Sunday, February 22, 2015

Perfect Parents

There are some days that just overwhelm me.  I read a very informative blog about parenting that my daughter had written.  It made so much sense.  It was fun practical advice about parenting.  The second time I read it though, I saw something that devastated me.  She said, “I grew up in a household of constant screaming, and I don’t want to do that to my kids.”  That was me she was talking about.   It wasn’t until I talked to my son that I was able to rationalize what she had said.  It was her way I saying, “ I am a better mother.  I didn’t make mistakes like YOU did.”  He also reminded me of how patient I had been the first five times I had asked them to do something……before I screamed.

My daughter’s and my circumstances are so different.  Her husband works a normal work day.  He doesn’t have to be at work terribly early. He can help her get the girls ready for school, she has a support system.  He also  doesn’t have to work late or work for hours on the computer once he is home.   When dinner is started, he can entertain the kids, or fix dinner while my daughter entertains the kids.  He helps her put them to bed, can read them stories, she is seldom alone in parenting. She gets that much needed break in her day when he gets home to relax a little and regroup.  She doesn’t have to parent when she is overtired from not having a break for five days.  He is home every night.

When my children were little my husband left early on Monday morning, if not on Sunday night.  He was out of town until usually midnight on Friday when he drove in.  My days started when the children awoke. I had no car some of those years, so I was their constant companion.  I fixed three meals, fed them played with them, took them for walks comforted them in the afternoon when nothing made them happy, then bathed them, read to them and put them to bed,then, only then did I get a break..until someone woke up crying in the night or morning when it started all over again.  It was that way for five days each week.  When Jim did get home, the kids were excited to see him.  They consumed his whole weekend.  They wanted to play with him, I still had three meals each day to cook, Jim’s laundry to get done and eight white dress shirts to wash, starch and iron in the two days before he left again.  My home time on the weekends was even busier than the weekdays. I had no time to regroup, rest or even visit with him because the kids needed him.  When he left on Monday morning I was usually in tears because I was so tired and lonely.  I lived for the twice a week he could call me and talk for 15 minutes.  When those 15 minutes were gone, I cried again from being lonely.  On the weeks when he could stay in town he left as early as 6 am drive to see clients 50 or 100 miles away.  He seldom was home before 7 pm and even then had several hours of work to do before going to bed.  I am not making excuses….just comparing the circumstances….it makes a difference when you can be rested and have daily support as a parent.

I did yell at my kids.  I did make mistakes. I wasn’t the perfect mother, why does she think I held myself up AS being perfect?  I never did.  I apologized to my kids when I realized I had made a mistake in judgement...and that was often.  

My mother wasn’t perfect either, she made mistakes, but I knew she was being the best mother she could possibly be.  Before she died, she told me she wished she hadn’t been so consumed with her career but I knew that was just the way she was.  I loved her intensity and success.  I wanted to be like her.   

Truly loving someone is like childbirth…..you forget the painful parts and concentrate on the parts you loved.  My daughter never really loved me in the first place…..sometimes that happens.  Now the pain between us is over, I no longer even know where she lives, we have gone our separate ways….we are free of the pain and can both be happy now.  I still love her and cherish the time I had with her.


I am glad my daughter is the perfect parent.  I hope her daughters realize that……..
                
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Sunday, December 21, 2014

The Last Christmas



In September of 2007 Mom had died. My dad started every day saying, “I sure miss the ‘ole gal.”  It broke my heart, but no matter how much time we spent together his heart was still broken.  I knew Christmas would be very hard for him.  I thought having everyone home would make it easier, so I planned for the best Christmas I could arrange.  

Inviting our daughter Erin and her husband to come from Arizona, I knew it was along shot.  Her husband did not like our family.  In the three years since they had married they had avoided us as much as possible. So as I extended the invitation, I explained to her how important it would be to “Papa” for her to be here.  Without any hesitation
she said, “This is our first Christmas in our house and Adam wants to spend it here, in fact I have already invited Dad."   Austin will be with you and Papa that will be enough.”  Again I tried to explain, she abruptly cut me off, “Adam does not like coming to your house.”

That was that.  Jim got reservations to go to Tucson for Christmas.  I told my dad and he just sort of smiled, like he knew something I did not.  He said it was fine.  I decided I would still do Christmas just as if everyone was going to be here. 

