Genesia said:

The worst thing I can say about my parents is that they (my mom, especially) were overly strict with me when I was growing up. Part of it was because I'm the eldest child (we always have it worse in that regard - parents loosen up with subsequent kids). And I was mad at my dad for a long time for threatening to withhold my college tuition if I majored in theatre.

In retrospect, I realize that my parents are people - and as fallible as any. I truly believe that, no matter how hard they were on me, they acted out of a desire to turn me into a grown-up who could stand on her own. They succeeded - and it's hard to hate them for that.

I'm the youngest of eight (not to mention I was an "oops" baby who came along when my mom was almost 39 and my dad was in his early 40s). By the time I was a teenager, the rules were far less strict. My siblings used to be aghast at some of the things I got away with.

I have a few things I dislike about my parents and how they raised me, but I agree with your "parents are people" way of looking at it. I think they did the best they could. And as an adult, I look back and appreciate many, many things I never noticed about my parents while growing up. I kind of wish I had taken notice of those things earlier on in life--it would have saved me a lot of time, money, and aggravation.

Efan said:

Genesia said:

The worst thing I can say about my parents is that they (my mom, especially) were overly strict with me when I was growing up. Part of it was because I'm the eldest child (we always have it worse in that regard - parents loosen up with subsequent kids). And I was mad at my dad for a long time for threatening to withhold my college tuition if I majored in theatre.

In retrospect, I realize that my parents are people - and as fallible as any. I truly believe that, no matter how hard they were on me, they acted out of a desire to turn me into a grown-up who could stand on her own. They succeeded - and it's hard to hate them for that.

I'm the youngest of eight (not to mention I was an "oops" baby who came along when my mom was almost 39 and my dad was in his early 40s). By the time I was a teenager, the rules were far less strict. My siblings used to be aghast at some of the things I got away with.

I have a few things I dislike about my parents and how they raised me, but I agree with your "parents are people" way of looking at it. I think they did the best they could. And as an adult, I look back and appreciate many, many things I never noticed about my parents while growing up. I kind of wish I had taken notice of those things earlier on in life--it would have saved me a lot of time, money, and aggravation.

Isn't it amazing how much smarter your parents are once you've grown up, yourself?

Genesia said:

Efan said:

I'm the youngest of eight (not to mention I was an "oops" baby who came along when my mom was almost 39 and my dad was in his early 40s). By the time I was a teenager, the rules were far less strict. My siblings used to be aghast at some of the things I got away with.

I have a few things I dislike about my parents and how they raised me, but I agree with your "parents are people" way of looking at it. I think they did the best they could. And as an adult, I look back and appreciate many, many things I never noticed about my parents while growing up. I kind of wish I had taken notice of those things earlier on in life--it would have saved me a lot of time, money, and aggravation.

Isn't it amazing how much smarter your parents are once you've grown up, yourself?

I quote that Mark Twain line a lot. (Paraphrasing because I'm too lazy to google the exact quote.) "When I was 14, my father was the dumbest man I knew. But when I turned 21, I was amazed by how much the old man had learned in seven years."

Efan said:

Genesia said:

Isn't it amazing how much smarter your parents are once you've grown up, yourself?

I quote that Mark Twain line a lot. (Paraphrasing because I'm too lazy to google the exact quote.) "When I was 14, my father was the dumbest man I knew. But when I turned 21, I was amazed by how much the old man had learned in seven years."

When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.

PositivityNYC said:

Efan said:

I quote that Mark Twain line a lot. (Paraphrasing because I'm too lazy to google the exact quote.) "When I was 14, my father was the dumbest man I knew. But when I turned 21, I was amazed by how much the old man had learned in seven years."

When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.

You forgot the

Mach said:

There is nothing I hate about my parents ~ My Mom passed away yesterday morning and Though she was ill for 11 yrs with alzhiemer's ... i'd do almost anything to have 1 more day ...

Oh no!

I'm so sorry Mach...my condolences to you and your family.

Mach said:

There is nothing I hate about my parents ~ My Mom passed away yesterday morning and Though she was ill for 11 yrs with alzhiemer's ... i'd do almost anything to have 1 more day ...

Genesia said:

PositivityNYC said:

When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.

