I will call them 'Shelley' and 'Darren' but you can substitute these names for any others. The names don't matter. What matters is that they are parents. They have three boys, a sixteen year old, a twelve year old and a five year old. The youngest two are on Ritalin. I only found this out when I visited them very recently, staying at their house up North.

I knew them from our years on the Peninsula. Their oldest boy is Marcus' best friend; the two boys have continued this friendship online after Shelley and Darren decided to move to Cairns almost three years ago. We saw them briefly just once since then, when they visited us for the day, over the last Christmas holidays.  

I have come away from spending five days and three nights in that household. I have come away with a range of emotions, from outrage to helplessness to regret... I have come away screaming inside, my mind struggling to 'work through' the various impressions leaving deep scars.

This series is dedicated to the younger generations, so despite the awfulness of these impressions, I have posted this piece here - so I can speak to 'the children' in this instance.

You cannot choose your parents. Nor can you easily discard them, the way you do with friends you no longer like. You are stuck with them - at least until you reach the age where you can legally remove yourself from their environment. The biggest part of your childhood is spent under their 'care' however, whatever form this care manifests into.

Shelly and Darren are both heavy drinkers. They also use 'recreational' and some not-so recreational drugs - like dipping into the Ritalin - on Shelley's part. They also both smoke cigarettes in and out of the house.

Their pantry is full of 'chemical' snacks and the fridge full of ready-made microwave meals and an assortment of sugary drinks. Her morning wake-up hit, is a litre bottle of Coke. His is just cigarettes. The kids have bowls full of multi-coloured 'cereal'.

Dinner consists mostly of take-outs, alternating between an assortment of deep-fried stuff and chips, Domino's pizza, (only 'meats') McDonald's and KFC. There are no fruits or vegetables in the house. I saw no 'food preparation' other than morning cereal. 

Darren returns home from work and his first action is to hit the fridge for either a can of bourbon and coke or a beer. This to and fro continues until he falls asleep on a mattress on the floor in the living-room - he and his wife having stopped sleeping together months ago. Shelley drinks most of the day, popping the odd pill now and again in-between.She alternates between watching TV and spending time on Facebook, interracting or playing 'games'.

There's a lot of yelling. Some raised hands (connecting briefly once or twice) - I saw them and felt the helplessness of a bystander. Orders are barked. Threats flow. There is no unity. The kids each have their own rooms, with their computers and their TVs and spend most of their days and nights hidden in there. There is no sense of 'family'.

I am being brutal here, describing things as I witnessed them. Down on the Peninsula, there had been some visible problems, but living in the area I never spent extended time with them. This occasion however, I got to study the dynamic in this household up close.

The kids: The oldest, is at the moment immersed in his first 'serious' relationship with a girl. She is almost sixteen. He spends his time 'chatting to her on his phone' - even though we were visiting, meaning he was seeing his friend for a very limited time. Shelly was quite proud of the 'love bite' near his navel and loudly showed it off to me and the boys, joking about the 'location' and its proximity to 'other parts'. Her son is allowed to sleep in his girlfriend's room. Both sets of parents are okay with this.

The middle child was allowed to be 'friends' with a 21 year old drug addict (son of one of their friends) when they lived on the Peninsula. He smoked weed at 11 with this older dude during that time... This friend subsequently committed suicide whilst they were still living in the area... I have no details as to why a young boy was 'allowed' to spend time with this much older guy and what took place between them. The reason why I know he smoked weed is because two days ago, Shelley asked Dylan as we were driving to the shops whether he'd ever tried weed. He said, "No! It kills off memory in young brains and affects intelligence, why would I want to do that?" The other boys also said no. Her middle son said no at first, but then she joked, saying, "C'mon, I know you tried it, everyone else is being honest so fess up!"

He fessed up. Said he hadn't liked it. I tried to probe further but he shut down as others were present. He's considered 'weird' by everyone. The fact he spent time with a person who let him use drugs and that this person subsequently suicided - I can only imagine the emotional scarring... He stayed quite close to me during our entire stay but I never had the opportunity to speak with him without the constant distractions. I sensed he wanted to speak, I sensed he felt I was someone he could connect with. Sadly the chance was denied him. I did tell him I was here for him however, only a call away if he ever needed to talk. I doubt this will eventuate but I have come away with serious concerns over this child... I am working through them.

There is no real interaction between any of them. Only orders, back-talk and lots of yelling. I sat with Darren the second night - he was pissed off that Shelley had put cigarette ash in his last bourbon and coke. I had bought a six pack of organic light beer on our first day. (One or two will raise your eyes at this, I know - who the heck drinks Organic beer right?) That was me thinking if Dylan or I felt like some alcohol, we wouldn't be poaching their drinks? And if my boy is going to drink, at least he'll have something not laced with coke?

