Momma Sandy Says - Birth Order

Moma Sandy Says

Birth Order

   The idea that a child's birth order having some effect on their personality is controversial.  Wikipedia is not fond of it, calling it "pop culture psychology."  I first heard about the concept in the early 1970's.  The idea has some merit, though it is far from sound scientifically.  I'll present the concepts and then comment.

   The first born is supposed to be the high achiever.  They seek approval, tend to be perfectionist.  They are reliable, conscientious, structured, cautious, and controlling.  They tend to be found in leadership careers such as law, medicine, business leaders, etc.

The second borns are very different.  Nor surprisingly they tend to be understanding, cooperative, flexible, yet competitive.  They can be people pleasers, somewhat rebellious and concerned with fairness.  They tend to have a large circle of friends and are considered to be peacemakers.  Some have said that a higher percentage of people in the arts can be found here.

The third borns are considered to be the baby of the family.  These tend to be the charming, fun loving, uncomplicated, outgoing ones.  On the negative side, they can also be manipulative, attention seeking, and self centered.  Their charm and likeability take them far.  Often the first and third borns are closer friends that with the second.

   Only children are said to be distinct.  In some ways they are like first borns, but without the competition from younger siblings.  They tend to be more verbal and seem more mature.  Other traits associated with them are resourceful, creative, confident, and perfectionists.  Strong leadership skills often pop up.  Think of them as the lone wolfs of the family structure.

   What about kid # 4 and so on?  What I've run across states that child #4 is like child #1, and so forth.  So child #6 is like child #3, etc.  Multiple births would be based on birth order as well.  Or so the theory goes.

   So what do I think about all this?  When I first heard of this I realized that it described my then boyfriend's family perfectly.  Number 1 turned out to be a respected reliable, conscientious lawyer.  Number 2 is still the family peacemaker.  And the family rebel.  And the only one of the 3 working in the arts.  Number 3 was, and still is the baby of the family.  She shares many traits with #1, as well as much closer ties.  I knew enough about the family that these traits were not trained, they were naturally occurring.

  Interesting.  But not enough to convince me that this theory is truly valid.  So I decided to collect more data.  It's what, 40 years later?  Still collecting data, though I'm coming to some conclusions.  I think the idea is reasonable due to logically occurring events.  The initial similarities between first borns and only children supports that.  What changes for the first born is that they now have competition.  With all the care a second baby needs, the first born has to work harder to prove that they deserve the time and affection they were used to getting.

   What happens with second borns is logical as well.  They have to compete with their older sibling for parental time and affection.  They also have to survive their older sibling.  The tendency towards large friendship circles was explained as creating a new support system when the other siblings push them out.

   And what about the third born?  Made sense too.  By the third child parents have figured out more of the parenting skill thing (hopefully) and are more relaxed.  These kids are charming and manipulative because they have to be in competition with the others!

   I looked at a lot of families.  My mom's family for one.  Alice was the firstborn.  Dead on.  Ralph the second born-yeah, pretty much with some compensation for the fact that he was preemie.  Everett - yeah, 3rd born.  Del was 4th, so back to first born.  Hard to tell, since Del suffered brain damage at age 17.  But probably pretty close.  Marion was number 5.  Rebellious?  Yes.  Understanding?  Cooperative, etc.?  Definitely.  Louise was #6 and a classic 3rd child.  Manipulative as the day is long.  Joan was the 7th, so back to #1.  Despite the fact that she was the youngest child, she really was a first born.  Interest stuff.

   But the system is not perfect.  I was an only child, but show traits from only child and child #2.  Probably because for the first part of my life my parents were helping raise my older cousin.  

   I'm still not sure how to explain my children.  God having a joke on me?  I wanted a girl first so that an older brother wouldn't bully her.  Boy did I have that backward!  I had my son first, and he is almost a classic second born-large group of friends and all.  His peacemaking skills have been greatly appreciated.  My second born daughter is clearly a first/third child mix.  All the charm when she wants to use it, with all the responsibility and leadership skills.  Whee!

  I think the experts are correct in that birth order is not a science.  I think it is more of a result.  And sometimes things like blended families, divorce, adoption, family psychological make-up, etc. can all effect it.  I wouldn't be surprised to find out that there are stories out there of kids who changed to some degree after becoming part of a blended family, etc.  Children are adaptable.  I would say that birth order tends to be a function of nurture, not nature.

   Don't take the birth order stuff too seriously.  Observe it.  Knowing that a child of a certain birth order tends to be a certain way may help in discipline planning.  Note the may.  Certainly don't try to mold them into a birth order pattern.  Your kids are going to be who they're meant to be.  Our job is to try to help the process be a positive one.

Dementia, Part 2

Dementia, Part 2

   The previous post was until abut 5 years ago.  I was finding out about dementia and mom was slowly loosing her short term memory.  And then gradually parts of her long term memory.  Mom loosing her long term memory was one of the thing driving my desire to blog the family stories.  With mom no longer remembering, or only partly remembering, I was the only one to remember many of the stories.

   But as I said, the losses were gradual.  Mom was clearly slowing down physically too.  The doctor and I talked about it, and I started going to visits with mom to the various doctors.

   The first major change happened around 4 years ago now.  We know now what happened, but it was a scary and confusing blur now.  Like many seniors, mom wasn't drinking enough water.  She developed a urinary infection.  It started to get better (we thought it was a cold or something), but then it got toxic, fast.  Mom got very sick.  I called 911 when she started passing out.  Turns out it had effected her heart and she had her first bout of afib.

   The hospitalization was a nightmare.  I still want to boot her primary doctor.  She couldn't keep anything down-it was coming out both ends, she was clearly not coherent, and he wanted to send her home!  About that time her heart went afib again and more tests led the heart doctors to decide she needed a pacemaker.  Putting that in gave me and the hospital discharge people time to convince her doctor to get his head out of his ass and figure out what was wrong!

