My new mom is so beautiful. She has “curled” brown hair, big brown eyes, the best laugh and beautiful skin. She is 7 years older than me and so smart. She can do multiplication of any two numbers in her head. She also wrote all the ledgers samples in an accounting textbook and was a child model.
From an eleven year old child’s point of view she was very accomplished and as she was only 18 herself she really was. She is loyal, truthful, caring, and possesses the maturity of an old soul. Imagine being 18 years old and responsible for two children 11 and 9. My father when he worked the crane had the afternoon shift. So we’d be away at school all day and maybe see Dad before he left for work and then it’d just be the three of us. She also had the best record collection (LPs) which I listened to endlessly and she also had boxes of books that I ate up voraciously.
But there were also the arguments between her and my dad. The refrain I remember most was “it’s me or the kids”. I don’t remember the details of these arguments, but I can still feel the visceral fear of being thrown out again. I knew I had to be good and not get into any trouble because then maybe he’d choose her and we’d be gone somewhere else.
There were huge adjustments for everyone. I can only speak to those from my perspective however.
- We didn’t understand the concept of just going to the fridge and getting something to eat if we were hungry or the constant admonishment to just let her know when we used the last of anything. We were never allowed to go to the fridge or cupboards for food while we lived with the foster parents.
- The idea of going out to play. We tended to watch TV with our mother when we got home from school and while I know my sister and I spent happy hours outside using our imaginations to create song and dance routines I don’t remember being forced to go outside. With Dad and Donna we were shooed outside and were told not to come back until suppertime, lunchtime, etc. She actually locked us out. “Kids should be outside playing” was the prevailing theme.
- Punishment. I was used to being relegated to my room without dinner, however with Dad on afternoon shift most of the transgressions happened while in my new mom’s care but punishment was deferred to when Dad got home. You can imagine that this didn’t work out so well. She eventually had it out with Dad that punishment should be an immediate consequence and not something meted out on weekends or when he got home early on a Friday night just before they got ready to go bowling. My new mom’s argument went like this, “how can you punish a child on Friday for something they did on Tuesday, they won’t even remember what it was they did wrong by that time”.
Another note about punishment. As I said I was used to being punished for any and all transgressions even after Dad told me that my sister and I would be treated equally and fairly. Invariably my sister would do something she shouldn’t like invite a friend over while we were babysitting our baby brother, or calling someone long distance, etc. So when the hammer came down and we were asked to own up “it wasn’t me” was the standard refrain. Isn’t that always the case no matter how many children there are. A poltergeist did it!
When neither of us would own up to it, we would both be promised a “licking” when we got home after the weekend, or Sunday night or some other span of time. This would send me into a tailspin of fever and feeling sick to my stomach which I recognize now was probably anxiety attacks and I’d end up in bed the whole weekend or disappear into one of my hideyholes if we were at the cottage so no one could find me and I couldn’t get into any trouble if no one knew where I was, or at least that’s what I thought.
Sunday night we’d get home and we’d both be on our beds with our panties down, face-down on the bed waiting for the strap.
On more than one occasion my dad would ask me why I didn’t just tell him that my sister did it. I don’t know that I could articulate why as I was too terrified of getting the strap to be lucid at those moments. At some point away from the pressure of one of these incidents I was asked again and I said something like, but you’ll think I’m lying.
This more than anything else is probably one of the reasons Donna held to her guns on immediate punishment rather than these prolonged periods of self torture that I went through.
Did I mention that my sister didn’t appear to be bothered by any of this? It’s how it seemed to me at the time but I imagine that she was just as mystified by what was happening. That she would actually be punished for anything must have rocked her world.
While I don’t have contact with any of my immediate family members, the one I miss the most is my new mom. She was there for me when Dad accused me of things I’d never done and many years later when I asked her if she was worried about me when I left home at 16. She told me that she knew I was a survivor, therefore I’d be fine. I hope that one day she and I will be able to talk again without rancour or mistrust which I’ll explain later.