Skip a rope.

 I have pretty much lived my life as an open book.  Not many secrets behind my closed doors.  Oh, I may occasionally dash from the shower to the bedroom stark naked because I forgot to get clean underwear, but that is about it.  And I may have an occasional carnal thought crossed my mind, but for the most part I live a fairly honest and open existence.  Sadly, I find that is not the case with a friend or acquaintance.  And that gives me pause to think back to my mother's words.  Mother was the wisest woman I knew, but she also had a side that was what she called her "dark side."  I think I may have one also!

Oh, it is not that bad!  Just little things and thoughts that flash through my mind on its way to oblivion.  But I am filled with consternation when I learn of someone actually acting on their sick little fantasies.  Or maybe it isn't a fantasy, only a need to control someone else.  And when that someone is a child, it enrages me.  

Childhood is a time of sand and shovels!  A time of play and imagination.  A time to learn.  A time to build up and a time to take down.  A time of laughter and a time of reaching for the stars.  A time when home is a safe place to grow.  Not a time to be beat down and belittled.

I remember my childhood and while we lived in abject poverty, we had a safe home.  If we did something wrong, we were punished.  Not beaten down, but punished and we knew why we were punished.  Never were we struck because mommy or daddy was having a bad day.  In all fairness I do not remember ever being spanked.  I spent time with my nose in the corner thinking about what I had done, but never put there just because someone bigger than me thought it was a good idea.

Being a grandmother is kind of fun.  Little kids really want to please and they want to help.  Sometimes, it takes a lot longer to do something when I have help and the cookies may come out rather dry or lopsided, but they are still cookies.  We wash our hands, so they are safe to eat!

I let the grandson sleep with me when he stays the night.  He used to have his own bed, but then he decided he needed to keep me safe.  Not sure what had happened to make him think I was not safe, but if he needs to, he can.  Maybe it is not so much me he is worried about!

I guess the purpose of this post is to convey to the adults who read this that children speak a different language then adults.  The little body that is in the bed to "keep grandma safe", may be seeking it's own safety.  Listen to your kids.  I mean really listen.  Listen to the children when the play.  click here

Peace!

Raised by wolves? Yep, pretty much so!

I think back to when I was raising 5 kids with no child support, no welfare card, no health care and rarely the same baby sitter 2 weeks in a row, and I shudder.  Lucky for me it was back in the day when you could actually leave your house unlocked and went to bed and woke up still alive.  We lived at 217 West 5th in Hutchinson which is now an apartment complex.  It was located across the street from Dillons Supermarket.  5th Street was also Highway 96.  Highway 50 and 96 both run directly to Pueblo, Colorado.  But that is a moot point.  (I just love to say "moot point".)

The kids could walk to school if they were in school at the time.  They went to Allan, as I recall and it was about 4 blocks.   Near the school was a lady named Ferguson who had kids that were mean to my kids.  She watched them after school.  If they were not in school they went to Mrs. Bensing's to be baby sat by  her.  She was the regular babysitter for my day time, 6 days a week job.

To supplement my income I waited tables at the bar on 4th Street.  That was the Dutch Mill.  Back in those days you were allowed to dance in the bars.  Usually there was a juke box, but some times the Mill had live bands.  Oh, those were fun!  I must confess that I did a lot more dancing and not a whole lot of waiting on tables, although since they did not serve food, it was just delivering beer.  Mini skirts were the thing back then and I had pretty legs, so my tips were good.

On the nights I worked I had a lady who came from South Hutch to watch the kids.  She had a car.  I am trying to remember her name!  She was a little short, stout lady and she had a beard.  I swear, more hair on her chin than on her head!  Ida Mae?  Does that sound right?  We will go with that.
Addie Mae was the sweetest little lady.  She was about my height and a little heavier.  She always smiled and never spoke above a whisper.  She always brought a handful of candy.    Always had a secret smile on her face.  The kids were scared shitless of her.

"Is  she was mean?"  "No."
"Does she holler at you?"  "No."
 "What does she do?"  "Nothing."
"Does she give you candy?"  "No."

