I live in a extremely functional family. My parents are the most happily married people I know, and I hope that I will be as good at raising kids as they’ve been. They have (on average) one fight a year, which completely stresses out whichever kids are at home. (They know it does - my father sometimes sits us down afterwards to reassure us that everything’s OK, my parents still love each other, and we shouldn’t worry, which we don’t, but it’s a nice gesture.) My siblings and I squabbled a lot when we were younger, but we all love each other an awful lot. Thus far, we all seem to be reasonably well-adjusted. We all make each other laugh a lot.
My father’s favorite line about my family comes from a conversation between a friend of mine and her mother. When discussing my family’s annual two week vacation in the woods, my friend asked her mother why their family never travelled together. Her mom replied, “but the [my last name]s all actually like each other!” I’m using up my vacation this summer from graduate school to go on the family trip.
I’m lucky enough to come from a wonderful family- great parents, my siblings and I all get along with each other- my marriage is great, with 2 kids who are growing up fine. We have had plenty of tragedies, however, losing a few family members through accidents when they were far too young- but these things just seem to bring us closer together (emotionally- we are geographically quite scattered), and make us appreciate each other more.
I’ve always considered myself lucky, particularly in comparison to other families I spent time with. Both parents worked full-time and then some, but they took a genuine interest (or convincingly feigned interest) in the things I was doing. Some of my fondest memories are of playing sports and music with my dad. He even asked me to teach him some basic martial arts after my instructor made me a lowly assistant. Trying to teach him footwork while throwing punches and kicks at him was truly a unique experience. :eek:
We lost my older brother (and only sibling) when I was ten years old, the three of us became distant from one another for several months. That experience did not make us stronger. We never had any dramatic breakthrough or “coming to terms with it” moment, it was simply a matter of accepting reality and moving on. Even through that, I considered my family situation preferable to most I saw around me.
At age 22, both my parents were killed in a small plane crash. After the manic period of the funeral and the estate settlement, I lived in a state of surreal disbelief. I felt as if Fate had decided “OK, you got through that other period, now I’m going to slap you down again and take away your support system while I’m at it.” It has been a little over three years now, I still miss them but I recognize that they gave my a solid foundation that kept me from falling into a pit of dispair. Looking at it that way, I guess we were a “funtional” unit.
My family is weird. On one hand, we are very close. We love each other, and live rather conservative lifestyles. We don’t drink, smoke or do drugs.
On the other hand, we routinely have dinner discussions about goatse.cx. I email my mom whenever I find a funny (Read: gross) picture on the Internet. Me and my dad have joked about finding She-Hulk porn on the Internet.
Well, I don’t know. My family is very close and we consistently go to bat for each other no matter what, but when you look at individual events, it looks pretty bad (teen pregnancy, children out of wedlock, gang and substance abuse). Even so, I wouldn’t trade my family for the world. Although I know my parents made their share of mistakes in raising us, they did the best they could with the best of intentions. I’ve never questioned their love and devotion to their kids and to each other.
Looking back, all I know is that every time I’ve screwed up my parents have been there for me – and it’s been the same for my sisters. The youngest sister seemed to have gotten it right, and the rest of us just sort of laugh about our dumbassery since we’ve gotten our shit straightened out.
It’s a dysfunctionally functional family, I guess. Not many families in my acquaintance laugh as much as mine does, and to me, that says a lot. We have fun together and we take care of each other. That’s family to me.
We’re kind of oddball, but certainly functional. My parents are happily married, didn’t yell at us much. There are 5 kids, and we squabbled plenty, but we all get along fine now. We mostly want to live close together–unless we get a chance to live overseas. We laugh a lot and have a good time together. Mr. genie and I moved to this town partly to be near my folks. So I guess we’re doing fine.
About the worst thing you could say about my folks was that they believed in caning when us kids really misbehaved. Sure, it’s not a popular idea these days, but to be quite fair, when Mom went for the rod, it was only because we really fsck’ed up. :eek:
I think my family is functional now, and the one I grew up in was too. We fight/fought occasionally, and kids squabble, but nothing horrendous. I had a cousin or two tell me that our parents had the only loving marriage they knew. Neither was perfect, and my dad worked too much, but geez. I yell sometimes and I’m too strict, but everything is in the “functional” range.
I’ve been told that dsyfunctional means the parents’ needs precede the kids’. None of that in my neck of the woods.
On the surface, people would view my family and think “Huxatables” but we weren’t at all. My parents had fights that involved cursing and shoving. My twin sister and I would bicker and roll around on the carpet sometimes. My older brother and sister once made a giant hole in the wall because my brother pushed my sister into it during their rumble over the telephone. And we knew we could get whuppins if we fell out of line. Sometimes we did. When I was eight-years-old, we went to family therapy because of problems with my older sister. It was an upsetting time and I hated those damn sessions because I was too young to understand what was going on.
