parents
The boundless love a parent has for their child is matched only by their capacity to embarrass them.
Providing Shoulders
After being an uncle for many years, I thought parenthood would be easy. I was so naive. I had yet to change a diaper, be truly thrown up on (not spit up), and I had no idea what it truly meant to be called Dad. After becoming a dad, I have read up on my responsibilities, and it seems Fredrick Backman really has a good idea on the concept of being a father. His most famous novel may be A Man Called Ove, but his other books are excellent sources of parenting advice. In Us Against You, Backman has a quote that is always with me as a dad. “What does it take to be a good parent? Not much. Just everything. Absolutely everything.”
By Noah Glenn4 years ago in Families
The Secret to Being a Good Father
Being a good parent is difficult. We want to protect our children from bad events. But unfortunately, our world isn't as safe as it was a generation ago. Seventy-five years ago, families left their houses unlocked at night. Kids came home from school without the constant lecture, "Don't talk to strangers." And we usually left the car keys in the ignition when it was parked in the driveway. It was OK to hitchhike from home to the center of town. Those were the good ole days. What have we become now? Sadly, we can't go back.
By Zante Cafe4 years ago in Families
What makes a dad
Dear Rob, When I met you for the first time, I could see you really cared about my mom. Over time I saw how much my mom needed a friend like you, someone to show her that there are good men out there. When you moved in with us, you proved to us that men are caretakers beyond just providing money for the household. One of the things I remember most is that every morning you would boil a couple of eggs or make oatmeal for my mom and then when you found out I needed a quick breakfast before college, you would add a few extra eggs in there for me. You still do it almost every morning, so many years later.
By Doina B. Tozlovan4 years ago in Families
Exploding Love
A loud cracking sound grabs my attention. My brother and I stop bouncing on the trampoline and let the mat slowly come to a rest as we unsuccessfully look around to pinpoint the sudden noise. It's mysterious because we are in a wooded area in East Texas, far from the city where random noises are expected to echo in the distance. Being 11 years old, my curiosity wanes as my interest in continuing to pretend like I'm a Ninja Turtle bouncing into the air resumes it's occupancy in my mind.
By Brandon Phifer4 years ago in Families
We Needed More Than Love And Enablers
As an adolescent, I was unaware of the importance or influence the role of a parent was; and how it immensely helps or hurts the child in their future. This has become lucid not only because I’m a mom, but because I observe and seek knowledge. I recognize patterns and I’ve always had an urge to find the source. In a lot of cases it starts in the home, those are the cases I speak of.
By AURACLES by MJ4 years ago in Families
My Father
This is a story about my father. Born in a small town in Alabama into a poor working-class family. The family had to move around in search of work. Farm labor mostly. The family had to chop and pick cotton on these farms they moved to. It was said that there were even times they had to live in tents, cook from an open fire and make their own lye soap. Washing dirty clothes in a large caldron using a wash board to scrub the stains out. Even though the family was from Alabama they finally settled in a small town in Arkansas. This small town was a farming community with promise of work nearly year-round. In this town there was a school and the only way to get there was to walk nearly five miles both ways. This put a lot of pressure on the knees and the mother had to rub them every night to help ease the pain. The family would go to bed early, before the sun went down to getting up at four in the morning to start the next day's work scheduler. The job was easier to do in the early morning hours just before sunrise than to wait until the sun was high in the sky to start the day. Wearing straw hats to shade the face and long sleeve shirts to protect the arms from the burning sun. This was the job they were getting paid for and they made sure the job got done. It was hard, tedious, sweaty work, swinging a hoe from sun up to nearly sundown, only stopping to sharpen the hoe when the blade got dull and for lunch. Once you are in the middle of that cotton field and thinking you are going to die before you reach the end just to be able to get that cool drink of water. Once your thrust is satisfied you start again headed for the other end that seems like it is going to last forever, but this was all they knew. They had done it with their parents and now they were now doing it as parents. Times were extremely hard and school came in second place. If you were able to go to school it didn’t last long because the money was needed more. A person isn’t going to get far with only a fourth-grade education. The only way out was to get married if you could find someone which was hard to do when all you see is a cotton field every day. But love did come and life got a little better. The first few years was