   Once the infection was dealt with properly, then it was just a matter of getting her systems to settle down.  She ended up staying in the hospital 2 weeks!  Besides the pacemaker, the lasting result was the damage to her brain.  We're not sure why entirely, but basically, mom decided to shut down mentally during her hospital stay.  As much of a private person as she is, the vomiting and such, as well as the  impersonal care had to have been beyond embarrassing to her.

   Once Mom was ready to be released, she was not capable to caring for herself, especially while I was at work (yes, I was still working during most of this).  So mom spent 2 weeks in a convalescent center, where she did massive amounts of physical and mental therapy.  I could see great healing of her ability to do things.  But there was this massive hole in her memory about the hospital stay and the sick time before.  It's like it didn't exist and she didn't understand.  A lot.  During mom's hospitalization, I took over her financial and medical stuff.  She was never really able to take care of it afterwards.

   It seemed like the lapses in memory happened at a faster rate after that.  She had pretty much given up driving before she got sick.  Driving was no longer an option after that.  Mom was aware of the fact that she was having problems remembering things.  She was glad that I was handing her money and medical stuff.  

   Following the advice of the therapists, I was able to retrain mom to do a lot.  Being useful has always been important to her.  So she relearned how to wash dishes, dump trash, and even wash clothes, which had been her primary jobs before.  I had to supervise more often, but mostly she was ok.

   I started noticing things.  For years, mom had faithfully read the daily paper.  It was one of her joys.  That and a cup or two of coffee in the morning.  I noticed that she was just turning the pages of the paper, not really reading it.  When I asked her about it, she admitted that it had become a habit.  So, with her permission, I cancelled the daily delivery and kept the computer delivery for me.  I have my habits too.  She didn't really miss it.  I noticed she had stopped being interested in watching any television.  She was never big on watching tv, but she did watch the news and her beloved baseball.  Now she didn't care.  She really enjoyed going to a few baseball games with me that summer (even though it did tire her out), but otherwise didn't care.  More and more she was going into another world.

   Years ago I had noticed that both her brothers (and her father) had gone into a kind of dementia that resembled letting the world go away and living in a gray world.  It seemed like they were living in a place that was sort of the past, but also sort of nothing.  I remember watching my uncles fighting to remain in the present so they could talk to my mom when she visited them towards the end of their lives.  Mom seemed to be edging towards that grayness.

   I think it was about then that mom's primary doctor started talking about the different kinds of dementia.  And I started doing my research.  For insurance purposes he called it Alzheimer's, but mom really didn't fit that criteria.  It wasn't until later, when mom had her brain scan that we got a better diagnosis.  The doctor told me that as long as mom stayed healthy and didn't have any more big drops in brain ability, she could last for several more years.  Part of me was appalled at the thought of having to care for my mom for several more years.  The better part of me was glad for the time.  My daughter had gotten engaged and there had been concern that mom might not be well enough for the wedding.

Family Stories - Places I've Lived, Part 2

Family Stories

Places I've Lived, Part 2

     As I ended last week, when I was 8 years old, we moved from the house on Montecito Drive to a 2 bedroom apartment on San Marcos Dr.  Both were in the same town.  The new place was actually just within walking distance for me from my parents business.

  The apartment complex we moved into consisted of 3 buildings.  It was a big lot.  The larger building (about 12 apartments) faced out on another street.  Right behind that was a large carport with 2 apartments on top (and a laundry room and a work area for the owner).  Our building included the property swimming pool.  There were 7 apartments (2 of which were 1 bedroom), and a carport.  I lived in that complex for about 10 years, in two different apartments.  Mom stayed there after the divorce and ended up in 3 of the apartments.  Over the years I got to see the insides of all the apartments in our building, and some of the others in the complex.

   The complex was a good one.  It was owned by the builder, a local contractor who had a good reputation.While Elmer New might not have been the fastest landlord at fixing things, he was a good guy and he fixed them right.

   I was excited by the change.  For the first time, I had a real bedroom, with a real bed.  My parents promised that they would get me my own furniture the next weekend, and they did.  I used that chest of drawers and nightstand well into my adulthood.  We lived in Apartment A, downstairs in the corner.  When the building was new, he lived there with his smaller family.  He combined Apartments A and (one bedroom) B.  When the light was right, I could see the outline in my bedroom wall where the door between the two apartments used to be.  We also had the only fenced in backyard area.  It was mostly concrete with a clothesline, bu there was a small area that we could grow flowers and vegetables in.  Mr. New used to come over and check out our vegetables.  It amazed him that my mom could grow such a variety in such a small area.  He didn't understand her green thumb.  Mom was also able to grow carnations, which was a joy to her.  At the old place she had never been able to successfully.  Either the neighbor dogs would pee on her plants, or the high school boys haired to mow the lawns would also mow the plants, or something.  It had been a source of frustration for mom.

   Also exciting to me was the fact the the complex had quite a few kids in it at the time.  Strangely enough, almost all of them were boys.  At first I wasn't welcome, but they grudgingly let me join them.  I always was a bit of a tomboy, so after I had shown my merit in football (tacking, grabbing on and not letting go, etc.), I was allowed to play.  The leader of our gang of kids at the time was an older kid who was also somewhat lame.  He wasn't a nice person.  Things were better once his family moved.

   Mostly I played with the boys in our building.  Mike's family were nudists, which I didn't understand until much later.  My parents were wise enough to not teach me to be judgmental about all that.  Instead they just taught me that I always, always had to knock and have them let me in their place.  Gave them time to put clothes on.  I liked Mike and his family and was sad when the moved to a house about 2 years later.  Steve lived next door to Mike (both were upstairs units).  I found out later that Steve's parents were "swingers."  My parents weren't interested, but Mike's parents sometimes "swung" as well.  I didn't care.  We were just kids having fun.

   Because of the swimming pool in our building, we did get to know most everyone.   In the front building was a woman and her 18 year old son.  The son was great with us kids and helped us learn to swim better.   This guys older brother was a Hollywood actor who was in a popular tv show of the time.  I met the actor one time and he gave me an autographed photo.  I liked his brother better.

