Weird Dog.

My son's dog is weird. Every dog we have ever owned has its own quirks but she is just strange.

She is about 4 years maybe 5 years old now. She has a lot of female dog qualities. She is possessive and protective. But she will still frolic and act goofy the same way a male puppy does.

We do not let her run loose but she has a rather ingenious run created by my ex-husband for his dogs. A light chain is fastened to her collar. The other end of the chain is fastened to a cable strung between two large trees. She has the run of the entire yard this way. There is also a tether for the other door in case we let her out that way.

When she wants to out we simply ask her to show us and she will go to the door that she wants to use. Once it is dark outside she prefers the front yard. I think she is afraid of the dark myself.

The dog even sits funny. Most dogs sort of rest on the side of their haunches with the hind legs curled off to one side and the front paws on the floor. This dog sits directly flat on her rear with her hind legs stretched straight out in front of her with front legs to balance. If she were sitting in a chair her hind legs would just hang down because she is sitting like a human.

The dog is extremely sensitive to noises. One night shortly after I moved here I was on my way to bed. The dog and my son were already in my son's room. I turned off the lights in the kitchen on my way to my room.

It was raining that night. Just as I looked out the window on my way to bed there was a huge crack of thunder and I saw lightning strike something just across the river.

Of course I had to stand there to see if it would happen again. (I know)  My son came out of his room laughing. His dog had jumped into the air and hurled herself to him for protection. It was a couple of years before she was once again not terrified of thunder.

Now I understand that all animals have basically the same bodily functions as humans. But I have to tell you that I honestly never heard a dog burp before. And she snores... loud. And she passes gas that has threatened to drive us out of the house. We ended up having to get some pills for her and they really help.

She loves her toys. She has a pile of them in a corner of the living room. She knows they are hers and she goes and root through the pile to find the one she wants. Usually when she is finished with it she will put it back in the pile.

When we go to the grocery store we buy her a little toy. Most of them cost no more than a dollar. When we bring the bags of groceries into the house she starts sniffing to see which one holds her toy. She is so happy to get her new toy.

We try not to get cloth toys too often. She finds the noisemaker inside them and sets about chewing until she makes a hole and gets it out. Then she pulls those cottony puffs out and they are all over. But she likes those toys under her head when she sleeps.

We found a cheap squeaky hamburger and hot dog. I knew she would love them. I was wrong. She wanted nothing to do with them. I think she was rather insulted by them.

This is a really lazy dog. She put on a lot of weight a couple of years ago. She has lost most of it but she was fat.

Getting into the truck had been easy for her. All she would do is hop in. Then came the day that she went to hop in and sort of missed. She hit her chin pretty hard. Ever since she will place her front paws up and wait for my son to lift her up. Lazy.

The dog wants to talk. She will try to copy noises my son makes at her. There are times when we are having a conversation and she will try so hard to join in. She wants to be heard and understood.

When I go to cook the evening meal she will jump up and immediately start asking for "foooooood". Or if I do not feel like cooking she will say it trying to remind me that it is time to cook. Once my son opens a can of dog food for her she is happy.

A couple of years ago we had a lot of katy-dids. They are they locusts that you hear singing on a warm summer night. I kind of like to listen to them at night.

The dog had been outside and wanted in. My son let her in and suddenly we heard a strange buzzing noise. Being the calm rational person that I am I immediately went to check the stove to see if it was going to explode. (I know).

My son and I were looking all over trying to find the source of the buzzing noise. As we zeroed in we realized it was the dog.

She had a katy-did in her mouth and did not want to let it loose. When she finally opened her mouth out popped this huge locust. My son had a devil of a time catching it. I did not try because I was laughing too hard.

The dog is weird.

The Robot

My oldest son was easily scared when he was little. A lot of the things people thought would scare him did not but then the strangest things would make him cringe with fright.

For instance there were horror movies on late night television when the boys were small. We stayed up and watched them with glee. My son still likes them. The old Hammer films are his favorites.

His uncle drove a delivery truck for a beer distributor. Often the company had promotional displays for retail stores. One such display was the famous delivery wagon along with the team of horses that pulls it. It was impressive with the barrels of beer on the wagon.  It was probably 3 feet long in total. His uncle took one home with him and placed it so it could be seen by everyone.

