Raising Charlie

By Kitty McCaffrey

Raising Charlie is the story of a single career mom trying to do her best job at home caring for her two little sons while keeping her career afloat on the job. Like every mother who is left with the awesome job of "going it alone", she is tired most of the time, scared all of the time, and overwhelmed by

• Language: English
• Publisher: Global Summit House
• Release date: Oct 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781636845661

Kitty McCaffrey

This autobiography is the third book by Kitty McCaffrey. Her second book, Raising Charlie, is a Westbow Press book. She has also been published in newspapers and magazines. She is a retired educator who now enjoys using the skills she so often taught her students. She lives with her rescued shih tzu, Lily. She is the mother of two adult sons. She enjoys studying, reading, gardening, volunteering, and writing.

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Raising Charlie

A Self Help Book for Single Parents

Kitty McCaffrey

Copyright © Kitty McCaffrey.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review.

ISBN: 978-1-63684-567-8 (Paperback Edition)

ISBN: 978-1-63684-569-2 (Hardcover Edition)

ISBN: 978-1-63684-566-1 (E-book Edition)

Book Ordering Information

Phone Number: 315 288-7939 ext. 1000 or 347-901-4920

Email: [e-mail]

Global Summit House

www.globalsummithouse.com

Printed in the United States of America

This work is dedicated to my pride and joy, my two sons,

Jonathan Sterling McCaffrey

and

Charles Michael McCaffrey

Many thanks to them for the best journey of my life

Contents

PROLOUGE

Part One

The Early Childhood Years

The Adoption

What’s In A Name?

Beginning The Safari

Fun With Charlie

Part Two

Kindergarten And Elementary School

Off To College Again

A Doctorate In High Finance

Punishment

More Survival Skills

Holidays

Music In Our World

The Spiritual Side Of Life

Part Three

Middle School

Part Four

High School

Band

The Best Teachers On Earth

Education Through Traveling

The Art Of Dressing

Part Five

He’s In The Army Now

Part Six

What Now?

Epilogue

PROLOUGE

When a child comes into a family, whether by natural birth or adoption, the parents usually have a plan to provide a good home for that child. Rarely, if ever, does a person think that they will ever harm that child or do anything other than what is best for the child. People change; circumstances change, and plans go awry.

Divorce is so prevalent in our country today causing our children to be faced with torn emotions. When parents divorce, not only do the mother and father suffer, but each child suffers in her/his own way. Mothers who divorce fathers thinking that the divorce will suddenly make that father act responsibly and maturely are in a dream world. Once when trying to force my husband to pay child support after doing without any financial support for almost two years, my lawyer said to me, Ma’am, you married a selfish, irresponsible man. What makes you think that a divorce would change his character? For the life of me, I could not think of an answer. Actually an amicable divorce is rare, no matter what the movies and talk shows indicate.

Just as hard as divorce, an unwed mother has her own set of problems which are every bit as complicated and difficult as most divorcees have.

Whatever the set of circumstances which causes you to be suddenly alone raising children, it is a soap opera. It is reality right there in your own home, in your own skin, in your own broken heart. A reality that will last what seems forever. A reality that you will want to run from at times. A reality that seems to be powerful enough to break you. There’s an aloneness in being a single parent that is not matched by any other manner of being alone. The fact is that you are never alone all the while being totally alone. You always have God. If only He would sit across from you, have a cup of coffee, and tell you how to handle the problem of the morning. Then lunch with Him to prepare you for the problems of the afternoon. That’s not going to happen.

With the mobility of our society, this abandonment frequently occurs far from families who could be so helpful. In my case we were transferred to a job nine hours from my family. As soon as the father abandoned the home, he was transferred to another state. I was left with children and furniture and no money to move back home. It’s very important to cautiously connect with neighbors and church families and school personnel who are willing to be there for you and your children. It may seem that those people do not exist, but they do. Be willing to accept help when you need it. Accept cautiously.

Our experiences have not been special. They have been just ordinary events in ordinary lives. Many people tell me Kitty, you’ve had such an interesting life. I don’t really think that my life is anything different from every other woman raising two sons alone. I think that my approach may have been different. Sometimes different in a good way; sometimes different in a bad way. Never, never dull!