On Christmas Eve, Dad and I spent the evening at Dad’s watching our family favorite movie, “White Christmas” from 1954 with Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye.  We had homemade soup and bread. Dad seemed happy singing along with all the songs.  By the time the movie was over he was tired and ready to go to bed.  I asked if he would like for me to spend the night at his house, he said no, Austin would be in from work in a bit  He said he was fine there and inquired about what time should they come for Christmas in the morning.  I told him 10 am, that way I could finish my final preparations for dinner and visit with him as well.

Christmas morning Austin and Dad arrived around 10 am.  I suggested that we open presents.  Dad said, ‘Wait.  Should we wait for everyone?”  Thinking he had forgotten that Jim and Erin were in Tucson, I started to explain again.  He snapped at me, “I know what you said!” 

  
We ate Christmas dinner at noon. I had all the Christmas trimmings that he was used to having.  I set the table with china and crystal to make things as much like what Mom would have done as possible.He ate a little of everything but with just me, him and Austin it wasn’t the same.  
After eating, Dad wanted to sit in the living room and look out the window.  He could see well enough to tell that cars were going by but not who they were.  Every few minutes he would call me and ask if a car had pulled up in front.  Some how he had gotten it in his mind that Jim was going to show up with Erin to surprise him for Christmas.  I told him that was not going to happen, Jim had gone to Tucson for Christmas at her house, but he just didn’t believe me.   After a couple of hours Austin left to be with some of his friends.

With just the two of us there, I tried to distract his thoughts with dominoes, TV and 40s music but he just kept staring out the window.  Finally around 5 pm he said, “Well Sugar I guess you can take me home, I think you’re right, they didn’t plan on coming after all. He paused thoughtfully, his voice softened, "It almost seems like Erin doens't care about us anymore?  I put my hands on his cheeks, directing his face to mine,
“I don’t know Daddy, I really just don’t know.  I hope she does.”  I looked  into his big brown eyes now almost blinded by old age.  He leaned to the side to pull his handkerchief out of his pocket, took off his glasses and wiped his eyes.

Silently I drove him home.  “I tried my best to make this a nice Christmas, but it still was missing that one thing we needed....Mom.”  He nodded his head..still silent.
 I had planned to stay with him but he told me to go on because he was going to go to bed anyway. As I helped him get into bed, he said, “It’s sure not the same without the ‘Ole Gal.”  Sadly I agreed. We both wiped tears away.  I didn’t know it but that would be Dad’s last Christmas...he died two months later, a day after my mother’s birthday.

We were so blessed to have all those wonderful Christmas’s with Gran, Papa, Erin, Austin and Jim for all those years.  They were the most wonderful and memorable we could have ever hoped for.  Putting the toys together,  laying stocking on the ends of beds, making sure the kids still didn’t have one eye open, then getting in bed, being so excited and afraid the children would wake up early, us missing all the fun.  We got spoiled, it always seemed the holidays would be big family events. Life goes on, time changes, people change and traditions change as well…..there are always the memories.



Friday, October 24, 2014

The Junior Docents

The original owner of the historic house, John Jay French, had a land grant in 1836, from Mexico. He came to settle in Texas but when he got to Louisiana in 1836, the Texas Revolution had started, forcing him and his family to stay in Louisiana to wait out the revolution.    When they got to his land in Texas, in 1845, he built the first planed wood house in Southeast Texas.  John Jay French was opposed to slavery, being from Connecticut.  While in Louisiana he bought a black slave family. When they got to Texas he told them they were free and could leave if they wanted.  If they stayed, however, he would build them a house, provide them with jobs, an income and educate their children.  They stayed and lived as freedmen.

I was the Curator of Education for the museum.  We had successful programs for second, fourth and seventh grade. 
It was in the fall when the curriculum director of the school district contacted me for a meeting. The high school had a program where high school students got Fridays out of class.  They could either use that day to work, if they had a job, or they could volunteer at a hospital, museum or charity.  She wanted to know if our museum would be interested in participating.  I told her yes.

The idea sounded great to me since the historic house tours with the seventh graders occured on Fridays.  We were always in need extra docents on Fridays, which was a hard day to get docents.  I suggested to her that we start a Junior Docent program, training the high school students to give tours of the historic house.  The seventh graders might be more inclined to listen since their “peers,” instead of old ladies, were leading the tours.  The curriculum director liked the idea too.

The high school teachers started the screening process for students who might be a good match for the museum.....I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.  I went to the high school, spoke with several classes and promoted the idea.  There was not much enthusiasm, except for the idea of getting out of class.  Most of the college bound students had their schedules filled with  AP classes and were not participating in the program which narrowed our field of students down considerably.  The students volunteered or were chosen. The day came for my students to arrive.  I had been given a brief outline of each of the student’s  backgrounds.  They were all juniors and seniors.


