immediate family
Blood makes you related, loyalty makes you family.
Life is good ... until it's not.
My first memory is the first time I saw my baby brother when he came home from the hospital. I was exactly 3 years and 16 days old. I had no idea how much my life would change. From what I've been told, I stayed with my mother's parents while Mama was in the hospital having a baby. I distinctly remember standing on a chair so that I could reach the telephone to talk to Daddy. Apparently the "thing" was over, and I had a baby brother. I remember thinking, "Not yet, I don't." Being the only granddaughter on my mother's side of the family and the oldest granddaughter on my father's side of the family had made me quite spoiled. I believed I would have the last word on whether or not the baby would stay or not. no My grandparents wrapped me up in a winter coat, toboggan and mittens. It was December 16, 1968 after all and a typical North Caroline winter day ... cold! This is where my memory begins .... I distinctly remember seeing my mother, my father and a white wicker basket in the doorway to my parents' bedroom. The only thing I can remember about my father is a huge smile o his face that I thought made him look goofy and it quickly crossed my mind that I had never seen Daddy look that happy. "Oh no, this is not going to be good, is it," I thought to myself. Mama was wearing a yellow silk nightgown covered by a matching yellow housecoat. I quickly looked under the bassinet to see if she also had on yellow bedroom slippers. She did. From that moment on yellow became a significant color in my life but that's another story. When I finally looked at Mama, she actually looked scared. She was looking directly at me, and I think both of us were holding our breath. I realized just how important this moment was to my mother, and I knew I didn't want to disappoint her. I wanted her to still love me as much as she loved whatever was lying in that bassinet. The walk down the hall towards Mama and Daddy was one of the longest walks in my life. I wanted to hug Mama but the bassinet was between me and the woman who was my mother first. Strike one. "It" was already coming between me and my mom, and I wasn't a happy camper. I stopped walking and took off my mittens, which were clipped to my coat sleeves. I don't remember anyone saying a word. I looked at Daddy who was still grinning like he was singlehandedly populating the world. I looked at Mama who looked like she ate something bad. Her hair was perfect, and she had put on lipstick. I knew at that moment that my mother was the most beautiful woman in the world, and I would do anything ... anything ... to make sure she never stopped loving me. I, then, walked to the side of the bassinet. The baby looked more like a hairless rat than a human baby. He was so little. And his face was all screwed up like he was trying to laugh and cry at the same time but no sound was coming out. "Pew, what's wrong with it," I thought. He was wearing a tiny T-shirt with funny looking sleeves and a cloth diaper that looked big enough to use as a blanket. He was red all over, especially his screwed up little face. He was waving his arms and legs around as if he were trying to stop himself from falling. I leaned over him and sniffed. "He smells good, like a new toy," I thought, "Maybe this won't be so bad after all." I got up the nerve to touch him. I slowly moved one finger towards him and my mom reached out her hand as if to stop me. After making eye contact with each other, Mama stepped back but I knew that she was watching me ... and that she would be watching me for the rest of my life as long as "it" was in the same room. I lightly touched the baby on his left arm. Nothing. He didn't look at me or stop squirming. I don't know what I was expecting to happen but that definitely wasn't it. So, I tried again. I touched his leg, holding my finger against his soft skin just a little longer this time. For a split second, the baby stopped squirming. Even though he didn't look at me, I knew he felt my touch. I felt the adults in the room make a collective sigh of relief. But, I wasn't finished yet. I remember putting my mittens back on and when I had rearranged my mittens and clothes, I said ... as if I were the Queen of England ... "Okay, you can take him back now. I want a sister." I was being obstinate and knew it, and I didn't care. No one asked me how I felt about having another child in the house, and I decided that I wanted my mother and father all to myself. I shyly looked up at Mama to see her reaction. She looked hurt, and I felt like a monster. Still smiling like a maniacal clown at the rodeo, Daddy said that taking the baby back wasn't an option. I knew from the tone of his voice, if not the expression on his face, that I better not press my luck.
