parents

The boundless love a parent has for their child is matched only by their capacity to embarrass them.

My Mom
Check this out. I have the most beautiful mother and I mean that. My whole life I have looked up to her and admired her heart for others. She taught me how to love others and showed me what it is like to serve them. To give people what we have, even when we have nothing ourselves. I have memories upon memories of my mom going out of her way for not only my brother and I, but for strangers. Her sacrificial love was something I never understood until my early adult years.
By Kali Miller-Haque4 years ago in Families
Figs and Roses
Figs and Roses I watched my mother as she carefully filled the empty spray water bottle that she kept under the sink. Then she filled the small watering can—the one with the long protruding neck and shower tip.
By Eladio Del Castillo4 years ago in Families
Thanks, mother.
Mother, Thanks to all my trauma, I do not have many memories of my childhood. The ones I do have, are not great. I can't say you weren't a good mother then, I just genuinely do not remember. So I'll start off to where I do remember. Our first big move to the trailer near the school. I was in 7th grade. You expected us to wake you up in the morning with coffee, so you wouldn't be late for work. We had to get ourselves up, get dressed, and make sure we made it to our own busses on time to get to school. After school, we were on our own until you got home from wherever it is you were. We had to cook dinner ourselves most nights. Do you remember all the times you couldn't make it to your bedroom on your own? It was miraculous that you even made it home most of the time. I know you tried to be fun and have cool birthday parties for us, just to show our friends you were pretty awesome. However, that was about as far as the good things went in that house. You were rarely home. I don't even remember you bringing groceries very often. I'm glad the power and water stayed on to say the least. There was a summer you were gone for weeks. I got to stay home by myself, I stayed drunk half the time to pass the time. You wouldn't know though. The men you brought home, barely knowing them, while your kids were sleeping in their bedrooms. Who does that? Moving again to the big house with your POS boyfriend. That's when you really stopped caring about your job. That's where you hated H. Thought they were a problem child, but I can promise it all had to do with you and your habits. Your lack of empathy or caring for us in the least bit. At least we had food there. I finally was able to get a job, I walked most of the time. One of the few times you picked me up, you were drunk out of your mind and expected me to drive the stick shift home while you ate the food I bought for myself. Thanks for that. I remember the night you chased H down the stairs screaming at her, while she was just trying to get away from you to keep her peace. She hid in the closet as I packed a bag because I was ready to get kicked out. You busted in and tried pulling her out by her hair. Good on you, mother. I screamed at you telling you to leave her alone, and you told me to get the **** out of your house. Jokes on you, my bag was already packed. After that, you did not care what happened to me. I didn't much care for what happened to you either to be honest, but I felt awful for H and J for having to put up with your crap without me there to defend them. Life moved on, and I got with B. You eventually let us move in hearing that we were expecting your first grandchild. L moved in too, and we were there for a month before your ex got us kicked out. So you claimed anyway. Fast forward to you being constantly drunk, constantly starting fights, drinking away your pain. You pushed everyone away. You were mean, you talked crap without being provoked. I know you battled your own demons, as we all do, but you needed help. You knew that. We all did. I cut you off for a while, when you fully fell off the tracks. Dating awful men who beat you up, talked badly, and did unforgivable things to you. I feared for your life, I tried to help as much as I could. You wouldn't leave. I should've known there was no helping you until you genuinely wanted it. So I told you that. Until you got real help, and kept a job for more than two weeks, and bettered yourself (for yourself), that I would not be engaging in conversation, coming over, or bringing the grandchildren over. I blocked you on everything. You got a little better, so I gave it a shot only to find out that nothing had changed. It's a pattern anymore. You're so good at pretending like you want to change, like you're doing better. When in reality it's manipulation. The most recent case was when you sent me a million and one nasty messages about how I'm nothing, how I'm just like you, how one day my children will treat me the same way I've treated you. You also talked badly about my children, your grandchildren. That was unacceptable. However, like always, I took your crappy apology with a grain of salt. Once again, "mother," you have put us all in a bad place again. I am now an adult, all your children are. All I have to say to you, is after these 25 years of hell, I am done. I am done with your games, I am done with your manipulation, and your disgusting habit that you can't seem to break. You made me become an adult when I was still a child, you expect me to keep you in check. I am done being your parent, I am done trying to make sure you don't lose your house, I am done helping you in any and every way possible. You suck.
By Brie B4 years ago in Families
3 Biggest Regrets People Have When It's Too Late To Change Anything
We all have regrets. Moments when we look into our past and wish things went a bit differently. It’s even more painful if those things could have easily been prevented. If there was just something we could have done done differently.
By Tijjani Jibril4 years ago in Families
Pressure
It’s 12:34am and I cannot sleep. I suddenly feel like punching a brick wall repeatedly until my hands bleed. I’m not sure what happened. Just earlier today I was smiling and laughing with my newest students at my part time teaching position. Even three hours ago, I cheerfully taught my adult ESL class – that I scheduled and planned on my own, to a kind and receptive couple. Now, there is a ball in my chest and my jaw is still clenched.
