Dad rant
Be the kind of parent that creates core memories for your child.
— In a good way of course!
***This is going to feel a bit like a “Dream” post, a bit like giving general life advice, and a bit rant-y, but my goal with this is to word-vomit about things that I feel like my Dad has influenced me in. Thanks for reading!***
I have core memories of when my dad helped me to ride my bike without training wheels. My Mom, my sister, and even some of the neighborhood kids were crowded at one end of the driveway near the garage and flower bed, and my Dad and I were at the other end near the mailbox. That’s the moment — the exact moment — where my dad, who was jogging alongside of me and my purple bike, let go of the handlebars and my back and just let me go down the rest of the driveway, hurtling towards everyone and the flowerbed without telling me first how to use the brake. At that point the memory gets foggy, and I can’t remember if I shouted “How do I stop?!” Or if everyone at the end of the driveway realized my predicament and helped me to stop, but I don’t remember getting hurt afterwards, so it must’ve ended well. But that exact moment is so symbolic in itself, I could probably talk about it forever in different philosophers’ points of view. However, what’s important to me is how I felt and how my Dad felt at the time. I remember I was wearing a helmet, but I was deathly afraid! And I remember seeing this grin on my Dad’s face and thinking “He’s enjoying this? He’s enjoying watching me be scared??” And unfortunately, throughout the years, I have used that exact thought within my memory to justify looking at my Dad in a distasteful way. But of course he wasn’t enjoying the fact that I was scared, he was enjoying the act of teaching his youngest daughter how to ride a bike without training wheels for the first time! “Duh” right?? But in hindsight, I can see why I got confused. See, I remember all the clapping and smiling faces I was riding my bike towards in that core moment, my Mom and my sister for the most part, but because I was so new to the skill, I didn’t turn around to see my Dad’s face in that moment.
Years down the line, by the time I was in college and I was on winter break living alone with my mom during the divorce in our packed-away house, this same core memory would be turned against me as my mom would berate me with noise coming out of her mouth about how my dad was awful.
I remember pedaling so effortlessly, and thinking that those were the first and the last times I would ever feel my Dad’s hand on my back while I was riding a bike. I remember the little bit of push my Dad would give me at the beginning of each attempt. At the beginning, I was scared of that little push because I had fallen over the first few times. But as I felt that last little push, and felt myself actually succeeding in riding my bike without training wheels by myself for the first time — — I kinda wished I hadn’t learned so quickly.
I’ve always been a little spoiled, and when things got hard, I would whine, or complain, or cry until someone helped me — which usually didn’t take very long — and they would end up doing most, if not all, or the work for me.
A year, or a couple years before learning how to ride a bike, when we were living in a different state, I remember one day I was playing with a Polly Pocket doll, which is smaller than a Barbie, and the clothing was made out of a rubber instead of a cloth material. It was hard to get clothing on and off of this particular doll.
I was struggling putting a different outfit on her (the doll), and brought it over to my Dad, who was comfortably sitting on one of the couches in the living room. At the time, my Dad was revered as being “The Smartest Man in the World!!!” (because he knew a few answers on Jeopardy) and now, once he succeeded in getting the desired outfit on the doll, he was awarded the new title “The Strongest Man in the World!!!” And I went back to my room to play. And then I came back out a few moments later with a new outfit to put on her. I remember the adults expressions in the room at the time when I came back out to the living room a second time with the exact same request as the first time. They were all dumbfounded, shocked, yet not surprised, and ultimately it was something to laugh about as my Dad struggled to put the new outfit on the doll.
One of the important things to note here, I feel, is that there was never any sexual undertones at the time. In 2023, I feel that this would be a good time to share some stories about my Dad. Amidst all the other noise coming from the little screens in our pockets, I heard that there aren’t many people my age who have had supportive fathers, or father figures in their lives. Well, I’m living proof of how a good Father impacts a Daughter.
I wouldn’t say I’m Mother Teresa or anything, but….
