A few years back, I embarked on an online journey at a community college, pursuing a paralegal degree that I was passionate about. This endeavor led to countless late nights spent studying Excel and Word long after my then-4-year-old daughter had drifted off to sleep. It was, as you might imagine, quite a challenge.
During those late hours, I kept a variety of TV sitcoms and stand-up specials playing in the background via Netflix. I watched Roseanne twice and devoured every stand-up special from Louis C.K. When I craved comfort, I turned to Mermaids for a familiar escape.
My daughter’s age at that time presented its own set of challenges. She would wander out the door whenever she pleased, even in our small studio apartment near a bustling freeway. Showering became an elaborate task; I had to latch a chain at the top of the main door, ensuring it was out of her reach. Grocery trips were a trial, as she’d often bolt into the floral department, throwing tantrums over not getting a stuffed animal.
Emotionally, that period was tough for me. I had relocated a few hours away from her father, who criticized my decision. In his eyes, I was failing—selfish and dependent on government assistance instead of striving for a degree. Being on food stamps pushed me toward perfectionism. I didn’t want to be grouped with families often stereotyped as welfare recipients. Each time my daughter resisted dressing or getting out the door, I felt like I had failed at my most crucial role: being a parent.
Then one evening, I heard Louis C.K. remark, “If you’re in a group trying to leave and someone refuses to put their shoes on, that person is a complete jerk.” I chuckled. The next morning, when my daughter kicked off her shoes yet again, I found myself surprisingly relaxed. I chuckled internally and resolved not to let her drama affect my mood.
Louis C.K.’s comedy, along with his show Louie, became a lifeline during those challenging years. My daughter’s behavior seemed to escalate before it improved. In moments of frustration, I began to rub my face and call her an “asshole” in my mind, which provided a strange sense of relief. It detached my feelings from her behavior, allowing me to accept that sometimes, kids just act out without any apparent reason.
Roseanne Conner also became one of my role models. Her humor and strong work ethic resonated with me, especially as I transitioned into single motherhood, scrubbing toilets and managing a household. Roseanne’s unwavering support for her daughters’ identities inspired me on those late homework nights. Despite the similarities between Darlene and Roseanne, she celebrated their differences, teaching me to appreciate my daughter’s individuality without unnecessary emotional weight.
Mermaids further encouraged me to embrace my own identity while allowing my daughters to be true to themselves. While I lacked Cher’s character Rachel Flax’s fashion sense, I admired her confidence and poise. Even when faced with challenges, Rachel remained true to herself, a mantra I strive to uphold.
Years later, I welcomed a second daughter, seven years after the first. This little one possesses a determination and joy I’ve never encountered before. Her tantrums over being unable to reach the fridge or her excitement in tossing items from shelves feel entirely different from my first daughter’s outbursts. I’ve learned to separate her emotions from my parenting, recognizing that hunger or fatigue might play a role. It’s simply her being herself. What truly matters is that she already knows how to dance before she’s even mastered walking.
In the end, parenting offers a multitude of lessons, often found in unexpected places like television and film. For more information on home insemination options, check out this excellent resource on family-building options.