How Bad Was It? No, Really

I have just experienced another weekend during which my children told me how terrible things were when they were growing up. Before anyone says anything - of course they were doing it in fun - sort of - and stretching the truth a bit - and taking advantage of the fact that Mom is getting old and can't remember things too well much of the time. And of course we were a happy family. And of course children remember things differently than adults. I know all that. If I didn't know it because of anything else, I would because I was a kid once too, and know that I do not remember things the way my parents did.

This time I was spared the full force of the situation, because there were only two of them here - Ruth and Rita. When they went over to Joe's house, I stayed home this time. And Kitty wasn't here. So they didn't all four have a chance to gang up on me as they often do. But I still got some of it. It's either "Let's make fun of Mom", or, "I remember when Mom used to tell us..." or some terrible things I used to cook or do or refuse to let them do. And even though we're all laughing, I begin to wonder just how terrible a mother I was. I honestly do not remember much of what they tell me, and cannot imagine myself doing or saying some of these things I am alleged to have said.

Then I remember my own mother, and things she used to tell me, and realize that she didn't remember things the same way I did, and often did deny things that I remembered later as I grew up.

Rita would tell me, "You always used to tell us..." And I swear up and down that I would never have said such a thing. But I probably did, though I honestly cannot remember it nor imagine myself saying it. Times change. We change and grow with them. But why can I not recall them as they really were? Or were they not really the way my children recall them? Are they remembering wrong, influenced by their own perspective at the time? Maybe it isn't just poor old Mom whose mind is clouded by time.

But they have to have their fun - or is it their revenge? And I don't argue with them about it... much.

While Ruth was here, I showed her my toonlets. She was interested enough to try it, and that was it. She spent a LOT of time on the computer, creating her own characters and comic strips. She did a great job of it too. With her sense of humor and story-telling ability, she'll be a star in no time. This is her own version of herself on the right. The version I made of her earlier is the more sophisticated one on the left.

Well, regardless of whether their version of our family life, or mine, is the correct one, they all managed to grow up to be really great adults. I'm very proud of each one of them. And we all seem to be happy with our relationships with one another. I guess I can't ask for much more than that.

And one of these days I'll probably be including a toonlet by Ruth in a post. My own have been mostly involving the four year old grandson, and done for his benefit, but hers may be more on the adult level and more post-worthy. And funny too! Time will tell.

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Here's a bonus, just because I feel like it.

My Kids

I'm a mom. It's who I am. It's what I do.
Most likely only my closest friends will not be bored to death if I brag about my kids. But I started with my youngest, and I have to give the others equal time. Let me get it out of my system, and then I can go on to other topics. Maybe.

My first born was probably the most eagerly anticipated baby ever. Ralph and I both wanted to start a family right away. And it didn't happen for three whole months!

This child was unbelievable. She slept through the night from the very beginning. Never a problem of any kind. People kept warning us, "Wait til the next one!" (And they were right.) But Ruth continued to be the perfect angel - until she was five. Then she walked into the kitchen one day and turned on all the gas jets. I did discover it in time to avert a tragedy, but from that day on we could never be sure what she'd come up with next.

I guess Ruth had to be pretty self-reliant. Our first three children were born in three years, so she was always the big sister. It didn't seem to faze her.

Early on, she let it be known that she knew exactly what she wanted, and she would do it her way. It caused some problems in her teen years for sure! But Ruth has become a very strong, loving woman and a great mother herself. Her name changed along the way. When her son was just learning to talk, he heard his father call her Ruthie. He couldn't say Ruthie, and it came out "Ruby". She has been Ruby ever since. Here she is with her sister, Kitty.

And hey! A bonus! She is a great story teller. She'll keep you laughing until you cry. I am so disappointed that the blog that she started back in 2004 has sat, neglected, since May 2007. Think what the world is missing!

One day we may be able to persuade Ruby to move down here to south Jersey. She has never left Long Island. And who can afford to live up there these days? Come one down, girl! I doubt she will ever make the move. her son and daughter and good friends are all there, and she is a New Yorker through and through.

This picture of her and the children, taken several years ago, was at one of my favorite places in the world. Montauk Light has been dear to me since 1956 when Ralph and I drove all the way out to the end of the island, long before it became the beautiful State Park it is today.


Next came our son, Joe. No, he never slept through the night, but he made up for that later. Did you ever know a kid who would stop in the middle of play and announce that he was tired, and then go in for a nap all on his own? That's what he did, many times.

Joe was my rock. The girls gave us trouble from time to time, but not Joe. He was just a good kid. Not goody-goody - just a good guy. He continued to be my rock after his dad died - almost to a fault. People kept telling him that he was the man of the house now and had to take care of me and his sisters. This is a terrible thing to do to a young boy. He wasn't a man - he was only a boy, and I was the parent. But he took it to heart.

He's still a good guy. And his father had taught him just about everything he had to know. Today he repairs my car, he put a roof on my house, takes care of most of the little jobs that have to be done around my place, and generally looks out for me. As if he doesn't have enough to do at his own home.

In November, Joe and Jan celebrated a wonderful event in their lives. His step-daughter presented them with a grandson. You've never seen such a happy grand-daddy!


Rita is our third child. She is the sweet one. I can just hear her reaction to that statement when she reads this. But it's true. Yes, she has a temper, but she hardly ever loses it these days. Yes, she becomes indignant and angry often, but it's always in a just cause, and rarely a personal one. Rita is the kindest, most compassionate person I know.

She is also one of the most absent minded. She has been known to start down the driveway on her way to work, still wearing bedroom slippers.

Rita was always the smallest child in her class. This made her pretty feisty and eager to prove that she could do whatever the others were doing. If a bully picked on her because of her size, she gave as good as she got. It also made her want to defend the underdog. She would befriend whichever child the others shunned. She's still doing it, only on a larger scale. Rita has volunteered wherever she has seen a need. Within the family, we all know we can count on her help if we need it.

Rita is a favorite with many patrons of the library where she works, and when people learn that I am her mother they are quick to tell me how sweet she is. So, yes, Rita, you are the sweet one.

So, that's us - me and my kids and my three grandkids. Did I mention the third grandchild? I talked about Kitty, but don't think I ever mentioned her husband, Mike, or their little guy, Isaac. Well, never fear - they are sure to figure in future entries.





"Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged of man." - Rabindranath Tagore