For some reason my son was afraid of it. It was on display so it could be seen as you entered the house. My son would grab my leg and clutch it until we were inside the house and past the horses and wagon. Then he was fine.

My brother-in-law bedeviled my son at almost every turn. It was done as a loving thing and he meant no harm. It was what he did with all the kids including his own. My son just reacted differently. So at his uncle's house he never knew what to expect. He was appropriately scared all the time.

It was one of my son's favorite places to visit. I think he liked being frightened. Now that he is grown he tries his best to scare his nieces and nephews in the same way.

My son has always been interested in gadgets. We had some of the very first home computers and my son was the one who used them the most. Of course there were video game systems too. His brother and sister thought they were okay but he loved them.

My son researched what made them work and studied about what new technologies were coming soon. He learned to troubleshoot which is so handy when you are dealing with this kind of thing. He even began building his own computers using what he judged to be the best components. For little money he could have a top-of-the-line computer.

My son is the first to try a new electronic gadget. Cell phones, tablets, readers; all are thinbgs he researches intensely and then buys what he has decided to be the best. It works out well for me because I get his old one of whatever it is.

He even bought a Roomba. Roomba is a flat little robot type of thing. He has programmed it to vacuum the carpets while we sleep. We wake to clean floors. It works well and I highly recommend it.

When I think of him owning a robot it brings a smile to my face. When he was almost two years old Santa gave him a robot for Christmas.

It was a marvel. It was battery operated. It stood about 18 inches tall.

When you turned it on it would walk across the floor in a menacing manner because it was a warrior. At intervals it would stop, its chest would open, and a gun would pop out and noisily fire. Then the chest would close and the robot would advance some more.

My son was terrified. I tried to have him become more familiar with it by handling it while it was turned off. Nope. He wanted nothing whatsoever to do with that robot.

Even my little brother who was only 6 years old tried to cajole him into not being afraid. Nothing worked.

I am not sure what ever happened to that poor robot. Not much scares my son any more. He might even like the robot now.

In The Water

I love to swim. It is the closest thing to being able to fly. That feeling of floating along and feeling free... like I said I love it.

Not everyone in my family feels the same way. My mother, for instance. She never did learn to swim. She said she felt claustrophobic when her face was covered with water.

I was working and could not be with my family when they went camping for a weekend. Not that I missed it. Camping is not a favorite activity of mine. There are no indoor toilets.

They were near a lake and decided to go swimming. Mom was content to sit on the edge with the baby and read a book. Daddy was there in case of an emergency.

The kids were happily romping in the water and making a lot of noise. Someone called Daddy to come help them with something. He told Mom he would be right back and disappeared over the hill. Mom nodded and went on reading.

The kids started calling for help and Mom told them not to ask for help unless they meant it. They kept yelling. She finally realized there was something wrong. She sent my oldest brother to get Daddy but she knew he could not make it in time.

My sister and brother had been wading and hit a drop-off in the water. My sister could not swim at all, my brother just a little. My brother was trying to help my sister get back to where she could stand but they were both in trouble.

Mom told the baby to stay where he was. She started to the water. On the way she saw a medium sized stick and grabbed it up. She got brave and waded into the water.

She went out to where my brother and sister were struggling. She told them to grab the stick. My sister reached for it but went under the water instead. My brother managed to get out by himself and went back to the blanket and fell exhausted, trying to catch his breath.

My sister surfaced again and Mom tried again. She told my sister to grab the stick. My sister tried but just went under again.

Mom was right at the edge of where the drop-off was. She knew she could not help anyone if she was drowning herself. She tried to dig her toes in but of course she could not. My sister surfaced again. Mom saw that her eyes were starting to glaze over and knew this was probably the last chance.

She yelled for my sister to grab the stick. Somehow she got through and my sister reached for the stick. As soon as she had her hands around it my mother jerked towards herself. The stick was rotten and broke. But there was enough force that my sister floated forward a little and Mom was able to grab her and get her out of the water.

Daddy came running over the hill just in time to see them connecting and coming out of the water.

The town we were living in was building a swimming pool. I was so excited. Then they announced that they would be selling season tickets for admission to the pool.

