Talking With My Daughter – Explaining Why I’m Not a GREAT Grandma.

Communicating with Grown Children – Communicating with Parents. Woof.

Talking with my daughter is never an easy conversation. Explaining why I’m not a GREAT, and I mean wonderful, grandma requires a long, long, long explanation.

This is how a recent conversation began.

“Mom, I’d like to spend the night with friends. Will you watch the kids tonight?

I look up from my website dashboard. I’m thinking about switching themes. I want a video-heavy theme because I’m going to step up video production. (btw I’ve done this; please take a look.)

My Mind Is Not Focused On Communication

But changing themes while I’m writing about the Recall might change how my blog and posts look. So I should wait until Wednesday. Still, I want the Video Vlog Theme, and it’s on sale. And I can purchase the bundle and change my Pinch of Mexican theme and the themes for two other websites I’m managing. 

These Theme-issues are on my mind. Taking care of the grandchildren is not.

I Joke About Hating Children

But I look up at my daughter and ponder her question.

I roll my eyes. 

My eye-rolling is my attempt at humor.

Mocking-Humor.

We have a private joke between us about how much I hate kids. 

I don’t hate kids. I am particularly fond of my grandchildren, my sister’s grandchildren, and my brother’s children.

Saying I hate Kids is not funny. But I’m an ex-television reporter, a political reporter. And to survive, I learned how to be bitingly sarcastic.

And I love dark humor.

I try to put myself in her place. Empathy is needed when conversing with your children. And vice-versa. It’s required when speaking with your parents.

Okay. I think. Don’t do that. Rolling your eyes is not good body language. It’s probably why I was bullied and fired.

At this point, I acknowledge that the conversation with my daughter is off to a bad start. 

I set the tone. Combative. Hostile.

Woman to Woman. Face to Face. One-On-One Combat! Without Gloves.

I Try To Soften My Tone

I look my daughter in the eyes and say, “Go, be young. Of course, I’ll watch the kids. What do I always say to you? Life is short.

Then I have to add this sentence, “I’ll be dead soon, so you better take advantage while you can.”

This is another horrible retort from me.

Please, I’m giving you advice. Don’t do this. Learn from my mistakes.

Why do I do it? I know why and will tell you in this Episode of One-On-One.

Do You Ever Say One Thing but Mean Another?

Of course, you do. We all do. If we don’t say it with words, we say it with our body language.

As a parent, we learn to let some communication topics with our adult children go through the years.

We have to survive and keep the relationship going. 

It’s like that with any relationship. You bite your tongue. 

You’ve said it before. Why repeat it? 

They don’t listen to you anyway.

I’ve said it before, many times. I don’t want to spend my free time babysitting. Of course, COVID changed a lot of this. We all had to buck up. Help each other and share child care duties.

Back to the Eye Rolling 

When I roll my eyes, and when I say I hate children. The subtext is, I don’t want to be responsible for the grandkids.

I love them. They are great. But I am a selfish person, and I need free time. I can’t stop being a workaholic. But all I want to do is write my blog, work on my website and work on my novel, “Fade to Black.”

My face and body language clearly say NO.

And I have said No many times before. 

But my voice says this, “Yes, go, be young.” 

My subtext is mostly ignored through the years because real life doesn’t always turn out the way you plan. Does it?

My daughter does not move from the office doorway.

My voice softens. I say, “What do I always say? Please be happy, be young.”

She still looks at me. 

I Am A Selfish Bitch Sometimes

God knows what she is thinking. That I’m going to die old and alone with no friends or relatives at my bedside. Nobody is going to care.

I’m sure she is comparing me to my sister. My older sister got all of my mother’s genes. 

Liz Moraga Garcia is a Rameriz through and through. Like my mother and grandmother before her. Sis is nurturing and does anything and everything for her children, grandchildren, and husband. And for me. She always takes care of me.

My Sister Is Perfect – I Am Mostly Not 

She became the mother I lost when Cancer killed our mom.

I’m not like my sister. Never was. I am a Moraga. 

I am my father. I’m not happy about it. But there you have it. 

I’m thinking about all this when I make the stupid crack about dying soon. 

I just had to say it fricking. Why? Why can’t I try to be kind? 

Why don’t I just shut up? 

Here’s why. 

Yes, I’m going to answer my question!

Growing up, I saw my two grandmothers and many others caring full-time for their grandkids. Their kids were having babies, then dumping them with “Nana” and “Papa.” That’s what we call the “Grands” in our family.

