humanity
Humanity begins at home.
Betrayal
My most powerful and far-reaching memory, my first recalled betrayal, occurred when I was five years old. I was playing at the house of the family across the alley. My older sister played with their daughter, and I played with their son Jay, who was a few years younger than I.
By Roberta Carly Redford6 years ago in Families
The Working Mom Guilt
Monday mornings usually go about the same each and every week. I start collecting my things and secretly try to put on my shoes before my toddler notices. He knows what this means; shoes are symbolic to him. When he catches on, he frantically starts trying to find his shoes. Shoes mean Mommy is about to leave; shoes mean a meltdown is coming. He thinks that if he also puts on his shoes, he will be able to go with me. This breaks me, every single morning, this breaks me. As I give him kisses and tell him goodbye, I can hear him start to cry as I walk out the door. I have come accustomed to redoing my makeup in my car. My eyes swollen from a mix of crying and sleep deprivation. I give myself the same pep talk every morning - you got this; you can do this.
By Brandi Cullins6 years ago in Families
"Did I do the right thing?"
Did I do the right thing? It has been a year now, how time flies, it feels like only yesterday. I wake up feeling sad, lost and some days even not sure why I’m getting up. The winter cold making the days even drearier. The feeling of belonging all gone.
By Charmaine van der Merwe6 years ago in Families
Why Don’t I Have Friends Like Susan?
Why Don’t I Have Friends Like Susan? Kristyn Meyer is on a journey to make herself the best human that she can be. These posts are a reflection of that. She welcomes your support via reading and through commissioned affiliate links within her posts! To stay up to date on all of her shenanigans, please subscribe to her email list! (psst…there’s a free gift involved)
By Kristyn Meyer6 years ago in Families
Juts Kids!
That's what it was! Juts KIDS! I said to myself, "this is going to be easy, right". To be honest getting to work with kids for me wasn't very hard. For some kind of reason I found myself connected to it. But it will be better if i share with you how i get there.
By Hernán Arteaga6 years ago in Families
A Hated People
From a young age, I was taught the morals and foundation of Judaism. I attended a Jewish preschool, where I recited the prayers over the challah, wine (or grape juice for us 4-year-olds), snack and Shabbat. I earned the most mitzvah leaves in my class- each mitzvah leaf would be pinned up on our tree labeled with our name to keep track of all the good deeds we did. Being Jewish is giving back to the community and our families, providing support and prayers for those who need it, cooking delicious meals and using every opportunity to turn a Jewish holiday into a feast. Also adding a few comical Yiddish words into everyday conversation. The Jewish culture is rich in traditions, values, flavors and compassion. Coming from a reformed family mostly focusing on the familial element of Judaism and growing up in New Jersey, I imagined the whole world was favorable towards this seemingly peaceful religion. So when I found out my grandma is a Holocaust survivor and suffered through such a hatred, I had many questions.
By Emily Bright6 years ago in Families
Answer The Phone!
This article isn't for the people over 50 like myself that remember what it was like before there were cellphones. This is for the moms, dads, kids, friends, and everyone in-between that grew up in the cellphone generation. You know, those of you that go on Facebook and post pictures of your kids and your meals and have at least 100 friends. The people who live an active lifestyle and know how to post a selfie.
By Tracy Branstetter6 years ago in Families
Growing up Biracial
When I was little, I had no idea I was different. I didn't see race or question what I was as a child. I was just me. I was surrounded by my brothers or sisters everyday. Some of us were light, medium tone or what I would call Caramel or Mocha, and others were dark. All of us came out looking different but we knew that we were siblings. I didn't question it. I didn't question my Dad nor my Mom.
By Anatonia Garcia6 years ago in Families
We Didn't Know It Mattered
Here we go again. I'm sitting under the dining room table that my dad put in the basement for just this type of thing. I'm hiding from the war going on in my neighborhood. It's a literal war. I'm trying to just write and block out the noise. It's constant, the screaming and gunshots and more screaming. I don't understand why. I don't understand why it has to be like this. It wasn't like this last month. Last month, we had a big street party in our neighborhood. Last month, we all ate together. Last month our parents talked to each other. Last month I had friends. Last month I didn't know I was different. Last month, I was just a kid like any other kid. This month, I'm a kid with a black mom and a white dad.
By Phoenixx Fyre Dean6 years ago in Families
