| Biographical Non-Fiction posted September 11, 2020 | Chapters: |
...60 61 -62- 63... 
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Personality quirks and ways we dealt with each other.
A chapter in the book Remembering Yesterday
Family Dynamics
by BethShelby
| Background How our individual personalities caused us to react to problems which all families deal with. This chapter should have gone before the last one, but I'm not sure it matters. |
We felt good about having Miss Dolly to care for Connie while we worked. She was an excellent person for the job. She loved Connie like she was her grandchild, and Connie took to her immediately. It was mid-July and our other three had over a month before school started. Carol was mature enough at twelve to keep an eye on the twins without having to hire a sitter for them. However, we did take them to Mississippi and let them spend two weeks with Mom and Dad.
My poor Dad never learned how to be around little boys. Mom always told me that if I’d been a boy instead of a girl, Dad would have had a nervous breakdown. Even with me, he couldn’t handle noise. I wasn’t allowed to practice piano while he was around. He adored his granddaughters, but Don made him crazy. The feeling was mutual. Dad put Don’s nerves on edge, as well. Like me, my dad was an only child himself, and he had his quirks. Don, being the hyper child he was, couldn't do anything to please him. He told Don if he didn’t stop teasing his sisters, he was going to hang him up by his toenails, so Don tried to stay out of his way. He could always count on my mom to be on his side.
******
Keeping our children in a private church school and taking care of the needs of a growing family was taking a bite out of our income. I had given away all of my children’s outgrown clothes, because I hadn’t planned on having more babies, but I was lucky as far as Connie was concerned, because a friend at church was raising her granddaughter who was about a year older than Connie. She bought adorable and expensive clothes for the child, and she insisted on passing them down to me, so we had a well dressed baby. My mom enjoyed sewing and spending money on the children's clothes as well. She even made dresses for me. It was a blessing to have an extended family to help out.
When we were home on weekends and attended church, we seldom saw Connie until time to go home. During the service, Carol and Christi took her into the Mother’s room. All of their friends, loved playing with the baby as well, and she got more than her share of attention. I spent less time with her than I had with my other babies, since the older children seemed to enjoy taking care of her.
In Christi’s case, her feelings for Connie were ambivalent. She enjoyed playing with her, but she felt the new baby was there to take her place. From the beginning, Christi, in spite of being a twin, had assumed the role of the baby in the birth order.
You had your own ritual when it came to dealing with the children. If you lost your temper, as you did occasionally, you seemed to feel a deep sense of guilt. You always apologized to them for scolding them when you were angry. You would explain to them why what they had done had upset you. I seldom lost my temper, but that didn't stop me from yelling when they were misbehaving. I think as a result, they tuned me out, and were more concerned about behaving around you.
As far as the two of us were concerned, I’d never allowed you to go to sleep angry. If something was bothering you, I wouldn’t shut up, until it was out in the open. It hadn’t been easy when we were newly-weds. You’d grown up in a household where you had held your feelings in. At one point in your life, your Mom and Dad had gone an entire year without speaking to each other.
You were always a music lover, and at this time, your taste seemed to run toward classic country. You liked Jim Reeves, Glen Campbell, Marty Robbins and John Denver. Carol, who had a personality more like yours than the rest of us, was into country music too. You found a radio station you liked and kept it tuned to that station. Sometimes when you weren't listening at night, we'd come in and find Carol asleep on your side of our bed with the radio playing country music.
Over the years, Carol went through phases. This was the beginning of what we called her 'John Denver phase’. It was reflected in the clothes she wore, her music, her love of mountains, and any large bird, that she insisted on believing might be an eagle. Usually they were only hawks or buzzards, but she would get excited when one flew overhead.
Don was going though some mental torture which he wasn't telling anyone about. It would be a long time before we learned what had him so upset. From the time he'd started at Jefferson Heights, certain kids liked to pick fights. Don was particularly bothered by one boy in his class who always picked on him. Carol realized that he was having a problem, but neither she nor Don mentioned what was happening.
That summer while everyone was out of school, we learned that one of the boys in Don and Christi's class had been diagnosed with colon cancer. It was a terrible thing to happen to a young child. We felt deeply sorry about what his parents were going through. What we didn’t know was that this was the boy who had been picking on Don. What we wouldn’t learn until much later was that Don had often prayed that this kid would die. Of course, he never expected that to happen. Later that year, when it did actually happen, Don became convinced that he was responsible for the boy’s death. He was suffering unforgivable remorse, but was ashamed to tell us that he’d prayed such a horrible prayer.
*****
In September, the new semester started in the children’s school. Carol was in seventh grade. She seemed happy and well adjusted. She had a lot of friends and seemed to be well liked. Don and Christi were in sixth grade. Being a small school, all of the children knew each other and for the most part they all got along well.
Tether ball was a favorite game at recess. One day while playing, Don fell at a strange angle. He didn’t get a chance to get up because the teacher who happened to be watching, yelled for him not to move. She was convinced that he’d broken his leg. Someone from the school called and asked me to meet them at the emergency room.