You forgot the

it's not a given?

minneapolisFunq said:

My father:

I hate the fact that he was stoned my entire childhood. He wasn't abusive, physically or mentally. Only the occassional comment about my "weirdness." I'm convinced he immediately knew I was gay. Even before I knew. He just treated me differently on those rare moments he was sober. But for the most part he was just stoned. The proverbial teenage pothead. He just never grew up. Never worked. Never did much of anything but smoke pot and listen to music or play his guitar. The income came by dealing drugs, a little here and there. He was too stoned to actually be a "good" drug dealer. He was 19 when they had me.

My mother:

Nothing I hate about her as I don't remember her. Shed died when I was five or six. What I do hate is that I have not one single memory of her. Which is weird I know. Analysis has not helped. No memories. I've tried it all: religion (I've studied every religious text: bible, koran, the upanishads, the torah, kabalah texts, buddhist philosophy texts) therapy, group therapy, pills, meditation, Alanon, The Landmark Forum, The Course in Miracles, Objectivism, books from the "new" atheists and many more. I've always had this "empty," feeling that I eventually realized was some type of abandonment issue I had with my dead mother. As if she died on purpose. So I searched and searched. The only thing that came from all those books and classes and therapy sessions and seminars was that I became an atheist, which was not my goal at all.

My stepmother:

She's been both my saviour and a huge pain in the ass. She was 21 when she met my father (oh what a fateful day) and inherited two kids and she got knocked up and found her self being the bread winner for five people. She always worked and raised me and my siblings with a strange kind of cold, distant air, the chill of which I still feel every time I talk to her. I never got the hugs and kisses and cookies and all that stuff my friend's mothers seem to have provided. But, alas, I'm grateful for all she's given me but I was wish there was a little more tlc, maybe then I too would be able to be more of an open person. Most of my friend's have said, in one way or another that it took them many months to warm up to me. I sorta blame her for my coldness. But I'm changing, little by little.

TheResistor said:

My father:

I hate the fact that he was stoned my entire childhood. He wasn't abusive, physically or mentally. Only the occassional comment about my "weirdness." I'm convinced he immediately knew I was gay. Even before I knew. He just treated me differently on those rare moments he was sober. But for the most part he was just stoned. The proverbial teenage pothead. He just never grew up. Never worked. Never did much of anything but smoke pot and listen to music or play his guitar. The income came by dealing drugs, a little here and there. He was too stoned to actually be a "good" drug dealer. He was 19 when they had me.

My mother:

Nothing I hate about her as I don't remember her. Shed died when I was five or six. What I do hate is that I have not one single memory of her. Which is weird I know. Analysis has not helped. No memories. I've tried it all: religion (I've studied every religious text: bible, koran, the upanishads, the torah, kabalah texts, buddhist philosophy texts) therapy, group therapy, pills, meditation, Alanon, The Landmark Forum, The Course in Miracles, Objectivism, books from the "new" atheists and many more. I've always had this "empty," feeling that I eventually realized was some type of abandonment issue I had with my dead mother. As if she died on purpose. So I searched and searched. The only thing that came from all those books and classes and therapy sessions and seminars was that I became an atheist, which was not my goal at all.

My stepmother:

She's been both my saviour and a huge pain in the ass. She was 21 when she met my father (oh what a fateful day) and inherited two kids and she got knocked up and found her self being the bread winner for five people. She always worked and raised me and my siblings with a strange kind of cold, distant air, the chill of which I still feel every time I talk to her. I never got the hugs and kisses and cookies and all that stuff my friend's mothers seem to have provided. But, alas, I'm grateful for all she's given me but I was wish there was a little more tlc, maybe then I too would be able to be more of an open person. Most of my friend's have said, in one way or another that it took them many months to warm up to me. I sorta blame her for my coldness. But I'm changing, little by little.

Mach said:

There is nothing I hate about my parents ~ My Mom passed away yesterday morning and Though she was ill for 11 yrs with alzhiemer's ... i'd do almost anything to have 1 more day ...

Mach said:

There is nothing I hate about my parents ~ My Mom passed away yesterday morning and Though she was ill for 11 yrs with alzhiemer's ... i'd do almost anything to have 1 more day ...

mynameisnotsusan said:

I really hate that they're no longer alive.

them every chance you get!

I do... despite everything, I do. Good post, we take many things for granted, I learned to not to do that with my mom.

