parents
The boundless love a parent has for their child is matched only by their capacity to embarrass them.
Being "That" Mom: Revisited
Three years ago, I wrote a short blog about being that baseball mom. I talked of the beginnings of it all, and how important those teams become. I vaguely remember the writing of it, and reading it again brought me back to that time in our lives. So sweet, and a great thing to remember.
By Jenn Pautsch4 years ago in Families
My Favourite Storyteller
My dad was a storyteller. In the few memories I have of my father, I can pick out numerous ones of him telling outrageous stories to me that my 3-5 year old brain took as fact. While if I told you them you would say, 'that's a joke! how could anyone believe that?' and I agree, who would believe such a thing? However, growing up, any sentence that came from my dad's mouth would be a statement I defended with my life, something I think many people can relate to. As a child, I looked at my dad as a man who had lived life, and had the proof to back it up. That's why when he told me about how I was born on a farm in a water bucket, (despite having lived in the city my whole life) I believed him with the utmost certainty. In fact, it wasn't until I finally questioned my mom a few years ago that it occurred to me how outlandish it was. Regardless of the decieving nature of it all, I'm grateful to my dad for the memories I have of the entertaining, ridiculous, and shocking stories he told me.
By Angelina B4 years ago in Families
Like Ripples In The Water Mistakes As A Parent Ripple Through Time
Things ripple through time, and we fail to realize how much of an effect those things will have on us. Worse yet, what about the future of someone else? Remember that thing called responsibility? Well, that too is on you, like blood on your hands that you can’t wash away. I am talking about the sins of parenting. As soon as you create life, you’re responsible for how that life turns out.
By Jason Ray Morton 4 years ago in Families
My Mother's Daughter
My mother. A small frail little lady who sat peacefully in her recliner with a blanket draped across her lap,with a book in her hands. It was a week of reflection for me, we had recently learned that her stomach cancer had returned. The last few days were a bit quiet at home as I would check on her like a mother with a newborn. Our roles in life had changed when I became her fulltime caretaker.
By Paula Cushman4 years ago in Families
Musical Alcoholism
It was always three. Three more songs, until she was done. Three more drinks, then she would not remember. Three A.M when she would play “The Middle,” by Jimmy Eat World. It was the Karaoke machine that would constantly display 1...2...3... before any song would begin. It was the fact that for the first fifteen years of my life. My mother was a musical Alcoholic. Music and I have had a consistent love hate relationship. There have been a couple times in my life where music stood out the loudest. However, the one that claims center stage and shaped me took place repeatedly during the first fifteen years of my life.
By Clarissas Madness4 years ago in Families
The Voice of the Tree House
The whispers from the trees began ten minutes ago to lure us into the forest like a siren's call. Halloween night and me just ten years old as my friends gathered at our house in their costumes and full of candy from the night’s scavagings and roamings from the neighborhood homes lit with pumpkins as the paper ghosts wraithed in the cooling breeze that rattled the leaves that sounded like applause the of bones. The whispers continued tin-like and distant as my friends with their plastic flashlights huddled terrified. “Long is the night, and deep is the forest where mysteries lie! Come find me!”
By Kevin Rolly4 years ago in Families
Thunderstorms
The loud crack of thunder jolts me awake. I peer into darkness, a bit disoriented. Taking a moment to center myself, I take in my surroundings and realize I am back at home, in my makeshift basement apartment. It is pitch black, meaning we must be without power. No power also explains me being freezing cold. Shivering, I gather my warmest blanket around my shoulders and walk towards the stairwell with one arm ahead of me.
By Lenny Jacobs4 years ago in Families
My Father, the Square
As a creative freestyling everything I did, I could never relate to my dad's straight-laced ways. Made sense that he chose engineering as a profession. He tried his damn hardest to put me on the straight and narrow. Which resulted in constant battles, and I resented him for the longest.
By A.K. Noctua4 years ago in Families
Reason
As a kid I remember how my father would wake up before the sun, drink his coffee, and wake us up for school as he was leaving for work. I have a brother that is 18 months older than I am, then 4 years younger than me there is our sister. Our dad worked 2 jobs around this time. He worked as a detention officer at the Adult Detention Center 12 hours a day 5-6 days a week. That job in itself took a toll on him. Then as soon as he was able to clock out from his long shift there, he had just enough time to come home, change clothes, grab his plate from the microwave and head to job number two. Of course he also checked on us first, made sure our homework and chores were done, and told us goodnight and that he loved us before he would leave every time. He wouldn't get home until after midnight most of the time, sometimes later. At this job he was a bouncer at a local bar across town. I remember watching him come home about 2:30 am so tired that he walked in the front door, pushing himself those few more steps to the couch barely able to kick off his boots and then fell right to sleep just to wake up before the sun and do the same thing all over again.
By Amber Martinez4 years ago in Families
My Dad
I didn’t always consider my dad to be my dad. We had some rough patches in life, so at some point I began considering him a sperm donor; we had no real relationship. However, during the last few years of his life he made an incredibly miraculous change in how he dealt with me and my 3 younger sisters. Those were absolutely our best times with him.
By Stephanie Jordan 4 years ago in Families