I was disappointed. I knew if there was a fee we would not be going swimming often. We had very little money and there were so many of us.

Then they announced a contest. If I could sell a certain number of season passes, I would receive a season pass for myself. Double the sales and I could get a family pass and we would all get to swim.

I sold my little heart out. I was in the fifth grade at school. I think a lot of the people who purchased from me thought it was cute that I was trying to sell them. And I had people that I did yard work and other odd jobs for who I got to before anyone else did. We had our family pass.

We lived at the pool that summer. We were there when it opened and went home when they were closing.

The Red Cross gave free swimming lessons to all the children. My oldest brother took them along with the rest of us. He just did not like taking the chance. He always said that sticking your face in the water was a good way to drown.

The instructors tried hard with him but he just did not like it. Then came the day that they came to my second brother and me and told us to take him out to the deep end and leave him. They said he would learn to swim that way. Even we knew that was a stupid idea. We refused. He did learn to swim a bit in the Army but he did not enjoy it.

My high school had a swimming pool. Everyone was required to take at least one semester of swimming. It was part of the physical education program.

We learned to dive and do fancy turns. We learned all the different strokes, like the butterfly and breast stroke. I received my junior lifesaving badge in high school.

My husband learned to swim when he was young. His brother and his brother's friend tossed him into the water and told him to swim. He did not swim that time. He did finally learn to slap his arms in the water and move around a little. I do not know if he could have been able to do any real swimming if the occasion called for it.

But he enjoyed taking us swimming. He would gamely get in the water. Then he would start to shiver and turn blue. He would spend most of the time sitting on a blanket and wrapped in a towel while we had a good time.

When my oldest son was a baby I was amused by the fact that he hated to have his face washed. When I would take the cloth and start to wash him he would gasp for breath. I soon discovered that all I had to do was cover his eyes with my hand for the same effect. Naturally he did not like the water for recreation either.

Then when he about 5 years old he asked if he could take swimming lessons. I immediately signed him up. He worked so hard to try to be able to put his face in the water. I sat in an observation room for the parents of the would-be swimmers and watched.

When the series of lessons were over he still could not swim. He wanted to try again. This time his little brother wanted to learn too.

I sat in that observation room and watched my sons taking swimming lessons. My first son was trying so hard. My second son was right at home.

When they were learning to dog paddle my oldest son was trying. The instructor was working with him and the other children watched. All except for my second son. There he was down at the deep end of the pool paddling along with a big grin on his face. I was up banging on the window for someone to notice that my baby was trying to kill himself.

The last day of that series one of the fathers offered to help by dropping the children from the diving board so they could dog paddle back to the shallow end. One by one each child walked to him and he gently dropped them into the water. My oldest son was last.

The man took him by the arms and lowered him toward the water. My son was terrified. The man let go. Have you ever seen someone climb air? My son did. He made it back to the man and held on for dear life. The man finally gave up and carried my son back to the side of the pool.

My son tried so hard to learn how to swim. He still cannot and he says he has no regrets.

But his cousin was not convinced. My son did like going to the pool and splashing around at the edge of the shallow end. His cousin somehow got him out in the middle of the deep end. Her intention was to let go of him and make him swim to the edge. (Her father is the older brother of my husband who tossed him in the water. It runs in their family I guess.)

So she got him out there and tried to let go. He clawed and scratched and held on. She was covered with wounds when they came home. She said she would not have tried that if she had known he was going to maul her.

My children were growing up. I knew it would not be long and it would be difficult for us to do things together. I planned a trip. It was just a weekend at a nearby amusement park.

My two older sons were friends so I knew they would hang out together. I told my youngest son and my daughter that they could each invite a cousin to do things with.

We got two rooms at the motel. The boys stayed in one and we girls were in the other. I made sure to get a place that had a pool so the children could swim in the evening after we left the park.

I wanted a shower but the kids wanted to swim. My second son could swim so I asked him to keep an eye on them until I came out. He did not want to swim but he said he would watch them.

I took a shower and was drying my hair. I looked out the door to check on the children. They were fine.

Then my nephew got into the deep end and was having trouble. My son gave a soft curse and jumped in. He was fully dressed so he was not happy.

