Wrap your own presents

I thought it would be apropos to chose this time of year to start my blog because it was during this time, 25 years ago, that one of my worst childhood memories was established. It’s the one memory that has bothered me most and been the hardest to shake. Ironically enough, when it happened I just let it slide and filed it away in a drawer to sit and gather cobwebs until my son was born.

It was xmas eve. My father always waited until the last minute to buy presents and then the very last minute to wrap them, or to ask me to wrap them as was usually the case. I think my mother did most of the xmas shopping so really, the only person he had to buy for was his wife. This usually involved me going along to help him pick out something, which really, what does a young teenage girl know about what her mother would like — especially when you have very opposite tastes? This particular night I was probably feeling my teenage angst in full force. I had not been getting along well with my family for a couple of years, I was withdrawn and mostly just wanted to be left alone. There was no point in ever trying to communicate with them what I was feeling because if I was doing anything other than being the “good” daughter then I was called angry and defiant. There was something I wanted to do that night, probably something stupid like call my boyfriend or watch a movie. My father comes to me at the last minute on xmas eve and tells me to go wrap his presents for him. My response flew out of my mouth, sharp tongued and without thinking “wrap your own presents.” Well holy xmas eve hell Batman, you would have thought I spit on him when I said it. His face turned bright red, he pushed me against the wall, looked me straight in the eyes and said “You little bitch, I’d kill you if I thought I could get away with it.”

At the time I blew it off as my dad being an ass. He rarely blew up but when he did, look out. I’ll never forget the evening he freaked out over who knows what during dinner. We were having steak and potatoes. I was just a little kid and he waving a steak knife at all of us, red faced and screaming something. That’s all I can remember of that episode which is probably for the best.

I’m sure I had not completely blocked out the xmas eve incident but I just never really gave it much though. Maybe to some people they might think “what’s the big deal.” When my son was born I was met with a ton of feelings regarding both my first family and my adoptive family. Most of these feelings, not being of a pleasant category, still bother me because a moment in my life that should have been filled with nothing but bliss, holding my newborn, was clouded over by feelings of resentment and alienation. By thoughts of abandonment, parental taunting and abuse.

How could any parent look into their childs eyes and say they’d like to kill them? Kill. Not just beat me. Not kick me out of the house. Not ground for the rest of their life. Kill. How far does someone need to be pushed before they feel like committing such a horrible deed? Before they WANT to do it? Does being told to wrap their own xmas presents qualify as a crime worthy of such a threat?

I hold my son and I love him with a love that is immeasurable. I cannot fathom being the parent that my parents were. When among groups of women who start talking about their parents and things their parents said to them as children I used to always pipe up and say “I won’t say those same things to my son that were said to me.” Most of these women laugh, oh you just wait, you’ll hear it come out of your mouth — it just happens. No, you don’t understand – I WON’T.

My presents were purchased and wrapped a week ago. Happy Holidays to everyone and to those with children, whatever age they are, give them a hug and a kiss and tell them you love them.