   Mostly the kids in the area were good.  There was one exception.  There was a small street that ran down a small hill from our place.  There was a family that lived at the bottom of the hill that my father was very clear about.  They were bad news!  And it was true.  The boy that was my age tried to get the other kids in our complex to do stuff with him and was always mean to any girls.  If that kid showed up, I left.  It was a big family.  It seemed as if the boys eventually went to prison and the girls either become welfare mothers or worse.  I am glad to report that there was a happy ending for that family.  One of the middle boys became a Christian while in prison and once out became a pastor.  All that family changed for the better.

   During warmer weather a lot of the complex tenants hung out by the pool.  The landlord had put in a barbeque and a lot of impromptu parties sprang up.  Most of the time we lived there there seemed to be compatible people living in the complex.  The parents were careful to make sure we kids didn't see anything we weren't supposed to, but we all seemed to have fun.  My parents original group of friends had mostly fallen apart, so they were glad to make new friends to have fun with.  Especially since it didn't mean driving long distances, which was mostly what had happened with Dad's old service buddies.

   One of the things I learned about apartment living was that the people are always changing.  Mike and his family moved to a house.  Steve's parents got a divorce and he ended up elsewhere with his mom.  Another kid (living with just his mom) was spending too much time with the kids down the hill, so his mom shipped him off to a military academy.  And so it went.

  I think it was just before I hit my teens my dad's mother died.  Cancer.  Grandma's 3rd husband was an alcoholic and he vanished just after the funeral.  The property was in Grandma's name, so it went to my dad.  So suddenly we became the owners of the two houses I had first lived in - on Prospect Avenue.  That area, like our own, was in process of changing from single residences to apartments.  Grandma's property was too narrow to sell for apartments, so we had to wait for one of the neighbors to sell with us.  That took a few years.

   In many ways it was odd to own those houses.  I had memories of living in both places.  Luckily we were able to rent the back, little house somewhat quickly.  That lovely single, older woman stayed there until we finally sold the place.  The front house was much more problematic.  We would do our best to get good tenants, but somehow, every time  stuff would happen.  I think my dad was a sucker for single women needing a place.  We'd rent the place to her and her kids, then either her ex would move back in, or she'd have some new guy move in.  Sometimes my dad had to deal with abusive and violent men. Luckily he had friends on the local police force.  But the result was always the same.  After only a few years (or even months some times) the family would move out, leaving horrible, horrible messes behind.  My parents wouldn't even let me come over to help, sometimes, until the worst of it was dealt with.  I don't know how many times  I painted (the areas I could reach) the bedrooms, the kitchen, etc.  Or I'd have to weed outside.  Bleh!  Finally we'd get it cleaned up enough to rent and we wouldn't have to do it again.  For a while.  Cured me of ever wanting to be a landlord!

  It was at some point during this period that we moved.  I was older and no longer needed the back yard to play in.  Plus I think the other Apartment was cheaper.  So we moved to the apartment in our building that was over the garage, Apartment E. I'd never lived upstairs before.  And having an apartment over the garage meant we didn't have the noises of others above or below us.  I think that may have been the deciding factor in the move.  My parents put in a window air conditioner (originally from my Grandmother's place) in their room, and we were set.  I spent all my high school years in that place.  My rooms walls were full of posters and pictures.

   By the time we moved upstairs there weren't as many kids my age in the complex.  I did have a friend and her family move in downstairs, which was cool.  That is, until her mom decided to move all them back to her native Australia.  We were pen pals for a number of years, but her life took some odd turns and we didn't really reconnect until she moved back to the U.S. years later.

  There was one memorable event that happened when I was living in Apt. E.  February of my senior year of high school there was a major earthquake that happened around 6 a.m.  It was around 7.0 on the Richter scale.  It hit about the time I was supposed to be getting up.  I remember hanging onto my bed wondering if I was going to end up on top of someone's radiator?  I didn't, but there were some pretty good new cracks in the wall.  Going to high school that day was a very eerie sensation.  We had a minor after shock and people started screaming.  I'm so a Californian.  I thought the people were foolish for screaming.  One thing I didn't know until later was that when my dad left us to go check on our business he also drove over to check on his girlfriend.  I wondered at the time what took him so long.  He had a very lame excuse.

My parents marriage ended while we were living in Apartment E.  I'll write about that later and about my first living experiences away from home.

Momma Sandy Says - Helping your children choose their friends

Momma Sandy Says

Helping Your Children Choose Their Friends

   There is a fine line between being an involved parent and a controlling parent.  I always thought that the trick to it was to involve your children in the decision making processes.  Ultimatums have always been a problem for my children.  My son especially.  If he understood why he had to do something, he wouldn't have a problem with it (usually).  If he didn't understand, heels would be firmly dug in.

   The same principles I used in helping them choose which tv programs were good to watch (and not) also apply to the process of helping your children choose their friends.  Here's a few things I've learned over the years:

1.  If you tell your child that he or she cannot spend time with x child, it's likely they will find a way to do so.

2.  Letting your children have a say in who their friends are will help in the process of weeding out the inappropriate ones.  They may spot the ones that need to go long before you do.

3.Take the time to get to know your kids friends.  I don't mean become friends with them, but be around and observe them.  Interact with them.  You will learn which kids are mean, which kids have manners, and which kids you want your kids to have as friends.

4.Play dates for young children are a good idea.  Usually it means the kids play and the parents get a chance to size each other up.  A pretentious, pain-in-the-ass mother does not mean her kids is bad news, but it is a red flag.  If the two kids (or their parents) don't get along, they don't have to endure another play date.

5.  After school activities like scouts, sports, religious activities are a good thing.  You don't have to run the events, but be involved enough so that you can keep an eye on things.  Remember to listen to your kids if they are unsure about something or someone.

6.  Consider letting your house be an after school hangout for your kids and a limited number of friends.  This is more important once they hit junior and senior high school.  The other kids parents might want to meet you, and that's a good thing as well.  If your kids friends are hanging out at your place you have first access to information about them and their lives.  On the down side, you probably have to feed them.

