My Mother Really Didn't Like Me

Wow! That is some statement and not one I could really admit to for most of my life. After last weeks story of me appearing to be the happiest person in the world I should perhaps explain that it was not a life without disappointment and conflicts.  Somehow I learned some pretty good coping skills and a great sense of humor about life in general.  It took me a long time to realize that you can't make someone like or love you no matter how hard you try. 

I could write a book about my Mother and Father.  When my brother Paul, two years older than I and my brother Kenny, two years younger than me were little we had a pretty wonderful childhood by any standard.  I remember great birthday parties and Mom was always involved in school activities like PTA, Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts. Perhaps a bit like a "June Clever" in that until I was about eight or nine she was a stay at home Mom.  The house was always immaculate and there were wonderful things coming out of the oven.

When she went to work, even in the summer, there were no baby sitters. If Dad was at work we were not allowed to go out the front door but we could play in the backyard.  All three of us had chores to do, books to read and games to play with. We knew if we did anything wrong the little bird outside would tell her and we'd be in trouble. We learned to be self-reliant, how to entertain ourselves and how to protect each other in the event we did goof-up and do something wrong. Trust me, the house was still always immaculate and I learned to cook so nothing changed with her working.

There were piano lessons for Kenny and I, Boy Scout and Girl Scout camps in the summer and dancing lessons for me. Dad loved holidays so Christmas, Valentines Day, Easter and the Fourth of July were big events.  He often came home with beautifully wrapped presents for Mother for no special occasion. I always assumed they were just because he liked to shop for her.  In years to come the question as to why all the presents came to mind many times.  I never asked why.

The neighborhood we lived in was a terrific place to grow up in.  Every house had children so there was never a lack of things to do or kids to play with. When Mom or Dad were home we could race up and down the street on our bikes in the summer or sleds in the winter.  Nothing was better than playing cowboys or army, climbing trees or daring each other to jump off of a roof. Not many girls close by so I learned to hold my own with the boys. 

Their were lots of dolls in my room and a closet full of dresses with bows and frills.  Much to my Mother's dismay the dresses always had hems torn out or dirt ground in that wouldn't come out.  Baseball at school recess resulted in skinned knees for years.  Growing up with two brothers was great fun for me but Mother did not like the tom-boy daughter. Being a good student in school ended up being my only salvation.

My teenage years were a real challenge. It all really started when I was elected cheerleader the summer before the ninth grade.  Now there are not too many girls, even tom-boys, who do not want to be a cheerleader. Seem to remember her telling me that under no circumstances did she want me to try out and how stupid she thought it all was.  Since it was, at that time, the most important thing in the world I sort of disobeyed.  Knowing how upset she was going to be it took me days to tell her.  Yes, it was as bad as I expected. Dad came to my rescue and I got to go to cheerleader camp, practice like crazy all summer and make it to all the games. Not without a price.  She never spoke to me about being a cheerleader and never came to a game.

Naturally I loved school.  Could not wait to get there everyday and developed a real dislike for summer. Rules were strict when I started dating.  If I went to a seven o'clock movie I should be home by nine-fifteen.  No reason to go to the local hangout for a coke when you can have one at the movie.  If something happened and I was going to be late all I needed to do was to call. I tried that once and was in more trouble so I was just always late. Punishment was she did not speak to me for a day or a week just depending on how mad she was. It was pretty quiet around our house as she usually wasn't speaking to me, my big brother or my Dad.

Since I was not allowed to go to slumber parties or just go hang out at another girl's house I did not have many really close girl friends. Our house became a haven for every hot rod in town since both brothers hid in the garage working on cars all the time. I found it fun to learn about pistons, rods and slicks plus I learned how to be friends with boys.  Needless to say it was a definite no when I wanted to learn to play the drums, drive in the powder puff derby at the stock car races or get a motorcycle. I did get a car since neither parent ever allowed us to drive theirs. A bright red 1954 Chevy convertible appeared in the driveway on my sixteenth birthday. I had a newspaper route to pay for gas but the car stuck out like a sore thumb so Mom always knew where I was.

Actually I was a pretty good kid.  I tried hard to stay out of trouble, dated really nice boys, did not drink or smoke and had really good grades in school. Loved speech and debate and got a singing dancing part in the school musical.  Very much into folk music and reasonable at playing the guitar. She didn't come to anything. I learned what my boundaries were and tried  to fend off the "silent treatment".

When it came time to apply for college I wanted to go where everyone else was going.  I applied to Oklahoma University, Oklahoma State University and Arkansas.  Mother made me apply to Smith, Vassar and Stephens Colleges. When I was accepted at all six places I think I knew I was not going to have a choice.  The Mother chose Stephens College in Columbia, Missouri.  It was an all girls college with pretty strict rules even in those days and closer than the ones on the east coast. Dad tried to bribe me to not go with a corvette or a '53 MGTD but at that point away from home was all I wanted, the further the better, even if it meant I would be stuck with girls that I knew I had nothing in common with.

You are going to have to check out the story next week on how a roomate and a bunch of other girls set me on a path, though a lengthy one, that changed my life.