My Incredible Mom Life
Stories (3/0)
How I Graduated High School At 30 years old!
In high school, I wasn't much of a bookworm. I never read books at all. I never did homework. I slept in class. That's if I even made it to class. By the beginning of grade 10, I hardly went to school at all. I lived with my father and he worked 12-hour days. He left for work at 4:30 in the morning and didn't get home until 6:30 at night. So I was home most of the day by myself. I got myself up and ready for the day and I did my own thing. He would call me at 6:30 every morning to wake me up and ask "are you going to school today?" I'd either say yeah I'm up, I'm ready, I'm going, or I'd make up some excuse like I had period cramps or I just didn't feel well. Sometimes I would just say I was tired or some ridiculous excuse. On the odd day in which I did manage to get my ass out of bed for school, I would typically take the lunch money my dad would leave me on the table, and use it to take two buses to school, which was a 10-minute walk. Then I would get off of the bus, and go into the school cafeteria where I would buy a chocolate chip cookie that was the size of my hand. After which I'd turn around hop back on the bus and go back home. I did this so often I can't even tell you how many times, I lost count. Other times, my best friend would come over in the morning to "walk" to school with me. She lived on the same floor as me with her mom. Her mom used to watch us off of her balcony to make sure we were walking to school. We would walk so far till she couldn't see us anymore, then as soon as her mom went inside the door, we would turn around and head to Tim Hortons for breakfast. Instead of a typical breakfast, we instead opted for a large creamy broccoli soup with a cheddar tea biscuit to dip. After which we went back to my house. Remember how I said we lived on the same floor? In this case, we had to be smart, so we would get off on the 10th floor, and walk quietly up the stairs to the 11th floor, and snuck into my apartment, all so her mother wouldn't catch us skipping school. I even got smart enough that I figured out the exact time of day the school would call my house to report me absent. I would stay home, and at 7 pm I would make sure to answer that phone on the first ring, Claiming it was a wrong number. My Dad did catch on, especially when the school put me on a contract to have signed daily. That didn't last long. One day My Dad called me from work to wake me up at which point he said, "I don't know why I'm bothering to call, not like you're going to go anyway. Are you going to school today?" I said "no". This time he said "Okay you know what? I give up! Do whatever you want, it's your life. I can't make you. I'm not there to push you out the door." I was almost 16 years old at this time, the school didn't charge me for not going to school. I was allowed to do pretty much whatever I wanted. You could legally quit school at 16 years old in Canada back in 2002. Today however you must be 18 to avoid being charged with truancy. After a few months of sitting around at home and my dad nagging me to get a job, I decided to go back to school. I didn't go back to my regular high school. I went to an alternative school where I went to class twice a week for 2 hours each time. After repeating grade 9 applied math 3 times, I finally passed it. Yay me, right? Just before starting my second class, I met a guy, then I quit again. Fast forward 14 years and four kids later, I decided once again to head back to school. However this time I older, wiser, and a role model. I was more determined than ever to graduate. I didn't have well thought out plan. I just kind of winged it. First I had to find daycare, then I had to fix my schedule so that it corresponded with my priority motherhood. It was far from easy. When I first signed up I went to the guidance counselor at my neighborhood adult school and he recommended that I take a couple of human sciences courses to start. According to the guidance counselor, they were the easiest classes to get my foot in the door. I only had seven credits, I needed 30 to graduate. I was never great at testing, so I knew I couldn't study for the GED. I could study and study and study but when it came down to it my mind would draw a blank come test day. Instead, I chose to do it credit by credit. The first three classes I signed up for were grade 10 applied math grade 11 anthropology sociology and psychology class and some type of parenting class. I know you're thinking why parenting I already had four kids, well duh I thought I'd for sure get an A+. I already knew this stuff right? Wrong! Sure I knew how to feed a baby and change a diaper and put one to sleep but I didn't know how their brains worked. I didn't know all the medical terms. I didn't know anything about the moral reflex or the Babinski reflex from just raising children. When I picked anthropology sociology and psychology all I heard was psychology and went oh cool that'll be fun I like twisted s***. I was not prepared to learn about Sigmund Freud or The Oedipus complex for that matter. Nevertheless, I had the hardest teacher in the school. He assigned the hardest work but he had the best personality of anyone there. I used to pick on him all the time. I swear he thought I had a crush on him or something. Nope, that was just my personality he knew I was joking, at least I think he did Lol, I spent a year and a half several missed days of school cuz here's the thing when you have four kids one of them is bound to be absent from their school at