A Bunch Of Crap I Shouldn't Talk About
Its been made apparent in the past that no matter what I do in life, someone is going to be pissed at me.
Vegetarian or not? Here in America, I’m surrounded by vegetarians who make me feel evil if I eat yogurt. In Taiwan, I felt like the dumb culturally-stunted American for being alarmed by the prospect of fish eyeballs and bull penis soup. Annoying or evil. Those are my culinary choices.
Natural childbirth or not? Either I’m selling out to the medical establishment or willingly endangering my baby's life. Oh god, now I get to throw the use of antidepressants into the mix. If I take a low dose while pregnant, I may curb hysterical panic attacks. I also am a horrible woman who does not care a bit for my child’s safety. But I’ve already established that I’m Going To Be A Bad Mom , so I guess that shouldn’t be a big shock.
And don’t even get me started on the Stay-At-Home-Mom thing. I’d love to stay home with my kids, but that’s because I’m an artist, and I’d like to try working from home too. I get scoffed at for that (“LOL Like you’ll ever really be able to do anything else if you have children, besides mother them. Don’t you know that if you have children, they take up your ENTIRE LIFE and you can never do anything or think about anything else ever again?” and/or “Why even HAVE kids if you want to work?”) But the feminist revolution says that I should be the CEO of a company and go to work every day in spike heels, and have three kids and a perfect house, BECAUSE WOMEN CAN DO ANYTHING, SO TO PROVE IT WE MUST DO EVERYTHING.
Drug use or no drug use? Growing up, my family was vehemently ANTI-DRUG. I grew up with D.A.R.E. and HUGS NOT DRUGS public service announcements. Of course, there was that thing called ‘peer pressure’, aka: other kids making fun of you because you were lame and didn’t use. But they made fun of me for EVERYTHING, so it didn’t bother me much. It amuses me, though, that as an adult I STILL get the same flack for not using drugs. And not drinking!! That annoys the crap out of people. They get offended that I won’t engage in the same social rituals that make them feel comfortable. I actually was scoffed at by a grown adult (a mother of two) recently for saying, “Remember: Just Say No, Kids!” in response to Amy Winehouse kicking the drug-addled bucket.
So, drugs or not, I’m either a degenerate, or a square. Good to know.
And now the most recent dilemma: caring for aging family members.
My grandmother on my father’s side was ravaged by diabetes. She was terribly overweight and had lost a leg. We converted our garage into a small apartment for her and she lived with us until her death. I was very young but I remember my parents having to call the paramedics in the middle of the night several times because she had fallen and they couldn’t help her. There was a lot of anxiety over what would happen when it got to the point where we couldn’t care for her anymore.
My great-grandmother lived with my grandparents on my mother’s side until her death in her late eighties…and their disabled daughter, my Aunt Kathy, lived with them as well until her death (my parents actually bought a large home with the intent that she would live with them after my grandparents were unable to care for her anymore, but sadly the room was never needed.) My grandparents also took care of me when I was a baby and Mom had to work. I never went to daycare. Now I see my mother, the only child left after the death of her sister, struggling to care for my parents, who both have a terrible time getting around. Mom is retired, luckily, because otherwise we’d be in a pickle. She has to take them to endless doctors appointments and clean their house, cook for them. Everything. I help where I can, and we have someone come in to help clean occasionally. It’s difficult and worrisome. They live three minutes down the road because my mother doesn’t feel like they could all successfully live together in one home, and it’s working for now, but soon it may be too hard, and we can’t afford to get them in an assisted living facility.
I’ve taken my education on caring for one’s family from watching my family care for each other my whole life. I’ve always assumed that I’ll have my parents in my home, if at all possible, when they get old. That’s how our family has always done it. Even Richard, when I asked him about it, said, “Of course. In Asian culture, that’s just how things are.” But I find I can’t talk about it to anyone. It’s the new taboo issue. Lord help me if I try to question anyone on how the system works, to find out how other people deal with it. Best to leave that can of worms alone. If I talk about my hopes for having my parents live with me, I either get lectured on how impossibly hard that is, that it can never work out, that I have no idea what I’m talking about (never mind that its how my family has operated my entire life) and the distinct feeling that they think I’m judging them for not planning the same course of action for their own relatives. Then there’s the folks who react with horror if I ask about assisted-living facilities. (“You’d put your parents in a HOME??????”) Sometimes I get both of these reactions simultaneously.
But I want to know how the system works and what people’s experiences have been. If I can get any information that will help my mother find her parents some help, that would be swell, but I just want to know. Because I find that the experiences that women are having in dealing with newborn children and with aging parents in this country are mirroring each other to a profound degree, and that’s fascinating to me. It’s also disturbing. I’m about to start dealing with both of these issues at the same time.
So I’m a pagan chick who refuses to straighten her hair or get a manicure, but I shave my legs and wear cover-up to hide my unsightly blemishes. I eat meat, but not too much, and I have no urge at all to eat bull-penis soup, but I don’t care if other folks do. I never do drugs or drink, but I think pot should be legalized. I want to have a natural childbirth and breastfeed, but I want to stay on antidepressants while I’m pregnant. I want to stay at home and mother my kids and also write stories and draw pictures, and I can’t stand the thought of asking my husband for money. I want my Mom and Dad to live with me when they’re old, and I want to know what to do if it gets too hard for me to help them.
