April was here pg 3

April was here pg 3

          Bill, our second daddy, at least left us with some provisions when he died. He had government benefits that were passed on to us. My mom got a total of about four hundred and fifty dollars a month and medical benefits, and that was allot to her, especially back in 1960. So for a little while she stopped looking for a new daddy for us. So now our family totaled four.

          When Bill died, he had a small life insurance policy that my mom got. It didn’t make her rich by any means. It was for a few thousand dollars, but to her it was a fortune. She took her grand amount of money and moved us to New Mexico, or Arizona, I don’t remember which. I was so sad, I didn’t want to leave my grandparents or Kari Jo, or my great granny, or my grandpa’s bird dog “Ritz’. “They say that I cut my teeth on that dogs ears.” Yuck! Everything I loved and everyone that loved me were in Oklahoma. We had to leave the safety of familiar surroundings and loved ones. We knew no one where we moved to.

          Mom decided to go to school. Which was great for her, but it left me in charge, “allot”, and with no grandma to help, it was rough.

          My mom did not love us! She didn’t know how. We were her “ties that bind”. We were an obligation. We made her feel trapped, and she was. I don’t think that she hated us, but she definitely resented us. We were a constant reminder of a life wasted, at least in her eyes anyway. She blamed us for her misfortune, instead of enjoying us like she could have.

           She had no husband to share in the discipline of now “three” small children. So she was the disciplinarian, and she took this job very seriously. She had a lot of pent up frustration, and I being the oldest took the brunt of her frustration. Unfortunately this happens allot in these one parent families, where the parent feels that the children are a burden instead of a blessing. They end up taking their aggression out on the one reminder of their unhappiness, their children. My mom has hit me with everything you can imagine, skillets, irons, clothes hangers, telephones, belts and belt buckles, not to mention her hands and feet. Anything that was close when she lost control.

          By now I was five years old, and things were tough. But we did live in an actual city, and we had indoor plumbing. That’s when I found out that a “toilet” was used more for washing out dirty diapers than anything else. I remember nothing pleasant from this time in my life. I yearned for Oklahoma, my grandparents, Kari Jo and especially the greenery. I hated the desert; I needed things around me that were alive, green and wet.

          My mom seemed fairly happy, and she even seemed to have some hope for the future. She loved going to school, it took her away from us and the nightmare we called home. It put her with people her own age. She had her little income which allowed her to go to school. It wasn’t enough to raise three children on, but it paid the rent. I believe she was in business school at the time. But we were destined not to have any stability in our lives, and then there was always my moms luck.

                                        I was loved           

          As a child I remember moving often. We lived in Oklahoma, Kansas, Delaware, Missouri, Arkansas, Arizona, New Mexico and back to Oklahoma, all before I was six. So I don’t remember exactly where anything happened. I don’t even remember what state I went to what grade of school, or hardly any of my teacher’s names. I do remember specific people that were our neighbors, or friends of my mothers. We didn’t make friends, because we had each other and we were never in one place long enough to make friends. That is why I loved Oklahoma so much because it was always the same and there were always people there that knew me and loved me and wanted me there.

          My mom had not stopped searching for someone to love her either. I remember allot of different men in her life. None were ever around for long. I mean, she had three small children; it was overwhelming for most men. Although I do remember a few that were specific. One man lived with us for a while in Arizona; he was nice, and funny. He had red curly hair, just like me. He bought me a bike that had training wheels and streamers hanging from the handlebars. I liked him very much.

          Mom on the other hand, did not seem happy with him. I remember one day, we were all in the kitchen together, and my mom was boiling eggs and the red headed man was holding my little brother David. We were laughing because David had said a bad word and the man was encouraging him to say it again. My mom didn’t care who she took her aggressions out on. It wasn’t always us. She was yelling at the man to stop it, but he thought it was funny. She turned around and threw that whole pan of eggs, “hot water and all” at us. It hit the wall behind us, and eggs and hot water went everywhere.

I remember he was nice and I liked having him there, but mom made him leave. I remember taking him to the bus station.  I pretended to have something in my eye because I didn’t want him to know I was crying. He said he would see me again, but he didn’t. I never forgot him though because he left us something so that we would never forget him. He left us the beginnings of a new baby sister.

          Eight months later my little sister Shelley was born, so now I was six, David was four, Billy was almost two and now we had Shelley. I just couldn’t get rid of those diapers.

          At this time my mom who was a whopping “twenty three” had four kids and still no husband.  Things got tougher and tougher, especially on me. The older I got, the more useful I became, and the more responsibility I had.

          If I was my mom, I would have resented my life too. She was still a child herself, and children raising children almost never works out.

          My mom started going out again, looking for the elusive lost love of her life. She went to bars and out partying allot. If we were lucky, she would dump us off on someone, but most of the time. I stayed with the kids by myself. But fate played a hand and we moved back to Oklahoma. Once again I had my grandparents and other relatives to help. Life was so much easier there for us children.

          Kari Jo and I could be kids together again. We played in the mud, and climbed the big chat piles that were left over from the mining days. We dug up worms and picked blackberries. We helped my grandma cook and helped my grandpa seine for minnows or craw-dads, or picked catalphie worms, all of which we used for fish bait. My Grandpa took us fishing. He ran a trot line (a fishing line that ran the width of the river, held up by plastic jugs, with many hooks hanging from it) and we found some of the weirdest stuff on that line, big loggerhead turtles and Garr “a type of fish that looks like a saw”. We went camping at twin bridges and Kari Jo rolled into the water in her sleeping bag while she was sleeping. We hunted rabbit, and caught forty pound catfish! But I learned fast that happiness was not something you took for granted, so I enjoyed every minute I was there.

          My mom came to me one day, and said, “We are moving back to New Mexico.” My heart dropped, but I was shocked when she continued with “would you like to stay here with grandma and grandpa and go to school with Kari Jo?” I was the only one old enough to go to school at the time. I jumped for joy, and eagerly said “yes! Of course I want to stay here.”  I was sad to see my brother’s and sister leave, but I was so happy to stay there with my grandparents, Kari Jo and all of the familiarity. And best of all, I had them all to myself, a real treat. So my mom packed up David, Billy and Shelley and moved to Deming, New Mexico.