least once a week therefore so was I. I struggled a lot with assignments I mean it had been 14 years since I was in school I forgot everything it was like starting brand new. My math teacher used to put us all down and constantly say to us I don't know why I have to teach you this stuff. This is stuff you should have learned in grade four. To which my reply to her was always I haven't been in grade four in like 20 years so yeah there's that. She barely passed me. I think she just didn't want to see me again. To be honest with you she hated me. She didn't hide that fact. Truth be told I was a b**** to all my teachers. Looking back I wish I need to apologize to every single one of them because thanks to them I'm where I am today. I have severe depression and anxiety. I always had it but then, I wasn't medicated. I didn't think I needed it. I wanted to quit so many times because I was so stressed out with assignments and homework and due dates some days my brain just didn't want to work. Try having your due dates for homework and helping your kids with their homework on the side plus doing housework laundry cooking dinner and everything else that a full-time mother and housewife would do. It wasn't easy to juggle and I kicked myself in the ass many times wishing I had just finished when I was a teenager. A lot of what pushed me into finishing was my aunt's voice in the back of my head saying it's so important to finish school you don't even know we used to get in so many arguments cuz we were so alike but I was like rebelling. We got in an argument so bad one day we started spewing hateful things at each other calling each other losers and so much more I don't even want to repeat it. so I constantly heard your loser in the back of my head every time I wanted to quit school. I believe that was my motivation to keep going, well that and my ability to tell my kids that I went back to school and why it's important that they stay in school in the first place. I didn't want to be a hypocrite. A year and a half after I started school I finally did it. I graduated and got my high school diploma signed and sealed. 100% authentic and hard work I owe all to myself and the voices in the back of my head and to the teachers that pushed me to my limits and sometimes even passed. When I first started my blog the first thing I had to think of was my niche then I had to find a domain name. I took a marketing and an entrepreneur class when I was in adult high and I didn't do great in this class and I didn't think I'd ever need did I tell you something I had no idea what a niche or a domain name was before I took those classes so thank you, Ms. T. I owe a big part of this to you. Also to all the friends I made when I went back to school. You were all my biggest support system. I don't think I could have done it without you. So many people came into my life in a year and a half that shaped who I am today. It's incredible to think that such a small chunk of my life made such a huge impact. For anyone questioning going back to school as an adult just do it, give it your all don't think twice because if I could do it so can you. You will feel so much better about yourself and it's so worth it. If you have any questions or need any help shoot me a message and I'd be more than happy to give you my advice. don't let other responsibilities hold you back from your dreams. Let your dreams make those other responsibilities a little easier.
By My Incredible Mom Life3 years ago in Motivation
The day I almost lost my baby boy!
It was a bright and sunny morning May 15th, 2007 as I walked into the Mississauga hospital 9 days late, with my first baby boy to be induced to give birth. That boy was stubborn, and he wanted to stay inside forever. After only one round of gel to help dilate my cervix, and 2 hours of walking the hospital grounds, I was finally admitted at 3 to 4 cm dilated. Never had I given birth before but thought I knew everything seeing as I was an avid fan of research and Mom groups and everything in between. The second that epidural was offered to me I said hell yeah. Truth be told I didn't even know what a contraction felt like I hadn't even felt one yet. “I know you're thinking lucky me huh?” Back in 2007, the epidural was quite intense, and it completely numbed me from the upper waist down to my toes. Completely dead weight, I felt nothing. This was in no way like any other births or labors I had heard about. After 13 hours of anxiously waiting the nurse finally said ‘okay it's time to start pushing.” “Great!” I said how do I do that? I mean I couldn't lift my legs on my own, I couldn't feel the need to push, I couldn't even tell if I was having a contraction. I found myself looking at the monitor every time the line went up to tell me I was having a contraction, so I knew when to start trying to push. Was I pushing? I don't know, "I think so." After an exhausting two and a half hours of mindlessly pushing, and pushing, and pushing I finally delivered my baby boy. He came out at 2:23 a.m. at a whopping 9 lb 4 oz he was huge. I remember I had family everywhere my dad, my mom, my grandma, my son's dad, his mom, my dad's girlfriends, my friend Shannon, my cousin Shandy and that's all I can remember for now. Devin was a great baby, hardly cried, slept great. I just loved him and couldn't get enough of those beautiful fat cheeks. It was him and I against the world, I mean his dad was there too, but between him working it was just Devin I most days. As Devin grew older and turned into a toddler, walking and talking, and all that fun stuff.
