I wish we could pick our mothers, but we can’t. My mother divorced my father when I was four years old. She left my brother and I with her parents while she worked in another town. My grandparents were great to us. My mother wouldn’t come back to see us for months at a time.
After years she showed up with a man saying she was married. My brother and I moved into a rented house with my mother and new step-father. My mother ended up having six more children with my step-father, so that made eight children all together and I was the oldest.
I was the “Little Mama”. I helped with the children that she was having every two years. I did almost everything expect cook and iron. There were four in my bed at night and the baby crib was in the room. I was the one to get up at night when the baby at the time cried.
When I was about thirteen and started to show a shape of womanhood, my mother started to show her anger towards me. First it started with slapping in my face, then it got to real hard beatings. She would hit me in my back with her bare hands or any object that was handy. At times she would knock me down to the floor and kick me and sometimes stomp on me. I would always turn on my stomach because it didn’t hurt so much as her stomping on my back or legs.
Along wth the beatings came verbal abuse. She would call me stupid and ugly. She would say that I would never get married because no man would ever want me.
Even after I got married at age eighteen, she continued to say bad things to me. Saying that I couldn’t keep house or cook, etc. When I had my son (my only child), she said that I made a lousy mother.
I have been married to the same man for many years now. My son is also married with a family of his own. My mother has been dead for years. I did forgive her, but I can’t ever forget. I had trouble having my son and the doctor said I probably won’t be able to have more children. I have had problems with my back and legs which I have to live with the rest of my life.
My mother taught me how not to be a mother. I have never called my son ugly or stupid. I have always shown him love and understanding. When I got married, I knew how to keep a house clean and raise a child. I do thank my mother for that.
I know now that my mother had a mental problem. I tried to get help from the school nurse because she saw my cut and bruised legs and back. Back then they weren’t as strict about child abuse as they are now. Back then what went on in your house was your business not anyone elses.