A mother’s love…the good…. the bad….. and the ugly ….. 1.1

I think I knew from an early age that mine was not a normal life, but I really never gave it much thought early on. As a small child my mom and Dad did not live together during the week. My dad traveled for work and I stayed home with my mom. Dad was home on the weekends and from the time I can remember slept in the 2^nd bedroom we had in our apartment. I think I recall being told by mom that he slept there because he got in late and didn’t want to be disturbed in the morning.



My mom and I when I was 2

I don’t want to claim that I have vivid memories of that time; I don’t have snippets, flashes of memories and pictures which remind me of a certain time. For all the memories and pictures I have it was not an ugly childhood, sure looking back on it now I realize something was off but at the time it was my normal.

I was the only child of Barbara Ann O’Toole and Robert Francis O’Toole. My father was 17 years my mother’s senior and was married once before and had 2 children from his previous marriage which I never knew.

Up until the time I was 5 years old I stayed home with my mom attended preschool and had a normal life for any 5 year old at that time but then things changed. I was never really aware of my mom and Dad fighting, I knew there were times were they would argue and raise their voices and I would sneak down the hall of our apartment to see what was going on. I was never caught but for some reason I can still distinctly hear my father saying to my mother “for Christ sakes Barbara” or “Jesus Mar and Joseph what do you want me to do?” I never understood why it was that they were fighting and I guess I was never meant to either.

I knew life was different on September 6^th 1977; this was my first day of kindergarten and my mom’s first day of work. Seems that my mom and dad had spilt and my mom was now going to go back to work to support us. At the time I only knew that mom was going to take me to school and that afterschool I was to wait on the front steps of the school for a cab which was going to take me back to our apartment building with a couple of other kids.  We had practiced what I would do once I entered the building and how to use the key to open the door and the number I was to call to let her know I was home. 

The morning was one I will never forget, my mom was rushing around trying to get ready and she spilled a glass on orange juice all over her dresser. She was cursing and visibly upset. I ran to get napkins or paper towels, I can’t quite remember, and helped clean up the juice which was running down the dresser. I said to my mom “don’t worry it will all be alright” she looked at me and smiled and we continued to clean up and get ready for our new routine.

You may have noticed I said nothing about having someone home to greet me or watching me after school. I didn’t, I was home alone for a couple of hours until my mom arrived back from work. Funny thing was I was never scared about being alone it seemed normal to me. Now as an adult I realize it is far from normal to let a 5 year old come home alone to an empty apartment, even back then. However I guess mom was doing what she had to do. I can home alone to that apartment every day after school until I was in 4^th grade. At first I was brought home by a cab with some other kids. When the other kids stopped taking the cab it was not something my mom could afford so I started to take the public bus home when I was in second grade. It was only a 2 mile bus ride but it might as well have been 20 when it is a 7 year old alone on a bus.

It was in these early school aged years I realized, my mom had a temper and was not afraid to show it. There were numerous times when she would raise her voice to me not uncommon when you are the parent of a school aged child but this was different this was rage and raw anger. I recall being struck on several occasions for actions which were not hit or slap worthy actions.

On a couple of occasions Child Protective Services was called and showed up at our door. They would interview me and my mom separately talk to neighbors and share with my mom they had received calls of concern for my well being. This is where I think the secrets began.

Mom would tell me I couldn’t tell anyone about what went on in our house. I was never to talk about the arguments we had or the fact I was home alone. I was not to play with other kids in the building even. I was told this was all for my safety, it wouldn’t be until years later I would realize that while some of those directions were for my safety they were also to conceal and very troubled household.  

Once when I had fallen off the monkey bars at school, I was taken to the ER because they thought I had broken my arm. When I was in the hospital gown which was wide open in the back the nurse found they found a nice size bruise on my bottom and asked me how it got there I said I wasn’t sure and to this day I don’t think I was. This finding on my bottom prompted my mother and I to be separated so that CPS could be called and for them to do a full exam of me. I remover my mom arguing with the nurse entire time and also I remember my mom hissing at me that I got that bruise from playing in the pool when we were left alone at one point. This was the story I told when asked over and over. We were soon allowed to leave but it is my understanding there were still a number of follow ups by CPS over the next several months. To this day I can’t tell you if that bruise was of my own doing or my moms. It was not uncommon for my mom to spank me and at times she was pretty forceful.

At some point the spanking with an open hand led to being spanked with a strap, a strap that my grandfather used on my mother when she was a child. Not exactly the family heirloom you would expect to pass down. That strap scared the piss out of me and hit hurt like hell. Sometimes I would not only get the strap but the buckle part as well. At some point the buckle broke when thrown at me or the wall but the strap still lived on for quite a while.