parents
The boundless love a parent has for their child is matched only by their capacity to embarrass them.
My Dad Is a Sugar Daddy
You may hear many of your friends joke about their bills and say, "I just wish I had a sugar daddy to pay for all of this," but you may never think about your father being a sugar daddy. My father has always been a man who wore many hats. As a child, he was a construction worker, a bartender, an artist, a carpenter, and an all-around rock star. Many times late at night I would hear the sounds of Van Halen's eruption wailing from his closed bedroom. My mother and father had me and my brother very young, and they would often joke to people about how we "grew up together." My Mother passed when I was 19, and my father was already in his second marriage. It wasn't long after that he was quickly in his third marriage. Upon the loss of his 3rd wife, that's when the younger women started coming in by the boat-load. It's a bit strange to be 26 years old and shaking the hand of a 22-year-old who is dating your father. Should they say yes ma'am to me or vice versa? I was a bit angry and confused at the time as I was drowning in student loan debt and heard the phrase, "You're 26. These are your bills," being muttered when I asked for assistance, yet I would see the young girls being adorned with Chanel ball gowns for the fancy events that they attended here in New Orleans.
By Layla Danielle7 years ago in Families
A First Time for Everything
He was big, burly and heavy on his feet, like an iron shield guarding our family. The strongest person I know, he towers over most. Being brawly and intimidating to people who don’t know him, he has a stern frown and a soft smile, a deep farmer's tan from the hours he spends cutting wood and doing yard work but meticulously ironed grey suit pants and straight Brooks Brothers dress shirts and jackets. He has hammers and nails, saws and screwdrivers, wrenches, and hatchets, but works with people and computers. He casually coaches us from lacrosse to hockey and all in between, but methodically constructs cultured sentences presented to important people every day. He helps with seventh grade math, but works with pie charts and statistics that are puzzling to others. His presence brings safety and protection like having a military squad protecting your family.
By Clare Woodford7 years ago in Families
The Second Time Around
Leonard poured his coffee into the old, cracked mug his son had made him, slow and steady as the hot steam fogged his glasses. He could hear the pitter-patter of the rain against his kitchen window – slow and steady. He carefully lifted the warm mug to his dry, leather lips. Leonard was turning seventy in three days. Three days and he would be over the hill, or was it under the hill? He scratched his head and took another sip of coffee. Most days he loved to hear the sound of the rain bouncing off the windowpane, but not today. Today he felt angry and tired, more tired than usual. He gently lifted himself from the kitchen table and shuffled over to the phone. For a second, he thought about calling his son. Then, for another second longer, he thought about calling his doctor. He took a deep breath in and then out. He knew neither call would make him feel any better. But still he picked up the phone, listening to the dial tone hum and hum until he couldn’t take the humming anymore. He hung up the receiver and promised himself, out loud, that tomorrow he would call his son, Victor. Tomorrow they would talk just like old times and tomorrow, maybe, Victor wouldn’t hate him anymore.
By Camille LeZotte7 years ago in Families
Through Thunderstorms
Bitter. Busy mornings and long nights, I could never forget his figure. He left whenever times were hard and on the important days, he was never reliable. I played on the grass most of the time he had to smart mouth somebody. I made friends with the earth, I said hello to the plants. The trees told me to learn how to love him, and to open my heart to him before I disconnect and fade away. In disbelief, I failed to understand how I could start to love somebody so bitter like him.
By Rising Sun Midnight Moon7 years ago in Families
Adults Should Be Able to Trick-Or-Treat, Too
Who said the holiday was just for little kids only? Was it greedy Grandma Judy or old fart Farmer Brown that had made this decision? I mean, we were ALL children at one time, weren’t we? So why can’t adults go trick-or-treating on Halloween night, too? I believe a lot of the stress level in adults would be totally eradicated if they were allowed to get dressed up into their favorite costume after work, put on their most comfortable walking shoes, grab their durable trick-or-treat bag and start hitting the pavement along with the other kids and cool, creative adults. I mean, it’s only one time in the entire year that Halloween exists, so what in the world is the problem? It’s simply madness. Department stores across the world, whether it’s in a retail storefront or online, sell Halloween costumes for adults to wear all year long. Why do we wear them just for the kids or for personal parties? Why is it also only good to wear for comic/toy conventions to look like Super Mario or impersonate Darth Vader? Why can’t adults trick-or-treat too if they choose to, and why do the other adults frown if an adult tries to do it? Adults shouldn’t succumbed to only giving out bowls of candy and taking pictures at their house. They should have the right to choose and be a part of the trick-or-treating festivities if they choose to do it. What happened with the freedom of expression?
