Were your parents nice?

In My Humble Opinion
1

I just read this thread about a not nice dad, and thought “wow my dad wasn’t perfect, but he was nice.”

My parents were products of the 60s, 70s culture. Both smoked and both drank, sometimes to excess.

But they were supportive and gave me and my siblings a very long leash.

Dad was always doing something around the house and he always made sure we were involved. One summer we put an addition on the house and at the age of 13 I was his slave labour, as were my 11 year old brother and 19 year old brother. We spent our entire summer working on that project, including everything from manually digging the foundation to shingling the roof.

When the car needed an oil change or spark plug change, etc. he always involved us in the process so we knew what to do.

I really didn’t like all of it at the time, but now I really appreciate having the knowledge.

As mentioned, they both let us out on a long leash. As was typical of the era, we went out on our bikes in the morning, came home for supper, and then went out again till the streetlights came on.

My dad never played catch with me or really did anything with me at all, but I didn’t think he was supposed to. He was my dad, not a friend. If I wanted to play catch I went to the park.

My parents never struggled over my grades or got involved in my education at all; they let me decide. The only time I ever recall my mum getting involved is when I wanted to take a typing course in grade 10, I believe, and she said “No. What will that ever be used for?” (Ha Ha. This was circa 1977.) Hey mum, I was right after all!

So, my parents, despite their lumps were great. They’re both gone now, but they were really good to us. However, as was common in the day, they were NOT my friends and NOT my equals; they were the makers of rules, but they provided us with a lot of freedom.

When I was 17 or 18 I had a small chunk of hash in my cigarette package, which they found. They didn’t even confiscate it. They talked to me about it, but weren’t concerned.

Wow! Thanks for giving my hash back dad!

I want to hear stories of other nice parents.

2

Well my parents are still alive but I’ll answer anyway. My dad is about the nicest, most selfless person I’ve ever known. When I was younger I didn’t really understand him like I do today, I respect him these days in a way I don’t think I really did growing up in my teens and early 20s. I saw him as a bit of a pushover, I didn’t have a full understanding of what motivated him and why he did (does) what he did. He exists just about solely for the safety and well being of his family and he has an almost superhuman ability to turn the other cheek. The older I’ve gotten, the deeper my respect for him has grown. He does all that he does and never expects (and often doesn’t get) recognition for it.

My mom, oh geez, my mom is complicated. She had a very rough, dysfunctional upbringing. Both parents were severe alcoholics and her mom died when she was young and her father got remarried to a Hell’s Angel (literally, the biker gang). The alcoholism knew no limits and her step mom pretty severely abused her. Her dad, my grandpa, was so blitzed by alcohol that he was basically non-present in much of her early life.

She left home at 17 and was on her own until she met my father in college more than a decade later. She had no outside assistance yet managed to become a success story despite her shitty odds. She now has a Master’s and she has a very successful social work practice. I say all of this as a preface to answering the OP’s question. My mom isn’t very nice. She’s not rude or mean or anything really negative but she pulls no punches and says what she means. This is mostly a good thing but I think there are moments when it’s the proper thing to not say the blunt truth. My mother lacks this switch. She’s unbelievably empathetic and intelligent (which is why she’s such an excellent social worker) but, at least in her personal life, she can be what others could describe as “bitchy”. That is mostly pretty superficial tho and underneath she is a sensitive, emotional person. I think her upbringing “hardened” her, for lack of a better expression.

3

Yes, my parents were nice. I’m the youngest of 5, and my parents were older when they had me. Were they perfect, hell no, but who’s parents are? I’m a parent and I’m far from it. Anyway, both my mom and dad were supportive of all of us and stood by us even when we made mistakes or did stupid shit as we all did.

I grew up when the mom stayed home and cooked and cleaned and the dad supported the family. I know for awhile my dad worked two jobs and we always had a warm meal on the table, and we ate together. I don’t ever recall hearing either of them complain.

They weren’t very strict, but we knew our boundaries.

4

The tricky thing about this thread is “nice” is such a vague, subjective term that it means different things for different people. What does the OP mean by nice?