I said, "Darren, you and Shelley need to learn to compromise here. All this bitching between you is unhealthy. Not just for you two but for the kids, seeing it?" I also told him to help himself to our beer, since Dylan and I had not touched it. He grabbed a bottle.

"I'm just waiting for her to leave."

That's what he said! Adding, "The kids can't stand her. They're on my side."

That was the end of the conversation. He walked off, grabbing another beer and going inside to watch some football. The night before, he'd drunk her last bourbon and coke which had led to a massive brawl...

Usually when we go away, I hire a car and we stay in varied types of accommodation. No car this time, as they had both a 4WD and a 'People-Mover', so adding a third car was unnecessary. Our first night there was spent at the local football ground as their two younger kids were training for the opening game of the season on the Sunday. Both Shelley and Darren had consumed alcohol before leaving and continued to do so consistently in the two hours we spent there. There was no 'issue' of them both driving back home drunk way beyond the legal limit with all the kids in their cars - on their part. Shelley even bought a take-away can which I had to hold in case she was pulled up - only because it added an extra 'charge' if she was stopped by the police.

I kept my boys together in her car. I prayed the whole trip that we'd make it home safe. Thankfully Cairns is relatively quiet in the suburbs.

The next day we had planned a day trip to the Great Barrier Reef and a five hour stay on Green Island. Shelley and Darren begged off, saying they couldn't afford it. I paid for their eldest son to come with us, and then the middle son wanted to come as well, so they gave him just enough money for the boat trip. Yet before we left, as Darren was driving us to the dock, he stopped off and bought enough alcohol to cover their fares...

They have never 'done' trips to the reef or gone on any of the many local attractions. Too much money, they reckon. I paid around $300 for two adults and 3 children, and this included the catamaran hour-plus trip either way, snorkelling on the reef and a 'glass-bottom boat' ride, where we passed over huge clams, swarms of colourful fish and giant turtles, as well as the wondrous coral. So really, $60 per person, evened out... Not a great amount for a full day's trip. Costs us more down here to go to the local Aquarium!

Saturday night I suggested we all go out to dinner, sick of my kids eating the constant junk food. Only reason they did so was because there was nothing nearby serving any healthy foods and Shelley had no dishwashing detergent (yes you heard right) so we couldn't cook as there were no clean dishes... I had to wash my coffee cup with shampoo. I had to wash it since they'd rinsed the previous day's cups and few remaining plates in plain water, so everything was greasy from the fatty fast food meats. And I'm a vegan right?

Everything was greasy and or dirty. The toilet - I can't even begin. The bathroom had mould on every surface. The kitchem - I opened the drawer to get a spoon for my coffee and dry-wretched. I am messy by nature! There's mess, then there's 'cleanliness' - very different, as I discovered, sneaking a peak in the cupboards when they were all asleep. Cockroaches the size of small mice were feasting on crumbs and food still left on 'washed' pots and pans and crockery...

We went to a lovely seaside village, where there were open air restaurants, the surf directly opposite. It was a balmy night, quite beautiful. We picked a pizza place, after a half hour walk up and down asking for tables as the rest were booked out - something they'd neglected to tell me earlier, since they had no idea...

We sat. Shelley and the two older boys immediately got out the mobile phones. We had another friend of Marcus' along, as his family had also moved there and we'd picked him up on the way. (He's also been put on some drug due to his 'shyness and lack of social interaction.') He's a lot like Marcus, quite intelligent but not 'boisterous' or in your face like Dylan. When Shelley told me, I wondered... Would my own son have been medicated had he been born in a different household? The idea horrified me.

So four mobile phones and the 5 year old on his Ipad; I asked a couple of times if they could put them away, so we could chat. I was ignored. I tried several times to strike a conversation but to no avail. I ended up walking away twice - to browse the small array of shops and see the ocean over the road... This while waiting for our food to arrive.

Darren was clearly both unhappy and uncomfortable. Turned out this was the first time they'd gone out to a 'proper' restaurant for dinner. When the menus arrived, Shelley went straight to the drinks section and there was a prolonged session of bitching (waiter patiently waiting) as she didn't like any of the alcohol on offer. I suggested a glass of wine. "Yuk." She settled on a beer, after some final grumbling that they "should of had her brand". The focus then shifted to how 'expensive' the pizzas were. (We could have fed the lot of us for $5 a pop at Domino's, the equivalent of two pizzas there, price-wise apparently.) I tried to explain the fact that $20 for a pizza, at a restaurant, with waiter service and in this sublime location was very reasonable, but there was no getting through.

More grumbling as the food came out. The pizzas were "awful". The free water "tasted funny" despite it being the same water coming out of their tap. No conversation, as the phones were all in use... My boys sat casting me the odd look. Dylan even said, "Put the phones away so we can talk about phones, how about that?" No one got the joke.