What were the parents doing when they were neglecting their child-caring duties?

Most of them were not working; they were partying, drinking, or doing drugs. And many of the Latina’s were getting pregnant again.

Why?

“Why,” I asked my mother once, “is everybody always getting pregnant?”

“Because we are Catholic,” she answered. “And the Pope in Rome doesn’t believe in birth control.”

“Why don’t you have more children then?”

My mom and dad had three children; I am the youngest.

“Because God helps those who help themselves, and the Pope doesn’t pay my bills. And it’s nobody’s business if I practice birth control, especially not the Pope’s. And God and I agree, it’s a sin to bring a child into the world when you can’t afford food.”

The “Unwanted Children Cycle”

I always wrongly thought that the cycle of bringing unwanted children into the world is a Latina-Cycle. 

I am wrong.

It’s not just Latina’s get caught up in it. This is not about race or ethnicity. This is about poverty. 

It’s always about money. It’s about poor women and what society does to poor women.

 And it’s a waste of our lives. 

Having children they do not want or need and cannot take care of is a sin. Or if you won’t believe in sin, it’s wrong.

I Never Want To Be That Latina Grandmother

Let me clarify right here and now.

This is NOT my daughter. The problem here is me.

My daughter is kind, hardworking, intelligent, a college graduate with a secure, high-level job. I don’t think she takes advantage of me. She asks me to step in and care for the kids now and then. Of course, they live with me, so I’m around and handy by default.

So what is the fricking problem, Gloria?

Fresno is the problem. Not Fresno, the city. But my childhood in Fresno.

It’s 1966, Fresno California

I’m Latina. I am growing up seeing young, vibrant girls get pregnant in high school. And then never do anything more than that. Life Over!

As a child, I watched my aunt’s having too many children, wasting their potential, getting old and worn, and dying young.

My Auntie Antonia

When I was eleven or twelve, right about the time I started menstruating, my mom would take me to visit my Auntie, my mom’s youngest younger sister. 

Her name was Antonia, but everybody has a nickname in our family. And we called her by her nickname, Tonya. Not an awesome-sounding nickname. 

Her husband was an abuser, a drunk, just an evil man. He would visit her a couple of times a month. The rest of the time, she was on her own with the children. 

Things My Mother Taught Me

My mom told me this story. 

“Your Auntie has no money and very little food for the kids. She can’t get a job because she has nobody to care for the babies. So even though we are ashamed to admit it, she is on welfare.”

My mom added, “I would never go on welfare. I’d scrub floors first.”

Of course, my mom also used Birth Control.

The story continues, “But her husband, Dicky, comes around the same time the state welfare check arrives. She tries not to give it to him, but he beats her and rapes her and takes the checks.”

Linda Moraga – Storyteller

I heard this story from my mother when I was about twelve.

My mom said, “We’ve called the police, reported him, and helped her move. He finds her. She calls him. She says she still loves him. She would starve if we didn’t help her.” 

So my mom would buy groceries, gather food and clothes from her other sisters, and take them to her baby sister.

I hated visiting my aunt. 

My mom would say to me, “You will go. Get in the car.” 

In the car, she said, “I want you to see what it’s like when a woman has too many kids and no money. You have to learn from these mistakes; otherwise, it’s a waste.” 

Go To College

“Get an education, get a good job, always have your own money.”

It was a lesson that was taught to me repeatedly as I grew up. 

I listened. I learned. I followed my mom’s advice.

I was always thankful I did not have children at a young age. I went to college. I earned degrees. 

In my mind, if you are a poor woman, children equal poverty and struggle and pain.

I raised one daughter. I put her through school. I taught her right from wrong. I try to support her choices in every way. But they are her choices. Not mine. 

I’ve made my choices.

I’ve always made it clear I’m not a babysitter. And she works hard at not asking me to help her too much. 

I love my grandchildren, but they, like all children, can sometimes sap the bone marrow right out of you.

All this said, I hope they will be there when I’m dying.

In the meantime, I’ll repeat it. I can be a real bitch sometimes.

I don’t want to be the grandmother taking care of the grandchildren all the time. 

I have my own life. I want to live it because we will all die one day.

I own that. 

I’m Gloria Moraga. This is One-On-One. 

Talk with someone you love. And please, try not to leave your childhood baggage out of the conversation. Please explain it to your children. I’m trying. I’m failing. But you can learn from my mistakes. 

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