Quite. I also had a walker. I remember corralling the dogs in the hallway and running at them full speed. This was the game. Apparently my father knew I was safe because the first time one of the dogs tried to bite me he smashed it across the face until it yelped and cowered in the corner. Then the dogs knew that they weren't allowed to bite me. My mother liked to relay her solution for when I was crying too much: child-proof the house, lock yourself in your room, and wait for the baby to fall asleep from exhaustion. I was a latch-key from the age of six. The last parent-teacher conference my parents went to was kindergarten. I was never so much as walked to the bus stop. My mother would threaten to kill the dogs. Usually took a couple hours. About an hour or two later she'd go hide the cars. Grab the keys, tuck 'em up other people's driveways, dirt roads'n'shit. This was usually the time my father would say "whatever you do, don't get married". My father forbid piano music to be played in the house. As soon as I left, they bought a piano. My mother never got a handle on what my degree is in. It's the same degree as her (now ex-) husband. My father knows I'm pursuing watchmaking. Sunday he regaled me with the story of the watchmaker in Brazil who also had a refrigeration company.... and my dad needed a refrigerator. The guy left to answer a phone call and my dad took the white silk handkerchief with the watch parts on it, folded up the corners and shook it. When the watchmaker came back, understandably horrified, my father castigated him for being upset because "it'll only go back one way." The guy sold him a refrigerator, probably to get him the fuck out of there. "The things some people charge money for." I invited my father out to visit once. I was living about 90 miles north of my sister, who had just had a baby (her second). He said "well of course I'll be coming out soon, I have a brand new grandson!" My daughter was 18 months old and had never met her grandfather. He bought my sister tickets to New Mexico instead. I know them. I've hung out with them. I lived with some for a couple months. My best friend's dad taught me to drive; his mom was the one who asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. Everyone's got conflict. Nobody's perfect. But yeah. There are people out there whose parents don't pick their kids up off the couch and throw them across the room when sibling squabbles disturb their hangoversleep.My parents seem like a tame version of your parents. Probably significantly tamer but in the same mould.
One is that when I was a toddler, she put me in one of those things where a baby learning to walk is held vertical, and then it has wheels on it.
Who leaves a kid to roll down the stairs or unsupervised in a bathtub?
My mom was never on time to pick me up from anything. It was so embarrassing.
My parents fought, but I don't have any frame of reference for it. Just, it was obvious nobody was happy.
As for my hobbies, they seem mostly supportive of my hiking.
But they don't understand my running or how important it is to me.
If I ask about their dogs, they'll tell me how they're doing but won't ask about my cats.
There are people with fantastic parents, right? With great memories of childhood they look back on fondly as adults?
My mother's baby proofing solution was "I will teach my granddaughters not to do dangerous things." She actually said that. I assume she took the same approach with her children. This from the person who leaves a baby in a bathtub. I remember dropping a key on a plug pulled part way out. It sparked and tripped the breaker. It was the vacuum my mom was using, and she'd always pull it too far and start to pull the plug out. Why I was playing with a key near an outlet I can't answer because I was five.My mother liked to relay her solution for when I was crying too much: child-proof the house, lock yourself in your room, and wait for the baby to fall asleep from exhaustion.
My father was fixing an appliance while plugged into 220 and has the skin grafts to prove it. My mother enjoyed telling the story of having to beat at him with a broom to get him to let go of the screwdriver because of galvanic reaction. When the dogs were getting into my mom's irises he put up an electric fence. He bought it off a ranch. It was intended for cattle. Me and my friends discovered that if you grabbed a piece of grass and touched the wires the grass would burst into flame. Then my 4-year-old sister grabbed the fence with both hands and shook like crazy. Apparently coursing 110v across the heart of your daughter was considered a bad enough idea that the electric fence got turned off. At least, until she turned ten. Then it got redeployed to try and keep the new dogs from jumping the new fence. I ended up with a cavalier attitude about electricity as a consequence - if it isn't 220, it isn't dangerous. I'm still a lot more likely to flip the breaker to fix something if there are people watching. If there aren't, I'll probably wing it. It's probably a good thing I got out of electric cars.