7.  With your kids, work out house rules for visitors.  It will be understood that some infractions are more important than others.  In our house, smoking and drugs were forbidden.  Bringing drugs into my house was one of the few things that would get a kid banned.

8.  When there is a problem with a visiting child, deal with it appropriately at the time.  Later on, discuss it with your child that brought him or her over.  This should not be a scolding or punishment time.  it should be more of a why did that happen and how can we avoid it again?  Now if I had a child of mine who bought over a drunken friend, my child and I would have words.  Now if my kid brought that drunken child over because there was no safe place for that kid to be, well...  But we would talk about options.

9.  Your children need to know that you will generally keep secret the things they tell you in confidence.  However, some things, must go to other sources.  For example, one of my children came to me, concerned about a friends behavior.  Good call.  The behavior was suicidal in nature and needed to be dealt with.  My child was concerned about confidentiality and loosing the friendship if it became known that he/she was the snitch.  We worked it out that I would privately inform the school counselor of the issue.  It got dealt with and confidentiality was saved.

10.  You do need to supervise kids that are over at your house.  Especially if they're teens.  In fact, you can be legally and financially liable for what they do.

So clearly, you need to help your children choose good friends.  And to help them recognize who bad friends are and how to get rid of them.  This is something they will be doing all their lives.  A lot of it is about choices.  Who do they choose to spend time with?  Some of the choices will be out of your and their hands.  School, for example, means your child will be spending large amounts of time with others.  Something like being involved in band, or dance means they will be put in groups where they spend hours with others.  And what if those others are just not nice kids?  That's where you teach your kids the best you can and pray they make the right choices.

I want to close this with the story of Doug and Billy Brown.  Doug was technically, my dad's cousin.  He was 11 years older than I was.  Doug lost his mother when he was quite young.  Doug's dad was an alcoholic and spent the rest of his life living off of women-mostly in other states.  Because of the screwy laws concerning children at the time, Doug spent part of his growing up years with his dad (usually only a few months at a time), part in foster homes, and part with my parents (whenever they could force the county to give Doug back to us).

   Billy Brown was the kid who lived next door to us.  That kid lived with his mom and Grandfather.  The nicest thing I ever heard about the Grandfather was that he was mean.  So Billy grew up in a very dysfunctional home.  Since he was already severely punished by his grandfather for minor things, Billy saw no reason why he shouldn't do major things wrong.  When Doug was in his early teens he came back to us again.  Billy Brown saw in Doug a potential friend, co-conspirator, and a potential alibi.    My parents knew that Billy was headed for trouble in a big way.  He was already suspected of theft, street racing, cruelty to animals, and who knew what else.  So they told Doug to stay away from Billy Brown.

   Since he was a teen, Doug didn't listen to my parents and snuck out late at night several times to hang out with Billy.  Doug was very fortunate that the two of them weren't caught doing anything.  As it was, Billy encouraged Doug to steal from a local merchant.  Doug had no talent for theft and was, of course, caught.  The wrath of my 5'6" father was much scarier than the police.  Eventually Doug figured out that hanging out with Billy was only going to result in problems-for Doug.  So the budding friendship was ended.

   When both boys were old enough they made choices that determined their futures.  Doug had stayed on the straight and narrow and joined the Marine Corps.  He made that his career, earning a college degree, and retiring as an officer.  Billy Brown didn't change his ways.  When he was old enough he was arrested as an adult and went to prison.  We never heard of him ever being a free man, at least not for very long.

   So help your children make good choices in their friends.

Family Stories - Places I have lived

Family Stories

Places I Have Lived

   Along with the stories of my childhood, I don't want the places I've lived to be forgotten either.  So tonight, I'll talk about them.

   My parents first apartment was what we would call a studio apartment.  It even had a Murphy bed.  For those who don't know what those are, those are beds that fold up into the wall.  A nice Murphy Bed has a wooden cabinet.  Somehow I doubt my parents first place was that nice.  Mom didn't really like it at all.  But it was their first home and she did her best to make it nice.  I was not born there.

   At some point after the end of WWII, after the economy picked up, My dad's mother, Lucille, and her second husband, Bill were able to buy a piece of property that had two houses on it.  The front house was a 2 bedroom place with a fenced in back yard.  The drive way went all along the side of the house, along the fenced in back yard to the back house.  There was a shed/garage type building that was along the driveway between the two houses.  The front house had what I think was originally a front porch that had been enclosed.  The bottom half was normal wall, but the top was all glass with shades that rolled down.  I can remember (I must have been around 3) standing in that little room staring at the patterns the sun made on the window glass.  The entry way to this room was very narrow.  I think a normal adult would have a hard time getting through.  It was sort of a magical room to me.

   The back house was a small, one bedroom place.  I suspect originally it was a "mother-in-law house."  For my parents it was a cozy love nest where I was created and first came home to.  Lucille and Bill lived in the front house at first.  My mom and Lucille did not get along.  Boy, is that an understatement!    Lucille, probably due to guilt over her own poor parenting skills, thought that Joan (my mom) was not good enough for my dad.  She was very clear about this.  In fact, she was a bitch about it.  Since Lucille had the key to their little house (landlord), Lucille would take her girlfriends to the back house to show what a poor housekeeper Joan was.  And if it wasn't dirty enough, Lucille was known to make it dirty and messy.

  Lucille's behavior was intolerable.  Partly I blame her increasing alcoholism.  My mom complained.  My dad was in a tough spot - mom vs. wife?  Luckily he chose to support his wife.  Dad talked to Bill and a compromise of sorts was made.  Bill and Lucille moved out of the front house and into a house in the new San Gabriel Village part of town.  My parents moved to the front house, since I was now moving towards toddlerhood.  The back house was rented out, and my dad had the responsibility of dealing with the tenants.

   I don't remember living in the back house.  It had it's own fenced in yard too.  I do remember living in the front house.  Some legendary stories happened there, like the Uncle Murray story about him stopping by just to insult my dad.