By Misses Educator4 years ago in Families
Different Perceptions
May 4th, 2021. Glenside, Pennsylvania - 3:12 PM. "... do you want to go outside?" "Outside... outside... outside," repeated rapidly as I sprinted through an open field towards a fresh steak. Suddenly, my surroundings are becoming brighter and brighter. Everything turns white as I regain consciousness and realize that my mom just asked me if I wanted to go OUTSIDE!
By Casey Boldt4 years ago in Families
When Bergdorf, possibly of the Bergdorf Goodmans hung out with Rez Dogs!
When Bergdorf quite possibly of the Bergdorf Goodmans hung out with The Rez Dogs! My name is Bergdorf aka “Bergie”, an American Golden Retriever.
By LYNN ALAMILLA4 years ago in Families
Grey Area
Dear Dad… Let’s take a trip down memory lane... I’ll go easy on you today, because sometimes you showed up and rocked being a dad. I never told you that because I wasn’t able to. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen one another. In that time I have grown up and have had life experiences. I use to see the world in black and white with no room for grey, but as I’ve grown, I now know there is lots and lots of grey.
By Samantha4 years ago in Families
Imperfect Parenting
Shortly after having my first baby, I decided I was going to be the Perfect Parent. I immediately began to keep an intelligent stack of child-rearing books on my nightstand and would replenish stock as each book was absorbed into my sub-consciousness and checked off the "read" list. My fixation on perfection was evident. The local bookstore clerk (support Local Biz!) began to call me by name. My bank statement regularly presented shopping tendancies to my husband, and he was consistently reminded of my expertise on parenting from my readily available corrections and helpful tips.
By Sherri L Dodd4 years ago in Families
An open letter to my mom
Dear Mom I was thinking about who my hometown hero was and the only person I think of was my beautiful mother. I often wonder, where I would be if I didn’t have you? It is something I don’t ever want to think about. I call you often, I call you for everything, to tell you about my day, then I call you to bitch about something. You and I have a special bond, one like no other. You see, you were mom and dad. You made up for the part that didn’t exist. The part that hurt the most. You taught me to overcome everything. You were a single mother with a severe handicap son and daughter. Nothing stops you, ever. You carried on, you taught me to carry on to. You taught me how to keep on going when it really probably felt impossible for you some days. You never once complained about your situation. When my brother would land in the hospital for weeks or months on end you made the best of it. You took me to important meetings when it came to him, you included me and made sure you knew, I knew what was going on. It was so important to you that I was included. We were a team; we were a team lead by nurses who became family. I cannot recall you ever being negative about the hand you were dealt, you smiled and pushed forward. I am sure you cried alone in the shower or in the dark when nobody was around. You were dealing with such heavy things ALONE. My father was not there for one thing, not one., he left you and us to figure it out on our own. Somehow, I don’t know how, you never said one bad thing about him. If I said something mean or negative about my father, you would always say, “hey he’s still your dad, and you need to be nice.” He wouldn’t show up when he was supposed to visit with us, and you just made the situation so manageable. You would somehow make up for it. You were good at making magic happen when me and my brother were little. You advocated for me all through my school years, I was on an IEP and struggling with math. You watched me crumble because of a stupid state test I was having an issue passing. You stood by me and held me up when I was ready to walk away and just get my GED. You and my papa (your dad) had more faith in me then I had in myself. You took us on vacations and made the best memories. You made Christmas so special for us that I believed in Santa until I was 12. Who can say that- me? Yes, yes, I can. You have instilled “do the right thing” in my brain so hard that I have been able to slowly forgive people and move on. Moving on is hard, and it can be my downfall. We have always been close, and always will be. On the night my brother passed away, our bond grew stronger. I was the one that was there for you, you needed it more. You were caught in the sorrow of losing a child. You were trying to be so strong for me, and I think in same weird way my brother. I watched you try and stand so tall. I was so glad that I had you and you had me in those moments. I have children of my own and you are the same women to them as you were to me. I catch glimpses of you as you were when you were younger when I was little. It makes my heart full. I makes me thankful that my son and daughter get to have you as I did. The sparkle behind your eyes and glow in your skin is something I love to see. I often wonder to myself if we didn’t go through Hell if we would be where we are. You are such a special kind of person. When I look at you, I see courage, kindness, compassion, and love. I hope that I grow into the women you are. I cannot thank you enough for all you have done for me and my brother. I love you mom.
By Amanda DeGrasse4 years ago in Families
Didn't Have To Be..
Dear Dad, How do I even begin? This letter is to a Hero. You are probably confused, thinking your not even close to what would be a Hero. You've never gave yourself enough credit, but I'm about to. You know this story from your side, but now I'd like to tell you mine. Tell you exactly why I believe you are the greatest Hero and blessing in my life.
By Whitney J Castle4 years ago in Families
Starlights
I no longer know if I can trust the taste of peppermint. When I was young- much younger, the age when memories have just started to truly stick- my father drove a 1989 Ford Tempo. My brother, three years older, and I, used to simply call it the Brown Car, though that was generous; in truth its color was a muddy shade of gray not unlike that of spoiled meat. The 80’s weren’t nice to cars.
By Ryn Cooper4 years ago in Families