Anti-Dr Laura Part 2

My husband refers to Dr Laura as Dr sludge-slinger. I think by her judgmental attitude over things she knows nothing about, she may just deserve the name.
One more point of my disdain over the "doctor" before I continue my series. She makes callers say, "I am my child's parent." This woman callers herself a psychiatrist? Is she nuts?
Being a woman, and a divorced mom for several years, I can tell you I was much more than just their mother. I proudly wore many hats and this made me a better parent. I did not raise overly dependent children - which you would if you were solely "your child's parent." I'm not a manic depressive now that my children are grown and on their own. Which I would be if I was solely "my child's parent."

Today, I will take on her hatred for divorced parents who re-marry while living with small children in the home. I need to start here to make the rest make some sense. Welcome to my life.

I was born in 1961 three days before Christmas. I believe it was three days after Christmas that my father left my very young mother for parts unknown. My grandfather, that day, moved mom and me in with him and my grandmother. Mind you, they had two teenagers at home.

It was a small three bedroom house out in the country. We had a total of six neighbors within a 3 mile radius. Five of which were family.

My mom was gone quite often, she was in nursing school and working at a local nursing home. I stayed with my grandparents, aunt and uncle. Wonderful and sweet people, but very, very poor. My grandfather worked for a lumber company loading and unloading trucks. He worked long and hard for very little. My grandmother worked in one of the many leather mills. She spent ten hours a day pulling gloves over wooden hands for piece work pay, three cents per dozen. It wasn't all bad for her, she worked there with two of her sisters and on Fridays, my aunt (who is 12 years older than I) would take me to meet them out for lunch.

I actually loved living with them. I was always outside, fishing, frog and bug hunting, helping my grandfather in his garden or helping my grandmother in her flower garden. I will admit I was pretty spoiled. My aunt called her her favorite toy and my uncle taught me to play guitar and fish and shoot a bow and arrow.

However, I rarely saw my mom. I do not, nor have I ever held that against her. She was doing what she had to do to make a life for us. She was handed a bad situation at the age of 18 and made the best of it. She didn't date often, she didn't have much of a social life at all. Once every summer, her and I would take a little trip somewhere, just the two of us.

I was six years old when she brought home a man she wanted me to meet. It was love at first sight. He was funny, sweet, very interested in what I had to say, even if it was only about how to remove the tiny bones from a grilled trout. The added plus was, he made my mom happy too.

They married the following year bringing my family of two to a family of six, and within three years, a family of eight. We moved out of my grandparents house and into a house he bought us in a neighboring town. I had my own room, a new bike and brothers and sisters.

My new town wasn't quite as small as the last, but it wasn't big either. Our house was right across the street from the grade school.

For those of you who know me, know I talk a lot about my dad. He was my hero, my confidante, my best friend. Just not my biological father. I would jokingly say I could be anything I wanted, an only child, the eldest, the youngest and smack dab in the middle. I always loved the middle. My elder siblings were adopted by my dad and his first wife, I came as a package deal with my mom, together they had two more. The only thing I can say for sure is that none of us were treated any differently. We were all their children, we lived by the same rules, we were loved the same and cared for the same. I never have uttered the words "step" or "half" in talking about my family. My older brother Doug, most of you know about, took on his new little sister as if she were a prize.

I remember when I enlisted in the Navy and came home on leave after A-school. There was my Dad, all proud with flowers. After the birth of my youngest, he was there when they told me my baby was going to die. He dragged me out into the hall and told me a "secret". He told me that Andy wouldn't die, he was his mothers son. He was strong and would defy all odds, just like his mother. I am so happy that he lived long enough to see his premonition come to pass.

What if my mom had listened to Dr Laura's judgmental crap? Do you really think this is a single success story? Absolutely not! I see it all the time. I lived it, I am living it. I married my husband when my boys were younger. He had a younger son he was raising alone as well. This boy calls me mom.

Why deny a nation of single parents and their children a full life? Why deny them the joy I would not have had, had this woman dictated my moms life. No, life was not all peaches and cream. We had to make adjustments and give and take. It is my belief that this is what made us all better adults. My sisters and brother and I know how to meet in the middle, we have overcome obstacles and been the better for it. We are a close family that helps and supports each other. We are a family. How dare this "doctor" judge or deny any of us that, in the name of her idea of "moral authority".