  But we didn't stay all that long in the front house.  I don't remember the story, but there was a switch, with Lucille and Bill moving the back house (and renting the front house), and us buying their former place on Montecito Road.

   I loved the house on Montecito Road.  It had a long front yard with a jacaranda tree about half way up.  There was a small curing, paved path up the the house, besides the driveway.  I have pictures of baby me in that tree.

   It was sort of Spanish style.  it certainly had the tile like roof.  Steps up to a small tiled front porch (no roof over it to speak of).  The front door entered into the large front room.  Looking to the left from the front door there was a fireplace.  I have photos of our Christmas stockings hung on the shelf above it.  There was a big window along the porch side.  We put our Christmas tree there.  From the front room there was a door to my parents bedroom.

   Going to the right from the front door there was the entryway to the dining room.  Before you to to that though, there was a narrow hallway with dark wood trim.  Most of the wood in the house was dark.  The dining room was pretty amazing.  Another tall window to the east, facing the front yard.  The small Christmas train track usually went below that.  The entire north wall of that room was dark wood cabinets.  Amazing, built in, cabinetry that you can't find today.  The was a small window above that.

     From the dining room, there was a door to the west that led into the kitchen.  That was a long, narrow room that was old fashioned, even then.  It did have a built in ironing board.  Very strange!  About halfway down the room, on the north wall was a door that led to a very small room that had a door that led to the driveway, behind the wall.  I'm not sure what it was for originally.  maybe an entrance alcove?  Or a pantry of sorts?  In any event, it was just big enough to be a small bedroom for me.  I had a lovely wooden hutch for my clothes.  And a day bed.

   As I think about it, that house must have been pretty added on to from the original floor plan.  At the back of the kitchen was a very small room that served as our laundry room and pantry.  My earliest memories of mom washing clothes was on a very primitive clothes washer that had a wringer built into the top.  Once the clothes were clean and wrung out we would hang them up outside.

   The wash room led to the hall way from the front room and to a door to the add on den and a door to the back yard.  The den was one of the biggest rooms in the house.  It was dad's domain.  It included his radios, whatever train layout he was working on, a small tv opposite his easy chair, and a small bathroom that doubled as his photo darkroom.  I remember rushing home to watch the original Mickey Mouse Club Show on the little tv.  That room also had an entry to an odd patio outside.  My parents bedroom was pretty good sized.  Built in wood closets.  And a small, probably added on bathroom.

     The outside was an remarkable as the inside.  There was a wall like structure near the end of the driveway (about equal to the front of the house).  There may have been a fence there at one point.  But beyond that was a driveway area big enough for 2 cars.  And then the garage.

   Tucked in between my bedroom outside door and the door to the den was an almost enclosed paved area that most resembled a castle dungeon.  I wish I had photos of it.  I claimed that area for my own and had many happy hours there, imagining.

   The backyard, despite the den, was big.  We had a grassy area where we kept lawn chairs. On the north end mom usually had a vegetable garden.  She had flowers growing everywhere else, mostly in border areas.  She could grow almost everything except carnations.  It seemed every time she tried either the plants would fail, or someone would run over them (mostly with the lawn mower).  Beyond the grassy area was a decent sized pool intended for fish with a bridge.  I think my Grandfather Bill put that in.  I know I loved it.  We mostly grew algae in it.  We tried keeping fish in it, but the neighbors cats and dogs kept eating the fish.

  Beyond the pond was our incinerator.  By the time I was 4 it was no longer legal to use it, but before that people deposed of their paper waste with it.  The fence was close to that.  We didn't keep that part of the yard all that organized.  it tended to be a bit  of a jungle, especially with the low hanging trees we had back here.  I think one of them was an avocado tree, but it didn't bear very well.  Our back fence neighbors were nice people and I remember conversations with them while burning trash.  My parents put up a simple swing set for me.  And of course, my small, inflatable swimming pool.  I loved it.  I vaguely remember a small cellar type place under the house.  Mom used it for storing canned goods mostly.  There was attic space, but I don't remember ever being allowed to go up there.

   However, my allergies did not love all that greenery.  Since before my first birthday I had been suffering with allergies, eczema, and asthma.  We had finally found a skin doctor who could help me, but I had to cut back on the things I was allergic to.  And high on the list were green, growing things.  So, the summer I turned 8 years old we sold the house and moved to my first apartment.  There were other factors involved.  For one thing, my parents business could really use the money from the sale to buy new equipment and to expand.  And probably the telling argument, the place had termites.  Luckily the man who bought the place was a contractor.  The story was that soon after he moved in the dining room floor caved in.  The new owner did right by the place though.  He solved the space problem by adding a second story that did not detract from the look of the front of the house.  I want to go back there someday and see what remains of the house I remember.

Someone in my family lived in that apartment complex until I was around 23 years old.  But I'll write about that later.

Momma Sandy Says - Kids and Food

Momma Sandy Says

Kids and Food

   Here are some of my thoughts and children and food.  Sorted by topic.

Babies:

Formula - Though breast feeding is popular again, formula use is still going to happen.  Unfortunately, not all babies can tolerate all the different kinds of formula.  Allergic reactions are common as the digestion systems of babies are developing.  This means that what your child seems to be allergic to one day may be ok 6 months later.  This will come up again with the introduction of each new food.

   I wish there was one kind of formula that was tolerated by every child the whole time they are growing.  Some of you will be lucky and not have problems.  One of mine went through several kinds of formula.  My least favorite though, are the soy based formulas.  Not only do they stink, but they also stain.

Baby Food:  Every kid handles baby food differently.  That said, let me give you a few things I've learned.  First off, feed babies over a cleanable floor.  If you are stuck feeding your child over carpeting, put down a large tarp.  I'm not kidding.  The first time your child sends the bottle flying you will be glad.

