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From: Eve <>
Subject: Re: [DVHH-L] Women & Childbirth
Date: Thu, 23 Mar 2006 23:09:21 -0500
References: <232.9181fb0.31545e34@aol.com>
In-Reply-To: <232.9181fb0.31545e34@aol.com>


Alice,

Fortunately for me we lived in the city. So not too many farm animals.
Although, on our city lot there was an occasional chicken running around,
much to the neighbors dismay I am sure. Never had the feedbag clothes
though I do have that to be grateful for. Although a lot of things were
taken apart and made into other things. Always took the buttons off
anything before putting it in the rag bag. I have that tin of buttons now.

3 particular things that come to mind from my youth - memories of my
brattyness when mom only meant good and all I saw was she was making me
stand out and be different. I too remember my first store bought dress and
treasured above all else. It was blue and my aunt bought it for me for my
birthday, I think I was about 8. I did not want to give it up when I out
grew it and even snuck it out of the wrapped pkg. mom was getting ready to
send to Yugoslavia to cousins. She eventually got it back and it went in
the next pkg.
The second was my mom's love for all things new. When everyone was knitting
mohair sweaters, my mom made me a pair of mohair knee high socks. I wore
them the first time very proudly - UNTIL the boys laughed and called me
"hairy legs" - I came home without the socks and told my mom they got wet so
I had to take them off and they somehow disappeared. She - of course - was
sure someone stole them because they were so special, so a couple days later
I had 2 new pairs.
The 3rd - was a coat my mother made for me. It was not an easy task for her
but one SHE was very proud of. It was light gray and made out of vinyl
upholstery material. It could stand up by itself and truly one of a kind.
Of course I wore it once and was teased terribly for it. The next day for
school I refused to wear it. I took quite a spanking from both my parents
for this. My dad could not believe how terrible I was treating my mom with
how much hard work she put into this coat and they absolutely couldn't
understand my feelings of wanting to belong. I relented after quite a long
(rear bruising) argument, only to take my coat off at the end of our
cul-de-sak and hide it in the bushes of the neighbors (who worked all day)
house. I walked the rest of the way to school in February Michigan weather
(for about 4 city blocks) without a coat. My parents only recently
discovered my deceit. My mom was talking about me as a child and my
stubbornness and willfulness (this is on video tape) and asked if I
remembered the beating I took for that coat, about how badly I hurt her. I
explained to them how I had felt at the time, they seemed to understand, but
of course my mom added. Well, I won that battle - you wore the coat. To
which I added - not exactly - I buried it in the bushes at the end of Robbie
Lane and walked to school everyday without that coat. My dad - burst out
laughing and almost fell out of his chair. He then added "Dat's MY cookie"
- which is what he always called me when I was little.

Even though I hated all that then I do acknowledge to my parents how hard
they tried and I know they only did the best they knew how and so very
careful with every penny they had because they never knew when the rug would
get pulled out from under them again. My husband who was raised by a mother
that bought everything and never makes anything handmade for herself or
others, especially appreciates what mom does for her family. Everytime
there is a hole in anything, he puts it in a pile for oma (he refers to her
the same as our children). I love that I have the opportunity to talk this
stuff over with mom and dad now, because they seem to understand how things
were difficult for me too. We all had adjustments to make - and as the
saying goes - that which doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I certainly
tempted fate with my parents ire many times.


Eve
Waiting for spring in Durand


On 3/23/06, < > wrote:
>
> Eve,
> 'Homemade' did not arouse good fellings in me during the first 9 years of
> my
> childhood!
>
> My mother's side job (besides the family, yard, garden,
> sewing/cooking/baking/ laundry with no running water or electricity or
> central heating) was raising
> two batches of 500 baby chicks, caponing them, butchering, and dressing
> most
> of them. That took a lot of chick feed which came in feed sacks. Never
> allowing anything to go wasted, we had feedbag kitchen towels, feedbag
> tablecloths,
> feedbag sheets, feedbag pillowcases, feedbag dresses / shirts / and
> blouses. I
> hated those blasted old feedbags by the time I was 9 years old!!! Some of
> the
> feed suppliers had gotten the brilliant idea of making them in different
> prints; some were almost pretty, but after living with them for that long
> all I
> wanted was a store-bought dress. (I did have a beautiful hand-me-down
> First
> Communion dress from my cousin, but after the Mass and picture taking, it
> disappeared to some other cousin for their use!) There were 3 things I
> hated about
> those feedbags: they were scratchy, they looked funky (not in a good way,
> either), and you had to stand still to be fitted everytime a new dress was
> made! My
> first really pretty store-bought dress was made of pale blue taffeta, much
>
> against my mother's better judgement, because I had my heart set on it for
> my
> Confirmation. Just before leaving for the chuch, My God-Mother gave me a
> present
> of some ruby-red fingernail polish and I decided to where it. Never having
> worn
> fingernail polish before, you can imagine what was coming. Yup! I was
> confirmed in a pale blue taffeta dress with a bright red drip of
> fingernail polish
> right in the center front of the skirt!!!! OOOO-OOH! --I so did not want
> to
> have to tell my mother about that! But out came the scissors, needle,
> thread, and
> with a snip,snip she had quickly cut a little piece off the inside hem and
> appliqued it over the horrible red, just in time for church. I was of
> course
> mortified and was sure everyone could see my little patch job, but on
> reconsidering that day, most people probably were not nearly as offended
> by the patch as
> I was, or as embarrased as my mother was (the gossips, you know!) with a
> daughter who had to wear a patched dress for her Confirmation. :-)
> Alice in Michigan
>

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