double standard living (with 5 star photos!)

I never intended to be 'that' mom.  The one that raised my kids by following the all-infuriating double standard.

I grew up the youngest of 3 sisters, followed very closely by 2 younger brothers.  I don't think my sisters were as impacted by the double standard lifestyle that my parents practiced as much as I was.  My sisters were programmed to 'do it all', because they were 'older.'

I admit that I often stepped back and allowed my sisters to handle tasks that I was perfectly capable of.  They didn't want me to wear something wrinkled to church, so they made me de-robe so that they could iron it.  Wink, wink.  Yep, I was that lazy, younger sister, who knew if I didn't - they would.

Marie, 2 years older than me, was an early riser.  She embraced that role.  Yuck.  You wouldn't catch me out of bed before my alarm for anything unless it was mandated.  As a result, Marie made our lunches starting in junior high.  She probably unloaded the dishwasher each morning too, I was sound asleep so I don't recall.

Me @1986. Not sure why
I didn't date in high school?
 'Jammers' were in, but these
were cheap knock
off Hawaiian
shorts.  Shockingly
there are no
photos of my unloading
 the dishwasher.

Ann, who was 2 years older than Marie, liked order.  Anytime my folks left the house, she made us clean up.  My folks' house was almost always in perfect order, but heaven forbid someone left a book in the family room or someone had pulled out a pile of coloring books.  Ann made us put them all away.  If there was a cardigan, a stuffed animal, or other miscellaneous item left on the first floor that technically belonged upstairs, then she ordered us to assume the position:  the stairway.  We had to line up on the stairs in age order.  The person at the bottom would hand up the items that needed to be put away in our bedrooms.  Our human chain handed the items up -and the person at the top of the stairs would place the items outside the bedroom doors.  Shazam - just like that, order was restored.

Ann is the same sister that stopped by my house when my kids were really little and 'tsk, tsk-ed' at me for leaving my baking sheets in the sink vs having them scrubbed and put away, and for having smudges on my refrigerator.  She was very pleased with herself when she taught Mini how to get out the 'squirt' aka Windex, and spray the fridge and wipe it down with a paper towel.  Mini was about 4 years old.

Why would Pat and I be fighting for car
 privileges if we drove this '76 Chevy Impala
station wagon?  Well, that's all there was.
 This is the photo of the fake funeral
 my mom and I held for 'ole Betsy in '91.
 It was days after my sister's wedding. 
We put the flowers on the roof of the car
 and I wore my black dress and posed for photos
feigning emotional distress.  You can see the guy
 there hooking up the car to tow it away.
  I am sure he thought we were nuts.

By the time I was a sophomore in high school, both sisters were away at college.  I was left to do all the things they enjoyed doing as mother's helpers.  My brothers were expected to do nothing.  Literally.  They didn't load or unload the dishwasher.  They didn't know the washing machine from the dryer.  They sure as Hell never ironed one of dad's shirts.

They were close to my age and I saw the tasks at hand more as age appropriate vs. gender specific.

Well, here I am in high school with my friend
who reminded me of Prairie Dawn
 from Sesame Street.  My nickname 'Ernie'
was also somewhat related to Sesame, so we made
 this sign and snapped a photo - you can
see the straw to my milk carton behind
 the sign.  I wonder if I was
still financing my own milk?

There were other issues.  Pat, the first born son, was given car privileges before me.  For real.  I was older, but he was favored, more trusted.  If he wanted the car, particularly because he wanted to take a girl on a date, he got the keys ahead of me.  I did not dating in high school, and that was frowned upon.  Mom was the eternal Irish match maker mom.  Her heart skipped a beat when her son was dating a girl.  It was nauseating.

My sisters and I bought our own milk at the cafeteria in high school.  The minute Pat - followed the next year by Mike, started attending high school, our folks started to give them milk money.  They were 'boys' after all.  They were athletes.  They needed their milk - and one carton was never enough for them.  They also didn't work during the school year, because of sports.  I guess the girls were expected to have milk money on hand, because we held down jobs during the school year.  All three of us babysat in addition to working fast food or grocery store jobs.

Is your blood boiling yet?