My dad.... well, that's still a work in progress... but I am working on it.

I hate pretty much everything about my father. He cheated on my mother and made no effort at hiding it, and went so far as to have us kids running his messages to and from his side women. When bills were tight, he was busy spending his money on drugs and liquor, and getting fired from shitty jobs. I think he also took physical discipline too far. I am not against spankings, but he took in to a point where it seemed more about his enjoyment and less about discipline.

Can't think of anything I don't like about my mother. She's easy to get along with.

I hate that my Dad is an alcoholic, a racist, and verbally abuses my mother.

But I think what I hate most is that he's not so... black and white. That sentance above makes him seem like such a cruel person, which he can be. But other times, he's really quite reasonable and nice. I guess I hate struggling with whether or not I should be hating him.

I hate that my mother puts up with him, she is a beautiful person and one of the nicest moms I know. I worry that she's going to look back and regret having stayed with him. I've told her I wouldn't mind their getting a divorce- I honestly don't know whats holding them back. Our house is like a battlefield sometimes...

I hate that my little sis, who's four years younger, is going to have to deal with them basically on her own when I go to college. I hate that they don't seem to understand how easily influenced she is.

On a lighter note, I hate that they hate prince music!

Genesia said:

The worst thing I can say about my parents is that they (my mom, especially) were overly strict with me when I was growing up. Part of it was because I'm the eldest child (we always have it worse in that regard - parents loosen up with subsequent kids). And I was mad at my dad for a long time for threatening to withhold my college tuition if I majored in theatre.

In retrospect, I realize that my parents are people - and as fallible as any. I truly believe that, no matter how hard they were on me, they acted out of a desire to turn me into a grown-up who could stand on her own. They succeeded - and it's hard to hate them for that.

mine were strict but i got spoiled too. they blamed each other alot. mom blamed dad for my adhd. but all the women in mom's side have anxiety issues are are loud and crazy with ocd. my dad has it too. glad i don't. i think they are equally fucked up and just need to realize it already. you know like prince says "they only imitate their atmosphere"

coulda been worse. they coulda been alcholic and physical abusive. i will say mom was verbally abusive at times though.still is. i don't exactly think we get along as good as we could. i say stuff to her too.

i'm the black sheep. it's more i tolerate being related to you. the last few yrs mom accepted me more. she even got a few tattoos. i did two of em on her myself.dad on the other hand always shakes his head and asks when will i take out my piercings and stop getting ink. go figure. stereotypes can be true. he's a big tough irish guy. most big tough irish guys got tattoos.as is mom's the stereotypical loud obnixious new jersey italian.

i get headaches at family get togethers of mom's side. everyone tries to talk over each other

[Edited 3/18/11 19:57pm]

Maytiana said:

minneapolisFunq said:

troll thread!

Yeah im totally making that up...because people make that up

sextonseven said:

Nothing. My parents are pretty okay. A little dorky at times, but nothing really bad stands out. I like hanging out with them.

Mach said:

There is nothing I hate about my parents ~ My Mom passed away yesterday morning and Though she was ill for 11 yrs with alzhiemer's ... i'd do almost anything to have 1 more day ...

sorry for your loss Mash

Oh Mach....

very sad news.

I remember you telling me about your journey with her...

Mach said:

There is nothing I hate about my parents ~ My Mom passed away yesterday morning and Though she was ill for 11 yrs with alzhiemer's ... i'd do almost anything to have 1 more day ...

You and your family have my condolences... @)--}--------

Mach said:

There is nothing I hate about my parents ~ My Mom passed away yesterday morning and Though she was ill for 11 yrs with alzhiemer's ... i'd do almost anything to have 1 more day ...

I'm sooo sorry to hear about your mom passing away. You and your family are in my thoughts.

sextonseven said:

Nothing. My parents are pretty okay. A little dorky at times, but nothing really bad stands out. I like hanging out with them.

My parents have made some mistakes (as all parents do), but they're human, as we all are. They have done a lot of really great things for me, so I really can't fault them in any way.

Mach said:

There is nothing I hate about my parents ~ My Mom passed away yesterday morning and Though she was ill for 11 yrs with alzhiemer's ... i'd do almost anything to have 1 more day ...

so sorry to read this....i miss my mum & dad.

