It is the day before my oldest daughters birthday. She will be 58 years old tomorrow and like me, does not care who knows her age because it is just a number. I was 20 years old when she was born. Her dad was not at the hospital, because back in those days most men left such jobs to their wives. He did check in later to see if it was a boy or a girl. Of course the fact that she was a girl was a big disappointment to him because he wanted a son. Sadly he would be disappointed 2 more times before I was "woman enough to have a son." He got drunk to cover his disappointment, but he did let me name them. Debra Louann, Patricia Lynn, Dona Marie. No particular thought to their names, just a name that popped into my head.
Back to Debbie. When I brought her home, I had no idea what I would do with her. I did have a bassinette for her to sleep in, a pile of cloth diapers, a diaper pail to wash the diapers in when she pooped. I had bottles and a can of formula. Also several baby t-shirt, pajamas, and several blankets. I had a supply of glass baby bottles with rings and caps. The bottles had to be washed and then sterilized in a special pan along with the wrings and caps. As I recall, they were filled with formula and then once more run through the cycle to sterilize the formula inside. She had to be washed with a special soap and God only knows what else. Being a mother back then was a full time job. Even the diapers had to be washed separately with special soap. There was no time to enjoy being a mother, because if a germ touched her she would be dead and it would be my fault!
Of course her father never touched her and he sure as hell never changed a diaper, nor did he watch while I did that because it made him sick. The door was for walking away and he did that quite often. But, as I look back, I was the lucky one. He never felt her soft warm breathe on his cheek. He never felt her tiny fingers curl around his thumb. He never experienced her first smile while looking into her eyes. And her first word was "Momma". She was a little white haired angel that would grow to be the "leader" as oldest kids often do. Patricia Lynn was born 19 months later, but more about that when her birthday comes. (I plan on doing a blog for each one.) ((The best laid plans of mice and men oft times go awry.))
Today Debbie lives in Eastern Kansas on a 40 acre farm with her husband, Hammer. "Hammer" is not his legal name, but it is what I call him. Few people call him Carl. She and Hammer are raising 3 grandchildren. These kids were born to her son who for whatever reason, does not take care of them, but that is a whole 'nuther story.
I have always thought, looking back, that I did not do a very good job of raising my kids. We all know that life is 20/20 looking back. I can now see very clearly what I should have done, but I can not get the toothpaste back in that tube. Today Debbie put it in language I can understand. This may not be word for word, but along these lines.
We had been rehashing the unfairness of wages for women working back when we were working. The men we worked beside made twice as much as we did and while I was raising 5 kids that never came into play. I worked beside men that made twice what I made because "they have families to take care of". When I noted that I had a family to take care of also, I was told that I should get married. That was at the Holiday Inn. She had worked for her father and was paid half of what the men were paid. It was just how it was back then.
Debbie has always held the belief that "What does not kill you will make you strong." Today she told me that I did a good job raising her and that her grit and determination were instilled in her by me. Not her father, but me. I taught by example. I am very proud of her for many reasons. She champions the underdog. She feeds the stray cats. She instills responsibility in her grandkids. She holds them to a higher standard, because that is who she is.
So, Debbie, Happy Birthday tomorrow. Keep up the good work. Always remember that whatever you do, someone is watching and if no one bothers to tell you that you are a wonderful woman, Mother knows. I love you.
Back to Debbie. When I brought her home, I had no idea what I would do with her. I did have a bassinette for her to sleep in, a pile of cloth diapers, a diaper pail to wash the diapers in when she pooped. I had bottles and a can of formula. Also several baby t-shirt, pajamas, and several blankets. I had a supply of glass baby bottles with rings and caps. The bottles had to be washed and then sterilized in a special pan along with the wrings and caps. As I recall, they were filled with formula and then once more run through the cycle to sterilize the formula inside. She had to be washed with a special soap and God only knows what else. Being a mother back then was a full time job. Even the diapers had to be washed separately with special soap. There was no time to enjoy being a mother, because if a germ touched her she would be dead and it would be my fault!
Of course her father never touched her and he sure as hell never changed a diaper, nor did he watch while I did that because it made him sick. The door was for walking away and he did that quite often. But, as I look back, I was the lucky one. He never felt her soft warm breathe on his cheek. He never felt her tiny fingers curl around his thumb. He never experienced her first smile while looking into her eyes. And her first word was "Momma". She was a little white haired angel that would grow to be the "leader" as oldest kids often do. Patricia Lynn was born 19 months later, but more about that when her birthday comes. (I plan on doing a blog for each one.) ((The best laid plans of mice and men oft times go awry.))
Today Debbie lives in Eastern Kansas on a 40 acre farm with her husband, Hammer. "Hammer" is not his legal name, but it is what I call him. Few people call him Carl. She and Hammer are raising 3 grandchildren. These kids were born to her son who for whatever reason, does not take care of them, but that is a whole 'nuther story.
I have always thought, looking back, that I did not do a very good job of raising my kids. We all know that life is 20/20 looking back. I can now see very clearly what I should have done, but I can not get the toothpaste back in that tube. Today Debbie put it in language I can understand. This may not be word for word, but along these lines.
We had been rehashing the unfairness of wages for women working back when we were working. The men we worked beside made twice as much as we did and while I was raising 5 kids that never came into play. I worked beside men that made twice what I made because "they have families to take care of". When I noted that I had a family to take care of also, I was told that I should get married. That was at the Holiday Inn. She had worked for her father and was paid half of what the men were paid. It was just how it was back then.
Debbie has always held the belief that "What does not kill you will make you strong." Today she told me that I did a good job raising her and that her grit and determination were instilled in her by me. Not her father, but me. I taught by example. I am very proud of her for many reasons. She champions the underdog. She feeds the stray cats. She instills responsibility in her grandkids. She holds them to a higher standard, because that is who she is.
So, Debbie, Happy Birthday tomorrow. Keep up the good work. Always remember that whatever you do, someone is watching and if no one bothers to tell you that you are a wonderful woman, Mother knows. I love you.
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