By My Incredible Mom Life3 years ago in Families
What it was like living in Foster care!
Anyone who has ever been in the system or ever been in a group home or foster home has their own story to tell some are worse than others and some are better than others this is all from my perspective and my experience I can't speak for everyone I can only tell you how it was for me. Near the end of 1999, I had just turned 11 years old I had moved from my grandparent's house in Cambridge to live with my aunt and her partner in Etobicoke. I promised I would be good and I would behave and do everything I was supposed to do. When I started going to my local school I couldn't make any friends. I was being bullied, I was being made fun of for the shoes I wore, the clothes I wore, just about everything. My aunt tried her hardest to give me everything she thought I deserved and more. She would go to thrift stores and buy me what she thought was the nicest clothes. She couldn't afford to buy me brand name clothing. Instead of being grateful for the things she had done for me, I took all my anger out on her instead. My anger from being bullied at school all day and everything else that upset me somehow became her fault. I used to yell and scream and say "I'm not wearing those ugly clothes, I'm not wearing used clothes!" She used to cry because she couldn't understand why I was being so mean. When I look back now I was being unreasonable and I can't believe what a little shit I was. My aunt wasn't very well, she had a lot of health issues so unfortunately she couldn't take the stress of me constantly throwing these temper tantrums. Her partner would pick me up after school, and I would stay with him until he finished work. This happened for quite a while. One particular day in December of 1999, he once again picked me up from school and I went to work with him. There was nothing unusual that I could tell. When we got home that evening and I walked in the door they both sat me down and explained to me that I would be going to a foster home and that a Children's Aid worker was on her way to pick me up. My bags were already packed and she would be there shortly. I felt betrayed, angry, sad, and scared. I begged my aunt "please please don't let me go there, I'm sorry I'll be good." I said. It was too late. When the Cas worker came to pick me up. She brought me to my first home which happened to be located in the area of St Clair and Dufferin area of Toronto. This was supposed to be temporary as this home was meant for teenagers and I was only 11. The foster mother was a single middle-aged woman who ran the house, but she was great. She was so nice to me. I was the youngest kid in the house and she treated me like a princess. Even when another home came available for me to go to, she requested to keep me. She used to refer to me as her baby doll. She never had a young one like me in her house before, so she used to take me shopping and take me out for dinner and to fancy high-end hair salons to get my hair done. All of the older teenagers in the house would always want to dress me up like them and take me out and show me off to all their friends. One day I would have braids in my hair and baggy jeans with chains hanging off of them, the next day I would have makeup on and dresses. I loved this place, but I still missed my family. nothing could replace them no matter how much fun I had or how spoiled I was. One day after school I came home to find out that my foster mother was in the hospital and she was very ill. Without notice, my CAS worker was there to pick me up and relocate me to another home. I never got to say goodbye to anyone in the house including my foster mother it was awful. I missed home even more now and again I was scared because I didn't know where I was going. This time my worker brought me to Ajax Pickering to another home with six other girls and again like my previous home she was also a single Foster mother. This home wasn't so bad either I had my spats with the other girls in the house as if they were my siblings, but we did all kinds of cool things we went to the beach we went on long drives we went out to dinner often this foster parent did so many activities with us. Once again I was at a new school with no friends. I still remember the time our foster mother woke us up early in the morning it had been raining hard that day and she woke everyone up in the house with excitement "Put your bathing suits on and grab the shampoo and the soap we're going outside to shower." I thought this was strange. "okay, let's do this." We did go outside and we showered in the rain, as odd as it was, it was fun and something I never forgot. I lived at that house for about six months before my mother was able to get custody of me. I moved in with her. Now my mother struggled all my life with alcoholism that's partially the reason I wasn't living with her in the beginning. She went to rehab and she got sober and was doing very well. She had a job as a waitress and she had an apartment. I was excited to finally be back with my mom. I have two younger sisters who were living in Cambridge with my grandparent's cousins at this time. A few months into living with my mother, I came home from school to see her sitting at the table drinking a beer with one of her friends. I was 12 at this time and I lost my shit on her. I yelled at my mom and I called her some nasty names. I even remember throwing a plate at her like it was a frisbee and throwing my Easy-Bake oven at her too. She looked me straight in the eye and said "if you don't