spent travelling away from Arkansas to Oklahoma, Delaware, South Carolina and sometimes back to Arkansas. In the beginning it was a good life until the kids started coming. Four in all, two boys and then two girls. Then death. Cancer took my father out at the age of sixty-two. You see, my father died when I was just three years old. I never got to know him or his family. All I do know about him is that he was born in Oklahoma, was married before and had a daughter, worked as a welder, graduated the eighth grade and was part Creek Indian on his mother's side of the family. After his death my mother became both my Momma and Daddy at the age of thirty-one. She had no way of going back to the cotton fields because of us kids. All she had to survive on was my Fathers Social Security she received after his death. My Mother never took was camping but she did load us up in the old station wagon, buy two dollars' worth of gas, buy us an ice-cream cone from Faye’s Fine Dinner and ride to the river and watch the barges go by. When we got older, she would take us back to the river and we would bbq, hamburger's, wieners and drink coke. Afterwards we would make our way down to the river to fish. Sometimes we would catch a fish and sometimes we didn’t. She showed us how to make a small fire and roast marshmallows and wieners on a stick. Bring out a sheet so we could lay on it and look up at the stars until it was bed time. Other times she would drive out towards a small neighboring town called Wilson after we visited my father's grave. She loved driving out there and seeing the nice big houses. Some brick, some wood, but very beautiful homes. I was wise enough at that time to know she wished she lived in one of those beautiful houses, but it never accrued to me just how hard my mother's life was and had been for her to wish that. She had to buy for four kids, keep a roof over our heads, food on the table, clothes and shoes on our feet and not to mention the other bills. Once the boys were old enough, she had to teach them how to shave and tried her best to make them understand things in life that a man should know. Then when was girls were old enough, she had to teach us how to cook and clean. The number one thing she tried to tell us was how important school was. Momma let us be kids also. We played in the dirt, ran in the rain and skip rope. She always said a dirty kid is a healthy and happy kid. I never seen her cry even though I know she did and maybe a lot. When us kids was around, she was always smiling and laughing. She told us in later years to never make fun of people no matter how they looked because it could happen to us. She made sure we didn’t care what a person skin type was we had to accept them as they were because we don’t know their story. My Momma seen beauty in everything, no matter how ugly it was she could see the beauty in it. My Momma deserved more in her life time than any other person I know. She was sweet, kind, happy, wise and the friendliest person you would ever meet. She loved the holiday’s, Christmas the most of all. She loved live Christmas trees and the decorations. She done her best to raise us kids being that she was our mother and Father. My momma passed away at the age of fifty-four. As her daughter I wish I could have done more for her. The trails and tribulations of fear inside her having to do this on her own had to be scary for a woman. To me I think she did a Hell of a good job at something she wasn’t prepared for and raising up to do what she had to do to raise us right. Thank you, Momma for giving me a loving, happy, healthy childhood and thank you for being my father when daddy passed away. father. Born in a small town in Alabama into a poor working-class family. The family had to move around in search of work. Farm labor mostly. The family had to chop and pick cotton on these farms they moved to. It was said that there were even times they had to live in tents, cook from an open fire and make their own lye soap. Washing dirty clothes in a large caldron using a wash board to scrub the stains out. Even though the family was from Alabama they finally settled in a small town in Arkansas. This small town was a farming community with promise of work nearly year-round. In this town there was a school and the only way to get there was to walk nearly five miles both ways. This put a lot of pressure on the knees and the mother had to rub them every night to help ease the pain. The family would go to bed early, before the sun went down too getting up at four in the morning to start the next day's work scheduler. The job was easier to do in the early morning hours just before sunrise than to wait until the sun was high in the sky to start the day. Wearing straw hats to shade the face and long sleeve shirts to protect the arms from the burning sun. This was the job they were getting paid for and they made sure the job got done. It was hard, tedious, sweaty work, swinging a hoe from sun up to nearly sundown, only stopping to sharpen the hoe when the blade got dull and for lunch. Once you are in the middle of that cotton field and thinking you are going to die before you reach the end just to be able to get that cool drink of water. Once your thrust is satisfied you start again headed for the other