Carly's Ramblings Blog - Style

Letter to My Parents... That I Would Never Share With Them

30 Day Blogging Challenge

PROMPT July 1st
Write a letter to your parents from before your birth. Give them advice about how to raise you and give them a heads up about anything they might struggle with when you come into their lives.

So babies are a two person, team playing kind of thing. One parent does not do it all, while the other sits on the sidelines playing like life is the same as it was before the baby. You both need to be involved.

Having a kid does not mean your marriage has to suffer. If you feel neglected, then help with the little bundle, don't go off with your buddies or start up an affair.

Please learn to communicate. Don't be afraid to say 'I love you' and let others know what you appreciate about each other. I don't want to hear 'I married her, she should know I love her' - that doesn't cut it. Mom needs to hear the words. She needs the reassurance. And with that assurance, she will fight the battle of depression.

And Dad, go to the doctor regularly and take care of yourself. Don't wait for the cancer to eat you alive.
This little person wants your love and attention. She is pretty independent, but she also needs to know you love her. Do stuff with her... don't wait until its your weekend, to step up.

Get her involved and go see her shine. Where was my Dad when I performed at the Community Center after Kiwanis was having their winners performances? Was he working or was he off bowling with his buddies? My mom and my grandparents were there, but not him. That memory still rubs at me.

A little kid needs to know you are their champion and you are there for them. I didn't always feel that my parents were.... and I didn't ask because - what kid asks for that kind of thing?

Being an only child was not a thrill either. I would have loved a brother or sister as support. It would have been easier to tackle the teasing and develop a backbone if I had had at least one sibling.

I know my parents loved me, but the words were rarely, if ever, said. They were both wounded people. We lived in Northern Ontario, so getting help in the form of therapy was sparse - 30 minutes once a month - mom told me. What kind of progress can you do with that?

I had a grandmother who loved me and that made a huge difference for me. Moving away from that restrictive, small, Northern Ontario town was a good thing. It was hard to be away from my Dad... but he died within 3 months of us moving away. I was twelve, I had my aunt and uncle to love... and love me. And a short while later I had a cousin who was also a gift.