My childhood wasn't one of privilege. We struggled from time to time. Everyone pitched in to do chores and make sure our home was clean and tidy. My Mom was a bit of a perfectionist so things had to be done a certain way so that when Dad got home from work he had a peaceful evening. He was the soul breadwinner in our house of 8. I grew up in a large family that was a norm back then. As we got older (I'm the youngest) and the 3 older ones went off to college or make a life of their own my Mom decided to go to work. Leaving me to be cared for by my 2 older sisters. There was 4 years difference between me and my older sister. I was 8 when my Mom started working. Therefore I was being cared for by a preteen and teenager who didn't like a child following them around. So my nose ended up stuck in books...any kind I was able to read and comprehend.
I was always my Dad's favorite, and maybe I was slightly spoiled but still yet I was a good child. If I wasn't my ass would get whooped by my Mom or siblings. So fear made me behave. Dad would come home to a slightly messy house because Mom wasn't there to bark orders or do the cleaning herself. My sisters didn't care and at 8 years old I did my best to clean and take care of the things that I knew mattered to my Dad. He would reward me with kind words, hugs, or the occasional book someone gave him. I watched and listened as he would punish my sisters and stand there watching as they were forced to clean and cook. I never seen this to be unfair because I believed that it was our duty to manage the house since Mom wasn't there to do it. I had seen it in all the households in our area. The females took care of the home and served the males. It was an obligation for the man to bring home a pay cheque and an obligation for the women to take care of the home and the men. AND why not!
My Dad was a farmer as well as working outside the home. So in the summer there were other men who spent time at our home. Women would cook and bring the meals to the fields, or the men would come to the house to eat. Either way I was always running and getting things the men wanted or needed. I had become a bit of a tomboy but they still seen me as a girl and would give me praise for my dedication to them. I thrived on their kindness and attention.
As I got older things started changing in our home. My Mom started drinking so there was more alcohol around, anger became a part of her, abuse between both parents, so a lot of animosity grew between my parents. Dad wanted Mom home to take care of him and the house but my Mom grew to like the money, which bought her the alcohol and also the acceptance of other women who drank and worked.
My Dad started spending more time away working. He would be gone for days on end, accepting work that he always turned down in the past. At one point I heard him comment to my Uncle about how he hated being home and if it wasn't for me and my 2 sisters he would leave. Then he started turning to more alcohol just to be part of my Mom's life I'm guessing, I never really knew.
With all the changes and my getting older, being able to take on more responsibility just so there wasn't so much anger, I was rewarded more so than my sisters. My Mom and sisters didn't see it as being rewarded for tasks done, but instead they seen it as being spoiled and unfair. I couldn't understand why they wouldn't want to do the simple things that would make Dad happy. I thought it was them that were being unfair. My Dad worked hard, so hard that when he'd come home from many days at work he would fall into bed and sleep for a long time.
I worshipped my Dad. I seen the sacrifices he made for his family early on and as I got older how those sacrifices meant nothing to my Mom and sisters. It was like they were the spoiled ones, demanding to be taken care of without a show of anything in return. By the time I was 12 years old, if Dad wasn't home, I'd be left on my own. Mom would be out drinking and the girls who were almost at the age to move out were out with their friends. Being that they were rarely home when Dad was gone the house remained clean so I had nothing to do after school except homework or read. But, I was happy, I would fantasize about being a housewife and taking care of my husband and children. I would never give my husband the grief my Mom gave my Dad.
I was the last child at home. Dad still paid attention to me with the rewards of words but no longer hugs because I was becoming a woman. This I only understood when I got a little older. My Mom and sisters never paid that much attention to me and I was very naive when it came to understanding my body and the feelings that I was beginning to have. When a boy kissed me at 14 years old it shocked me because I liked him in a way that I never liked anyone. My first love perhaps. But that kiss was the one and only because the feelings he invoked in me scared the shit out of me.
Life went on, alcohol was a main ingredient in my parents lives by this time. My Dad changed jobs and was home every night, with a drink in his hand, watching tv and passing out in front of it. Mom would stagger in just before bedtime and by that time I knew to hide in my bedroom otherwise she would take her anger out on me because Dad wasn't in shape to accept it. I was beginning to understand why Dad drank himself to passing out. There were times when I wished I could be in that stupor too.
I had turned 16. I was still in Dads good graces. But by this time he had slowed down on farming and people were hired to work the farm. I still helped as much as I could. There was cattle to feed and other chores that had to be done whether it was winter or not. I loved being around the men because they all treated me with such respect and appreciation.
I was still very naive although I heard friends talk about kissing, sex, making out...etc...and seen them around boys, sneaking off to be alone. How one was giving her virginity to this boy or how one gave hers to another. There were boys who had tried things with me, sloppy kisses and trying to grab my tits but I didn't like it so when they couldn't get their way with me they moved on to the easy girls. I had even lied to my friends about having given my virginity to a boy they didn't know.
But, one man in particular, who worked on the farm, paid more attention to me than the rest. He bought me little things, he would listen when I'd talk about the things I learned in school or books. He was a lot older than me but I never knew just how much older until it was too late.