Honestly? My “family” didn’t have any traditions that I can really recall. I suppose “going to the grandparents’ house for the summer” is one that might qualify?! But, even if it does, there was never a time when I could send The Son there, for many reasons… the first and foremost being that I usually lived there (off and on for years). The second, and more important, reason being that I’d never subject The Son to The Plague like that, and Mom never wanted to “babysit.” I still hold some resentment around that, for not-so-obvious reasons: The Son is autistic. My brother’s son? “Normal.” Not only did Mom NOT “babysit” my son, she willingly went out of her way to have my nephew over so she could spend time with him. Another cycle that repeated (favoring the Golden Child).
So, the traditions (if you will) that The Plague (Trauma/Abuse) and my Mom (Neglect/Ignoring Problems) held are ones that I rejected when I had The Son. I was dead set on not treating my child like they’d treated theirs. I raised him to the best of my ability, with love, care, kindness, respect, and discipline (not abuse) tailored to his needs. It wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that, but it was worth every single second that I was able to forego the shitty existence I had and provide better for the next generation.
Sadly, now The Son is with his father (Gravity) and everything I did to teach him how to be a good egg and as self-sufficient as he could be (considering)… right out the fuckin window.
Ah well. Such is life, I guess.
Who IS EnchiPants?! 