Angry Sunday ........Part II

At the funeral my father made me stand by him.
I greeted people like he should have.
My 10 year old sister ran around like she should at 10 but when she was out of line or misbehaving it was now my responsibility to rein her in.

After the showings when relatives would come to our home I was in charge of coffee and serving whatever there was to serve.
I stepped into my mom’s shoes immediately because my father didn’t make coffee or play host. When an Aunt would say, “I’ll get it” He would say to them, “No Peggy has to learn”
Besides this was what he told me he expected of me.
Being a Type A I did what I was told and tried to do it very well.
He usually made me feel inadequate about the job done and would have to tell me what to do better next time.
I actually took notes. What kind of crazy ass kid does this?

After the funeral I was given thank you cards to write out to all who donated for masses, sent flowers etc. I don’t recall doing them but I remember being given them to do with instructions.

Over time my father expected me to have dinner on the table at a certain time, after dinner to clean the kitchen and dishes. Help my sister with homework, practice my piano, get my sister ready for bed and be sure her clothes were laid out for her. Make his lunch for the next day and my night was finally over. I loved going to my room to do homework or read to escape to other worlds.

My Dad would drive me to the grocery store and sit in the car while I took my sister inside with me to shop. The first time I went was a comedy. I saw that there were cakes you could make from a box! I was so surprised I never knew that. I thought you made cakes with flour and eggs and all the things I saw my mom do. Then I saw pasta in bags and boxes. I ran out to my father in the car, leaving behind my cart in the aisle, just to ask him if he knew you could buy spaghetti in a box/bag! Are we poor or something why do we make it? He laughed and said he indeed knew but that but we didn’t need to buy spaghetti or the cake mixes. I thought everyone made pasta so this was a whole new world to me. And for some friggin’ reason it excited me so to find all these things out. What a goofy kid huh? But this was a whole new world. Donuts in a box? C’mon you can have them anytime!! I found this information so thrilling to me. My mom made donuts they were not something you could have all the time so easily. I wanted everything from a box from then on!!

Another funny thing that happened that my father likes to share to this day is my ironing skills – or lack of I guess would be more accurate.
My father wore these green work pants to work everyday then.
My mother of course ironed them. There was a nice crease down the front of his pants.
She had begun teaching me to iron but I never got to the crease in the pants part before she died.
So one day I tried to iron them. I saw that my mom used Niagara spray starch on things so I did too. I sprayed and ironed and sprayed and ironed. The only problem was I put the creases on the outside and inside seam. I didn’t know how to match the inside seams to make the crease appear down the front.
When my father put them on I heard him laugh. He walked down the hall, stood there in the kitchen while I was making my sister breakfast. He said, “Peggy the crease goes down the middle.” His stood there looking like a fool with his pants stiff as a board. They stuck out on the inside of his legs and the outside and he looked ridiculous.

But you know the good thing?  For once he was at least laughing and for some reason that made me burst into tears.
I so hated this job of housewife!! He tried to comfort me by telling me that his sister, Aunt Fil, would come out and show me how to do this.
Looking back on this it was pretty damn funny.
He looked so funny and how much starch did I use for heaven’s sake?
Or better yet, why did I use starch for pants?
Why I cried I don’t know except I do remember feeling so overwhelmed so that could have just been a release for me.

When my father remarried I wasn’t upset.
I was thrilled. I could be a kid again.
There was now someone else to do all these horrible housewife and mom chores that I no longer wanted any damn part of.
All my girl friends who thought it was so romantic to dream of being a mom and wife I thought were crazy.
I used to tell anyone who would listen that I was not having kids it was too much work.
I was not getting married it was too much work.
I kept my promise on only one of those.

.....................to be continued.