By Kathy Lester7 years ago in Families
Deserted Playground
Ten o’clock in the morning is a lonely time for a playground. It doesn’t matter the time of year it is or what school schedules look like. It’s just not typically a time when children are out and about. My particular child has the need to get his sillies out at this particular time of day. It wasn’t that long ago this was nap time. This works out for me, too, because it is mid-morning when I find the day at its most brilliant. It’s a pity more people don’t get a chance to enjoy more beautiful spring mornings like this in such a way.
By Paige Pitcher7 years ago in Families
30 Things I Know Right Now
That title is a little deceiving, because if I'm going to be honest with myself (and all of you), I know little to nothing about raising children. I've been doing it for only 2+ years. They're eight and three and I'm their guardian. While sometimes I blame this lack of "perfection" on not having a natural motherly instinct from being prego, and getting swollen feet, irrational cravings and feeling kicks and tumbles from that alien inside me... after being around the sun twice with these little gremlins (I mean angels), there are a few things I feel as though I have come to perfect.
By Lindsie Polhemus7 years ago in Families
Dear Father
Dear Father, We might have always come as a package deal, but it wasn't a package I asked for. One that you accidentally order from amazon, realize it wasn't something you wanted, and ask for a refund. It was always about you, everything was always about you. It's bull that nobody remembers me. You don't remember the important days like my birthday, or the mere fact I requested the smallest and simplest present to begin with. I asked for my favorite meal with my family. Yet, you have a whole venue rented for your birthday that isn't for a whole month. All your friends get to come and spend that time with you. I sat at home, with no friends because you told me all my friends were terrible people and I didn't need to be around them. I sat at home and cried while you went to work and had an office party. I slept all night until you came home, hoping maybe you'd ask how my day was, but I got nothing but an attitude when you arrived home. I have sacrificed everything in order to make you happy, nonetheless you can't sacrifice 40 dollars in order to have a meal with your daughter and family; but have no issue dropping 40 on a meal for two. I'm tired of always coming in last. I'm always second to you and it should never be that way. As your child, I'm always supposed to come first. But nobody seems to think about me unless it's about you. None of my family associates with me because of you, but according to you you never did anything wrong. Your son hates you, all because you did nothing wrong. I was a liar because you beat me for years after mom died, but you did nothing wrong. I had to deliberately hide my identity, hide where I lived, and who I associated with because you did nothing wrong. I've given you ample times to redeem yourself, and this is the last straw. You start off the first few weeks OK, like you've made improvements. Then, as if a switch flicks off, move on like you didn't change a damn thing. I bite my tongue, and let you yell at me in rage and let you do what you have to do to release steam. But I've had enough, and honestly, I've told people the reason I tried to kill myself the first time was because I was getting bullied. But it wasn't just the bullying, it was the torment I came home to. And it may sound selfish, but you haven't given me a reason to be here. I have given up my entire life to try and make our relationship work. I've bitten my tongue to make it work, I've played the stupid game you know how to play so well. You are not who you claim to be behind closed doors. I've given my life to make our relationship work, after all you're the last parent I have. But honestly, once I get my life together, I'm leaving. I want nothing to do with you, and that's a serious notion to claim. But I mean it, once I don't have to deal with your game, I won't, and you'll lose the last child you had a chance with. I will never let another man treat me the way you have. I will not let another man tear me apart as you have, and I damn well refuse to let you be the downfall of me. I should have taken my brothers advice and gotten out when I could have. But because I was taught that being kind is the way I should be, I ruined my own life to make you happy. And to think, the thing that started this whole letter was the fact that you refused to spend any time with me for my birthday? It's funny how many years I've given up to make you happy, but you can't give up 45 minutes of your life for me.
By Crysta Miracle7 years ago in Families