Yet we were very normal and functional. My parents weren’t drunken or abusive. They had good jobs. I was always fed good, nutritious food. On Sundays we would take Sunday drives that always involved stopping for ice cream. We attended church and Sunday School. My twin and I had violin lessons and we went to summer camp and had sleep overs. I wasn’t molested growing up. My parents always praised me for my achievements. I never wanted for love or attention, despite having to share everything with a twin sister. I’m the “odd ball” in the family but my parents didn’t try too hard to make me feel like a freak. I could’ve have ended up with much worse. I think of this every time I see my dysfunctional cousins.
I don’t think I would have wanted to live on the Cosby Show. My family is cool just the way it is, with all its imperfections.
Wow. My family sounds incredibly similar to that of CrazyCatLady.
Sure, we fought–we’re all a bit on the hot-headed side and had short fuses. But we got over it just as quickly. And we all, deep down, loved each other. Plus, we just like to argue! My parents had their disagreements, but it was never over anything serious and the marriage was never in jeopardy.
One thing that meant to most to me was something that happened when I was 13. My dad (crusty old grumpy male chauvinist that he pretends to be) quit his job, and we moved 500 miles so mom could take advantage of a career opportunity that was just perfect for her. He gave up tenure at a university just so she could pursue her dream. My parents were always equal partners, and I think that’s why, despite their tempers, they always loved and respected each other.
I can’t say my family was truly non-dysfunctional; my mother’s two divorces were pretty traumatizing, especially the second one.
But I will say they never beat me (spankings don’t count), never played really weird emotional tricks on me, never told me I was worthless, never led me to believe I was anything but loved.
Sometimes I think about that second divorce – the repercussions of which will keep me single forever – but I must admit, they all did the best they could, and meant well. I’m lucky compared to many, even most.
My parents weren’t perfect, my mom had self esteem issues that caused her to be extremely critical. And that is the worst thing I can come up with.
I don’t know what qualifies a home as dysfunctional, but my parents loved each other, they loved us, and they always let us KNOW they loved us. I never EVER heard them fight, although I am sure they did…how could you NOT? My home was pretty “ahead of it’s time”…mom worked full time and almost none of my friend’s moms worked. Dad worked three jobs, but always had time to fix my stuff and hug me when I needed it. I was his little shadow when he was home…he taught me to fix things and work with wood and grow things. Mom was president of every PTA at every school any of us attended. (There were four of us) She was also president of the PTA of the whole city organization in our city once. She made all my clothes, sent us to school with lunch, and I never had a store bought cake or cookie until I moved out on my own. Mom and Dad were founding members of our church, dad was a Deacon and mom was president of woman’s ministries several times. They took care of my grandparents when they got old and made sure that we knew it was the right thing to do when you loved someone and respected them. Or even if you loved them and just OWED them respect.
They taught me that love isn’t real until you give it away. If someone needed help, they never ONCE ever turned them away. They made it clear that money wasn’t important…PEOPLE were. They made sure that we knew that helping others was more important than having two TV’s or a new car. We never had much money, but as a child I never KNEW that…I always had what I needed, and they made sure we had plenty of fun…just not the kind of fun that cost money. Dad built us a swing set and teeter-totter in the back yard, we had a garden, he fixed other people’s cast off bikes so we had bikes…they stood behind us in everything we did.
When my mom went to heaven some years ago, my parents had been married for 58 years. They still loved each other…and LIKED each other. And to this day, my father reacts with horror if someone suggests that maybe he should “date” so and so…he always says “I am a one woman man.”
So I guess my home was not dysfunctional. If, with hindsite, I was given the chance to CHOOSE my parents, I would choose the parents I was given. God was good to me.
[sub]so, how did I get so screwed up? One of life’s great mysteries, I guess. :)[/sub]
Dad is one of those guys who is sort of “there,” more so since he retired, and he can still be grouchy, but he’s okay otherwise. I don’t remember any yelling, fighting, hitting, substance abuse, or any other similar things going on.
Mom is a very well-liked (and deservedly so) lady with lots of friends and activities, still going strong at 77; we just hit the casino again a few days ago. She is the center of the fam.
Older Brother is quite well adjusted, happily married with two kids, enjoys his home and brood.
And me? Well, no partner, no kids, no pets, but I am quite happy on my own–if slightly eccentric, but that’s what the SDMB brings out in a person.
Well I like to think we’re pretty non-dysfunctional. Mum and dad have been happily married for over 20 years. My sister and I get along really well except for the occasional argument; we go shopping together, borrow each others clothes, go watch movies, etc. We’re middle class, live in the suburbs, have a cat, and play mahjong almost religiously.
Although … there is that vibrator I found in mum and dad’s closet the other day … :dubious:
She is the center of the fam.