The Diaries: Mellow mothering
My mother’s diaries present me as a woebegone sort of child for whom she showed less than the proper concern.
April 17, 1955: Lovely day. Bill helped Johnnie start breezeway. Then we went to Irene’s & Bill’s for dinner. Girls rode horses — Linda fell off.
I know there were only four lines per day in the diary, but was I OK or crushed under the hooves of a thundering stallion? She could have at least replaced that breezeway stuff with “O! my poor darling girl.”
A casual approach to my traumas is a thread through the early years. Like this vacation in Florida:
February 21, 1954: Lots of rain today. Linda got stung by a man-o-war. Badly. We had a red snapper dinner for 14 on our patio. Betty & Mike visited until late this eve.
I remember the man o’ war incident as far more gut wrenching. I was surrounded by searing tentacles — trying to pick them off, I got my hands severely stung. A lady on the beach dumped a bottle of ammonia on top of me, so I not only hurt, I stank. I could have been scarred for life. Come to think of it, I was scarred for life. Who cares how long Betty and Mike yapped into the night?
February 24, 1953: Ironing, ironing, etc! Ma & Phyl both came for supper. I took Lyn for a filling at the dentist. She was miserable acting. Nice day.
Nice day? Nice day?? The dentist was a scary old monster who clamped your mouth wide open then hummed Ama Pola, my pretty little poppy all the while he stuffed his hand down your gullet. And she says I was miserable acting.
I suppose if she manifested a certain laissez-faire approach to mothering, it is because I am a second child. And, in fairness, if Sis and I both managed to behave, we got some credit.
March 5, 1952: Went shopping this a.m. Visited Frances F. this p.m. Tonite we tore off to Wayne and saw “Distant Drums.” It was real good — so were the kids.
On a night that we acted as good as Gary Cooper, that was cause for comment. And it gave me the warm fuzzies tonight, 55 years later on the back nine.