I'm Jealous of My Children's Childhood, and I'm Proud of It
Updated: Mar 10
Four years old, laying in bed. Doors slamming, screaming and yelling coming from down the hall. The smell of alcohol fills the house that has never been a home. Every day, every step is like walking on eggshells. Every good memory is accompanied by a bad one. No one knows the pain; the fear a child feels in this life.
This was my life. My entire childhood. I honestly can't remember much good of my childhood. It was the same thing over and over. The alcohol, the fighting and screaming, the leaving and the making up. Nothing mattered to my parents when it came to fighting. I could name countless times I would have a friend over and be so embarrassed that my parents were fighting.
One of my youngest memories of my parents is standing in between them screaming and begging them not to fight anymore as they were pushing and hitting each other, paying no mind to their terrified three-year-old daughter, right in between them, screaming and crying.
Now that I am older I know my parents loved me, and still do, but their hatred of one another and their combined love of alcohol consumed them. I do have good memories of my parents but none involve them both. It was either my father and I or my mother and I doing something or going somewhere. My parents have since divorced and found their soulmates which in return has reduced their drinking immensely. However, nothing will make me forget those years of turmoil.
My first daughter was born in June of 2016. On that day I made a promise to her, and to myself, that my children would have a home. That they would have the childhood I prayed for every night while lying in my darkroom while the screaming and yelling filled the room. They would never feel that pain.
My husband and I now have three beautiful daughters. We have a lovely three-bedroom home in a small town with four dogs and two ponies. My husband is an amazing man that works so hard for our family so that I can be a full-time stay at home mother. I am a very blessed woman to have the opportunity to raise my girls and to watch them grow every day.
Days are filled with morning food fights, youtube dance parties, afternoon crafts, and flooded bathrooms at bath time. I try not to focus on the messes, but the memories. Soaking up that extra time and remembering the little things. That one more hug at bedtime, the moments a kiss heals an ouchie and when they look at me out of nowhere and say "I love you, mommy".
I often find myself watching them in envy. They are so innocent and happy. Everything I had ever wanted, they have. The family, the love; the home. Never will they feel the loneliness or the pain that I had experienced. I am jealous that I never had those things but in giving them to my daughters I have created what I wanted as a child for myself. I have the family I dreamed of, the love of my husband and children and the home we have built together. It has been a rough road, but I wouldn't change anything; Past, present or future.