I’d also like to talk to folks about this stuff without ending up feeling like I’m evil, stupid, or both. Kaythnxbye.
Vegetarian or not? Here in America, I’m surrounded by vegetarians who make me feel evil if I eat yogurt. In Taiwan, I felt like the dumb culturally-stunted American for being alarmed by the prospect of fish eyeballs and bull penis soup. Annoying or evil. Those are my culinary choices.
Natural childbirth or not? Either I’m selling out to the medical establishment or willingly endangering my baby's life. Oh god, now I get to throw the use of antidepressants into the mix. If I take a low dose while pregnant, I may curb hysterical panic attacks. I also am a horrible woman who does not care a bit for my child’s safety. But I’ve already established that I’m Going To Be A Bad Mom , so I guess that shouldn’t be a big shock.
And don’t even get me started on the Stay-At-Home-Mom thing. I’d love to stay home with my kids, but that’s because I’m an artist, and I’d like to try working from home too. I get scoffed at for that (“LOL Like you’ll ever really be able to do anything else if you have children, besides mother them. Don’t you know that if you have children, they take up your ENTIRE LIFE and you can never do anything or think about anything else ever again?” and/or “Why even HAVE kids if you want to work?”) But the feminist revolution says that I should be the CEO of a company and go to work every day in spike heels, and have three kids and a perfect house, BECAUSE WOMEN CAN DO ANYTHING, SO TO PROVE IT WE MUST DO EVERYTHING.
Drug use or no drug use? Growing up, my family was vehemently ANTI-DRUG. I grew up with D.A.R.E. and HUGS NOT DRUGS public service announcements. Of course, there was that thing called ‘peer pressure’, aka: other kids making fun of you because you were lame and didn’t use. But they made fun of me for EVERYTHING, so it didn’t bother me much. It amuses me, though, that as an adult I STILL get the same flack for not using drugs. And not drinking!! That annoys the crap out of people. They get offended that I won’t engage in the same social rituals that make them feel comfortable. I actually was scoffed at by a grown adult (a mother of two) recently for saying, “Remember: Just Say No, Kids!” in response to Amy Winehouse kicking the drug-addled bucket.
So, drugs or not, I’m either a degenerate, or a square. Good to know.
And now the most recent dilemma: caring for aging family members.
My grandmother on my father’s side was ravaged by diabetes. She was terribly overweight and had lost a leg. We converted our garage into a small apartment for her and she lived with us until her death. I was very young but I remember my parents having to call the paramedics in the middle of the night several times because she had fallen and they couldn’t help her. There was a lot of anxiety over what would happen when it got to the point where we couldn’t care for her anymore.
My great-grandmother lived with my grandparents on my mother’s side until her death in her late eighties…and their disabled daughter, my Aunt Kathy, lived with them as well until her death (my parents actually bought a large home with the intent that she would live with them after my grandparents were unable to care for her anymore, but sadly the room was never needed.) My grandparents also took care of me when I was a baby and Mom had to work. I never went to daycare. Now I see my mother, the only child left after the death of her sister, struggling to care for my parents, who both have a terrible time getting around. Mom is retired, luckily, because otherwise we’d be in a pickle. She has to take them to endless doctors appointments and clean their house, cook for them. Everything. I help where I can, and we have someone come in to help clean occasionally. It’s difficult and worrisome. They live three minutes down the road because my mother doesn’t feel like they could all successfully live together in one home, and it’s working for now, but soon it may be too hard, and we can’t afford to get them in an assisted living facility.
I’ve taken my education on caring for one’s family from watching my family care for each other my whole life. I’ve always assumed that I’ll have my parents in my home, if at all possible, when they get old. That’s how our family has always done it. Even Richard, when I asked him about it, said, “Of course. In Asian culture, that’s just how things are.” But I find I can’t talk about it to anyone. It’s the new taboo issue. Lord help me if I try to question anyone on how the system works, to find out how other people deal with it. Best to leave that can of worms alone. If I talk about my hopes for having my parents live with me, I either get lectured on how impossibly hard that is, that it can never work out, that I have no idea what I’m talking about (never mind that its how my family has operated my entire life) and the distinct feeling that they think I’m judging them for not planning the same course of action for their own relatives. Then there’s the folks who react with horror if I ask about assisted-living facilities. (“You’d put your parents in a HOME??????”) Sometimes I get both of these reactions simultaneously.
But I want to know how the system works and what people’s experiences have been. If I can get any information that will help my mother find her parents some help, that would be swell, but I just want to know. Because I find that the experiences that women are having in dealing with newborn children and with aging parents in this country are mirroring each other to a profound degree, and that’s fascinating to me. It’s also disturbing. I’m about to start dealing with both of these issues at the same time.
So I’m a pagan chick who refuses to straighten her hair or get a manicure, but I shave my legs and wear cover-up to hide my unsightly blemishes. I eat meat, but not too much, and I have no urge at all to eat bull-penis soup, but I don’t care if other folks do. I never do drugs or drink, but I think pot should be legalized. I want to have a natural childbirth and breastfeed, but I want to stay on antidepressants while I’m pregnant. I want to stay at home and mother my kids and also write stories and draw pictures, and I can’t stand the thought of asking my husband for money. I want my Mom and Dad to live with me when they’re old, and I want to know what to do if it gets too hard for me to help them.
I’d also like to talk to folks about this stuff without ending up feeling like I’m evil, stupid, or both. Kaythnxbye.