   Your doctor will give you guidelines about which food groups to start when. I used the option of starting with carrots. The orange baby food matched my kids hair.  The photos were great.  After that it was trying one baby food after another, making sure my kids could tolerate them.  We were really lucky - we only had one allergic reaction.  But dear Lord, what a reaction!  On schedule I fed my son some soft scrambled eggs.  Every part of his body that the eggs touched immediately turned a bright red.  And the little he ate went right through him.  One unhappy little boy.  Two years later we tried eggs again and he was fine.  No further problems with eggs.  In fact, he doesn't have a problem with food allergies in general.  Common sense rule - if your child reacts badly to a new food, don't feed it to them again!  Tell the doctor.

   I do want to warn new parents about getting all hung up on keeping the baby food meals balanced.    Do your best, but don't freak out if your kid refuses certain foods sometimes.  My son was doing that, so I kept track of what he ate for 6 months.  Sometimes he almost inhaled proteins and ignored veggies.  Or vice verse.  But at the end of 6 months his nutritional needs balanced out.  I stopped trying to force him to eat what I thought he needed.  Clearly he was listening to the needs of his body.

   Now my daughter was completely different.  She didn't have any problems with baby food.  However, her personality was such that she wanted to grow up quickly.  Usually I would feed her her meal as the family ate.  She was fussy and would not ear the baby food I had for her.  She made it clear that she wanted people food, not baby food.  As an experiment I started grinding up our dinner to feed to her.  And she was perfectly happy.  As I said, every kid handles baby food differently.

Picky Eaters:

   God save me from picky eaters!  My daughter, once we got her squared away with people food, was fine.  My son, however... He and green vegetables were not friends.  This was where I learned how to pick my battles.  Not only was he picky, he was (and is) strong willed.  We really were the stereotypical mother/child picture of well after dinner, waiting for him to eat his now cold 5 green beans.  I did get smarter.  I learned to offer substitutes and positive reinforcements (bribes).  More importantly I taught him that he had a choice in the matter.  He could choose to eat those 5 green beans in a timely manner, or he could choose to suffer the consequences.  Sometimes he won, sometimes I won, and sometimes the green beans would mysteriously vanish.

   Luckily for me, most of my sons picky eating ended with the onset of rapid growth in middle school (see below).  It's hard to be a picky eater when you're in the middle of a growth spurt.  The one trait he continued though, was that he would eat one food at a time.  No mixing of food items was allowed.  And heaven help us all if the food items touched!

   That particular picky habit ended also in his early teens.  We were at a low key but gourmet restaurant when my son started working on a 3 part desert.  He was happily eating the chocolate mouse topping when he accidentally included some of the chocolate pudding with the mouse.  It was like a light went off in his head.  Wait!  You can mix food flavors to make it better?  Then we had him try all 3 layers at once.  He found chocolate nirvana.  And learned something amazing about food.

   Both of my kids are fairly adventurous eaters as adults.  I give a lot of credit for that to their Grandpa Eddie.  He would feed them excellent food and then later on tell them what it was.  I miss him.

The Growing Years:

   I am generally not a fan of gender generalizations, but behaviors around food during the pre and teen years (when they are growing so fast) do tend to follow true due to gender.  Boys, once they start their growth spurts (usually around middle school), tend to eat everything in sight. That phrase, "growing pains" can be a real thing.  And to fuel that boys eat.  A lot.  My son, during those years would eat a snack on the walk home from school.  Once home, his snack was the size of a full meal for me.  Dinner, a few hours later, would usually include thirds.  And an hour or so later he was ready for desert!  We didn't have leftovers very often in those years.  For years I had a cartoon on my fridge.  The first panels showed two viking raiders eating everything in sight.  The next panel showed the father of one of the boys looking into the fridge commenting on how there never seemed to be any food in the fridge.  having teen boys is like that.

   Girls generally don't eat as much.  There is also a push towards personal appearance, thanks to media and group pressures.  I would recommend parents of girls, starting in preteen years to watch out for dieting.  While dangerous to their nutritional needs, it can also be a starting point for more serious issues like bulimia and anorexia.

Fad Foods and Lifestyle Food Choices:

   Something to watch for, especially starting in preteen years are fad foods.  A certain food becomes popular, so that's all your child wants to eat.  Stomp that sucker down asap.  You should have been teaching them about the need for a balanced diet all along.  Fad foods are not usually balanced.  They can also be tied in with dieting as well.

   Lifestyle food choices are things like becoming a vegetarian, or even a vegan.  Maybe even a full carnivore.  I had to go through that when my 7th grade son informed me that since his girlfriend was a vegetarian, he wanted to be one too.  My brain went, "Not going to happen.  You love your grandpa's ribs and carne asada too much."  But I went with the good parent gig and we started to talk about nutrition.  We calculated how much protean my son should be eating due to his age.  Then we started looking at the non-meat substitutes.  Which included, of course, the green vegetables that had been such a bane of his childhood.  I could see his brain fighting between wanting to be like his girl friend and not wanting to eat all that non-meat stuff.  I took pity on him and asked him to hold off on becoming a vegetarian until he was around 16, to give his body a chance to finish growing.  If he still wanted to stop eating meat at that point, I promised to help.  He agreed.  You know, he never mentioned it again.

   The opposite can occur.  What if the child of a vegetarian family discovers he or she likes meat when he finally has a chance to eat it?  I feel, in both cases, that parents need to respect lifestyle food choices.  Now if there are religious components involved, that's a different discussion.  But if a child or young adult wants to try a different style, and is mature enough to understand it, I say, let them try.  Plan this adventure with them.  You will gain major trust points with your children.  I'm also going to recommend, especially of a new meat eater in an otherwise vegetarian family, that the child help in the preparation and cooking of these foods.

   I knew of a family where the Mother and the youngest child were vegetarians.  The dad and the other siblings were not.  There could have been a lot of strife in that family around food, but the family was wise enough to avoid that.  Meals included both vegetarian and meat based main dishes.  Thanksgiving was a lot of work, but mostly the family respected each others choices.

Conclusion:

   Like in so many areas of child raising, respect your children and their choices.  Train them to understand what the good choices are and what the consequences of bad choices can be (scurvy and rickets to name two).  Remember that all children are different in how they view food.  And what they like and don't like.  And those choices can change.

