How does she know to do this? Is all I could think watching a mother bird feeding her young. Chewing on a worm for the newly hatched baby birds. The hatch-lings are crying for their food and there she is chewing it. Preparing the meal. How does she just KNOW? Just sends chills down my back.
I mean any animal for the matter. There isn't a "How to Parent Your Cub 101" book. . They do not have parents telling them how to care for a new life. So, for humans there are LOTS of "How To" books and specialists. Yet, there are so many adults that end up raising their children differently than how they were raised. Why? Is it how they were treated? Too many rules? Not enough time together? Neglect? Poverty?
Whatever the case, we often feel the need to "do it differently" than our parents.


My hands are wet. Why are my hands wet? "Oh Shit!" I look down and see I have over filled the sink.


Nick comes barreling down the hall. "Mom, I forgot pencil case at school. I need it for my homework." He looks as if the world is about the end if he does not have it. "Well, you better run over there and get it." He must have been to preoccupied with his social life, then packing up at the end of the school day. My son seems to have a better social life then me.....

The beginning....

What seems like a life time ago....can really rip thru your emotional state if you allow it to.

Sometimes my mind wanders back to a painful place. I don't move. It sucks me in like a black hole. 

I ride the memory train.

At seven years old my mom had remarried and had another baby. We had moved to a new town and a large house. Something neither my mom had for us before. Our backyard was an over grown grassland. A rusty old swing set was left behind from previous owners. My room was upstairs, in what seemed to be a attic of some sorts. I recall liking this room. 

Since we lived so far from mom's work, I didn't get to see her very much. My school was beside our house. I would quite often come home from school. Only once did I stay at school for lunch. I regret not staying home that day.

My mom's husband, had me help clean up our yard one day. I was tired.  So, I went to get ready for bed. Put all my dirty clothes in the hamper. Flung my jacket over the rack in the closet and climbed in bed. He came up stairs and said good night. He stopped and looked around. Saw the jacket over the rack. He ripped me out of bed. 

He dragged me down the stairs into the basement. Pulled down my panties flung me over his knee and began to hit my bottom with a large piece of wood. I begged and pleaded for Him to stop. It hurt so bad. Sobbing so hard, he dragged me up stairs and made me sit on the kitchen floor. " Stare at the kitchen floor" is what he said. I recall my mom coming home, seeing me on the floor. She went to go talk to Him. They started to fight. 

He left. That was the beginning of it. My mom examined me. By that time my bottom went from black to blue and starting to go purple.

That is where my life changed. It was the beginning of all pain I would have to over come at a young age.

Thanks for joining me...

In the piles of laundry that linger around me, waiting to be folded neatly...I let my thoughts wander.
To the life that was lived prior. How far I have come in 28 years. As a almost divorced mother of 2. I keep finding myself wondering, how can I let my voice be heard. After all, who is going to rescue Mom from that heap of laundry?

We will see where this journey goes. Raw and honest...