My son fished my nephew out of the water. Everyone was fine. I told them that was enough excitement for the night and it was time to come in.

I think everyone should know how to swim. It is like knowing how to do first aid. You should know. But watching my son try to learn to swim I have realized that not everyone can.

Emergency Room

My children certainly had their share of accidents. I feel I was a good mother. I watched over them carefully but somehow they still managed to get hurt. Not all of their escapades made it to the emergency room but a good many of them did.

My oldest son was not emergency room prone. No. He had to take it further. He was born with two thumbs on one hand. When he was about 9 months old he had surgery to remove the extra one.

After many x-rays the doctors had determined that unlike many extra appendages, my son's extra thumb was an actual thumb. Most extras are simply made of cartilage and are easily removed. Because my son's thumbs were both made up of bones, muscles, ligaments, tendons, and skin and seemed to be equal in every way it was decided to remove the outer one.

The surgery was successful but he needed physical therapy to strengthen the remaining thumb. Metal braces to try to encourage the thumb to grow straight were made.

The knuckle of the remaining thumb bent from side to side rather than from back to front. Another surgery when he was 4 was to straighten the thumb and restructure the knuckle so it would bend properly.

After the surgery his hand and arm were in a cast up to the middle of his upper arm for about 6 weeks. He made good use of that cast. Whenever someone tried to disagree with him he conked them in the head with it.

When it finally came off the smell was unbearable. And all that dead skin. Then when the doctor slid out the two metal pins that had been inserted in my son's hand and arm to hold everything in place, my son started to scream. And scream, and scream. It was not from pain but how would you like to see six inch metal rods coming from inside your arms?

The operation was a success. My son's thumb is normal sized. Many people in his position have a remaining thumb that is still the size it was when they were babies. He cannot grip with it because the knuckle does not lock into place... it just keeps bending. One interesting thing is that when they do surgeries to reconstruct a thumb, they come out with a digit that resembles a finger more than a thumb.

We lived in a small town. We owned an old pickup truck that I drove the places we wanted to go. I would get the two older boys in the truck then place a baby on the lap of each one. My oldest son usually sat nearest to the door and held his baby sister.

One day as I was turning the corner, the door flew open. My son felt himself falling out. He managed to throw his little sister to his brother before he fell. He was up and running before I could stop the truck. There were no injuries except for a scrape from the gravel on his upper lip. He insisted on wearing a bandaid over that scrape for days.

Son number one had to have his tonsils removed when he was 5. They would not let me spend the night at the hospital with him so I promised I would be there bright and early before he went to surgery. I went to the hospital earlier than expected but they had taken him to surgery even earlier.

When my son came out of surgery he was still asleep. But when he woke up he began to scream. I told you he was a screamer. Finally the nurse came in and gave him a sedative to put him back to sleep in hopes that he would calm down. All that screaming could cause hemorrhaging. The sedative worked.

Son number two was interesting in the injuries he chose. He was the one who would open a drawer of the desk, then when he went to close it he would shut his fingers in it. Then he would pull the drawer open and shut his fingers in it again.

One time I was sitting in my chair mending some clothes. My son was still in diapers. He was sitting across the room from me facing the wall. I watched in amusement as he would reach his little arm straight in front of him then pull it quickly back and do a little shimmy. After he did this about 6 times (I am not real quick) I got up to see what kind of game he was playing.

That was when I saw the nail sticking out of the electrical outlet. He was reaching for it again. I stopped him. He was trying to get the nail out after he had stuck it in there and getting a little jolt when he would touch it. No emergency room required.

I do not know what possessed him to pull a can lid out of the trash but he did. He was playing with it and cut his thumb. It was a deep gash so off we went to the emergency room. Several stitches later we went home.

When the stitches came out the edges of the wound were still a little ugly. He insisted on wrapping a tissue around his thumb because he was afraid it was going to bleed again. The assistant pricipal at school sent him home and said he could not come back until I sent a note from the doctor stating that it was healed.

Somehow a wooden toothpick was embedded in the carpet. My son was crawling around playing and managed to get the toothpick up under his knee cap. Off we went to the emergency room. It was a relatively simple procedure to remove it. My son felt no further effects from it.

