Recently there has been a spate of "how could they" blogs that trashed working mothers.  I know the intent was not to trash all of them, but in their zeal to demonstrate their anti-feminism, they caught a lot of innocent mothers as well.  Including mine.

Let me tell you about her.

She was Valedictorian of her class.  She would have gone to college except my aunt got polio, so the money was not there.  She wound up marrying a loser.  Had some kids (we are catholic, this was the 50s - get over it).

I am second oldest, and when I was 4 (ages at this time, 7-4-3-1), the loser left.  Only to be seen once more in my life.  So my mother went to work.

Wait!  What about Child support!  Alimony?  Get real!  This was the 60s!  yea, the court ordered it!  My mother got 1 check!

I was the man of the house, so I assumed a lot of responsibilities at the tender age of 6.  I would get up, dress, make breakfast and my mother's lunch.  And then wake the others.  I did this for 2 years. Until.....

Eventually she met and fell in love with another man.  A Navy guy.  They married, and he shipped off to England for 2 years.  So while he was in England, I went back to doing what I had been doing.  My sister, an angel now, was a waste then.  Even she will tell you.

So yes, I grew up fast.

Then he came home.  He was still young.  Wanted some children of his own.  So my Sister was born.  My god-daughter! I have written about her before. It was a tough labor and my step father was a bad sleeper, so I had to wake him and tell him of his daughter.

Then he went to Nam.  My mother went back to work.  there were 5 of us then.  I was pre teens.  He came back, and decided to switch to the army.  The army screwed up big time! First they promised no BT, then they made him!  They they found the agreement! So he was re-promoted and assigned 3000 miles away.  We packed up and drove out.  Got there, and the new post decided there was a mistake!  No, the real post was 3000 miles away!  300 miles from where we had been!

We headed back.  And during that journey, someone ran out of BC pills. (we are Catholic - they are not illegal - learn or get over it)  And conceived twins.

They were born in Letterman.  Now there were 7 of us, and I was changing diapers on 3, before I was 15.

I love every one of my siblings.  Everyone is a god's gift to my mother!  And me.

And as things go, that man left.  Decided he wanted some fresh thang!  Not one burdened with 7 brats.

So she had to work again.  At least this time, the courts were more proactive, and this guy did send some money.  Not a lot.  His trophy bride required most of it.  But some.

So yes, I raised my siblings.  Not alone.  All of us took turns changing diapers, babysitting, and helping.  Kind of like they did 100 years ago before the noblesse oblige of the current aristocracy took over.

We did it, because we were needed.  We did it, and we learned.  Learned the value of a buck.  learned the value of hard work.  Learned the value of pitching in.

Now some have decided my mother was a bad person.  Why?  Because she could not provide for 7 children while not working. When she was a single parent.

Some say that.  But I see a strong woman.  Whose only fault is in bad choices in men.  I see a strong woman who I admire, and fight with tooth and nail!  I see a strong woman that the likes no longer exists in today's society.  For in all those years, when she was the sole bread winner, she never accepted a dime of government assistance or charity.  Not a damn dime (and neither did I in my darkest hour either).

I am sorry that those of you with plenty and have forgotten your dearth do not see that.  I am sorry that my mother is not up to your Utopian standards.  I am sorry you have forgotten what it is like to scratch and claw for the next day's meal.  When dinner is mac and cheese (I hate it!).

I am sorry my mother does not live up to your standards.  But I am sorry for you.  For I am not sorry for my mother and what she did.  And I am not sorry for any of my siblings.  No matter how many should have been aborted.  In my opinion, none of them should have, and I appreciate every one of them.

And I am not sorry for losing a childhood to help her.  I guess I am warped.  I really enjoyed my children's childhood!  Even bought my son a race car set he did not ask for just so I could play with him.

I am not sorry.  I am not ashamed.  I am proud of my mother, and who I am.

period.