My parents split up when I was five. I went to live with my mom, who lovingly cared for me – well, the nanny she hired cared for me.
It would be years before I would ask myself why I looked forward to summer vacation so much. (Dad only got me for vacation.) He would put me to work: chopping wood, washing dishes (by hand!) and other forms of annoying, manual labor.
He didn’t even have Internet OR a television. And yet. Those were some of my favorite childhood moments.
Thanks Lisa and Rochelle for a fun prompt! It brings back so many fond childhood memories, growing up with my quirky dad in his quirky (who needs a clearly-marked driveway anyway?) home, after being sent to live with him by my … mother of whom I have less fond memories. My dad wasn’t perfect, and he could be downright peculiar. He had no idea how to raise two girls, especially one as nuts as me. But, he taught me how to change a tire, survive in a basic wilderness situation, and not to care too much what other people think of me. Most of the time.