My sister, Nancy, and I were raised primarily by my father after severe mental illness claimed much of our mother. I was 9 and Nancy was 7. My father was a longshoreman. He was strong and powerful. The only time I ever saw him cry was when my mother was forced into a straightjacket.
The loss of the center of our family was devastating. She was alive and in our very home; however, it’s hard to be the glue that keeps the family together when you are unable to keep yourself together.
Overnight my dad became the primary care giver while continuing to be the breadwinner. We all struggled with the adjustments. My dad was drafted into the army when he was younger and much of his parenting had that black and white, right or wrong influence. He never stopped us from doing anything because we were girls. He would realistically state the consequences, good and bad.
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Prior to my mother’s mental illness, our relationships with our dad went through our mother. We didn’t have direct access. That changed afterward. It was awkward because we had to relate to each other directly and we had huge gaps of knowledge.
When I became a mother, I listened to the wise women in my life at that time (mostly from the Unitarian Church in Stamford, CT). They advised me not make the mistakes that they made:
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- “Don’t criticize your husband on how he holds the baby or feeds her.”
- “Let him develop his own way.”
- “Don’t make him wrong for not doing things your way.”
I imagine it was because of my experiences of growing up I was smart enough to listen. I can assure you it is very difficult and I am not always successful in keeping my mouth shut. Sometimes fathering and mothering are at complete opposites of the parenting universe. It was especially hard for me to share parenting when all my accomplishments were in my role as a mother.
One of my most vivid memories was when my daughter was about 4 years old. I had just returned to the work world after a few years of staying home. My business partner Nora (another very wise woman) and I had been running errands. We were conducting an open house and we ran into the market for supplies. In a rush, I had left my glasses in the car.
We were picking up cookies and I happened to look up. There was a dad with a little girl in her PRINCESS NIGHTGOWN SITTING ON TOP OF THE CAR shaped grocery wagon and she WASN’T WEARING ANY SHOES! I said to Nora, “Look at that a@@#%*^. Nora (who had her glasses on) immediately put her arms around me. On closer inspection (I squinted) I realized that a@@#%*^ was MY HUSBAND! Nora said “Don’t say anything!” As I struggled to move toward my husband and CHILD ON TOP OF THE CAR, Nora held onto me and literally dragged me from the store. Nora pointed out (while I was twitching and gasping) that:
- He did have his arm around my daughter
- She looked quite happy
- How lucky I am to have a husband who does the grocery shopping.
While our parenting style is not unique, it really has benefited our daughter. She has always had a direct relationship with her father. It has also benefited me tremendously because when I leave her with her dad even for an extended period of time, I don’t feel it’s second best to my parenting but the same if not better in some ways. I have what we call POM (an acronym from my days in the insurance industry)---PEACE OF MIND.
As for my dad, my sister and I marvel how out of the blue dad will call us because he knows something is wrong or we are struggling with something. He’s not gushy or warm and fuzzy but right to the point and right there when we need
him.
Special thanks to Alyssa for inspiring me to write this. :)