The minute they'd finished the meal, we had to leave. No lingering. They wanted the bill split. Dylan paid for ours. I handed her a $20. She was 'short'.

Dylan being Dylan, he found a bright orange cone on the side of the street, left behind by a traffic management team. He popped it on his head, pulled his shorts up as high as he could and tucked his tee inside... (tub-tucking???) The result had us in stitches, as he promenaded past the groups of diners along the strip. Not Shelley and Darren. They walked off ahead, rushing for the cars and constantly yelling back at us to "Stop mucking around you lot!"

Dylan of course did the opposite. His quirky nature in full bloom, he paused and did various poses (vape-nation style) as the other boys took photos. One young couple passing said "Too much to drink eh?" To which he responded "Nuh, I'm just starting a new high-pants trend." They laughed and took a photo. (Inwardly I prayed he never lost this quirkiness.)

Back at home, Shelley and Darren got stuck into the alcohol again. It had to be an early night, as the two youngest had their first 'games' the following day. The boys and I along with their oldest son chose not to go, and rather head back into the city and hang about there, checking out the markets.

I woke up at 5am. Darren and Shelley staggered out at six, both bleary-eyed and in foul moods. They yelled at the kids to wake up and get ready. The five year old refused to get up, saying he didn't want to go. The twelve year old just ignored them.

By this point, I'd had enough. I walked into Shelley's room, where the youngest has been sleeping since Darren opted for the living room. I found him curled into a ball, the sheet totally over his head.

"C'mon hon, this is your big day! Today is all about you! Think about scoring your first goal, how cool is that going to be right? I'll be so proud of you; I'll be thinking about you and imagining how happy you will be!"

His little head popped out. "Really?"

"Yeah!" It's all about you today, your first ever game! Let's grab some brekkie, right, so you have fuel to run like a rocket!"

He followed me out of the room and I lost track of him for a moment, as Shelley was frantically searching for something, in-between yelling at everyone to hurry up. Middle son had by this stage gotten out of bed and was lying face down on the couch.

The five year old had parked himself under the sheet on the mattress where his dad slept. I walked up and started tickling him. He was squealing, giggling and we spent a couple of minutes playing the "I'm going to get you!" game. I managed to get the sheet off him this way and then the two pillows.

"Fuel time, pocket rocket," I said, lifting him up and walking to the table.

"I don't want cereal mum!" The bowl of colourful rings now sat in a milky mess.

"You eat what's in front of you or else you'll get the biggest slap ever, I swear! Hurry up so you can have your medicine!"

"Want some mandarin and orange again babe?" I asked him, noting how he'd eaten both fruits with no issue the previous day.(Shelley had to buy them for the half-time break during training.)

"Yes please," I heard his little voice say. I cut up a mandarin and an orange and put them in a small bowl. The middle son was still lying face-down on the couch.

"Hey, you're too old for a tickle game; want me to massage your shoulders for a bit?" I spent a minute or so kneading his neck and shoulders. "Okay, enough pre-game physio, off you go buddy!"

He got up and went to get his things ready, smiling at my joke.

I walked out to the back patio, where Shelley and Darren were sitting smoking and checking their phones. I noticed the five year old picking up a slice of mandarin, put it in his mouth and then spit the pips on the floor. Then another and another, pips everywhere around his chair.

"Honey, you know how my back hurts right? I might step on one of those pips and slip, and then I might have to go to the hospital, and it might hurt more!"

He got up off his chair, bent down and picked up every single one, placing them in the empty bowl.

"High five, you champ," I said and he rushed over connecting palms with a grin. I snuck in a little tickle and he giggled, then he too went off to get his boots and mouthguard.

"Guys. (This directed at Shelley and Darren who had watched the interaction.) "You yell and threaten, you're going to get the same back! Ease up on them, please! They react to your moods! Just talk to them, not at them!"

"Nuh, they never listen, that's why we had to put them on medication."

"But they have no learning difficulties!"

"Yeah but this way the youngest gets an aide in school with him, and I get the Carer's Pension." This from Shelley.

Oh I bit my tongue!

"Shells, those are bad drugs. They mess up their minds! Have either of you researched them?"

"They were acting up in school, yelling at kids and hitting some of them. They even hit out at their teachers! This way they are mellowed out."

"But the kids have no real medical problems!"

"Well I'm just sick and tired of them giving me lip and refusing to do as they're told."

"Kids do as they see. We've talked about this before!" (We had, back when they'd been living on the Peninsula. I had tried then, to get her to feed them nutritious food, and get them off the sugary drinks... There had been the very obvious rollercoaster highs and lows of sugar and other chemicals affecting their moods/behaviours.)

