parents
The boundless love a parent has for their child is matched only by their capacity to embarrass them.
You're Mum or Dad Until You're In Trouble
It is all too typical in many African households, well not only African households, but even other ethnic households, for parents to address us as "Mum" or "Dad" when they want a favor or when you are in their good graces. However, when you do wrong, you're called by your full names and in my particular experience in a Kenyan household, I know this all too well. My mother is one to sweet talk you into doing her favor but, once she calls me by my third name, Nduta, it is like an automatic alarm set off in my head: "Uh, oh .I did something wrong or I did not update her on something." I mean, that is not exactly my first thought, but, ''Oh, sh**.'' It might even start if your mum was saying something to you and you spoke back and said something you should not have said.
By Vanessa Nduta8 years ago in Families
Moose
It was early October, and it was finally time for my long-awaited moose hunt. I had waited ever since I was a little girl for this opportunity, and it was finally here. So, my father, the one that looks after me, and I packed up our stuff and left our city in Alaska. We were heading to a place called Bethel, AK. After a six-hour long drive, we made it to our hunting unit. It did not feel like home to us but it was warm and cozy, like my bed at home.
By Sura Whitt8 years ago in Families
The Butterfly Effect
Today, I'm exhausted. My day started at 5:30 this morning when my five year old son decided to creep up the stairs from his bedroom and turn on the living room television. Unfortunately, I was asleep on the couch, having fallen asleep there mid-work last night.
By Destinee Amber8 years ago in Families
Dealing with Unsupportive Parents
You can tell people things a million times. You may even venture so far to explain to them your reasoning with valid evidence. But the bottom line is: people are going to think what they want to think. And furthermore, people can't stand to see something different from what they grew up with. They cannot relate to what is being done, therefore they cease to understand it. Instead of attempting to take the time to understand things, they block it out or pretend it doesn't exist. They try to persuade you to be something you're not despite your feelings, which should be the most important. It's not about what they want. It's about what YOU want. What keeps YOU going. In times like these, as dramatic as it may sound, "drastic times call for drastic measures."
By Rachel Ihasz8 years ago in Families
Leaving the Nest
I love the question, "How are you surviving without your mom?" Or this one, "I would never survive without my mom, she does everything for me." I love the questions and statements solely because I have answers to them. To answer the question, "How are you surviving without your mom," is simple. I don't but in a way I am. Yes, I am married and living over 1,000 miles away in a different state. So you ask, how can you say you aren't surviving without your mom? I call my mom everyday. In this day and age, technology has given us the power to be able to speak to our loved ones with ease on a daily basis. If I ever have a question about finances, food, cleaning supplies, even relationship advice I know my mom is always a text or phone call away. So I do survive on my own but I will always need my momma.
By Brooke Clarke8 years ago in Families
Life as a Daughter of Agent Orange, Part 5
Part four was probably seen as a bit harsh, especially towards those outside my immediate family—it is how I viewed life at that time and remember, I was only a teenager. I did not have the maturity that I have now for better observation skills and discernment. In my emotionally wild teen years I was harsh and quick with my judgments and unforgiving with what I saw through those skewed eyes. I know there are things said and done that I have never been told about where people stood by dad and my family—as I said, as a teenager I was not the best person to share things with because of how quickly I would jump to the wrong judgmental conclusion. I do not apologize for what I wrote, but I want my readers to understand that is not who I am anymore; I lived what I lived, but I have grown past who I used to be.
By Elizabeth Kozlowski8 years ago in Families
Imperfect
So, the football game was on last night. It was one my father just had to watch with the TVs on full blast (that’s right, two of them). His hearing’s bad and he refuses to wear a hearing aid, even one of those subtle ones that are flesh-colored. I closed the door to the office I was working in and managed to sneak my dinner in there too. One of the rules of the apartment is not to eat in the office, but I made an exception for myself since he was blasting the volume on the two TVs and I didn’t want the headache I’d surely get if I went out there to eat or if I left the door open.
By Alexandra F8 years ago in Families
The Carnival
The night of the carnival that everyone had been so anxiously waiting for, for months now, had finally come. The thrilling annual small-town carnival that my friends and family members get so hyped up for. My mother, my father, my two sisters, and their friends all piled in the car, ready to go, getting crazy-excited to ride the salt and pepper shaker and the swings. Only, there was one thing.
By Samantha Brinker8 years ago in Families
My Journey As a Mother
My journey as a mother so far has been amazing, hard, and frustrating all at the same time. You hear from other mothers the terrors and pain and all the negatives. Yes, I had the symptoms and pain, however, those symptoms were bearable and wonderful. What made the pregnancy hard for me was waiting to give birth to my daughter. The anticipation of seeing my beautiful little girl and getting to hold her is what made pregnancy difficult for me. I am an impatient person and this time was no different. I wanted to see my daughter now, but I had to wait. I went through the pain of my chronic back pain getting worse and morning sickness; it was all worth going through to get to be with my daughter.
By Brittney Gellentien8 years ago in Families
Life as a Daughter of Agent Orange, Part 4
Well, after that previous part, I guess we are all still here! I never thought in a million years I would be sharing my story, let alone some intimate parts of how I dealt with the stress and upheaval. I know what I have gone through is for a purpose and a reason, but there are days and moments when I wish I could take a magic wand and make it all better. My late teens to early 20's were the years where I would wish that the most. During my last two years of high school, dad's side effects grew evermore fierce. It was getting to the point where he could not be in large crowds because just a tiny whiff of the wrong chemical makeup would cause his blood pressure to change dramatically and it would take a couple of days for his body to go back to normal (including his moods). Trying to get dad to come to my band and choir concerts was a chore on its own; I knew he could not handle the smells, but I still needed my dad there. The few he did not attend I spent the night watching and waiting for him to step into the gym's doorway (he would always stand in the lobby to be away from the smells) and my heart would sink when he never showed. My mom always came and later I found out that my desire to see dad there overshadowed what mom was doing; she was showing me she was there as both parents and did not receive thanks for it until years later. When it came to high school graduation, I flat out told my dad he would be there. In my mind if he did not attend, he was not proud of me. You could say I had a bit of Stockholm Syndrome at that time in my life; I thought I simply desired his approval, but I think it was more than that—I was trying to be who I thought he wanted me to be.
By Elizabeth Kozlowski8 years ago in Families
A Bracelet With a Name on It
All my life I had this bracelet. I looked at it occasionally and found myself wondering why I was looking at this silver men's bracelet. It was small for a man in my opinion. The name "Craig" was embroidered on the outside of this bracelet. The name Craig was stuck in my head since childhood. It was the name of someone evil, someone I have no memory of. The name Craig was my father.
By Jacquelina Cain8 years ago in Families