Raising Charlie has been written to help you understand that everything happens for a reason. A lesson can be learned from every event. The key is to be alert to the lessons. Identify the lessons and clarify them for yourself and your children. Much of the real garbage in our lives has been left out of this story because the good things teach as well as the bad. Remembering the really bad stuff is difficult and hurtful, so I’ve dwelt on the light side for your reading pleasure. It is my hope that this work will uplift any tired, worn-out mom who can find time to read it. Let’s learn from all that life throws our way.

Part One

Jack and I wanted a large family – three boys and two girls. We both agreed. But it didn’t happen. I was disappointed; he was devastated. I was an only child. He was the oldest of six children. He didn’t seem to have a good relationship with any of his siblings. He was the oldest. Actually he seemed to look down on his siblings. After all, he was handsome, well dressed, and educated. One would have thought that he would not want so many children, but he seemed obsessed with that big family. He talked about it all the time. After nine years of waiting for the impossible and the death of two daughters, we adopted Jonathan when he was seven weeks old.

he Early Childhood Years

Jon was the most perfect baby with one exception. He spit every bite of his green beans out in my face every time I tried to feed them to him. I tried so hard to be sure that my beautiful son ate a healthy diet. How could one eat healthy without eating green beans? Green beans from a baby food jar did not seem to be appealing going in, but coming out all over my face, my hair, and everything around me was disgusting. Once when he was a man still refusing to eat green beans, I informed him that when he puts me in a nursing home, I shall refuse to eat until he (only he) has to feed me. Then I will chew the food forever and spit it at him. For old times sake, you know.

✵ LESSON

It’s okay to not eat your green beans.

Jon grew into a healthy adult without them.

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Jon was a happy baby with blond hair and blue eyes and a perfect face. As a toddler he was satisfied with playing with his raff which was a wooden giraffe with a seat and wheels. Jon and Raff and Peppy, our hundred pound boxer dog, would spend hours in the front yard as if they were on a mission. I would be doing the yard work nearby. Life was near perfect. You can imagine my joy when one warm, sunny spring morning he spoke his first word in the front yard of our home while sitting on Raff. I had adopted a genius. As a commercial airplane circled the sky over our home to land north at Jacksonville International Airport, Jon raised his little hand and smiling, he screamed, Ah-pain. Oh my, oh my, my child was talking, and his first word was a two syllable word. I was sure that he was brilliant. I had looked forward to the day that he would just say, Momma. Of course, there was a bet with the father as to whether Jon would say Da Da or Momma first. My bet had been on Momma. We were both wrong.

The lady across the street was a single mom with three children. I wondered how she could run a household and hold a job. She worked for the newspaper. She thought Jon was the cutest thing since Mickey Mouse. She snapped dozens of pictures of Jon on his raff and wrote the nicest story for the newspaper. It covered one-third of a page with several pictures of my handsome son. All of the neighbors and the folks at my church were impressed. Now my little son was a celebrity at age two. I too was impressed.

He loved to ride in the car and demanded a ride every afternoon before his nap. It was his brilliance at this manipulation which caused Mom to give in. Just one time around the block was enough. How smart could one kid be? I never dreamed of denying this son his desire to have a ride every day no matter how busy or how tired I was.

Jon never met a stranger and readily went to anyone who would take him with gurgles, coos, and smiles. Once in line at the ticket counter in the Atlanta airport, I was holding Jon when he started reaching for a giant black man in uniform behind us yelling Daddy, Daddy. At church, at the grocery store, and visiting relatives Jon was the center of attention for three years. He thrived on this attention.

Actually his life was perfect except for his mother trying to make him eat his green beans ( I never gave up) and not having a little sister to boss around.

We started looking for a sister when Jon was two. It was hard. We tried adoption agencies and private lawyers. We had moved from North Carolina to Florida and had to establish residence for a year before we could apply through an agency. Not wanting to wait, we turned to private lawyers. This was expensive.

There were no girls. Every baby up for adoption was a boy. Finally a private lawyer in Jacksonville talked us into looking at a little boy who had been in foster care for six months. We went. What a personality! But the child had no ears. We were told that both parents were fifteen-year-old drug addicts. We got permission to take him to a doctor who told us that the boy would need at least eight surgeries to build ears. The surgeries would take years because they would be spaced out considering his growth. He also told us that there was no evidence of an ear canal, so he would be deaf. When we found out that our insurance would never cover this child because we knew about the deformity before we adopted him, we decided not to adopt him.