"Yeah but they were seen by proper doctors, and they said they needed to be on these drugs, otherwise they'd get thrown out of school. I had no choice." This from Shelley, slugging again from the litre bottle of coke.

I know this has been a long read and I haven't even gotten to the point yet. Now if this was something 'irregular' or 'rare' there'd be some leeway for not passing judgement. I mean who am I to tell others how to behave or raise their kids right? Only I see this a lot - not in my immediate circle - but just outside of it... old friends, new acquaintances, friends of friends...

So I come back to the fact you can't pick your parents. I screwed that up too, by choosing a most inappropriate father as a role model for my two, so I have no real ground to stand on here. I will however say a few things to you. The you living in a dysfunctional family, the you victim of circumstances beyond your control, the you in the midst of, or having lived through a similar 'home environment'. The you previously medicated, or even medicated now...

Firstly, there is nothing wrong with you. You just got dealt a difficult hand. I come back to children not being born bad, rather becoming 'products' of their environment... Whatever crap you've had to deal with and witness, whatever bad behaviours you have in turn displayed as a result... YOU ARE NOT AT FAULT. The fault lies squarely with your parents. Now I'm not including here other mitigating factors like medical problems or inherited conditions. I am speaking simply about the home situation and the dysfunction present within the home, stemming from the parents.

Look, in a way, I can say with an amount of certainty that both Shelley and Darren love their kids - to the best of their abilities. And herein lays the problem: Their best may not be the 'right' or the 'appropriate' or even remotely resembling this thriving environment I will mention later. It is still their best though, or it is in their eyes. They see no dysfunction, they perceive no potential repercussions stemming from their parenting style.

Shelley asked me what Wattpad was. I briefly explained, and said, why doesn't she hop on there and read my stuff, or other peoples' work? This in the vain hope she may 'learn' something or understand the cause and effect repercussions described by other writers...

"Nuh, I don't read." This after asking me how to spell 'funny' (one n or two?) since she'd just 'read' some comical meme on Facebook and wanted to comment before sharing...

There is no getting through to these parents. There is no correlation in their minds between their behaviour and that of their children. When they have no capacity to discern their own 'bad' behaviours, they cannot then connect any dots... leading to the learned behaviours of their children. They think their children are 'problem' children, that there is something wrong with them. They medicate them because the 'doctors' said so, but these doctors do not have the 'whole' picture, only seeing the child and hearing from the mother the issues they and the school are having.

There is also nothing I can offer to help you better deal with anything similar in your life. I wish I could magically wave a wand and allow all children to grow and thrive in the best possible environment. Sadly I cannot, and neither can any other parent who will be reading this and feeling as horrified and distressed as I am writing it.

Yes, I can report them to the 'authorities' and have these children removed from their care.This has crossed my mind often. It would mean separating them however, and that would create a whole new set of problems and... foster-care... I've seen and heard about many a horror story there too. Which is the lesser evil?

I read somewhere once - an opinion piece - about how people should have to 'prove' their fitness as parents before being allowed to bring children into the world. The sheer insidiousness and 'eugenics agenda' of this aside, I sometimes wish there was a way to educate these parents - often products of a similar upbringing themselves...

The system too, overly eager these days to medicate kids, keep them 'calm and focussed', attaching all sorts of new 'psychological conditions' to what is inherently (unless proven medically) an environmental problem... I had the two older kids with me for an entire day on the Reef and the island. There was not a single instance where I had reason to pull any of them up (my own included), and we had some hilariously memorable moments, where I was just one of them, doing the usual weird and wonderful stuff one does on holidays...

I don't even know how to finish this; my mind is still processing everything I witnessed. When I hugged those kids goodbye, I felt I was hugging every kid stuck in a similar place, with parents who believe they love them yet fail them so fundamentally!

Disadvantaged from birth - or disadvantaged by birth is the one thing which comes to mind. Sure, there are kids in parts of the world a lot worse off... struggling to eat, to plain survive each new day. Those are different circumstances however. We're talking here of suburbia - parents who work, parents who if seen in a snapshot, would look no different to anyone else.

There was a moment - sitting in the back yard, where both Darren and Shelly were present at the same time. I tried again. I spoke of how the stress, the yelling, the threats, the slaps... how they were contributing factors to their children acting out in school what they 'lived' at home. Both looked at me. I felt this invisible barrier. Like my words were heard but something disallowed comprehension. I may as well have been chatting about something on the news in some foreign country. There was no understanding! Blank stares. If anything, I sensed a slight resentment for discussing a subject foreign to them... Like I was disadvantaging them with conversation within which they had nothing to contribute. A minute or so later they both stood and went to busy themselves elsewhere...

I just have to repeat this: YOU the children are not at fault. Your parents are.