Me talking about dementia

Me Talking About Dementia

   This is going to be an occasional blog where I document what I've been going through, helping my mom with her dementia.  I'm not going to post it on facebook or anywhere else.  If you see it, you don't have to read it.  I'm hoping that by documenting it I might gain some enlightenment.  Or at least a safe place to vent.

   Once, what seems like long ago, my mother was an amazing person.  I didn't think there was anything she could do.  The divorce from my father broke her mentally, but she came back.  Then she married my step dad, who spent her money, put them in debt, and then had the good grace to die.  She was never the same after that. But then, she had been diagnosed with the family curse, diabetes, by then.

   At 70 years of age, Mom started taking pills for low level diabetes.  She moved back to CA to be near us, but her finances (lack thereof) caught up with her, so she moved in with her crazy older sister, Louise.  I knew that was a bad idea, but once mom makes up her mind, it's hard to change it.  Louise had always been a bully to mom.  In my Aunt's defense, their mom left my mom in Louise's care far too much.  From an early age Louise was led to believe that my mom, Joan, was her responsibility.  Living with Louise, so much later in life was an eye opening experience for my mom.  She learned that many of her childhood bases phobias (snakes for one) was directly tied to Louise.  Mom made real strides in understanding herself and her relationship with her sister.  But finally she realized that she needed out of there.  So we helped her escape and after a brief stay with me she moved to Arizona to live with my brother Dave and his wife.

   Mom didn't last very long back in Arizona.  I think she was still dealing mentally with Louise and the problems of Dave's family got to her.  When my cousin Pam asked mom's help in caring for her mom, Bette, mom jumped at the chance and drove to northern CA.

   Caring for her sister-in-law Bette while Pam was in rehab was a nightmare.  Bette was an uncontrolled, insulin dependent diabetic.  Mom did the best she could, but she was in over her head with no real help.  Bette would loose touch with reality and accuse Joan of trying to kill her and all sorts of stuff.  Mom even had to call parametics when Bette got too bad.  For my kind, sweet mom it was way too much.

   When Pam finally got out of the hospital mom headed south in a hurry.  When she arrived at my place, mom was like a shell shocked veteran.  I told her she could stay as long as she needed.  I think I sort of knew, even then, that mom was not going to be leaving.

   Within a few months I knew that mom was not who she had been.  Was it a result of the trauma from her experiences?  That certainly was the case when she first arrived.  Or was it the early signs of the dementia that ran in her family?

  As time went on, I was pretty sure it was the start of some form of dementia.  There was a history of it in the family.  My mom's mother had a version that was mostly failing memory.  We would drive down to see her (2-4 hours!) and after about an hour after we left she would have no memory of our visit.  She was mostly healthy otherwise.  For a long time Grandma Connor lived with another woman who had intact mental abilities, but limited physically.  But eventually Grandma lost more and more and was hospitalized. She died soon after.  Mom's father, and two of her brothers had a different dementia route.  Diabetics all, they just sort of slid into the gray and out of reality. I remember visiting her brothers with mom when they were towards the end of their lives.  I remember seeing them fight to stay in reality so they could have a conversation with mom.

   With that back history I watched and slowly made adjustments.  Mom could still drive, but if both of us were in the car, I drove.  Her driving terrified me.  More and more I did the driving for her.  She still handled her finances and her medical stuff.  That part of her was still intact.  But I wondered for how long?

Momma Sandy Says - Ethics, Morality, and Spirituality, Part 3

Momma Sandy Says

Ethics, Morality and Spirituality

Part 3

  The topic today is spirituality.  Like the other things I have talked about in the prior 2 blogs, spirituality (or the lack thereof) is best taught in the family.  I know that many churches are big on training children from an early age, but if parental support is not there, it usually doesn't last.

   I am going to do my best to be non-offensive here.  I believe that there are  3 ways of looking at spirituality.  The first group, what I call non-believers, do not believe in things that are not measurable or verifiable.  This is a very secular, scientific viewpoint.  The things that the other two groups believe seem like belief in fairy tales to them.  Some are called atheists.  I respect this viewpoint, as well as the other 2.

   The second group could be called agnostics.  They believe in things that seem unreal - from ghosts to mental telepathy, but they often do not follow any specific religious path.  There is no consensus about the existence of God or gods.

   The third group is logically, believers.  These are people who have chosen a specific spiritual path.  These people range from traditional Christians (and every variation thereof), Jews (also all the variations), Muslim (etc.), Buddhist, pagan, etc.  The common denominator is that all believe in the existence of a higher power of some sort.  For those that are unaware, there are modern believers in older gods.  I have met contemporary Druids and Odinists (believers in the Norse god, Odin).  There are some strange things out there.

For anyone in any of these groups I say, what ever you believe regarding spirituality, believe it sincerely.   Think about it.  Is this the spiritual path you want your children to follow?  If so, then you should think about how you want to model that path.

  I do want to put in a plea here for parents to teach their children compassion and understanding towards those that believe differently than them.  The area of spiritual beliefs (or the lack of them) is still one of the biggest areas of prejudice left in our country.  In the world.

Your children need to understand that beliefs about spirituality must be chosen by them.  I used to tell my Sunday School students that "God doesn't have any grandchildren."  It doesn't matter what your parents believed, they have to choose for themselves.  As a parent, you probably hope they choose the spiritual path you have.  But our children don't always.  It is sometimes really hard to deal with the fact that your child has chosen a different path.  But that choice should not be a deal breaker for our love for our children.

   I still think how my parents handled spiritual training was wise.  Both my parents were Roman Catholic converts.  Unfortunately, due to the rigid, unsympathetic actions of one priest, they were wounded in their faith.  It didn't change their spiritual path, but it did cause them to be less active.  When I was born they had to rethink how they wanted to handle my spiritual training.  What they decided to do was to make sure that I was raised Roman Catholic.  Due to their wounding it was not the intense training that a Catholic child can receive.  I didn't go to a Catholic school or preschool.  But they did take me to mass on a regular basis.  We'd miss sometimes, but usually for good reasons.  Going to church on Sunday was what a family did.  I didn't realize until later that my parents did not go to Confession or receive Communion, but it was solid modeling.  When I was old enough I joined my public school classmates who were Catholic in attending Tuesday after school catechism classes at our local Catholic church.