George had a terrbile stuttering problem.  He had been in  speech classes but had never  been in one school for more than a year so the problem had never had time to be properly addressed.  He would shyly smile and nod when spoken to.  He was the only child of a single mother and very poor.

Toni.  Her mother and 21 year old sister were both prostitutes.  They all lived with her mother’s pimp who routinely abused the kids.  She was in and out of CPS custody and foster care.  She had been in a 7th grade summer camp program several years before at our museum when CPS came and took custody of her.

Johnny was from a very poor but very stable home. He was happy and enthusiastic about everything.  He was also very protective of Toni. 

Mike.  His mother had other children with another father....Mike’s father was in prison and he never saw him.  He always told us his father was rich and was going to come and get him and take him home with him. Every girl he liked, he told her he was going to marry her.   He constantly talked about wanting to get married, because “Then someone would love me”.

Bethany  was from a stable middle class home.  
she was an excellent student, and had a scholarship from Baylor.

Ashia. From a stable, upper middle class, protective but very biased home.  She had to have off every Wednesday to go to the meetings of the radical organization her family participated in.  Her mother wanted to get her from the museum as soon as she was dropped off because it was a “White Ladies Club”.  I told her mother that Ashia had to stay at least two hours every time she came or I had to report it to the school which would mean she was out of the program.  Her mother was furious, but let her stay two of the four hours every Friday.

(The museum volunteer group was in no way exclusive. I spoke to several racially diverse study clubs to recruit docents for the museum, but no one was interested. We worked diligently to have volunteers from all parts of the community.  ) 

The bus arrived with my group of Junior docents.  I introduced myself and the staff.  We all stood there staring at each other like deer in the headlights.  We proceeded to the historic house.  I told them while I was giving the tour to be thinking about what part of the tour they would like to be responsible for giving.  When the tour was over they each claimed their part of the tour.  Johnny wanted to be trained as a blacksmith, Mike wanted to do the upstairs of the house, Toni wanted to assist in the blacksmith shop. Bethany wanted the parlour of the house. Ashia wanted to do the downstairs bedrooms of the house. And finally the master bedroom was claimed by George.  It was the room with the most artifacts, and also the room where the rope bed was explained in detail. I felt very sure about everyone’s choices except for George.  I had never heard him speak a single word except for "Master bedroom.”  

In the weeks that followed we worked on giving tours, looking at the audience and talking clearly and plainly.  George had yet to say a word.  He just held his notes and read them over and over to himself.  Our Blacksmith had set aside several Friday mornings to be at the museum to train Johnny and Teresa.  They both seemed to come alive.  They loved working in the shop, making nails to give away to each class after the demonstration.  All was going very well.

One morning there had been a cold front blow through.  When the kids showed up, all were dressed warmly for the 40 degree, 100% humidity weather, except for Toni.  She was in a thin voile blouse and shivering. She told me she wasn’t cold and would be comfortable once they got the fire going in the blacksmith shop.  I was worried about her and checked on her several times, offering her the extra jacket I kept in my car, but she refused. The next week it was cold and raining.  She was coughing and looked sick.  Her hair had been chopped off on one side all the way to the scalp.  She told me it was a new hairdo and she liked it.  

Later that day I heard Bethany say that Toni's mother’s boyfriend had beat her up and cut off that one side of her hair.  I had thought she was sick from being out in the cold with no coat.  I asked Toni to come into my office to talk.  I asked if I could buy her a coat.  She told me, “I would like that but, when I go to sleep someone would come in my bedroom and tear it off of me in my sleep.  Everything I get someone steals.  My mother is a prostitute and so is my sister, but I am not supposed to tell anyone that.  My sister had three kids and I have to babysit them all night while she works and then get them to daycare before school.  I am always late to school so the teachers think I don’t try hard.”  Her voice never wavered but tears started to roll down her face.  "I want to be something good, I want to make good grades and go to college.  A teacher told me I could go to college free if I had good grades.”  By now she was wiping away tears leaving streaks on her face through the blacksmithing ash.  I looked up to see one of our board members standing in the door. After Toni left Mrs. Banks told me we had to do something about her situation.  

