Important beliefs that I have to share with you all right now: my parents are better than all other parents, supernatural television shows that are no longer on the air are totally worthy of hours of discussion among strangers, and knowing things is very different from emotionally understanding them. (This list is not meant to detract from other established understandings, like “walking is surprisingly difficult” or “everyone should own a good pair of gaudy feathered eyelashes.”)
If you read this blog, then you have enough other internet connection with me to know that SnarkSquad.com is my favorite thing that I have ever helped create. You would also know this because I’ve said it here half a dozen times.
My absolute favorite part of that blog is a tie between two things (1) the ridiculous email exchanges that I get to have with Lor -and- (2) the awesome community of snarky folks in the comments. The highlight of my day is now a reply from Lor on our “!” email chain (YEP, all SnarkSquad.com business is handled in an email whose subject line is simply an exclamation point, because it’s basically the essential symbol of our blog) or “Disqus [childhood trauma]” (we haven’t updated our blog’s name on Disqus because we’re lazy sentimental.)
Buffy fans are quite possibly the most awesome, because somehow an existing community of Buffy fans found their way to us, and they analyze the crap out of everything. While their Angel hate gives my human soul a heavy case of the feels, they embody a lot of what makes this project fun. Recently, thanks to the epic conversations this show spawns, our discussions have included a fair bit on parenting. This is kind of a popular thing for us. There is a Philip Pullman quote that I love: “As Jane Austen might have put it: It is a truth universally acknowledged that young protagonists in search of adventure must ditch their parents.” While this thought is lovely, the things we review on SS feature a lot of unintentionally atrocious parents. More than that, it’s really easy snarking material.
I don’t remember having such strong feelings about Joyce Summers on first viewing of this show, but rewatching it for the blog has given me a serious case of Joyce Summers loathing. She’s frequently an awful and neglectful parent, only deciding to check back in long enough to get self-righteous and angry with everyone else. Still, our team of devoted Buffy fans have taken to the comments to defend her. (With the exception of Joyce and Xander, the three of us often bring enough mixed opinions to the table that the reactions don’t tend to be quite so strong because someone will most likely have said something that commenters agree with.)
On a not-seemingly-related-but-I’m-totally-getting-there note, I recently had an offline, fangirl-free conversation about how I was a junior or senior in high school by the time I properly registered the idea that some people had parents who were awful. I understood this concept on a basic statement-of-fact level, but it didn’t connect with me on an emotional or empathetic level until a point that seems ridiculously late to me.
I’m not going to get into the particulars of someone else’s actual lived experience as a prop for this story, but I remember the first time that I actually wrapped my head around the notion that many people were raised (or not raised) by people who just shouldn’t have been parents. It was a moment of seeing one of these tragically shit parents in action and mentally contrasting this person with my own parents. There was absolutely no way to even compare these people. Short of the fact that both had made the genetic contributions to offspring, they were nothing alike.
I cried because I was sad for this person’s children, and because the magnitude of my own ridiculous good fortune took on new weight. Prior to that point, I had always felt lucky in the parent department, but it was more superficial. I knew my parents were awesome, but I didn’t get extent of how or why. I didn’t understand that I was born with an incredible emotional support network whose equal I have not witnessed in my 24 years on this planet.
This, of course, isn’t just my parents. It’s my amazing grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. It’s something that I largely took for granted for 17 years, until that first moment of actual recognition. The thing that is so incredible to me is the everydayness of it, in my life. The presence of these people and this kind of support is as basic a fact of my existence as the fact that today is Wednesday. Today is Wednesday, it is 8:52am, and I have the best family imaginable.
It’s not just that they’re all good people who would do anything in their power to improve my life (or each other’s lives; I am not uniquely a member of this family because that’s not how family works). There are endless stories about the things that every member of my family has done for people they hardly know. What’s more, they’re all just fun people to be around. (It’s a fine line between cool person who does good shit because they can and self-righteous do-gooder.) Truly, the greatest struggle in being a part of my family is living up to it. I don’t think I’ll ever feel that I deserve to have been this lucky, but I’m certainly grateful for it.
I still don’t know how to wrap my head around what it is to not feel that way. I still have a similar sense of knowing something is a fact without really getting that there are many people who don’t experience this feeling when they think about their families. I imagine, and hope, that you’ve all found or created other amazing relationships in your lives.
For everyone who reads this and says, “You probably only have the second best family ever because mine is better,” well, (1) You’re wrong -and- (2) Let this be your friendly reminder to be grateful for this fact. Also to go brag about it. I support family bragging. (Clearly.)
(But no, seriously, you’re wrong.)