Then the guilt trips started. The sleepless nights. The self-doubt. How could any human being not want to help this child? We were Christians. How could any Christian not want this child? We were passing up a great opportunity to help a child. We had a year of this torment. It was not only the money, the insurance, the adjustments to the deafness, but the time this child would take from raising Jon. No, no, this child was for some other family.

The Adoption

Jon was three and one-half when we finally got the call. It was the Saturday before Mother’s Day, and we were getting dressed to go to the grocery store. We had been looking for a baby girl for eighteen months. The call was from a lawyer in Cocoa Beach who was an acquaintance of my husband’s aunt. She had a client in Cocoa Beach Hospital who wanted to give her baby up for adoption. Would we come down to see the baby? We had to pay the girl’s hospital expenses and the lawyer’s fee. We could handle that. It took us thirty minutes to pack and get on the road. This was a huge decision because this was a three day old baby boy. We wanted a girl.

Sunday morning we met the lawyer in her office and remained there for her to go to the hospital to pick up the baby. When she returned with the baby, I was scared to look at him. Would he have ears? He was blood red in the face from screaming. I assumed that he must be scared. I thought this was natural. He had black hair and a huge nose. I certainly would not call this baby beautiful. But he was loud, very loud. Then she hit us with the truth. This little boy’s legs were twisted to the point that he would need eight surgeries before he could ever walk. When the lawyer turned back the blanket, I was so disturbed that I collapsed in the nearest chair. What was it with eight surgeries? The last child would need eight surgeries to build ears. Now here we were with a child who would need eight surgeries before he could walk. Was God saying something to me that I couldn’t understand? I determined that somehow we would find a way. I would take a night job. I would do anything, but I would not continue my life in guilt over denying another child. Yes, we were taking this child home. This would be our son. This would be Jon’s brother. Jon would not grow up an only child as I had.

I had a difficult childhood, but had survived. Strangely when I was around ten I had become the mother, and my mother had become the child. A very demanding, controlling child was she. This little boy would have a very difficult life, but he would have all the help he would ever need to become all that he could be no matter the circumstances.

His biological mother was a waitress and his dad worked in the Space Program at Cape Kennedy. The mother had brown hair and blue eyes and was 5’3; the father had brown hair and blue eyes and was 5’7. So we would have a short son. Charlie grew up to be 5’11" tall. He has dark brown hair and green eyes. Interesting, eh?

✵ LESSON

Life does not usually consider our wants, just our needs.

After signing a pile of papers and writing the check, we began our journey home, a journey that has become the safari of a lifetime.

This baby cried for three years almost twenty-four hours a day. He didn’t want anyone to touch him. I thought he was in pain. The father began spending every minute he could with this child. He gave no attention to Jon. Actually he started being very, very strict with Jon which caused Jon to start withdrawing. The truth was that the baby paid more attention to Jon than to his mother or his father. I tried to balance the situation, but every attempt was unsuccessful.

Not flesh of my flesh,

Nor bone of my bone,

But still miraculously my own.

Never forget for a single minute,

You didn’t grow under my heart,

But in it.

anonymous

What’s In A Name?

Naming Jon had been strange. After planning to name our first son Christopher for nine years, we walked in to see our baby. Even before we looked at him, the father said, What if they call my boy Chrissy, the Sissy? I was shocked. A few minutes later when asked what the child’s name would be, he blurted out, Jonathan Sterling. I was not upset because I thought that a father had the right to name his son. When we got home and looked up the name, Jonathan means gift of God. How perfect!

We adopted Jon from Children’s Home Society in Greensboro, North Carolina while we lived in Raleigh, North Carolina. There was snow and ice all over the ground the night we got the call to come get him. We had all of the nursery furniture and tons of baby clothes left from my two pregnancies. I washed five dozen diapers. Then I drove to the school where I was teaching, got the janitor to let me in, and wrote a board full of messages to my students. I knew that I would not be returning. In North Carolina the mother has to stay home a year with the child before the adoption can become legal.

When we returned to our home from the adoption agency the next morning, Jack’s siblings and parents were there for a celebration. I thought I would die driving home. I had no idea how to hold a baby. I felt very awkward and scared. All of the kids I ever baby sat were two or older. I was glad his mom was there to help train me. The first three months Jon lived in our home, I frequently crawled out of my bed in the