The most frightening injury happened to him when he was an adult. He was watching television when two men broke into his house to rob him. When he protested they shot him. One shot into each leg. Because he did not want to scare me he called his sister who called me.

They were releasing him from the hospital and he needed a ride home. There was nothing they could do for him except tell him to try to stay off his feet until his legs healed. They were unable to remove the bullets so he still has a bullet in each of his legs.

My third son broke things. The kids were climbing a tree and he lost his footing and fell. Luckily his foot got caught on a branch so he did not fall all the way to the ground but his arm hit against the tree. To the emergency room we went. His arm was broken.

The day the cast came off his arm was a sunny day. When we returned from the doctor my son was riding his bike. It had no brakes so the kids stopped it by using their foot as a brake. My son put down his foot to stop and let out a scream. His foot was broken.

He waited a while before the next break. I do not even remember how he did it. But I recognized the scream. We went strainght to the emergency room. His bone was not actually broken. Young childrens' bones are still fairly soft. When he landed he wrinkled the bone in his arm. The doctor had to stretch his arm out to pull out the wrinkle before they put a cast on it.

Another time he broke his leg again. And again I do not even remember how. But I do remember the time he and his brother were fighting. My son went running up the stairs to try to escape from his bigger brother. He lost his footing and fell against the stairs. He hit his hand on the edge of the step and broke it.

This child had the nerve to ask me if he could try out for the football team in high school. I told him, "Absolutely not! You break to easily."

The only accident he had that did not involve broken bones was the time he took a hatchet to a can of WD40. The contents of the can exploded into his eyes. I grabbed a gallon jug of water and flipped him upside down to flush as much as I could from his eyes before rushing him to the emergency room. Luckily no permanent damage was done. Although he says now that he believes that incident is the reason he is color blind.

My darling daughter. Sugar and spice and everything nice. A beautiful bit of fluff. So soft and feminine. Well... not quite.

When she was about 2 we were loading the pickup to go to the store. Her brother, my second son, was her lap that day. He closed the door and she immediately screamed. He had closed it on her fingers. He looked puzzled so I tried to stay calm and said in a very quiet even voice, "Open the door. Open the door. Open the door." It finally sunk in and her released her little fingers.

Instead of the store we went to the emergency room. Amazingly no bones were broken but her little hand was bruised. Her brother felt awful.

One rare day the kids got a visit from their father. When the visit was over he was driving away. My daughter had on her roller skates and decided to race him. She was on the sidewalk and only slightly behind. He went around the corner. She hit a rock and flipped head over heels.

When she got up she had a gash on her chin. She got several stitches to close it. They did a good job. She barely has a scar.

Most of her injuries happened as she got older. As a manager of a pizza place she had to know how to perform every job in the place. As an industrious worker she did every job in the place. She was constantly cutting her fingers. Several times she needed stitches.

Once she got a small piece of metal in her eye somehow. I took her to the emergency room and they used a magnet to remove it.

She always complained about her weird feet. She said they were deformed. Actually they were bunionettes. She had surgery on the first one. It was an outpatient procedure and I took her home as soon as she was alert enough to go.

She was still on crutches when she was allowed to go back to work. She was being siily and slipped and fell. There were wires in her foot that needed to be fixed. Being cautious is not her long suit.

At the hospital the nurses once told me they were going to reserve one of the treatment rooms just for my children. We laughed of course.

I have never really concerned myself with what other people think. I did start to think about all the times my children had been in that little room. All I could do was hope the medical personnel realized that these were all freak accidents. I certainly did not want them to call someone to investigate.

So now my children are grown. If they need medical treatment they have others to tend to them. If my grandchildren need emergency care, my children do it. I am happy to assist and occasionally I have but I do not miss the days of the emergency room.

Having Babies

I was overjoyed when I found out I was going to be a mother for the first time. I had 6 little brothers and sisters. As is common in large families I helped a lot with the little ones. So I felt more than ready.

My family did not live in the same state then so I could not go to my mother with questions. I sat and listened to all the women I knew talking about the horrors of labor. I was not overly concerned because I have always had the ability to live in the moment so until it happened it had nothing to do with me.

