Dog days of childhood.

Quick warning and disclaimer… This entry is pure therapy for me, offering almost no reading entertainment for you.... 

2 AM I woke up from a whopper of a nightmare.  A new variation on a common theme: back in my childhood situation trying to save myself and protect Amber and sometimes even Bobby.  This time it was the dogs; Ledger and Hurley.  I woke up sobbing harder than usual and then my mind exploded with a Pandora’s Box of memories.  I hadn’t exactly ‘suppressed’ them; I have total recall now but had completely forgotten…. 

A little history is necessary at this point…

From about age seven until fourteen I was under the complete control of an ignorant, white-trash, sexual-sadist, drug addicted, habitually unemployed, sociopath (undiagnosed, in the interest of full disclosure) who my mother married.  A few close friends have heard some of the more interesting and/or entertaining anecdotes from those days.  Professionals have heard, in excruciating detail, every story I remember.   Occasionally something will trigger a random memory flash, usually just arbitrary incidents of no real importance or interest.  Not this time.

 

Falling in love with first Hurley and then Ledger, I kept saying I couldn’t believe I’d gone my whole life without knowing this special love and happiness that a dog brings to every single day.  I hadn’t though.  I’ve had a dog, dogs before!

Gunner was the name of my dog when I was 9.  He was a small, light tan mixed-breed ball of energy and love.  I spent every available moment with him.  Surprised that a puppy locked in the bathroom all day will chew at the door, they tied him up outside.  Even though we lived in a rural trailer park, 8 months of barking when he was alone during the day, they sent him to live in town with a friend and then he was ‘stolen’ when I asked to visit him.  I was heartbroken but not surprised.

Waldo and Agnes were the pair of non-papered Irish Setters that he bought to breed and make money from selling the puppies.  We lived in town at this point so they had a minuscule fenced off section in the corner of the back yard, about 15x20.  Those poor creatures spent 98% of their time in that little pen.  I wasn’t allowed to take them out or play with them.  However, it was my job to feed and water them each day and to clean the pen once a week.  (Strange, I don’t remember ever throwing up back then although it was disgusting and unspeakably gross.  Apparently my weak stomach is something I’ve acquired later in life.)  When people weren’t willing to pay for any of the 13 puppies… all of the animals were just gone one day.  I missed them but mostly was glad I didn’t have to see their sad lives anymore.

These, with much more detail of course, are the memories that came rushing back to me in the middle of the night.  Considering the big picture, these are almost happy memories, so no idea why I’d forgotten them so completely. 

Inundated and overwhelmed, I couldn’t decide what to do with all this.  I can’t call Amber at 2:00 AM and haven’t’ seen a shrink in years… (thought I was over all this shit) so decided to purge it out here.  Not remotely what I advertised with this blog but then I’ve slacked in publishing anyway so at least I’m consistent. 

Things I wasn’t taught…

With my daughter expecting her first child I’ve been thinking often of knowledge, ideas and information I want to share with her as she begins this journey.  Conversely it brings to mind the things my own mother failed to teach me.  I’m staggered by the amount of information I wasn’t provided.  Not even as a new teenage mother, (although that would have been nice too) just growing up, being a female human.  It would be a more manageable job to talk about the tidbits of wisdom and experience that were passed along. 

Although the serious level of dysfunction is represented by the primary piece of advice that sticks in my mind to this day –”Alcohol is risky, just look at Uncle Alcoholic.  Drugs are ok, as long as you never cross the line from use to abuse.”  Of course all being relative, rarely any drug user thinks they are in fact abusing their drug of choice. 

So I continue on with the original topic.  I discovered the majority of these things during the hours of my voracious, escapism, if sometimes age-inappropriate, reading.  Many lessons learned relatively late in life.

In no particular order, just as they occur to me, I was never taught:

• To change the bed linens each week.  Maybe (I shudder to report) two or three times a year was standard rotation for my bed sheets while growing up. (after the bedwetting period that is)
• To pluck and/or wax eyebrows and upper lip.  A glance at photos of me pre mid 80’s show the sad results of neglecting this grooming point.
• To always bring a small gift when invited to someone’s home.  Not as required or in-fashion now as the 60’s, the era when my book was set, but a very nice and polite habit to observe.
• To send out thank you cards.  I had never heard of them until I forced Amber to begin writing them when she was about 6.
• The existence of high thread-count sheets!  Absolutely worth every extra cent you pay for them!  How did I go so long before discovering that?  No woman should be forced to sleep on anything less than 100% Egyptian Cotton 500 tc sheets, unless she has lost all sensitivity in her extremities.
• Deodorant is part of polite society from about age 10, younger for the stinky among us.  Young girls should be taught to include it in their daily grooming maintenance.  I remember one ‘family’ aerosol can of Right Guard in the medicine cabinet that I would sneak.
• About shaving my legs, starting my period and wearing a bra – none of these milestones were discussed or even noticed.  I borrowed from friends for the first couple of years in the case of bras and feminine supplies.  I secretly used the ‘family’ razor during my daily shower until I moved out.
• To periodically wash hair brushes, make-up brushes and change out tooth brushes and bath sponges for new ones.  I remember using the ‘family’ hair brush; kept in the bathroom for years…and never washed. 
• The true value of manners and etiquette.  I received the basics (we weren’t cavemen).  ‘Please’ and ‘Thank you’ were standard and expected from (but not extended to) children.  My literary travels in conjunction with actual travels increased my store of and appreciation for superior, gracious social deportment.
• How to order in restaurants.  At 3 or 4, Amber could order for herself, concise, polite and with confidence whatever the type of eating establishment.  I learned in a high school elective class.
• The habit of good posture.  ‘Sit up straight’ & ‘Sit like a Lady’ were phrases Amber heard regularly in her younger years, but now she has automatically perfect posture while I slouch a good part of the time.
• How to properly set a table and the skills to be a pleasant dining companion.

This list unfortunately could go on and on and into greater, more emotional depth than anyone wants or should be subjected to without receiving a psychologist fee.   I am going to maintain and update it (mentally) as new things come to mind, just to be certain I’ve not left anything out of Ambers upbringing and she can pass on to her child.