I used to beat my dolls. I’m not sure why. Perhaps I was compensating for my overly-good behavior, my endless bid for approval from parents and teachers. As far as I recall, I was only spanked once in my life and the event remained memorable on that account. It was in a London hotel room in 1958. My mother asked me to do something and instead of complying, I hid behind a chair. What other frustrations triggered her fury on that occasion I have no idea. We were travelling and she had responsibility for keeping three kids clean, dressed, and well behaved day in and day out for nearly three months. A Depression-era child, my mother had never been out of the country, or even far from her Midwestern upbringing before her marriage. This extended trip was an extraordinary undertaking in an era when travelling with children was unheard of and a three-month excursion unimaginable.
Trying to figure out exactly why I found this story so moving. The confusions of childhood? I didn't relate to dolls when I was a little girl. They seemed kind of cold and stiff, kind of alien. I loved stuffed animals instead. Thanks, Joanna,
As you might remember, I had many, many dolls, baby dolls, girl dolls like the child sized Chatty Cathy and the pursed lipped petite Madam Alexandra herself; I had my mother's dolls with paper maché head, and my grandmother's doll Jacqueline who had an exquisitely painted porcelain face and a wig made of real human hair. Barbie dolls appeared on the scene a little later but I never wanted one of those dolls with their bullet breasts, wasp like waists and feet fit only for high heels. As I recall, our favorite (yours and mine) was J Fred Mugs, a hairy stuffed chimp with a realistic looking rubbery face and big ears. When dressed, he wore red corduroy overalls over a striped shirt, and we liked to play lost in the jungle with him.
I don't remember ever punishing my dolls, but I do recall inadvertently doing damage that ultimately caused the demise of a whole generation of dolls. When I had measles, I used my mother's lipstick to give my girls measles as well. Turned out that when my red splotches disappeared, theirs did not. No amount of scrubbing even using Ajax with bleach helped, nor did my mother's razor blade with which I tried to dig out their spots. Talk about scarring and pock marks. And who knew some of those dolls had completely empty heads?
Well, carving measles off of a doll does seem pretty rough! Thanks for the comments!
Trying to figure out exactly why I found this story so moving. The confusions of childhood? I didn't relate to dolls when I was a little girl. They seemed kind of cold and stiff, kind of alien. I loved stuffed animals instead. Thanks, Joanna,
As you might remember, I had many, many dolls, baby dolls, girl dolls like the child sized Chatty Cathy and the pursed lipped petite Madam Alexandra herself; I had my mother's dolls with paper maché head, and my grandmother's doll Jacqueline who had an exquisitely painted porcelain face and a wig made of real human hair. Barbie dolls appeared on the scene a little later but I never wanted one of those dolls with their bullet breasts, wasp like waists and feet fit only for high heels. As I recall, our favorite (yours and mine) was J Fred Mugs, a hairy stuffed chimp with a realistic looking rubbery face and big ears. When dressed, he wore red corduroy overalls over a striped shirt, and we liked to play lost in the jungle with him.
I don't remember ever punishing my dolls, but I do recall inadvertently doing damage that ultimately caused the demise of a whole generation of dolls. When I had measles, I used my mother's lipstick to give my girls measles as well. Turned out that when my red splotches disappeared, theirs did not. No amount of scrubbing even using Ajax with bleach helped, nor did my mother's razor blade with which I tried to dig out their spots. Talk about scarring and pock marks. And who knew some of those dolls had completely empty heads?