My relationship with my parents was mostly good. I always felt loved and safe for the most part. Back then people disciplined their kids with a sterner hand. In my house we were spanked for being disobedient or disrespectful or if we lied. Since it happened a lot, we were spanked a lot. Well, I was anyway. My dad would use the belt or spank us bare but. Sometimes it didn’t hurt at all, either because he had threatened just to scare us but didn’t have the heart to give us a real spanking or because our rear ends were callused enough that it just didn’t hurt that much anymore. It was usually due to the later. My mom didn’t like to spank much. She would either call my dad at work and he would do it when he got home or she would pull hair. With here it was about half and half. I hated the hair pulling but didn’t like the anxiety of having to wait for my punishment when it came later. I don’t know which was worse even to this day. My dad bought a paddle once at the D.I. and hung it on the wall of our hallway as a reminder to behave. Sometimes we got spanked with that, which was worse, because it was hard plastic or wood. It had a waffle pattern or it had holes in it which made the punishment sting more. We had more than one paddle hung on that wall because we would take the paddle and throw it in the trash pile across the street when we had our neighborhood clean up. It didn’t usually do us any good because my dad would just find another one to replace it with at the D.I.
I loved my parents a lot, though. I still do. I really always tried to make sure I never did anything to disappoint them too much. I went to church, held callings, didn’t cuss, didn’t drink caffeine and pretty much followed all the rules to the best of my ability. When making decisions I thought what my parents would think of me after making a choice and choosing the right usually won out. I did feel loved and safe. I never felt like my life was in danger at their hands and I was oblivious to my parents financial problems, if there were any. I knew money was tight because I usually never got things I wanted except at Christmas. I always had everything I needed, though and it was enough, even though it never felt like it.
My relationship with my siblings was mostly good but since I didn’t feel like I needed to respect the same way my parents required it, we didn’t hold much back when it came to disagreements and hurt feelings. Michael and I would fight a lot. He knew just how to push my buttons. He could be the most annoying person you ever met. He sang annoying songs and would use expressions like “moded” and “dogged you” and he would sing rap songs. He really liked Run DMC a lot. He was the typical annoying brother. We did play together well, though, when we wanted to. One time we were playing with a softball on the front porch of our house at 602 s. 800 w. The ball went behind a marble slab so Michael tried to retrieve it and in doing so, he knocked that marble slab over and it landed on my foot and broke it. My grandma Laird had to come and take us to the hospital so I could get my foot looked at. Back then they used plaster casts instead of fiberglass and I had to learn how to use my crutches, which was really hard to do. I remember my dad having to carry me to the bathroom because I was too slow getting around. I forgave my brother but at the time, I was super mad at him.
Joseph was the nerd. He was always taking things apart and putting them back together. He was also my grandparents’ favorite grandchild. He did whatever they asked him to do and they nicknamed him JD. He was the one that got to spend the night with them most of the time. I got spend the night when grandpa would break his foot or his leg, which seemed to happen often. They had me come so I could help keep the house clean. I didn’t mind it and I even enjoyed it because those times were rare enough. Joseph kept mostly out of my way and we had a good relationship.
Sarah was another story. She was always trying to do the same things I did. She followed me around around and was really a pest sometimes. We argued and fought a lot. She would always try to wear my clothes even though she was five years younger than me. It got really bad when I was Jr High age. I would come home from school and see her in my shirt and get so mad at her. She would always say, “it was in my clothes basket.” and I would remind her in not a nice way that she knew it was mine, therefore, she should not have worn it. Then I would hit her till she took it off. I was such the bully. After my mission I was skinny from all the walking I did that I actually fit in her clothes and wore her tops on a regular basis. It felt good to be skinny. It wasn’t something I was used to being.
Hannah was born with Autism. She never did learn to speak with her voice but she did learn some sign language. I loved Hannah so very much. I still do but we barely have any sort of relationship now. Since I was the oldest I had to help out with her the most. I loved it and hated it too. She was sweet but also very hard to keep track of and in control. She always took her clothes off. She hated them. She also potty trained really fast. She didn't like to be wet or messy even though she was constantly making messes. She would pour all the milk down the sink just for the sake of watching it disappear. She did the same thing with any liquid she could get her hands on. She would fall asleep in strange places and we’d call the police to help us find her to then, later, discover her asleep behind the curtains in front of the sliding glass door. She’d take her clothes off, go outside, and then poop in the driveway in front of the neighbor kids. That was so embarrassing. I used to let her sit on my lap during sacrament meeting at church and keep her happy. I also had to bathe her and clean up her messes and I was angry with my parents for making me do so much. It was hard being the oldest and having so much responsibility with her. I guess it did me some good, though because now I have two autistic boys of my own. I’m not sure how old she was when she went into the group home. I remember I was in high school, maybe a junior. It was sad to see her go but so necessary. We could never go anywhere as a family because you just couldn’t take her anywhere without her having some major “behaviors” and it was just taking a toll on all of us. She got agressive and I think, depressed and it just made life hard.
Jonathan became my favorite, by far. He was 10 years younger than me. I spoiled him a lot. When I was 16 and got a job I would always take him to a movie and dinner on my paydays and we’d just hang out a lot. People would always stop me and tell me how cute my son was. We had a good time making fun of those morons. What was worse was when people would ask my dad if I was his wife. Stupid, I know. Anyway, me and Jonathan had a great relationship. When I went to Mexico to be an exchange student (10th grade) he had a really hard time and missed me a lot but he became really good friends with our brother, Joseph. When I came home things weren’t the same between us. He didn’t need me as much and it seemed like he didn’t want me as much either. It made me kind of sad but it was good for him at the same time. He needed to build a good relationship with his brothers. We’re not close now but I do love him so much. It also made it easier to leave and go out on my own for a time, which was something I really needed.
Sarah and I are really good friends now. I would say, besides my husband, she is my very best friend in the whole world. I have some really great sisters-in-law too, one of which, I don’t know very well because she is super quiet and we don’t see them often enough to really build a relationship with. I’m also more than 10 years older than her so there’s quite an age difference and a difference in maturity. We just don’t relate much but she’s a sweet girl.
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