In the meantime the day for our dress rehearsal for the tours had come.  The first room on the tour was the one George was doing.  I stepped into the room.  He looked at me, hesitated, took a deep breath....and from his mouth came the most beautiful deep baritone voice.  Loud and clear he sounded like James Earl Jones, explaining every detail of the room in the most perfect way.  I was so thrilled.  I wanted to hug him, but instead told him what an incredible job he had done.  He smiled shyly, saying nothing and dropping his head.  I told him to hold his head high and be proud of how well he had done...and for the first time he smiled broadly and said, “Thank you Mrs. Hayes.”  All of the students did exceptional jobs.  When the seventh graders arrived, they listened more carefully than they had ever done for us “Old ladies.”  The tours continued each Friday all spring.

As the time passed I got to know each student and their needs.  Mike was always the last one to leave.  He just knew each week that his mother would come and pick him up....and each week he would finally leave to walk home.  One week I had stayed until 4 PM  at the musem to get ready for a Saturday event.  The students had all left by 3 PM.  As I was drivng home, I passed a boy that looked familiar...as I glanced in the rear view mirror I noticed it was Mike.  I turned around and stopped.  “I thought you went home?”  
"My mom never came, I am just walking home."  I found out he lived about 10 miles from the museum.  I told him to get in the car and I would take him home.  When we got to his house, it was an old battered mobile home badly in need of repair.  The front door was standing open.  He thanked me for the ride.  As he walked in I could hear someone yelling at him.  He turned and closed the door....waving bye with the saddest look on his face I had ever seen.

Bethany was writing her essays for college admissions. Each week she would have something else for me to read.  All were very good and impressive.  She said her mom had been giving her pointers.  She was a highly motivated young lady. 

Ashia, although enjoying her time at the museum, finally came in one day and told me that her mother had taken her out  of the program starting next week.  He mother didn’t want her to have so much exposure to the “White Ladies Club.”  In the meantime  Mike had gotten expelled completely from school for telling someone he was going to kill them. He stopped by the museum to tell me goodbye.  He said the other boy had told him, “You father doesn’t want you.” His reaciton was wrong, but I couldn’t say that I blamed him for it, my heart broke for him.  He had seemed to find a place he belonged for the first time at the museum.  The police came by a few minutes later telling me to never let him on the museum grounds again......

In the meantime Mrs.Banks had decided to buy a jacket for Toni.  She found a STARTER jacket that was an anorak style with a short zipper that went only about 9 inches down from the neck.  Toni was thrilled because no one could take it off of her while she slept.   

I called her come into my office to explain how important it was to write Mrs. Banks a thank you note.  She had never written one, except in school for an assignment.  She didn’t know anyone really did that. In her own words she wrote,  

“Thank  you for giving me a jacket.  I like being warm. I like the jacket because no one can steal it when I sleep.  Your friend, Toni”.

At 2 am one morning the phone rang.  I woke up angry thinking it was one of my teenager’s friends, but it was Toni.  She was panicked.  She said her mother’s boyfriend  was going to rape her.  I told her to hide and watch out the window, someone would be by to get her.  I had no idea what to do, so I called Mrs. Banks.  Her son was a police officer. She told me she and her son would go and get Toni.  When they drove up in front of the house, Toni climbed out of the window and ran to the car, with her backpack full of all her worldly possions, wearing her jacket.  She spent the night at Mrs. Banks house that night.  CPS was there bright and early to take custody of her.  As she left, she said, “Mrs. Banks, I will call you when no one wants me again.”

The semester had come to an end.  I planned a pizza party for the kids.  Johnny, Bethany, Toni and George were all that were left.  I told them I was moving away so that if they did the program next fall, there would be a new Curator of Education.  I had bought a small souvenir from the museum store for each of them.  I had just gotten a computer and had internet for the first time, so I gave them each my email address.  I had them make out a postcard to themselves so I could write to them that summer.  I felt so sad leaving them...it seemed like my project had only just  begun.

Later in the summer I was updated on the kids:

  • George had moved....no one knew what happened to him.
  • Johnny had signed up for the program for the next year. Since he could now drive, he had signed up to work as a regular volunteer in the blacksmith's shop at the museum.
  • Bethany had gotten her scholarship was was heading to Baylor University in the fall.
  • Ashia was going off to Grambling University.
  • Toni had been removed from her home and put in foster care in another town.  The people who had taken her had lost their daughter several years before, in an accident.  She had become the center of their lives.  She was still adjusting to have rules and the way a real family worked.  She told Mrs. Banks, " I finally feel really safe."
  • Mike had commited suicide....leaving a note that said, “All I wanted was someone to love me.*


The Junior Docents opened my heart and changed me forever.  I sent out the postcards but most were returned....I lost touch with everyone.  I hope that something I did, or said changed their lives in a positive way......
like they changed mine.

*All of the names have been changed except for mine.