time or money

I know I haven’t blogged for a while. My mom discovered this blog while she was on my computer, and found the post in which I called her “tight and prudish.” She literally said she felt like she was stabbed in the chest. My mom is VERY sensitive. Obviously I felt bad about it, and things have been smoothed over.

If my mom was tight with money, it was because we really didn’t have much. She was in nursing school through a lot of my childhood, and her parents supported us (my dad also paid child support). She said many times “we saved up for the big things!” (Also, “there weren’t any fairs near us!”) I had a bike, and toys, and when I was older we took trips – Washington DC, Boston, England. Compared to many kids I had a good childhood. 

I didn’t want her to think I am ungrateful, or spoiled, or bitter about what my childhood was like. I knew what the circumstances were. I was sometimes lonely, and felt maybe a wee bit neglected in certain parts, and went through some issues. I guess that was what I was trying to get at in my post – like most parents, I want to tweak what my experiences were as a kid into what I would have wanted. I feel lucky my kids have an affectionate, doting, interested father, and that even though they don’t get EVERYTHING they want, they aren’t wanting. My kids adore their grandma too, and grandma adores them. We have the time and resources to give them a lot of attention. That is more important to me than going to a carnival.


2 responses to “time or money

  1. I think it must be such a crapshoot to get right, you know? My mother wanted to go to hebrew school as a child and her father told her she could go, but he wouldn’t take her. In 1960 it wasn’t safe for a little girl to be walking the streets in NYC by herself so my mother didn’t go. She forced my brother and I to go to hebrew school, even though we both vehemently hated it for all the years we went, thinking she was being nice, giving us something she hadn’t gotten, unable to see we didn’t want it. Nor did we want to visit all those fucking wax museums in PA for hours on end on our vacations, but again, she thought she was giving us some experience she had been deprived of.

    I’m sorry your mom found your blog. I was standing on the corner of Market and Church (across from the gay Safeway) when I found out my parents had seen mine, and I cried, both from having hurt them and for the freedom of expression I’d just lost.

  2. I just wanted to say thanks for visiting my blog, I hope you come back!

    And I’m sorry your mother found your blog. Sorry for your lack of “freedom of expression” and for her being hurt by your words. But I’m glad you were able to patch things up.

    And for the record, we never went anywhere as children either.

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