Mach said:

There is nothing I hate about my parents ~ My Mom passed away yesterday morning and Though she was ill for 11 yrs with alzhiemer's ... i'd do almost anything to have 1 more day ...

I know the feeling, My heart goes out to you and the family.

I hate that I've never met my father and don't even have a photo of him.

Nothing. They were always very supportive and caring. My mother still is.

vainandy said:

My father abused me both physically and mentally for as long as I can remember. The mental abuse and humiliation was much worse than the physical abuse. I found out years later in the late 1990s from my mother, that when I was a small child barely old enough to walk, he used to call me "Little Frank". The Frank he is referring to was a gay man that used to write entertainment reviews in a local paper in either the late 1960s or early 1970s and was found murdered in his apartment with a tire iron stuck up his ass. One of his rough trade had killed him. A few years ago, I read about it in great detail in Kevin Sessum's book "Mississippi Sissy"....great book by the way. Anyway, I always thought he hated me because he was jealous of my grandmother's interest in me (my mother's mother) because he always sayed that she "ruined" me. When I was two or three years old, my mother had twins, which was unexpected (she thought she was just having a single baby) and my grandmother kept me a lot to take some of the load off of my mother who was taking care of two infants and then she had another baby the very next year so she had her hands full for years. When I found out years later that he called me "Little Frank" when I could barely walk, that let me know that he hated me from day one and I never stood a chance.

He was also the most racist bastard I have ever seen in my entire life. We could be watching "Three's Company" that does not have a single black person on the show, but one of those black gospel record commercials would come on during the show and he would walk in and say..."What's those niggers doing on that TV". When we would tell him that it was a commercial, he would make us turn the TV off until the commercial went off. I remember the first time I ever saw Prince on "American Bandstand", I didn't know what color he was. Years later, when I heard he was on "Solid Gold", I just happened to be home that weekend and I was determined to watch it. My brother and sisters said, "He's going to make you turn it off" and I told them, that son of a bitch won't know what color he is, hell, I didn't when I first saw him". Well, a true racist can spot a black person no matter how light skinned or straight their hair is. That motherfucker came in the room and the first thing he said was..."What's that damn nigger doing on the TV and not just a nigger but a nigger queer". You can't fool that motherfucker.

The funny thing is, my parents got divorced a week before I graduated high school in 1985. From around 1978 on up to the end of her life, my mother dated black men and was seeing them every single night while she was married still married to him from 1978 to 1985. When she got off work, she just didn't come home. I would see her the next morning as she was getting us ready for school. She had come home at two or three in the morning. This was damn near every single night. When we were all younger, she had gotten separated from him for about a year and we lived in an apartment. The electricity was constantly turned off by the electric company because she couldn't afford to take care of four small children by herself. She went back with him and stayed with him just to be able to support her kids. Other than that, she did as she pleased with other men. He didn't know she was seeing black men every night but I'm sure he must have figured she was seeing some man because a woman just don't stay out every single night till all hours of the night by herself. Both my sisters later married black men (one of them still is) and have interracial children which my father has absolutely no knowledge of their husbands or their children.

When my parents got divorced in 1985, that was the last time I saw him except for once in 1989. Other than that, I haven't seen him at all and have no desire to and he lives about a mile away from where I live now. The majority of my older family members that I love have died, including my mother, but a motherfucker like him is still living and will probably outlive us all. I did mail him a birthday card back in 2008 though. This was his first birthday after my mother died in 2007 so she wasn't there to stop me from sending it (she was always telling me to not stir up shit with him and just forget about him). I sent him an Obama birthday card. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall to see his face when Obama won a few months later! I bet that bastard cussed me for everything I'm worth!

What a depressing childhood.

Did you ever consider running away from home during all that.