stop this right now I'm picking up the phone and calling CAS to come to pick you up!" I didn't stop. She picked up the phone and she did call. I still can't believe she did that. I honestly thought she was bluffing. So off I went again back to another foster home, this time I was sent to a home in Brampton. This one was by far the worst home I had been in. There were two foster parents a mother and a father and they had two biological sons of their own. They had a huge home and a nice home at that. My room was in the basement, that's where I spent all my time. Not by choice I might add. I wasn't allowed to come upstairs and roam the house, I wasn't allowed to eat meals with them either. I had to wait until their family had finished eating dinner before I could come upstairs and have dinner at the table by myself. Their kids would come downstairs in the basement and play in the rec room. Sometimes I would see them and I would start talking to them, but I would get in trouble and told to go back to my room and their mother would tell her sons "don't talk to her!" One day I got the flu, I was vomiting and I had a high fever. I was lethargic and very sick, I just wanted to stay in my bed. The Foster mother was a principal at a school and she refused to take the day off work to look after me. She dragged me to work with her puking in a bucket all the way. She brought me into the school's library where they had a couch and left me there all day alone. Classes of kids came in and out all day long just staring at me wondering why I was laying on the couch repeatedly throwing up in a bucket instead of being at home. Several teachers and the librarian came to me throughout the day and asked me who I belonged to. Despite many attempts to explain what was happening to my worker she never believed me, no one believed me, why would they after all I was just a kid. By this time my two sisters had left my grandparent's cousin's house in Cambridge and were also now in CAS in Toronto themselves. I knew the only way I was going to get out of this awful home was to ask my worker to let me live with my sisters. Luckily the foster parent who was taking care of my sisters had the best heart and she said of course she would take me in. I got transferred after two months from Brampton to North York to be in the same home as my younger sisters. Even in this new home, I struggled a lot with getting along with the other members of the home and the staff members, and even the foster parents. I was always grounded I was always assumed to be lying I pretty much lived in my room. Because this foster parent was a single mother herself she hired staff members to come in and out and help. Some of these staff members were fantastic and I still talk to some of them today, others not so much. One of them I remember threatening to kill. That got me grounded for at least a week. She played favoritism to some of the girls and I saw right through her, but she put on a good act in front of the other staff members and foster parent. So once again no one listens to the kid. I spent about 6 months at this home before I got a phone call one evening saying that my dad had gone to court and that I could go and live with him if I wanted to. Without even a second thought I said yes and I packed my stuff as quick as I could. It took me all of 5 minutes in total. At that moment I wasn't thinking of leaving my sister's behind I was just thinking of getting out of there I had enough I just wanted to go home wherever that was. I know what you're thinking why wasn't my sister's going too? The thing is my father worked 12-hour days he went to work at 4:30 in the morning and didn't come home until 6:30 at night. My sisters were only nine and six I was 12. I was capable of getting myself up in the morning feeding dressing and walking to school by myself they were not old enough yet to do all those things. I spent much of my childhood taking care of my sisters it was my turn to finally be a child, not a mother. My father and I were shamed several times by many people. Him for not taking my sisters, and me for leaving them. Even though we're all adults now I'm still full of guilt for leaving my sister's behind. I'd like to think they understand why I did it but if the situation were reversed I'm sure I would have some sort of resentment myself so I don't blame them. My sisters never did get out of CAS, they were made Crown wards. They both stayed in the same foster home until they were old enough to leave on their own. My relationship with my sisters now is better than ever but that's not to say it's still not strained on occasion. We technically didn't grow up together and we missed a lot of each other's milestones. Being in a foster home is not something I have publicly displayed until now. It wasn't because of shame or embarrassment. I just felt it unnecessary to share that part of my life. It wasn't the best part of my life and not something worth remembering. There are several misconceptions about children who have been in foster homes or the system. A lot of people believe that they grow up to be on drugs or homeless or that even their children end up in Cas. I'd like to think that I'm part of the exception to that. I have never tried hard drugs I'm a good mother and everything I do is done with my children's best interest at heart. I hardly drink alcohol, and I'm thriving as an adult. Anyone can be a product of their situation or we can learn and grow from it. I chose to take my experiences and grow from them.
By My Incredible Mom Life3 years ago in Families