My husband made his own preparations for getting me to the hospital when the time came. He took the experience as a good excuse to be able to run through red lights and stop signs. It would be a great adventure.

In the meantime I gained forty pounds. A lot of it was fluid because I retain fluid naturally anyway.  Soon I began feeling little butterfly ripples in my abdomen. My baby was kicking! Every mother knows that your love for your baby begins long before it it born. I do not know how it is for a father but I was totally enchanted.

My baby was due before Mother's Day. As Mother's Day got closer and closer I hoped that I would not spend my first Mother's Day in the hospital. I was not in the hospital for Mother's Day. I still had not had my baby.

In bed and sound asleep during the night after Mother's Day I woke up suddenly. My water broke. Because I slept next to the wall I had to try to get my husband who slept like a dead man to let me up. I tried to tell him what was happening.

While I was in the bathroom getting dressed he came running in demanding to know why I had wet the bed! At least he was awake.

I again explained what was happening. He ran upstairs to the apartment of a friend and woke her up. She came down to offer help. She asked if I was in labor. I did not know. Nothing hurt. But I was feeling occasional bouts of what felt like the baby strongly kicking.

She times those. They happened about 6 minutes apart. I needed to go to the hospital.

That is when my husband became sick. He went to the medicine cabinet and poured every compound he could find into his stomach to try to settle it.

Then we set off for the hospital. Would you believe it? Every traffic light was green. My poor husband did not even get the pleasure of running even one red light.

I never did experience labor pains with my first baby. I kept waiting for it to hurt.

I was placed in a room with a woman whose baby was dead. They wanted her to experience normal delivery if possible because they thought it would be better for her physical recovery.

She was in terrible pain and knew she was not going to have a baby to hold after. She became hysterical. Remembering all those stories I heard earlier I waited for that to happen to me.

The doctor came in, did a quick examination, and said, "Okay. Let's go have a baby." I never did feel any pain.

My second baby was a different experience. I woke up almost exactly at the same time the alarm clock went off. It was time for my husband to go to work. But today he would be taking me to the hospital.

Once again things progressed quickly. And I was definitely feeling some discomfort. We dropped my oldest son off to be with my mother.

My doctor cme into the labor room and gave me a quick exam. Then he said that he was going to the cafeteria for a quick cup of coffee. As he started out the door I told him the baby was coming. He told me that it would take twenty minutes for the anesthetic to take effect and he would be back then.

Well he should have listened to me. The intern was getting into his scrubs. I said the baby is here. He turned and managed to grab my son just before he landed on the table.

My husband had taken a new job out of town. Naturally he was not there when labor began for my third baby. I was experiencing contractions but they were extremely erratic. It would be twenty minutes until the next one. Then the next one would be in four minutes. Then ten minutes. Then fifteen minutes. Then three minutes. They might last ninety seconds ot five seconds. There was no regularity at all.

Mom had my brother drive us to the hospital. The whole way I kept telling her that I was not sure I was in labor. I was going to be so embarrassed if they sent me home. This was my third baby for goodness sake. I did not even know if I was in labor.

They took me upstairs. Mom stayed to fill out those papers that need to be filled out and then went to the father's waiting room. A nurse popped her head in the door and asked if anyone was there with Emma. Mom got up.

She was told she could come see me. On the way they passed the nursery. The nurse asked my mother if she would like to see the baby.

Mom explained to her that she must have the wrong person. I had just come in after all. The nurse repeated my name. Mom said yes, that was right. The nurse showed my mother her new grandson.

When my fourth child was born I was staying with my parents again. As quickly as my babies seemed to be born we were worried that I might not make it 30 miles to hospital where we lived.

I went into labor and my mother drove me to the hospital. I went in to be examined. The long and short of it was that it was a false labor. I prepared to dress and go home.

The doctor went out to tell my mother it would be probably another ten days before my baby was born. She looked at him and said, "Oh no you don't. I know how she does this. I'll get her halfway home and she'll have that baby in the car."

He told her she could have me walk the halls for a bit to see if that would do anything. After a couple of hours Mom finally gave up and took me home. My daughter was born ten days later.

As you can see each experience was different. How can that be? I am the same person. It comes down to the babies. Just as they are unique individuals now, they were unique then too. Each came in his/her own time and own way.