[Edited 3/21/11 4:33am]

802 said:

vainandy said:

My father abused me both physically and mentally for as long as I can remember. The mental abuse and humiliation was much worse than the physical abuse. I found out years later in the late 1990s from my mother, that when I was a small child barely old enough to walk, he used to call me "Little Frank". The Frank he is referring to was a gay man that used to write entertainment reviews in a local paper in either the late 1960s or early 1970s and was found murdered in his apartment with a tire iron stuck up his ass. One of his rough trade had killed him. A few years ago, I read about it in great detail in Kevin Sessum's book "Mississippi Sissy"....great book by the way. Anyway, I always thought he hated me because he was jealous of my grandmother's interest in me (my mother's mother) because he always sayed that she "ruined" me. When I was two or three years old, my mother had twins, which was unexpected (she thought she was just having a single baby) and my grandmother kept me a lot to take some of the load off of my mother who was taking care of two infants and then she had another baby the very next year so she had her hands full for years. When I found out years later that he called me "Little Frank" when I could barely walk, that let me know that he hated me from day one and I never stood a chance.

He was also the most racist bastard I have ever seen in my entire life. We could be watching "Three's Company" that does not have a single black person on the show, but one of those black gospel record commercials would come on during the show and he would walk in and say..."What's those niggers doing on that TV". When we would tell him that it was a commercial, he would make us turn the TV off until the commercial went off. I remember the first time I ever saw Prince on "American Bandstand", I didn't know what color he was. Years later, when I heard he was on "Solid Gold", I just happened to be home that weekend and I was determined to watch it. My brother and sisters said, "He's going to make you turn it off" and I told them, that son of a bitch won't know what color he is, hell, I didn't when I first saw him". Well, a true racist can spot a black person no matter how light skinned or straight their hair is. That motherfucker came in the room and the first thing he said was..."What's that damn nigger doing on the TV and not just a nigger but a nigger queer". You can't fool that motherfucker.

The funny thing is, my parents got divorced a week before I graduated high school in 1985. From around 1978 on up to the end of her life, my mother dated black men and was seeing them every single night while she was married still married to him from 1978 to 1985. When she got off work, she just didn't come home. I would see her the next morning as she was getting us ready for school. She had come home at two or three in the morning. This was damn near every single night. When we were all younger, she had gotten separated from him for about a year and we lived in an apartment. The electricity was constantly turned off by the electric company because she couldn't afford to take care of four small children by herself. She went back with him and stayed with him just to be able to support her kids. Other than that, she did as she pleased with other men. He didn't know she was seeing black men every night but I'm sure he must have figured she was seeing some man because a woman just don't stay out every single night till all hours of the night by herself. Both my sisters later married black men (one of them still is) and have interracial children which my father has absolutely no knowledge of their husbands or their children.

When my parents got divorced in 1985, that was the last time I saw him except for once in 1989. Other than that, I haven't seen him at all and have no desire to and he lives about a mile away from where I live now. The majority of my older family members that I love have died, including my mother, but a motherfucker like him is still living and will probably outlive us all. I did mail him a birthday card back in 2008 though. This was his first birthday after my mother died in 2007 so she wasn't there to stop me from sending it (she was always telling me to not stir up shit with him and just forget about him). I sent him an Obama birthday card. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall to see his face when Obama won a few months later! I bet that bastard cussed me for everything I'm worth!

What a depressing childhood.

Did you ever consider running away from home during all that.

[Edited 3/21/11 4:33am]

My grandmother (on my mother's side) loved me as one of her own. Every Friday afternoon, she would pick me up from school and I stayed with her until Sunday night when my mother would pick me up and take me home to go to school. I stayed with her every holiday and every summer when school was out. In other words, the only reason I was at home was to go to school. I couldn't live with my grandmother full time and go to school because she lived in a different school district and she wasn't my legal guardian. Although, she did tried to adopt me once when it got so bad but neither of my parents were going to sign me over to her. The only reason I might be a home on a Saturday night is if I was going skating because my grandmother was very overprotective and wouldn't let me go anywhere.

I did try to "run away" three times when I was a teenager. It was mainly me walking on foot from my house to her house which was probably around 12 miles away. I came pretty close to her house twice and the third time, I had made it just up the street from her house when a relative saw me walking and picked me up. That usually got me about a week away from home with my mother picking me up from my grandmother's house every morning and driving me back across town to school with my grandmother picking me up in the afternoon. The third time, I was at her house for damn near a month for the remainder of the school year.

Nobody in the family liked that bastard but everyone knew my mother couldn't afford a place of her own with four kids. I was constantly told by family members...."When he starts shit, just ignore him. You know the bastard is crazy". I thought I was going to die laughing once when my mother and us kids were up in Memphis visiting his sister and she told me the same thing.