   At my parents insistence I received the sacraments of Confession, First Communion, and Conformation.   When I was studying for my First Communion (and first confession) it forced my parents to deal with their own woundings. They both did eventually become active Catholics.  The last one is generally at around 13 years of age.  In many ways it is similar to a Jewish Bar or Bat Mitzvah.  In both faiths, going through those ceremonies shows that you are now considered an adult in the faith. 

  My parents wisdom was that after I had gone through the Conformation ceremony, they informed me that I was now free to continue on as a Catholic, or to choose my own path.  Like them, I stopped attending mass on a regular basis.  I still believed in the Catholic doctrines, but I was now free to consider other options.  I am proud to say that neither of my parents ever said anything against my decision to leave the Catholic church to become a Protestant Christian.  In later years, when my dad had returned to the faith, we were able to have several good conversations about the similarities and differences.  It was a very good thing.

   And that's what I want for you and all of your children.  That you would consider your own spiritual path and decide what would be the best way to teach it to your children.  My own parents explained to me that they wanted me to have a solid spiritual background as a place to begin my own spiritual journey.  And like my parents, I want you to be willing to let your children choose a path that is not your own.  You can cry about it in the privacy of your home.  There are ways to show love and support of them, without supporting a spiritual choice you don't like.  For example, if you were a believer and your child chose a spiritual path that was in direct opposition of yours (Christian vs. Satan worshiper for one).  It might just be rebellion.  They still have free choice.

   

I think this 3 part series comes down to some basic things.  Parents should be responsible for how their children are taught character and spirituality. Model what you believe in and teach it.  If your children choose other paths, continue your love.  Note:  if your child turns out to be a sociopath, then you've got a whole different set of problems.  But a normal child needs boundaries, guidance and love.  Give it.

Family Stories - Jack and Joan Try Again

Family Stories

Jack and Joan Try Again

The Lucky Baby

     The new doctor recommended that Joan and Jack wait a few years before trying to have another child.  It took Joan quite a while to recover, both physically and emotionally from the lost of the first one.  But, in 1952 the doctor told them that it was finally time for them to try again, if they wanted to.

  Yes, yes they did want to, and by the beginning of 1953 it was confirmed that Joan was pregnant again.  This pregnancy was very different, from day one.  The most noticeable aspect had to do with luck.

   It was an understatement to say that Joan was unlucky, especially at games of chance.  It confused Jack.  Since Joan was a bookkeeper he knew she was good with numbers.  She ought to be able to keep track of cards and such.  But her dice rolls were never good.  Jack thought maybe she wasn't good at poker (a game they played with their friends on a regular basis) because she had no poker face.  Nope.  The cards just didn't come her way.  If they went to Vegas, the group could count on Joan loosing any money she had on the slot machines.  Just unlucky.

   That changed with pregnancy number two.  Suddenly Joan started winning at poker.  She started winning at any game of chance she tried.  Joan set the money she won at the poker games with their friends aside to pay for the baby.  In the end, that poker money pretty much paid the hospital bill.

   Since Jack and Joan had lost the first one, their friends were overjoyed that Joan was pregnant again.  They happily contributed to Joan's poker winnings.  The ladies organized an epic baby shower, which both embarrassed and please Joan.  Most of the women in the group had already begun their families (except for Roxy who turned out to not be able), so there was much joy.

   The months rolled along and Joan stayed healthy.  Although she didn't talk about it, she didn't really relax until she passed the point at which she lost the first one.  The whole group (plus family) was relieved that the pregnancy was going so well.

   The actual due date was the end of August, but by the 15th of that month Joan was feeling that she had been pregnant long enough!  It was August hot in the San Gabriel Valley (with no air conditioning) and she felt as big as a whale.  The 15th was a Saturday and was the night of a regularly scheduled poker game.  They talked about not going, but they knew that it was probably the last time they'd be able to go until after the baby.  Despite Joan's discomfort, they went.

   Since Joan was so uncomfortable she chose to not play, instead talking and relaxing.  Her back hurt.  Jack was having good luck at the cards and didn't pay attention to his wife or to how much he was drinking.  I think he knew it was probably the last time he'd be able to really "tie one on", so he did.

   Some time after midnight the game broke up and Jack carefully drove the two of them home.  When they got there Joan put the coffee pot on.  This confused Jack.  When he asked why, Joan informed him that she had started labor.

  "Why didn't you tell me?!!!"

   "You were having such a good time and I didn't want to ruin the evening for everyone."  Which is such a Joan answer.

   While the coffee was a good idea, it made Jack a wide awake drunk.  He knew he was not sober enough to drive Joan to the hospital, which is where she clearly needed to go.  So he called his friend Dick, who lived close by.   Dick had been at the poker game as well, but was much more sober, so he drove them to the hospital.  Dick promised to keep his wife Roxy (and the rest of the group) informed.

   Now back then, husbands did not go into the delivery room.  They waited.  And worried.  Occasionally, a nurse or doctor would have mercy on them and give them news.  Joan's labor was progressing very slowly, so she spent the first few hours alternating between resting and walking.  She was allowed to walk down to the waiting room where she could visit with Jack and the growing number of friends.  By 10 a.m. almost the entire group was there.  The nurses told them to go home eventually, though Jack could stay.

   Joan always described it as a difficult, long labor which was a bit unusual since it was her second birth.  That baby was me.  I suspect I wasn't quite ready for my big entrance.

   But eventually, when Joan was almost out of strength, I was born.  It was 5 p.m. on a Sunday, August 16th.  Mom always said I was the prettiest baby she had ever seen.  No problems, just a long labor.  Joan stayed in the hospital for 3 days (the norm) and had lots of visitors mostly family and friends.

   Joan never had luck like that again, but,  she was never as unlucky again either.