On Being A Mother

The one thing I always wanted to be is a mother. Other occupations were considered too. I was going to be a famous singer but I cannot sing. I was going to be a renowned actress. I can act a bit but a career like that depends largely on being in the right place at the right time. I am not lucky. I was going to be so many other professions. It depended on the time of my life and my mood at the time. But I always wanted my own children.

I did not think about being a wife except for the fact that in those days you had to be married in order to have children. I do not think it was possible to have them if you were unmarried, was it? At any rate as I look back I know I was not a good wife. I am a terrific companion but as far as being "wifely", I lack considerably.

But in order to have children the husband was a must. I was engaged for a time to a young man my father introduced me to. It was like a first love kind of thing. Again looking back I know that a marriage between us would not have worked.

I married a young man (actually we were both children... I was 18 and he was 17) who was a hard worker. We loved each other. He had little experience around children even though he came from a large family. He was one of the little ones. But I was ready to start a family.

It was two years before I had my first son. I was in heaven. He was born right after Mother's Day. My husband dug right in and was the best father he knew how to be. He took our baby with him if he went visiting and was so proud to show him off. The one thing he did not want to try was changing diapers.

After another two years I had another son. He was beautiful. We decided that we would have another child... someday. My husband wanted a daughter. But for the time being we had all we could afford.

We talked about having that "someday child" often. Meanwhile I was so enjoying my boys. We talked and played and did all those things I always had dreamed of.

When my second son was three I found out we were going to have that "someday child". I was thrilled. One of the ways that I knew I was going to have a baby is that I would wake up one morning and think, "wouldn't it be nice to have another baby?" It happened every time.

But it was a difficult pregnancy. My husband had taken a new job out of town. I was unable to travel. I could not take proper care of the two I already had. We sold our house and I went to stay with my parents. The boys loved it there.

That was the year my third son was born. Because I had such a hard time taking care of my boys I decided that I was done having children.

I wanted to have surgery to prevent me from having more babies. At that time in our state my husband had to give "permission". How archaic is that? He was not willing to do that so I used other means to prevent pregnancy.

We moved to another state as soon as the baby and I were able to travel. Because my husband was a truck driver and on the road a lot I had all three of my boys to myself.

We explored our new surroundings together. My oldest son had just started school. We stayed up late and watched scary movies on television. It was wonderful.

But I was barely home from the hospital after having son number three when I discovered that I was probably going to have another baby. When my husband came home after a week on the road I told him he would need to stay up with the boys while I went to the doctor for confirmation.

So scarcely a year later my beautiful daughter was born. My husband took the children and me back to stay with my parents while I was pregnant. I was not having problems. But the nearest place to have a baby where we were living was 30 miles away. It did not take me very long to have a baby once they finally decided it was time to be born. I would probably not make it to the hospital.

That completed our family. I convinced my husband that it would be best for me to have that surgery. He reluctantly agreed. He was on the road when our daughter was born. He headed back when he was told she was here but he did not make it in time to sign for the surgery.

The nurse that was waiting for a signature wanted to know if I was absolutely certain my husband would sign. Of course I was.

I was the first female to sign for that surgery in that state. They needed a signature of permission. My signature would do until my husband could do it legally. By the time he arrived the surgery was over. His signature would have been senseless.

I managed a rock and roll band at one time. They played 50's and 60's music. The leader of the band was announcing their next song. He said; "You know, I was 19 and in Korea when this song was popular. Do you remember what you were doing at 19?" I spoke up that I was having a baby.

Then he said, "For that matter how many of you remember what you were doing at 21?" My reply was that I was having a baby.

He got a determined look on his face and said, "Do you remember what you were doing when you were 25?" Again, "I was having a baby." He gave up but I had another baby at 26.

"They" always say that your life has been a success if you have lived your dreams.  I am a success 4 times over because my children have been everything I wanted and more.

A Hairy Situation

You cannot tell by my baby picture on the right (wasn't I adorable?) but my hair grows very fast. It is very fine but there is a lot of it. My hair is straight and has no body.

