OPINION: Raising six kids a fulltime job for mom

Jan. 26—I remember a certain way of life growing up with my two brothers and three sisters.

With my dad always working, if you wanted to get anything done, you had to go to our mom.

That is the way it worked back then — dad worked and mom raised the kids.

And my mom had a full-time job and more with the six of us.

I remember my mom would sew our initials on the inside waistbands of out pants so we could keep our clothes separate. In the morning our kitchen was like a sandwich shop as she kicked out our lunches.

There was one time when my brother let the dog out late at night and it got into a tussle with a skunk — right outside of our bedroom window.

I went to school smelling like a skunk and I was sent home from school — because I smelled just like the skunk. And it was mom who had to wash everything to get rid of that putrid smell.

She was always there when we needed her. And if we crossed her, the response was short and to the point — wait until your father comes home.

And that was never a pleasant thing when you had to face dad. He had a razor strap and he knew how to use it.

If one of us did something wrong, we all got into trouble.

He would line us up and we had to put both hands out. One by one he would slap each of the 12 hands — sometimes more than once depending on the offense.

I remember the time when my brother, Tom, pulled his hands away when my dad went to slap them with his strap.

That was not a good day.

That is when we really appreciated our mom. She had an endless job.

We buried our mother Friday. She was 93 when she died on Jan. 10. Now it is time to honor her as we move on.

After the funeral, the six kids and their families gathered at the house my dad built about 70 years ago.

There is a lot of stuff in the house — some good and some not so good. You have heard stories about children fighting over stuff when their parents died.

Not in this house.

My mom kept track of everything. When there was something she thought should go to one of her children, she marked it with a number on the back.

I was the fourth of six children so I was No. 4.

Anything that had a No. 4 marked on it was mine.

We laughed because there were a number of things in the house we prayed our number wasn't on.

There was so much stuff. What we didn't take, the grandchildren went through and took.

My nephew and his girlfriend were in the front yard digging up a cement deer that has been there for half a century. I remember cutting grass and that damn deer always getting in my way.

There is just so much stuff. Some time all six of us will have to get together and figure out what we can do with the stuff none of us wants. We will give away everything we can, then the rest will go into a dumpster.

It doesn't seem right throwing anything away. But is what you have to do. My dad saved everything. I think he cut out every story I did the last 40-plus years for the Reflector. He has welding magazines that are decades old.

They are both gone now, but we all have treasures of them. I made sure each of our daughters got something to take home.

I have often thought about putting numbers of our three daughters on our stuff so they won't have to fight when we die.

But I was informed all of that "old" furniture (Jody and I like to call it antique) we have will make for a great bonfire when we are gone.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and in this case we have a difference of opinions. But at least we'll have a tradition passed down from my parents.

All I ask is if they do have a bonfire in the backyard, just don't burn the house down.

Joe Centers is Reflector managing editor. He can be reached at jcenters@norwalkreflector.com.