Today I was talking with an old friend about our childhoods. We grew up in the same neighborhood and didn’t know each other well, although we were acquainted. It’s amazing all these years later to realize you can watch someone’s life and not have any idea what’s going on. Sharing some especially scary stories about home remedies, we decided we might just have some “I survived my childhood even though my parents tried to kill me off” t-shirts made. It made me wonder what the slogan on my own children’s t-shirts might be.
When I had my first child, my son, I read Mother-to-Be Magazine for parenting tips, I rubbed Mother’s Friend lotion all over my tummy to prevent stretch marks, and I painted the nursery and furniture in preparation for this baby’s arrival. As it turned out the magazine was full of nonsense…..I have a stretch mark that runs from groin to Adam’s apple …..And I now know that I gave every piece of nursery furniture a good coat of lead based paint before he was born. In short, I was ill prepared and ill-informed about having one child, let alone three. T-shirt: “My Mom raised me in a nursery full of lead based paint and all I got was this lousy t-shirt”.
My second child, a beautiful blonde daughter, was born with a wry neck and a leg that had been tucked under her as she grew. In those days they put special shoes with a big metal bar between them on the baby to straighten the leg. The wry neck had to be stretched and pulled several times a day, a duty that sent my dad and husband scrambling for newspapers to hide behind until I was finished. My sweet baby would scream and fuss, but I did what had to be done to strengthen her neck muscles. As she got older the metal bar and shoes were clunky and heavy and it was sad to watch her struggle to turn over….but she mastered it! What a torturous beginning for such a beautiful little girl… and Mom was the bad guy! T –shirt: “I’m with Meany à “
Last, but not least, another little girl arrived. She was in a hurry to get into the world, so she could only wait eight months. She was a colorful baby….first she turned yellow (jaundice) and then she turned beet red as she screamed for the first three months of her young life. Her formula didn’t agree with her, three formulas didn’t agree with her, goats milk was a last-ditch try. Finally the doctor threw in the towel and we started her on regular milk; she grew blessedly content. The first baby didn’t eat, drink, or touch anything that was not sterilized. The second baby was subjected to less sterilization and a little more mayhem. By the time this third baby arrived she was raised under the three second rule….anything that was on the ground less than three seconds could be popped directly into her mouth. No more boiling water on the dropped binkie no grabbing a fallen cookie. This little girl had an immune system that can only be created by the consumption of potting soil and carpet fuzz. T-shirt: “I was the third child and lived to tell about it”.
One thing we all have in common, no matter how good or bad, we all had a childhood. My parents loved me, and they did the very best they knew how to do as they raised me. I think my children are the finest people I have ever known, and they may very well have gotten to be that way in spite of me instead of because of me. All I know is that I love them, and I enjoy thinking back to the time they were all underfoot. If I had a t-shirt made it would read: “Life is Good”.
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