I make sure my kids hear it over and over – even when they squiggle away from it in horror that their own mother might want to lavish praise and love upon them. They’re perfect.*
*Even if they think that Bon Jovi is the greatest band ever, and that Rush is “boring.”
Boring! Have they listened to Getty Lee’s voice?????
GEDDY
/pet peeve :D
Oh dear god I am so ashamed. :)
You do the best you can. That’s all anyone can do. Continuous improvement.
I disagree with the whole idea of “perfect”. Nobody, nothing is perfect. It’s an impossible, failure-guaranteed goal or ideal, and a lie to claim anyone or anything is perfect. Things are, more or less fucked up, and we improve them, and they get better, sometimes a LOT better. That’s life. I think the whole idea of “perfect” is toxic.
But what about not fucking up our kids? If you are worried about it, you’re much less likely to do it. I prefer Robert Anton Wilson’s cosmic schmuck theory: the more often you wonder whether you are being a cosmic schmuck, the more you are reducing your likelihood of actually being a cosmic schmuck. However, if you never, ever, ever suspect that you could be a cosmic schmuck, then you are doomed to be a cosmic schmuck for the rest of your life.
So, I worry about it, always, and I know that my worrying about it makes it less likely to happen. I don’t go for “perfect” though, because perfect is for fucking storybooks and fiction. Real life is not perfect. Ever.
AAG, I have raised 3 and its so complicated to discuss in short bursts. The only short thing I can say is that the best thing we did all along was let them follow their own paths and fascinations rather than forcing them into molds and expectations.
Regards,
Sunlover
There is only one way to ensure nonfuckedupedness in children.
Lead with love.
Regardless of the parenting manual you inherit, it all boils down to this.
Lead with love.
And you are doing just that, AAG.
For the record, my mother was a helpless observer, my father an abusive tyrant in every sense of the word. However, my four siblings loved me better than any parent ever could (I was the adored baby sister) and that has made all the difference in the world.
I always said I was saving money to send my kids to therapy, not college! When you don’t have a parenting role model, the model becomes what not to do. Because you know that. The best thing is to say I won’t be like them, I won’t make their mistakes. Believe it or not, the day will come when you will realize, they too, only did the best they could. So talk, hug, love and laugh with them, often. And be amazed at the wonderful people we raise when we don’t know how or what we did right or wrong. Nothing is as hard, or as easy, as being a mom.
I played it for my daughter as well. But she’s 13, so I gave her the non radio edit. You’re fucking perfect seemed to get into her angsty brain (Pink’s allowed to swear at her, I need to maintain a little dignity).
Completely coincidental that Pink happens to pregnant, huh? ;)
“How can I give away something that I didn’t have to begin with? How can I manufacture from nothing…”
You’re too stuck in the nurture part of the nature/nurture dilemma. I’ve read about your strict upbringing, etc. And, from what I gather, it’s still pretty thorny.
Does the nurture portion matter? Yep, without a doubt. It’s essential (see below). But here’s the rub: no matter how bad or good one’s childhood is, the next generation never comes with an instruction manual. Even with a great childhood/parents, for the most part one is still left on one’s own to rear the next batch. (Yea, it’d be nice to have some examples from your childhood to draw from, but you’re not making cookies here. You don’t want to turn out identical copies!)
The important thing to remember, at least for me, is that the kiddos – hopefully – will have these very same thoughts in about twenty-five to thirty years (just a nanosecond in the big scheme of things), and you don’t want them thinking that the parental unit went too far in one direction – and they, in turn, try to correct it by going in the opposite direction.
Parenting, imho, is much more about being there in the day-to-day grind and much less about recipes.
You worry about this too much.
Remember: we are all descended from people…who survived their own childhoods.
Children are programmed to grow and thrive, regardless of their parents and environments.
Growth and health is the default condition.
Unless you are doing something actively destructive (and you aren’t),
then your children will will probably be OK.
I have been a P!nk fan for a long time and alot of her music is promoting individuality and thinking for yourself. That has been the number one reason that I keep listening and waiting for her next album. I encourage my kids to believe that no matter what, they are special to me and that being yourself is what I want for them.
From reading your blog for quite a while now, I’m sure you are doing fine, because your kids will learn from your words and actions and know who they are just as you know who you are.
Hugs from the frozen north.
Oh come now- the frost isn’t-what-?- 4 feet down ?
Best-
Have you heard “Imperfect” or maybe “Imperfectly” by Veruca Salt? Tears. And I can’t find a You Tube to share. Dammit.
I love love love this song. I’ve listened to both the radio and full f-bomb laden version of the song, and honestly, despite my love for a well lobbed f-bomb…I like the song better without them.
As for the parenting, I’m pretty much with Steven. Kids manage to grow and thrive in some pretty crappy circumstances. All you can do is your best.
Knowing, and choosing the opposites of the things that were wrong in one’s own life and upbringing allows us to change ourselves and our chidren’s lives.
Making those changes and choices help us to work through and hopefully get beyond or maybe even over some of the things that happened to or were done to us. It gives me hope to have those chances to do it different, maybe it will be right for them-letting them know about unconditional love.
“At worst I feel utter despair at the idea that I could ever give them a proper upbringing, because really, how can that happen? How can I give away something that I didn’t have to begin with? How can I manufacture from nothing and with no help from an unconcerned (or non-existent) Sky Daddy the ingredients necessary to produce healthy children?”
I have this fear too