For years, I was a stay at home Mom. I had part time jobs here and there, mostly at times when Larry could be home with the girls or my mother in law could watch them for us. Some friends own a plant nursery where I often work for several months each spring, but that is temporary and usually entailed working on the weekend. The past couple years, I have worked at home, but with an extremely flexible schedule that I could change anytime I wanted to. It has been years since I worked a regular job for 5 weekdays and then had the weekend off.
Now I have to commit to a set schedule that has me working M-F most of the time. For the first time in recent memory, the weekend actually means something to me. It usually means I have to get a lot of stuff done that I used to be able to space out through the week and I am not so crazy about that. Admittedly, I do still work at home, so I am here to keep up with some of the things I have to do. Still, I begin every weekend with a “To Do” list that demands my attention. And I look forward to weekends now as more than just a time when Larry doesn’t have to go to work for 2 days. It’s a time when I don’t have to work for two days, and let’s face it – that is way more significant. To me anyway.
It is a couple days when I don’t have to sit at my computer, typing.
I guess I like to sit at my computer, typing.
6 year old girls could hang out without shirts. At least I could. I am not completely sure that this was taken in 1961 and my folks can’t pinpoint it either, but Louise and I look about 6 and 4 and that would be 1961. That is our back yard, next to our grandparents’ barn. My Mom’s folks lived next door to us and I am sure that when my Mom took this picture, Grandma must have been out shopping for gigantic sized underwear to hang on her clothesline where every kid in our neighborhood could see it, or she would have been whipping a shirt over my concave little chest. [I should note, that Grandma herself was not at all gigantic – just her underwear] Grandma had very clear ideas about the proper deportment for little girls, and going without one’s shirt was not one of them. I don’t think you see little girls playing outside shirtless now either, but back then we all did when the weather was hot. One of my ideas for grandmotherly deportment was that they should not have their gigantic old lady underwear out flapping in the breeze on the clothesline, but nobody was paying much attention to what I thought.