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1) At least I keep a decent amount of clothes on at all times. As a child, of course my parents, mostly my Mom, would dress me. Sometimes I would be wearing an outfit that was identical to the outfit my older sister was wearing, sometimes I would be wearing the same teal, long sleeve Powerpuff Girls shirt that I had been wearing all week. I was a pretty chubby kid, but by the time I was in middle school, I have a clear memory of my mom looking at me and telling me I’m “all legs!”, so I must’ve gotten at least a little bit leaner. Like all girls, I gained the mentality of corporate brainwashing where they brainwash you to think that the impossible is possible and that your body will never be good enough and help you create crazy high standards of beauty for yourself and others which all just perpetuates the need to buy beauty products. Everything ranging from make-up, to make-up cleaning wipes, to clothing to accessories, to haircuts, to hair dye, to mani-pedis, etc.etc.etc. I bought into it all in middle school. I remember really liking eyeliner because it kinda felt dangerous putting it so close to your eyeball — a very important body part. It felt like driving a giant wrecking ball excavator right up to the Great Wall of China, but then just driving alongside the length of it and not actually doing any damage.
And then of course, when I was done using the eyeliner, I looked badass and goth-like so that was cool. I guess. ;P
In high school, my older sister took on the habit of wearing high heels, low-cut tops, and cute pencil skirts every single day. She was dating a senior when she was a freshman, and my whole family basically disapproved, but for some reason I envied her. I started to copy her, I tried the “low-cut top, big hoop earrings, and crimped hair” look, but I decided it took too much effort, and I’ve been doing “free-style” ever since. I did unfortunately end up following in her path as far as finding a terrible boyfriend in high school, and that mistake costed me 5 years of a toxic relationship, losing my virginity when I wasn’t ready, missing out on fun regular high school activities I could have been doing instead of being bored at his house, and losing all my friends.
That’s what happened when I tried to take control of my life with no understanding what other regular people outside of my family are like. People WILL take advantage of kindness.
Moving on.
I haven’t worn make-up in years, and I rarely go shopping for anything besides food. I still have hand-me-downs — at least one par of shorts from elementary school that somehow miraculously still fit and count as “a bit too short but still passable” shorts, and at least one shirt from middle school that I got from my best friend. (I remember what it looked like when it was brand-spankin’-new when the plastic material on the graphic T was shiny and smooth. Now the plastic has come off around the outline and the colors aren’t as vibrant and I am aware that I have a false view of what it looks like now.) The newest pieces of clothing I have is a peach/salmony colored dress from Marshalls that I wore to a baby shower, and I also just bought a pair of black and white Danskin shoes, also from Marshalls. See, I know that mentioning where I got it from is important because I grew up in the upper middle class. But now that I’ve demoted myself to living paycheck to paycheck, I can see how the average person doesn’t even have time to think about that kind of stuff. Unless they’re the type of person that NEEDS their coffee, then that’s probably ALL they think about and whenever they have a real-world problem, they panic. I just call it poor financial management, but who am I to talk, I’m 26 and don’t even have a budget. Anyway, I don’t give much thought to what I wear nowadays. As long as it’s comfy and can serve its purpose for the plans for that particular day, I’m happy. Thanks to my fiancee, I’ve been working out and/or running every day for the past few months, so my physcial body is in good shape. My body wasn’t in horrible shape before, just that I couldn’t run very long, or I couldn’t do a push up easily, stuff like that. I remember gaining 20 pounds in my first year of college (I blame the all-day all-you-can-eat buffet) and being at 140lbs. Now I’m at about 150lbs at 5'1". Not ideal, but not overly obese. (Good weight to have a baby, tbh, but that’s a whole other topic!!) While I still struggle with push-ups, and to be honest, I think I’ll continue to struggle with upper-body strength for a long long time, I excel at other workouts, such as anything to do with legs! I’ve come to appreciate what my body can do, and push myself to test my own limits so that I can become even healthier and more fit! I’ve never had abs in my life before, but I hear that it’s possible with a little extra effort. (Realistically, I work out more so that I have an excuse to eat more! Within reason of course, and I do try to stay in that “nutrient deficiency zone” so that I actually use all the energy I absorbed through the food throughout the day, but I can only imagine how much I’ll allow myself to eat once I have abs! Amiright?!) So that’s where I’m at body-conscious wise.