5

My mom was a sweetheart. She was the nicest, most decent person I ever knew. She was loved by everyone she knew. When I was young all the kids in the neighborhood adored her and they’d all come hang out at our house because they knew while she would never put up with BS, she would always treat everyone with respect. And she never had a bad thing to say about anyone. My father, I learned as an adult, was way worse then I knew when I was a kid. It was complicated by the fact that SHE didn’t know he was a child molester. She just thought she was raising us to respect him even though they were divorced. He was such a jerk. He would slap her around and never held a job for more than a few days when they were together. But never once did she ever say a bad word about him. They broke up when I was little but she had full custody (with occasional visitation) and he never paid a penny in child support even though he had a pretty good job while I was still a child. I never understood why she didn’t pursue financial help from him because we were so poor growing up, but I guess she knew it was pointless. She still packed us of to see him every other weekend when he remembered us. She didn’t want us to be poisoned by parents fighting each other, using the kids. She worked so hard to make sure we had everything. She never had a life other than work and our friends coming around. She was totally devoted to me and my brother. She got really sick when I was a teen, and she died by the time I was in my mid-twenties. Hundreds came to her memorial and funeral.

My father? In addition to the rest, he was a perverted sicko child molester who scammed people by telling them he was a Vietnam vet. He used and abused people, including my brother, until everyone distanced themselves from him. I distanced myself the day I realized what sexual abuse was and what he’d done to me. I was giddy when I found out he died a couple years ago. I was tickled when I found out he laid on the floor of his trailer unable to get help for days before he died and another two weeks before he was found. I know that sounds sick but that’s the truth and I don’t feel the least bit guilty about it. I was lucky I had my mama. She was mom and dad to me.

6

My mom is still nice. Somewhat annoying when it comes to things like The Thermostat, and Oil Service Due light on her car, but very nice.

7

I can understand hating someone and not shedding a tear if/when they pass. However, this level of giddy joy is disconcerting to me. I acknowledge that this may just be my issue but I’ve never know anyone who elicited a feeling of joy or happiness from me upon dying. I also acknowledge that I don’t have the experiences you have that helped shape your feelings. So take my opinion with a huge grain of salt.

8

No, my dad wasn’t nice.

He could definitely be nice when he was in the mood, though. When my sis and I would host sleep-overs, he would turn into Cool Dad and do magic tricks for our friends. He was also playful and quick with a joke or trick that would make us laugh (especially at the dinner table, so that food would hilariously shoot out of our noses). And he deserves props for going above-and-beyond in certain parenting areas. I think overall, he was a good father.

But I would not say he was a nice guy. He would blow up in anger over the smallest things. I remember one time, we were on a road trip and he had my brother fill the car with gas. He was probably 12 or 13 and ended up spilling gas all over himself. My father started whuppin’ him right there on the spot while I watched from the back of the station wagon. I watched him do the same thing with my sisters on other occasions. And he could also be real cruel with his words. Sometimes he would apologize afterwards, but still.

I don’t think my mother is “nice” either, to be honest, but it’s harder for me to verbalize why. On the surface she seems nice. And I wouldn’t say she’s mean. But there’s a coldness to her that makes me wonder if she lacks empathy. She still manages to be loving somehow.

I don’t feel bad saying these things about my parents because I don’t think I’m all that sweet and gentle with people either. I could totally see myself having a temper like my father if I had to share living space with five other people. And I already know that I am even colder than my mother.

9

Mum was quite nice – got elected to the local school board on a policy of equal rights for girl students – but paw was a bit of a rotter. He got better, later in life, but he was a rough-edged son-of-a-bandsaw and was always off-putting to people when they first met him.

10

My dad was a very nice man. Almost everyone who met him liked him. He had his issues like well all do, and sometimes when I was young I didn’t understand them, but in general, yes, he was nice. He passed away a few years ago, and I really miss him.

My mom is like the nicest person ever. For reals. Sometimes she’s too nice and too friendly.

11

My Dad was great. A little distant in some ways compared to other fathers of friends – he wasn’t one to play with me but he was always interested in what I was doing – but overall terrific. Him I wouldn’t trade for any other parent; real or imaginary. Mother on the other hand …

12

I don’t want to complain, because my father wasn’t abusive, but he was a very generous, though distant father. I’ve said before that he’d willingly give us all of his money, but very little of his time. Although that’s not quite true. Stranded two hours away? He’ll come get you, but he’s not playing catch or taking anyone out to the movies. He was more involved when we were very young or when other people’s kids were there. He’s still alive, and now that he’s older, he’s eager to spend time with us.

My mother was one of the kindest people I’ve ever known. She was warm, generous and had a way of making everyone feel loved and important. Whenever I go back to my old town, I usually run into at least one person who wants to talk about how wonderful she was and how much they miss her.

13

My dad made friends easily. He often visited their homes. Typical guy stuff. Usually in the workshop crafting some project.

He was a retired Master Sergeant strict at home. and often critical. I got my share of criticism for not dressing nicely enough for a restaurant dinner. I know he meant well. He never changed. I took him to dinner a few years ago. I left straight from work. Why didn’t I have a fresh shirt? My hair wasn’t neatly combed. Same stuff I heard my entire life. I no longer react to it. I’m too old to care what anyone thinks anymore.

