Tell me about your mother...

Yesterday was the first official day of parent training. The focus was on us (the prospective parents) and our current arrangements, past, yadda, getting introspective, trying to make sure we understand our feelings, motivations, intentions. And we got more paperwork. A TON more paperwork. A Really, really lot more paperwork. Focusing on every aspect of our lives (past and present). We were told the questions would start to get personal and personal they are (see previous entry). I'm not so worried about answering the questions about my current relationship ("How do you feel about your sexual relationship?" My answer - great! We trust each other and I'm very satisfied with it.). I love my husband and am comfortable enough to talk about it. My present is exactly what I need it to be, I love it and am really happy, content, satisfied, enjoying life, etc., etc., ad nausea. However, the "Family of Origin" worksheet made my blood run cold.

"What was the atmosphere of the household as you were growing up?"

Well, let's see. Tension filled, abusive, fractured, loud, anxiety-ridden.

"Describe your parent's marriage. What did you learn about marriage by living with them?"

I learned how not to communicate with your spouse or family unless you were screaming. I learned not to have a gun in the house because when you call the cops with a gun in the house - an entire squad descends on the neighborhood. I learned I was easy to walk away from and easy to replace.

After the marriage, I learned that adults like to fight over stupid inanimate objects, but that kids aren't worth fighting for. I learned the meaning of the phrase "do as I say, not as I do." I learned to sleep with my radio turned up when my mother's boyfriend's stayed the night. I learned to lock my door when the noises from her bedroom stopped.

"Did your parents agree on discipline?"

There was no agreement. I was bad, dad hit me with his slippers. I got him a new pair of slippers every Christmas, hoping each year that this pair didn't hurt as much as the last ones. With my mom, discipline took the form of psychiatrists, medication and the threat of hospitalization. Given the choice now, I don't know which was worse.

"Did your parents offer any career or vocation guidance?"

My dad told me my 18th birthday present would be a suitcase to help me move out. And all my ambitions, like to become a marine biologist. Well those were stupid because only smart people did things like that. Not dummies who didn't understand math.

Yeah, this is going to be a fun week. I really hope Mirabella stocked up on their tiramisu.