2) I try to be as polite as possible at all times. (unless otherwise provoked, and then “Emma-Free-Mode-Wildcard-spontaneously-curse-and-wing-it-in-a-fit-of-rage” kicks in, and once I get it all out and calm down, I think about what my Dad would’ve told me to do instead of lash out and I feel ashamed.) Being polite to me, means that I smile and nod in agreement at basically everything the other person/people is/are saying, rarely, if ever, putting in my own opinions into the conversation. This can also have a not-so-desired effect, where the rule of “only speak when you’re spoken to” was so drilled into my head that I forget to share my own opinion. Sometimes I forget to even start to create my own opinion, because as a child, I would take so long deciding what I wanted that A)my parents would make the decision for me, B)my parents knew I would take a long time deciding so they didn’t even present the option of choice to me sometimes and just make the choice themselves C)we watched the sun move that one time D) at restaurants I would order the same thing every single time to save time and headaches E)If I did know what I wanted, but didn’t have the practice of vocalizing so didn’t say anything, and we left without obtaining the thing I wanted, I would throw an emotional fit F)once I learned that throwing fits in unacceptable and childish behavior, I became a very quiet, isolated teenager. There’s also the bit of information that I’m missing about if I’m on the Autism spectrum or not. I’m undiagnosed, but my Dad and his brothers share Rainman jokes sometimes, referring to their own actions, so I think there could be a chance, especially taking a look at my own “hidden” behaviors. If you don’t know Rainman, it’s a movie starring Bradd Pitt who plays a brother of an autistic guy who Bradd Pitt’s character uses to count cards at a casino. My whole family likes the movie, and my mom thinks that “Bradd Pitt plays such a good a**hole.”.
anyway, it’s a good movie, worth the watch. It paints a picture of autism that is a bit too extreme for the average autistic, but he’s still very relatable. I’m very emotional, meaning anything that is supposed to evoke emotions, I feel my emotions more strongly than probably an average person. I “wear my heart on my sleeve” at all times because honesty is the best policy, and honestly, I don’t know how well I could hold onto a lie, it stresses me out too much to lie. My favorite game is Sudoku (numbers have been a big part of my life). I’m quite the boring person, really, and I’ve tried to make up for it by taking a cross country journey because my Dad said that he’s been to all 50 US states. I learned to let other people take the lead in day-to-day conversations, and I just try to mimic them, and follow their lead. I guess you can call that “polite”?
3) I’m one of the hardest workers I know besides my own Mom and Dad. (basically everyone I’ve worked with ever has made me frustrated that they’re just so apathetic to work in general. Even if they do do a decent amount of work, I still view it as not enough, and… if, by some miracle, they do do enough work where I recognize it as more than what I do, I view it as a healthy competitive challenge.) However, I need to channel that energy into my personal life, more than my work life. I do admit that most people have their personal lives more put together than mine. I really need to set up a budget. I have slacked a bit from what they taught me. At the beginning of high school for instance, I used to show up around 7:30am. What I would do in those 30 minutes is beyond me, I already finished all my homework the day/night before. Then towards the end of high school, I would show up just in time to be counted in the homeroom roll call. From there, I had another “Gung-ho!” moment entering college where I could start over and be whoever I wanted to be! Unfortunately I still acted like a lost puppy dog, following around a toxic bf who didn’t even seem to notice when I was there. After 5 years of being dangerously close to that fine line of “this is normal BDSM stuff” to “I should get a dog bed to put next to his computer” I was stressed out enough to the point where I recognized that I wasn’t having fun in what I considered my “fun classes” such as Celtic Arts or Jazz History. That’s the point where I reached the halfway mark in my college and decided to go on a year-long, solo, cross-country road trip that I think I’ve mentioned before, but basically I went coast-to-coast, was trying to end up living in Oregon or Washington but the rent was too expensive, so then I just moved a little East to Idaho, and that’s where I met my now, fiancee, Josh! Now Josh and I have been together for 5 years, he’s met my family briefly, I met his family, and we’re still not sick of each other! Whenever we get into arguments, it’s usually misdirected anger at the world because the best way we can make the most money right now is having opposite shifts from each other. It makes us both really frustrated that we’re separated from each other for such a long amount of time. There’s such a short amount of time that we do actually get to see each other between coming home from work, while the other is getting ready for work. But if my parents taught me anything, it’s that saving money is important, and right now we don’t have a whole lot saved, so the more money we make, the more the blinding, red, flashing emergency light in my head settles down.
My Dad is also the first person to show me how to fold up the end of a tortilla to make a burrito.
(The ending feels unfinished because I’m still continuously learning things from my Dad.)
Thanks for reading!
