I read with interest the letter by Frank SanGregory in The Advertiser-Tribune June 15. I’m afraid I would be in deep trouble raising kids today. I recall saying to our three boys, rather harshly, as they became old enough to help, “Get out and help your dad,” and they did.
Spending time with kids, I was always home but spent many hours at the barn milking cows and cleaning up. I never asked anyone to help me in the house and I fed my family well.
Baling hay and straw on hot afternoons, the boys and their friends sweating in the hay mow, I would shove the bales off the wagon onto the elevator while their dad was in the field baling. I would get a call, “Mom, they are coming too fast.” I would slow down. I would furnish them with a lot of lemonade.
We always went together to church on Sundays.
There weren’t any vacations. I would never allow anyone to milk the cows but my husband and I.
Many Sunday afternoons were spent playing ball at their grandparents with all of their cousins.
Our boys were in the band, played baseball in high school and were in 4-H. My husband occasionally would haul band members and attend an out of town game. He was the one to help with cattle at the fair. I preferred to stay at home and do the chores.
I think the most fun the boys had was inviting their friends from town to play basketball on their court they had made in the hay mow many Friday nights and weekends. When they got tired, they all came to the house for homemade cookies and cold milk from the bulk tank.
What did I get out of all of this? Sixty-four years with a wonderful husband, and three boys and their families, who give me a lot of love, respect and attention. This is the way it should be.