I loved my color when I was younger. It was a sable brown and so rich looking. But as I got older the colors began to fade as they do for everyone. I colored it artificially for a few years then decided it was not worth all the trouble. I am fortunate enough to have inherited the genes that have kept me from getting too gray yet.

I like having long hair. There is something sensual and powerful about the feel of one's hair hanging down on one's back. I understand how Samson must have felt. At the same time it takes a lot of care and I do not like to take care of it.

There is also the matter of gravity. When we are young our muscle tone is good. Everything about our faces and bodies is firm and looks young. As we age gravity begins its pull. Skin loosens and sags. Long hair only helps give the illusion of pulling downward.

When I was beginning school little girls wore pigtails. Those are the two braids, one on either side of the head. If you were dressing up bows made from pretty ribbons were added to the look.

Because my hair was so fine yet so thick it was a mess to work with. All the high school girls were starting to wear ponytails. That is when your hair is pulled into one spot and anchored into place with a rubber band. Then it hangs loose down the back much like the tail of a horse. Mom decided that was for me.

I remember my first hair cut. I was about 8 years old. Mom was sick and tired of fixing my hair every morning. She decided to cut it off.

I mentioned that my hair is straight (as a string) and has no body. Mom knew it would need a bit of help. In the 1950's they had a permanent wave for little girls called Tonette. It came complete with paper dolls for the little girl to play with while she was being curled.

Mom and I had a good time with her cutting my hair (every time I get my hair cut I get an anxious feeling losing my mane) and rolling it in the skinny little curlers. She put the solutions on it when they were to be put on. All in all when we were through it looked pretty good.

I immediately went out walking so everyone could see my beautiful new self. I was bouncing proudly down the sidewalk when my father came driving up the street and screeched (actually screeched) to a halt. He was the town marshal and was patrolling the streets right then.

Daddy jumped out of the car and yelled. "What happened to your hair? Who did that to you?" I replied, "Mommy did it. Isn't it pretty?" As he was jumping back into his car he said, "I'm going to kill her." I was puzzled? I knew he was not going to kill her, of course. But what was he upset about? I was gorgeous.

It took practically no time for my hair to get long again. I had more cuts and more Tonettes over the years. I liked having curly hair. Both of my sisters have naturally curly hair. I am a little jealous.

Mom quit cutting my hair when I became a teenager. She sent me to the beauty shop instead. My first time at the beauty shop I had decided I wanted my hair shorter than it was but still long enough for a ponytail. The hairdresser was able to oblige.

As I entered high school long straight hair was the popular way to wear it. I certainly had the hair to pull off that look. I let my hair grow out. By the time I graduated from high school my hair was so long I could sit on it.

My boyfriend loved it. He told me after we were married that my long hair was what had made him notice me. Many of the older couples we knew called me Morticia after Morticia Addams. I liked it.

Two years after I was married I had my first baby. I fed all my babies the way nature intended me to. My son loved my hair. He would twirl it around in his hands and just wrap himself in it in general. The only problem was that when I would go to put him to bed after a feeding I found myself pulling out clumps of my hair so that I could then untangle it from my baby. Of course I then had to make sure I found all of the hairs wrapped around him and get them off.

When I discovered I was having another baby two years later I thought back to the hassle with my long hair and decided I would not do that again. Off I went to the hairdresser. I had all that hair cut off. The hairdresser was a little worried about my husband being upset with her for cutting my hair. I told her it was my hair for goodness sake.

Of course my husband was not pleased but he did not have to take care of all that hair. The surprising reaction was my 2 year old son. He did not speak to me for three days. He finally told me a few years ago that he and his father had done that on purpose thinking I would not cut my hair again. Silly boys.

Now that I am older I cannot stand to have my hair hanging against those two "corners" of my neck right behind my ears. And I can no longer feel comfortable with my hair in my eyes. I try to keep my hair short for those reasons too. And gravity.

I have never been a person who spends a lot of time taking care of my hair. I brush it to keep the tangles out. If I am going somewhere special I might doll up a bit but other than that... I do not get it cut as often as I should simply because I can always find something more interesting to do. And it takes so long to sit there while I get what is now called a "perm".

My hair has been growing for almost a year and a half since my last cut. It is getting closer to the middle of my back so I am planning on getting it done next week. Unless something more interesting presents itself that is.