end that seems like it is going to last forever, but this was all they knew. They had done it with their parents and now they were now doing it as parents. Times were extremely hard and school came in second place. If you were able to go to school it didn’t last long because the money was needed more. A person isn’t going to get far with only a fourth-grade education. The only way out was to get married if you could find someone which was hard to do when all you see is a cotton field every day. But love did come and life got a little better. The first few years was spent travelling away from Arkansas to Oklahoma, Delaware, South Carolina and sometimes back to Arkansas. In the beginning it was a good life until the kids started coming. Four in all, two boys and then two girls. Then death. Cancer took my father out at the age of sixty-two. You see, my father died when I was just three years old. I never got to know him or his family. All I do know about him is that he was born in Oklahoma, was married before and had a daughter, worked as a welder, graduated the eighth grade and was part Creek Indian on his mother's side of the family. After his death my mother became both my Momma and Daddy at the age of thirty-one. She had no way of going back to the cotton fields because of us kids. All she had to survive on was my Fathers Social Security she received after his death. My Mother never took was camping but she did load us up in the old station wagon, buy two dollars' worth of gas, buy us an ice-cream cone from Faye’s Fine Dinner and ride to the river and watch the barges go by. When we got older, she would take us back to the river and we would bbq, hamburger's, wieners and drink coke. Afterwards we would make our way down to the river to fish. Sometimes we would catch a fish and sometimes we didn’t. She showed us how to make a small fire and roast marshmallows and wieners on a stick. Bring out a sheet so we could lay on it and look up at the stars until it was bed time. Other times she would drive out towards a small neighboring town called Wilson after we visited my father's grave. She loved driving out there and seeing the nice big houses. Some brick, some wood, but very beautiful homes. I was wise enough at that time to know she wished she lived in one of those beautiful houses, but it never accrued to me just how hard my mother's life was and had been for her to wish that. She had to buy for four kids, keep a roof over our heads, food on the table, clothes and shoes on our feet and not to mention the other bills. Once the boys were old enough, she had to teach them how to shave and tried her best to make them understand things in life that a man should know. Then when was girls were old enough, she had to teach us how to cook and clean. The number one thing she tried to tell us was how important school was. Momma let us be kids also. We played in the dirt, ran in the rain and skip rope. She always said a dirty kid is a healthy and happy kid. I never seen her cry even though I know she did and maybe a lot. When us kids was around, she was always smiling and laughing. She told us in later years to never make fun of people no matter how they looked because it could happen to us. She made sure we didn’t care what a person skin type was we had to accept them as they were because we don’t know their story. My Momma seen beauty in everything, no matter how ugly it was she could see the beauty in it. My Momma deserved more in her life time than any other person I know. She was sweet, kind, happy, wise and the friendliest person you would ever meet. She loved the holiday’s, Christmas the most of all. She loved live Christmas trees and the decorations. She done her best to raise us kids being that she was our mother and Father. My momma passed away at the age of fifty-four. As her daughter I wish I could have done more for her. The trails and tribulations of fear inside her having to do this on her own had to be scary for a woman. To me I think she did a Hell of a good job at something she wasn’t prepared for and raising up to do what she had to do to raise us right. Thank you, Momma for giving me a loving, happy, healthy childhood and thank you for being my father when daddy passed away.
By Vicky Ashley4 years ago in Families
My dad was one of a kind
Plenty of fathers are the heroes who don't wear capes for so many children. At the opposite end, there's fathers that ditch their families and aren't part of their children's lives. My father was somewhere in the middle of the spectrum of all of it. He was there if I needed him but he wasn't around for much of my life.
By Michael Noon4 years ago in Families
The Trouble With...(Pt. 6)
We had talked about it for a while. I suppose we had actually had as many as 10 separate discussions on the subject over the course of a six month time span. Now, as you grow older, you know that 6 months gets shorter and shorter with each passing year. But when you are still 11 years old, 6 months is a very long time. And 10 conversations during that time seems like your parents must surely have forgotten that they ever took place! Rest assured, your parents think 'you just won't let it drop,' or 'that kid has a one-track mind!' Well, we talked about it.
By Shannon K. Abel4 years ago in Families