Don was lifted into a van while they attempted to keep his leg in the same position. At the hospital, his leg was X-rayed, but the doctor found no problem. It wasn’t even sprained. Don was double-jointed, a condition which he probably inherited from me. When I was younger, my limbs were comfortable in positions that seemed abnormal to other people. I asked him why he didn’t tell them he wasn’t hurt. He said, “They never asked me. They just told me not to move.” At least, some of the time, he made an effort to be an obedient child.
My poor Dad never learned how to be around little boys. Mom always told me that if I’d been a boy instead of a girl, Dad would have had a nervous breakdown. Even with me, he couldn’t handle noise. I wasn’t allowed to practice piano while he was around. He adored his granddaughters, but Don made him crazy. The feeling was mutual. Dad put Don’s nerves on edge, as well. Like me, my dad was an only child himself, and he had his quirks. Don, being the hyper child he was, couldn't do anything to please him. He told Don if he didn’t stop teasing his sisters, he was going to hang him up by his toenails, so Don tried to stay out of his way. He could always count on my mom to be on his side.
******
Keeping our children in a private church school and taking care of the needs of a growing family was taking a bite out of our income. I had given away all of my children’s outgrown clothes, because I hadn’t planned on having more babies, but I was lucky as far as Connie was concerned, because a friend at church was raising her granddaughter who was about a year older than Connie. She bought adorable and expensive clothes for the child, and she insisted on passing them down to me, so we had a well dressed baby. My mom enjoyed sewing and spending money on the children's clothes as well. She even made dresses for me. It was a blessing to have an extended family to help out.
When we were home on weekends and attended church, we seldom saw Connie until time to go home. During the service, Carol and Christi took her into the Mother’s room. All of their friends, loved playing with the baby as well, and she got more than her share of attention. I spent less time with her than I had with my other babies, since the older children seemed to enjoy taking care of her.
In Christi’s case, her feelings for Connie were ambivalent. She enjoyed playing with her, but she felt the new baby was there to take her place. From the beginning, Christi, in spite of being a twin, had assumed the role of the baby in the birth order.
You had your own ritual when it came to dealing with the children. If you lost your temper, as you did occasionally, you seemed to feel a deep sense of guilt. You always apologized to them for scolding them when you were angry. You would explain to them why what they had done had upset you. I seldom lost my temper, but that didn't stop me from yelling when they were misbehaving. I think as a result, they tuned me out, and were more concerned about behaving around you.
As far as the two of us were concerned, I’d never allowed you to go to sleep angry. If something was bothering you, I wouldn’t shut up, until it was out in the open. It hadn’t been easy when we were newly-weds. You’d grown up in a household where you had held your feelings in. At one point in your life, your Mom and Dad had gone an entire year without speaking to each other.
You were always a music lover, and at this time, your taste seemed to run toward classic country. You liked Jim Reeves, Glen Campbell, Marty Robbins and John Denver. Carol, who had a personality more like yours than the rest of us, was into country music too. You found a radio station you liked and kept it tuned to that station. Sometimes when you weren't listening at night, we'd come in and find Carol asleep on your side of our bed with the radio playing country music.
Over the years, Carol went through phases. This was the beginning of what we called her 'John Denver phase’. It was reflected in the clothes she wore, her music, her love of mountains, and any large bird, that she insisted on believing might be an eagle. Usually they were only hawks or buzzards, but she would get excited when one flew overhead.
Don was going though some mental torture which he wasn't telling anyone about. It would be a long time before we learned what had him so upset. From the time he'd started at Jefferson Heights, certain kids liked to pick fights. Don was particularly bothered by one boy in his class who always picked on him. Carol realized that he was having a problem, but neither she nor Don mentioned what was happening.
That summer while everyone was out of school, we learned that one of the boys in Don and Christi's class had been diagnosed with colon cancer. It was a terrible thing to happen to a young child. We felt deeply sorry about what his parents were going through. What we didn’t know was that this was the boy who had been picking on Don. What we wouldn’t learn until much later was that Don had often prayed that this kid would die. Of course, he never expected that to happen. Later that year, when it did actually happen, Don became convinced that he was responsible for the boy’s death. He was suffering unforgivable remorse, but was ashamed to tell us that he’d prayed such a horrible prayer.
*****
In September, the new semester started in the children’s school. Carol was in seventh grade. She seemed happy and well adjusted. She had a lot of friends and seemed to be well liked. Don and Christi were in sixth grade. Being a small school, all of the children knew each other and for the most part they all got along well.
Tether ball was a favorite game at recess. One day while playing, Don fell at a strange angle. He didn’t get a chance to get up because the teacher who happened to be watching, yelled for him not to move. She was convinced that he’d broken his leg. Someone from the school called and asked me to meet them at the emergency room.
Don was lifted into a van while they attempted to keep his leg in the same position. At the hospital, his leg was X-rayed, but the doctor found no problem. It wasn’t even sprained. Don was double-jointed, a condition which he probably inherited from me. When I was younger, my limbs were comfortable in positions that seemed abnormal to other people. I asked him why he didn’t tell them he wasn’t hurt. He said, “They never asked me. They just told me not to move.” At least, some of the time, he made an effort to be an obedient child.
 Recognized |
I'm continuing to recall memories of life with my deceased husband as if I am talking aloud to him. I'm doing this because I want my children to know us as we knew each other and not just as their parents.
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