not forgotten

Right, today was just one of those days where the mind wanders in all directions and never quite settles down.

Not much to share. My direction needs directions, hehehe :)

Somewhere in there

My kids have it so easy, or so I think. They have a home, two actually, and their basic needs are met in both households. They have a few extras that I never had as a child. Technology being what it is today, if it can be afforded, can provide hours of fun without ever stepping outside. My kids are not allowed to use the word "bored" in the house. After applying my tried and true method of throwing out thousands of dollars in toys because someone mentioned how bored they were, they quickly stopped saying it. I figure if you are truly bored then you can't possibly need the things in your room and at our expense, belongings have been thrown out much to the kids horror. I smile all the way to the trash can.

As a kid myself, I had nothing. I made my own toy dolls out of scraps of fabric my mother would allow me to have, at much sacrifice to her. I remember using lids as dishes and bottle caps as cups. I begged to play outside whereas now I have to kick my kids out to get some fresh air. I cherished a box of Crayola crayons that my father bought me when I turned 9. Paper was hard to come by and I would use whatever scraps I could get my hands on. I had no time to be bored. My brain worked overtime for things I could make or keep myself entertained with. One thing was clear to me even at that age, my family was poor and it sucked!

I have never asked my kids what they perceive our status to be; poor, rich or in between. An understanding has most recently started to emerge from the kids perspective though. They can now understand that money doesn't really grow on trees or come from my debit card like magic. They "grin and bear it" at holidays when they realize that no, mom (and my J) didn't get them what they wanted most. Above all, the lack of money doesn't stop their love from being offered in hugs, kisses and smiles.

I must have done something right in another life to deserve that.

My beginning starts at age 4 and in the back of a station wagon pretending to be asleep. Having no idea why I was also pretending to be my cousins "daughter", my younger brother and I go along with this huge lie just to make it across the border and into California. My mother who had just given birth to a younger sister, was already waiting for us on the other side. My father, who later turns into a monster (oops, spoiler alert) waits proudly to make the exchange for his little children. The exact transaction is kept secret, so the details are sketchy at best.

So that's where I will begin, a small introduction. I will revert back and forth in time, my age may not be mentioned but as I go along I will try to fill in any age gaps as best as possible.

Ever since I can remember, life itself has been a struggle. Not much different than any other persons life but still filled with drama, pain, struggles and courage. I think of myself as a super mom somedays, able to do anything and everything yet still soft around the edges and able to cry at the smallest thing.

As a young child, I refused to do many things yet with the strong willed hand my father used to run the household, it was near impossible to show emotions much less have an opinion about anything. Struggles. Thats pretty much how I remember my childhood. Nothing came easy and nothing was ever handed to you unless it was indeed a hand-me-down.

So as a parent today and in my late 30's, expecting my fourth child, life takes on a significant flavor. Somedays are just plain sour and others are exteremly sweet. Looking back on my many happy years as a first-time mom I can recall thinking that my child was the best thing next to sliced bread! I gave what I had and often even when I had nothing to give. I pampered and spoiled to my hearts content and never gave a thought to my needs or desires. Those thoughts continue now, through three kids and two step kids and possibly into this new little bundle we unofficially call "baby Boo".

Knowing I'm not the only parent in the world that wouldn't walk through fire for their child, there is some comfort in the fact that my father wanted the best for his family, wanted to keep them all together and provide for them even if he never really knew how to do just that.