While at the Red Carpet, I hired the bosses son's wife to babysit and since Allen Ray was in Vietnam, I moved her in with me.  She was pregnant at the time.  That was nice.  When I came home from whatever job I had been to, the house was always clean.  The kids were always quiet and if it was night they were always in bed.  Very well behaved kids.  And then one day I noticed a bruise on Sam's face.  Upon close questioning I determined that she had hit him across the face with a stick she used to paddle all of them with.  I immediately called my boss and told him to get her out of my house before I killed her and proceeded to throw her belongings on the curb so they were easily accessible.  Seems the babies I worked so hard to feed and clothe were being intimidated by (dammit! I forgot her name.  Debbie just called and her name was Janice.)   Bob understood.

Evelyn Decker moved in for a while and between us, we got them up to an age where they were traveling back and forth between their father and me.  They even began to go to school in Garden City and then Lakin.  By that time I was in love again and married and moving to Colorado.  By then Susie was starting kindergarten and was the only child I had at home.  Over the years they took turns living and going to school either in Lakin or out here with me.  Sam is the only one that actually graduated in Pueblo.  Central High, go Wildcats.!  He then attended the University before going to Wichita for his post graduate work.

The years in Hutchinson are mostly a blur.  I do not know whether it was working all the time, or drinking or what, but I am pretty sure I did not earn a "mother of the year" award or the "Susie homemaker award".  I did manage to have all of them survive with no broken bones and no jail time.
Would I do things differently if I could go back?  I sure as hell would.  Momma always said "Hindsight is 100% looking back, foresight: not so much."  I would not have stayed with their father, and I am not sure how I would do it differently, but I would have done something.  The one thing I did learn from those years and the years that followed is this:  "I did the best I could with the tools and knowledge that I had at the time."  My momma told me that.  Momma was very wise! Course Momma is also the one that said my kids were raised by wolves!

Footnote:  I did attend college after Charlie and during Henry and before Kenny.  I received my BA with a 4.0 grade average.  I have a diploma around here some where and it says something about me being an Accountant.  I worked one full time job and one part time job while doing that.  And I drank a lot of Mountain Dew!

There is something pathetic about Westboro Baptist Church

I got this picture off the Internet

December 29, 2014 was a very good day for myself and a whole lot of people in Pueblo, Colorado.  That was the day Westboro Baptist Church came to protest our gay marriages as well as our legalization of marijuana.  Like any of that was thier business.  Much like us going to protest their protest, but it had to be done.  The numbers were definitely in our favor.  There were 7 of them and there were over 400 of us and I was told later that there were over 50 in the church across the street that never got counted.  Of course adrenalin was high and we all hollered at them and they just smiled and called us fag lovers and such.  As I look back on that now I am overcome with a very heavy sadness.

  

I decided to do a little research into the Phelps family and it becomes even more sad when I learned that these kids are born into this house of hate and are taught from a very early age that they are right and the rest of the world is wrong.  they perpetuate homophobia as well as the beleif  that soldiers are killers and baby rapers.  In thier world there is no good and all is evil.  How can they have any happiness?  What is thier life but one big long demonstation against any kind of happiness.  They spew hate like a Roman Candle spews fireballs against a dark sky.

I know the family started with Fred Phelps and a lot of his podigy remain thier in the compound.  When Fred died they kept him around for several months in hopes that he would come back to life, but that did not happen.  His sister now seems to be the ring leader, but as it appears there is dissent in the ranks.  Outsiders have joined the ranks, but as the kids grow, they want more out of life and escape the confines.  Sometimes they are caught and brought back, but a few remain "at large."  Could you imagine growing up in such an environment?

When I was raising my kids I tried to make them happy and secure and I taught them that everyone was equal and had the right to happiness as long as thier actions did not hurt anyone else.  I tried to teach them what being a christian was and I think they mostly got the idea.  I could never fathom a parent that would deliberatlely stand thier child on the corner and place a sign in thier hand that would hurt another person.  Westboro Baptist is shrinking in numbers and thier protests are of little consequence any more, but I want you to think about this:

What if Westboro had been on God's side and had marched for love, kindness, charity, forgiveness?  What if they had taken that banner and protested murder, child abuse, domestic violence, animal cruelty?  If they had raised a ruckus over the real short comings of society, I might have waved one of thier signs.  If they had thrown groceries at a hungry family they might sleep a little better at night.

And so that is my take on Westboro.  So to bed.