Please do as I say....not as I did

Do you ever feel, as a parent, that a lot of what you are trying to say to your child is -
do as I say -Please! Not as I did!

There is a lot of debate over the merits of telling your child what you did in your youth. Do you admit to smoking pot, getting drunk, dropping acid at a Phish concert? (none of which I did of course) Or do you just repeat the Reagan Era slogan drilled into our heads -

Where do I stand on this issue? Not the Just say no, that was the worst campaign ever. Right up there with abstinence.  On whether to be fully and completely honest with my kids about all the stupid stuff that I did in my youth, where I was almost arrested, expelled, beat up, or killed.  I sometimes wonder how I made it through my teenage years alive.

I just ran into someone who grew up about 30 minutes from where I did.  Another small rural community where Friday night football, fights, and beer where the norm.  We were discussing our misadventures in front of his now grown son who was standing there aghast. His son said "You never told us these stories!" To which he immediately replied "Now can you see why?"

So it brings me back to my question, How much do I share with my kids?  They know that my dad was an alcoholic, my uncle a crack addict, that addiction runs heavily in my family.  I have talked about how that affects not just the person's life, but everyone around them. But they have never seen it - because neither my husband or I drink or socialize- at all.

I was over exposed if that's possible.  My parents were either out drinking or hosting the debacle every Saturday night my entire childhood.  I was mixing a mean Gin & Tonic with a twist by age 7.  I knew the difference between Wild Turkey and Jim Beam. Turkey you served to the hunter/fishermen crew, Beam you served to the Doctor/Judge/Banker crowd.  Beer was beer - it just had to be cold and don't you dare shake it up.  Always pour generous, use a tall glass for the fisherman and the good glasses for the Judge, just keep them coming.

That still didn't stop me from getting drunker than a skunk at maybe 12-13 years old when I ended up tagging along to an open air. (it's a country kid thing) I think my older siblings were there somewhere, I can't remember now, but what I do know is that upon walking in someone handed me a half gallon jug full of beer.  In all the times that my parents threw those parties, all the drinks that I made and served, I never understood that those people were so "happy" not because I made them a great drink, but because they were drunk.

How do you explain drunk to someone? Especially a teenager? Without making it sound like the coolest thing ever?

So you drink a little and start to feel good, happy, social, carefree.  After a few more drinks then you start to feel even happier, invincible, and maybe a little dizzy.  The next stage everything around you becomes the funniest thing you have ever seen or heard and you want to tell everyone but they can't seem to understand you anymore. Your going to start getting really close to people and talking really loud, but they still won't understand you. Oh yeah and also at this point, you maybe having trouble standing up so your going to be hanging on to them like Kate Winslet held on to the Titanic.
Then you will throw up, pass out, piss yourself, and wake up feeling like you licked a cat all night long while someone used your head for a bongo drum. And they still are. It's Awesome!

I only had to drink once. That once. That I was taken to an open air, given a half gallon jug of beer, and do not remember the rest of the night. I do remember being kicked awake in a strange house soaking wet from the waist down feeling like total shit by someone yelling "your mom's here dumb ass and she's pissed".  I NEVER EVER wanted to do that again.

Is this the story that I tell my kids so that they don't have to go through it? Is it something that you have to go through to figure out you never want to do that again?  This is what I wrestle with considering the struggles my family has with drugs. What if they don't hate it? What if they think that is Awesome?  We talk about drugs and alcohol and how they are bad for your body in general and how dangerous it can be but I feel like our talks always end the same way.....Just Say No.

Boys need real chores

I think I've noted before, but it is worth saying again since I am desperately trying to get paid for listening to podcasts, but I listen to A Lot of podcasts. Recently I was listening to Trevor Noah,  The Daily Show Ears Edition when I heard him riff on this....

NPR-girls do more chores than boys

so it made me do some more digging....

NPR _ Why can't he do the dishes

My boys have always had a few chores, not enough to get an allowance. Not that we would have paid and allowance. Hell if anyone gets an allowance around here, it starts with me! But when I went to work part-time and they were home alone in the mornings for a few hours I started leaving a longer list for each boy of what had to be done before I got home.  This has been a struggle since day one.  The first summer I came home everyday to nothing being done so by Friday I was screaming at everyone while "we all" did the chores.

By the second summer I got smart and started screaming at them by Wednesday so that by Friday, when I am not at work, it was only half the screaming chore time. This summer I started with screaming at the beginning thinking I would nip this in the bud before it even buds. Ok. Better. I only had to come home and scream the chores done about once a month. Well, mainly because I have run out of energy and figure cleaning once a month is enough.

You may be asking at this point, What is your point? With chores and this blog? My point is that I do not want my boys growing up thinking that girls cook, clean, do the laundry, shopping, scheduling, and picking up after everyone- everyday.  I want them to understand it is the Twenty First Century and men CAN DO ALL THAT TOO!!! 

Men can cook dinner and change diapers. Women can mow the lawn and change the oil.  And it is not like they have not seen their mom do anything a boy can do.  It's also about being aware, which is what we discussed this summer between screaming chores done.  I am not the only one in the house that can see the sink is full of dishes, I'm just the only one that cares.  Working for a property management company that owns rental units in a University area is great for getting my point across.

Bringing home stories of maggots covering a kitchen floor so thick the Property Manager thought someone had spilled a bag of flour - until they started to move.  During an eviction recently the Property Manager thought the mattress was covered in mold, until it started to move. Bedbugs.  Or the Baseball players house that smelled so foul from spit cans and beer that we had to tear out all the carpet. They had converted a small back bedroom in to the "recycling center". By the time they moved out she couldn't open the door all the way because it was full of beer cans.  Don't think this is just boy houses.  The maggots were in a house full of girls and they have trashed many a rental unit.

In his riff on this article Trevor Noah mentions that many boys get paid for chores like taking a shower and girls get paid for cooking or laundry.  His take is very funny and accurate because 13 year-old boys do stink, badly. And yes, I have resorted to paying them to get in the shower.  But not without letting them know that if they ever want to have a partner in life they will need to take hygiene WAY more seriously.

All of this comes back to me being that nagging bitchy mom who doesn't pay her kids to pick up their rooms, vacuum and dust the house, or mow the lawn.  But I also do not charge them to live in  my house-meals included- or the gas money to get them back and forth to soccer five nights a week.  Because, as I have told them since they were two, my job is to keep them safe and make them a gentlemen.

I hope their wives appreciate it.