Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Favourite Children.

Hah, I'm not even slightly surprised to read/hear that during a survey on Netmums it was discovered that 20% of mothers admit to having a favourite child.
My mother favours my brother over every girl that ever had the misfortune to be expelled screaming from that harpy.
And she's not the only one, my oldest friend is a favourite of her father, perhaps because she was the baby of the family and CG will often say his baby sister-and youngest- is the true recipient of his parents' affections.
I suppose parents in general love all their children, but it strikes me as quite normal that they might favour one over the other. People have VERY different personalities, and siblings are not exempt. My brother is mild mannered and avoids conflict, ergo he is the Biological Incubator's plum pudding. I am her least favourite child as I get on her wick and refuse to talk to her for great swathes of time. Oddly though I am the one she is MOST interested in- the nosy old cow.
'What did she say?' being her opening line whenever my name is mentioned. 'Did she say anything about me?' Being the second.
No Lilac Couch, I didn't. I wouldn't give you the satisfaction.
It's a remarkably taboo notion that parents aren't perfect. That they might have quirks and likes and foibles even AFTER they spawn another generation, but they do.

Quoth Larkin.

'They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself."


Quite.

Labels: