I know I am getting old, I mean, older, but regardless, things have
certainly changed. The only people I knew growing up with tattoos were
those men who had been in World War Two. We only had one couple in the
neighborhood who was divorced and nobody talked about it either. There were
a couple of people in our neighborhood who smoked cigarettes but that was
all. I can remember one or two times our parents went some place and hired
a baby sitter to watch my sister and I at home. Otherwise, we always went
with our parents no matter where they went. My father did not believe in
eating in a restaurant on Sundays and we never did nor was I allowed to play
on Sundays with any of my friends except rarely. So, I pretty much lived a
sheltered life I guess. When Sandy and I married, we didn't have the same
Sunday rules for our children and we ate out often. However, I can only
think of two times we allowed others to watch our children while we went
some place without them and both times were disasters. Otherwise, if where
we were going, our kids couldn't come along, we simply did not go. Some
time ago, a friend of mine, a very close friend of mine, was lecturing Sandy
and I on how to raise our children. The kids were young but Gretchen began
giving us trouble when she was very young and it got progressively worse as
she grew older. this friend of mind was divorced and had three children.
He helped his X wife out financially but she made better money than he did.
He kept in touch with his kids and always tried to pick them up for church
on Sunday. During his lecture on how we should be better parents, I calmly
pointed out to him that he was really a part time parent because his kids
lived with their mom. He, on the other hand, came and went as he pleased.
He admitted he had never looked at it that way and that I was right. I
wasn't criticizing him, you understand, but I was pointing out that we lived
with our children 24 seven, as they say, and it was different. He agreed.
I have been thinking of this recently because of our daughter. She shows up
for an hour or two each day and normally calls once a day to talk to her
kids. Otherwise, that's it. Today she left, after not much more than an
hour being with her 4 year old, and walked to the bus stop which is almost
in front of our house. Little Taylor ran to the door and told me he wanted
to tell his mom something so I let him. He opened the door and pushed open
the storm glass door and called out for his mom. She answered him and he
said, "I love you." I almost began crying. His voice was sad because his
mom was leaving him. I played with him and wrestled with him for awhile
after she left but playing with your grandpa isn't the same as your mom
being home. I thank God that every time I came home from school, regardless
of the time of day, my mom was always there. I can never remember a time
she wasn't at home when I walked into the house. I don't care how poor you
are or how little you have, if you have children, they want you more than
anything else. I was also thinking recently of gifts because of the season.
The best gift my father ever gave me was a wooden airplane he cut on the
table saw and nailed together all in about two minutes. I loved that plane
and played with it until I wore it out. I have told my daughter she is less
than a part time parent now but the drugs and alcohol have already deadened
her reasoning ability. Today, when her son called out to her and told her
he loved her, if it had been me, my heart would of melted and I would have
come back into the house and promised God and the president and the governor
and the mayor and anybody else I could think of that my kids were going to
come first no matter what. My daughter needs a lot of prayer because her
drugs and alcohol and friends have become more important to her than her own
boys.
Phil.
|