Mom was the opposite. Very few friends and not out going. I can’t recall a single time that she visited a friend’s house alone. She did go with Dad a few times. Very few people visited our house. Entertaining guests wasn’t my mom’s forte.

She was much less strict. But she didn’t put up with a lot of nonsense. I was expected to behave. Children are to be seen and not heard.

I tried hard to be more supportive and less critical with my daughters. But, I never tolerated a lot of noise or arguing. Politeness and manners are very important.

14

My parents were both nice.

My father was a doctor and he used to bring home medicine and would treat the local neighborhood kids for free. Sadly, he passed away in 1971 in a car accident. He was a bit racist, but he was a product of his generation (he grew up in the 30s and 40s) and most people were racist back then. Other than that, no one has ever said anything but good things about him.

My mother was a young girl in London in World War II and hid out in the underground during bombing raids. Eventually her family was split up as all of the children were sent to different relatives out in the countryside. She had a hard life, growing up in the war, moving to the US, and eventually losing my father, and raising two kids on her own, which wasn’t quite so easy for a single mom in the 1970s. Through it all she was very nice though, and saved up her money so that we could all take a family vacation somewhere every summer. She wanted us kids to have as nice of a life as possible even though we were poor and were struggling a bit to get by.

They were both caring and loving parents. They were also both very friendly and social (unlike me - I’m fairly anti-social). They had lots of friends and were both quick to help others.

So yeah, they were very nice.

15

I forgot to say in my earlier post that my parents were nice. They were strict but never abusive. I never saw them drunk or erratic. I always knew they would help me in any way that they could.

Good people doing what they thought was right.

16

Aside from being a bit strict and censoring of free self expression, most would find my parents to be some of the nicest people. Both are very religious but they have an abundance of common sense. My dad used to have a mercurial temperament on occasion which is something that mellowed with age.

17

My parents, like all others, were imperfect, but their first priority was to raise their children well and be respected members of the community. They were proud and strong and had dignity. I cannot blame any of my failings on them…

18

My parents were both very good people, and very good parents. My dad is my role model; I aspire to be as good a man as he was. I doubt I’ll be as good as he was, but that still leaves me a fair amount of room to be a pretty good person. My mother was also very kind and giving and patient. They both had their quirks and their faults, but they both got better with time and experience. Sadly they died far too young, in their early 60’s. I still miss them greatly, well over 2 decades later.

19

My parents are by no means “mean” or in any way abusive. We had a happy childhood and all 4 of us are very close as a family.

I have come to realize that my mom isn’t very “nice.” She’s a bit of a bitch. I definitely don’t get that “my mom is my best friend and confidant” feeling between us. I see a lot of ways where both parents were lovingly strict, but no one ever pushed me or even acted very proud of me. Other people really like my parents but my parents are kind of assholes behind other peoples’ backs.

My dad is frustrating because he’s an alcoholic (always has been - never mean) and now he’s literally one of those brainwashed, angry old white guys. He still can be generous and sweet but he’s a huge drama queen and likes to stir up shit.

But I don’t hold it against them. They both had super shitty childhoods, stuff that you didn’t think went on in the “idyllic 50s and 60s.” Dad is a Vietnam combat vet. They are both selfless parents and you can tell they actively worked for me and my brother to have better lives than they did growing up.

There’s a lot of ways I’d describe my parents, mostly favorably. But I don’t think “nice” is the first word that would come to mind.

They are both amazing grandparents, going above and beyond. I don’t hold that against them or anything, like they coulda been nicer to me when I was little. This suits them.

20

My mom’s a big sweetheart. She got it honest; her parents were some of the best folks I can remember. They were model grandparents and were very social, too.

My dad was a lot more complicated. He was a very kind and generous man, but I wouldn’t say he was nice. Not to us kids. Verbally, he was an asshole a lot of the time. His drinking’ didn’t help things. He never hit us but he’d talk a mile of shit.

However, he was loved by his many friends and cow-orkers. He was quick to “call a spade a spade”, but treated all people with respect. It was almost like he talked racist to fit in because he was never malevolent towards anyone with respect to race. As a Vietnam vet and a self-proclaimed country-boy, he had a lot of pride and wanted to always do the right thing. As I grew older and came to understand how a man is a product of his experiences, I was able to cut him a lot of slack. And as he began to realize that the world’s bigger than he’d thought, he started to be a sweetheart, too. We really had a great relationship before he passed at 67. I miss the old man!