By Lori Pennington Warren6 years ago in Families
i long for this day...
i absolutely love having my children and husband home with me..i am disabled and in chronic pain all over, so to me it means feeling a little safer and able to ask for help with more and having more meals,and cups of tea made for me which allows my body to rest more than it would when they were at work or school.
By Donna Bolch6 years ago in Families
Winter
In a small town of Culpeper in the year of 1980. Everyone enjoyed winter. Everyone but me, that it is. While children were building snowmen and having snowball fights, and teenagers and couples ice skated and went sledding. I would sit in my chair by the window with my cup of hot chocolate, while my dog Curley and my cat Jelly Bean rested on the rug in front of the fireplace.
By Jennifer Christine Clark6 years ago in Families
A view of my childhood from the kitchen window
I always hated it when my mom left home. I am, and always was, incredibly close to her and felt sad and nervous when she wasn’t around. Because of this, it was a big production for me every time she left me at home because I was, and am, a crybaby. At first I would stand by the back door, located in the kitchen, and wave as she backed her car out of the driveway. Then, I would act as though I were a race announcer and yell, “On your mark, get set, go cat go,” before she was allowed to drive away. It eventually evolved to include a hand routine with it where I wrote the words in the air with my finger. Seeing as I was a small child, you can imagine how long this took, and if she dared to move before I was done, we had to start over. Maybe I should have known then that I had OCD?
By Katherine Carnes Coleman6 years ago in Families
Time I Got Lost
It was a regular day where 13 year old me got up to get ready for school. I get all dress and go wake up my mother to take me to the bus stop, has she insisted every morning. She is pregnant with my little sister who is due in a week to join our family. Has my mom wake up she notices that her nightgown and bed is soaked with water. YES, her water broke but she didn’t know since she never been through this experience. She finds her phone and calls her doctor. I vividly remember hearing the doctor yell at my mother saying “call 911 right now”. The ambulance comes to take my mom and a family friend takes me to school. Faster forward to 3:20pm when I get home and my neighbor was supposed to get me from the bus stop. No one is there so I decided I’m going to my best friend house to call my mom. We’re walking to my best friends house at the time and see that my family car is parked in the driveway. I go knocked for a good ten minutes but no answer. We end to my best friend’s house and I immediately call the house phone multiple times has my parents did not have cell phones at the time. About four hours go by and there a knock on my bestfriend’s house. Her mother answers and it the cops. They ask if I was there and to speak with me. They ask if I am okay and what happened. So I explain that no one came and got me off the bus as well has the fact that I’ve been calling the house phone all day. The police officer said she be right back and come back with my uncle and dad. My dad is so excited to see me has they thought I was lost. From there view of everything, my neighbor was supposed to get my from the bus but the bus was late that day and she missed me. They had contacted the school, the bus driver was interviewed by the cops, my parents had an alert out for me, and best of all my mother was refuses to have my baby sister until I was found. In the end, I got to the hospital just in time to meet my new little sister and all was fine.
By Abby Ebissa6 years ago in Families
An Open Letter to My So-Called ‘Parents’
Dear So-Called “Parents”: It’s been almost 10 years since I’ve last seen the both of you. I don’t call you “mom” and “dad” anymore, because when I was younger and reached adulthood, you hardly had anything positive to say about me and use my siblings to turn against me whenever I did something wrong. I think that’s one of the most despicable things you could ever do towards your own child. On top of that, you tell your friends and others lies about me that weren’t true. You would constantly berate and talk down to me. Not only that, but completely lowered my self-confidence. My self-confidence is still low today, because if you had treated me with love and respect more, I wouldn’t be feeling like this right now. To me, y’all were bullying me. The both of you forced me out of my hometown and Texas in general: the place where I grew up for most of my life and y’all call yourselves parents? You took my friends away from me and I’ll never forgive you. I’ve had great friends and teachers who liked me.
By Mark Wesley Pritchard 6 years ago in Families
A crowded mind
“How can things go back to the way they were when so much bad had happened?” It’s a saying from Samwise Gamgee that I think about a lot. Especially with how true it is. These past few months have been a true example of a mental and emotional torment. And a family torn apart cannot be mended so easily.
By Jessica Cortez6 years ago in Families
