Analysis Of The Book ' Lilo ' And Stitch '

In the fall of 2012, my mother almost succumbed to her illness. I had just begun my freshman year of high school midst angry conversations between my parents and the threat of separation. It would seem as if they bickered about the most irrelevant things, almost as if they had no other reason to fight other than the fight itself. Those moments were excruciatingly lonely, my father worked until the dead of night and my mother would come home exhausted from treatment. I now know that there was no one who felt more unvalued than my mother. I wish I had the ability to iron away this blunder that destiny had fabricated, however foolish this desire is.

One weekend, we had decided to clean out the house to surprise my mother. My father found papers stashed away that revealed theft charges; my mother had stolen medication when she substituted for the nurse in my elementary school. I remember my dad scouring the house for more evidence, even finding a stash of pill bottles under their mattress. She had another court date coming up that he learned about, just a few weeks before a family trip to Disney. Shortly after that hearing, my family took our last vacation as a whole, knowing that a key member would be lost to us the Monday after our return; she was going into work-release for two months. Before the end of those sixty days, my father learned that my mother had been unfaithful. Their marriage ended, and at eleven and nine, my sister and I said what we didn't realize would be goodbye to our mother for a great while. Her drug abuse continued, and months of time would pass between visits. We saw that sweet, ideal mother devolve into an addict. This loss has shaped me greatly, and it has taught me integrity, strength of character, and great love for others; without these things, my mother cost herself her family and

I grew up in a unhealthy household; days and nights were drowned by screaming, fighting, crying, mental and emotional abuse. Being the youngest in my family I took the aftermath of my mother and siblings’ pain and aggravation. My only break was school, but even then I was tormented by my own bottled up emotions.

Lilo and stitch is about a young girl growing up on an island in Hawaii. Lilo is an eccentric six year old, she recently lost her parents to an accident and is now being raised by her older sister Nani. Lilo does not socialize well and because of this Nani decides to adopt a pet for her sister. They end up adopting what they both believe is a dog but is actually an alien refugee named Stitch (experiment 626). The story continues to show the struggle the three face while continuing to grow as a family and overcome their challenges. Analyzing Lilo it is cleared that she may suffers from multiple mental and personality disorders due to the fact that she does not socialize well with others and the stress that she suffered from loosing her parents (DeBlois, 2002).

The hospital isn’t there anymore due to John’s Hopkin’s buying them out, and they knocked it down. My mother is the only biological child from her mother. Although she does have three siblings from her father’s previous marriage. There were six people living in my mom’s childhood home. Unlike the other siblings, she got to have her own room because her two half-brothers shared a room. She and her half-sister got to have their own rooms in the house. The living conditions were superior than most of the other families on the street. My grandfather had just built the house for my grandmother so it was a brand new house for my mom. They also had an in-ground pool in the backyard, which my mom said was a huge plus. My mom got to follow her father around with the yard work and his chores around the house. Her mother didn’t make her help with the cooking or the cleaning of the house. She got to choose what she wanted to so around the house as long as she was helping. All of the children in the home went to private school throughout graduating from high school. My mother graduated from Seton High School which is now Seton Keough High School. My grandfather went to trade school to become a construction personal, and then he began to build houses for several companies, and her mom was a nurse (RN) at City hospital which now it’s Johns Hopkins Bayview. My mother didn’t follow in my grandmother’s footsteps, but she did go to college. Her first time she graduated with a degree in accounting, and then she went back to pursue her degree in teaching. My mom graduated college with her degree in teaching in 2012. My grandparents always push my mom to be her best, and they did that with every child that they had. My mother was in the beginning of the use of technology. She told me that they had television, but with no color. She also went through many cars throughout her

I was born in Boston, but raised in Boston and New York. Growing up I was an only child, and my mother had family in all over Queens, New York. My mother is originally from Haiti. When she came to America, she didn’t have much family support. She stayed at my grandparents’ house in Brockton. She was looked down upon by my grandfather for having a child before being married. Instead, she would take a trip to New York every weekend, where her sister lived, to avoid the negativity. Growing

All I wanted was moments with my mom when I was nine; I did not get it. What about age ten, eleven, and twelve? My whole childhood was snatched out from under me, and I had to grow up way to fast. Don’t worry, I did not blame you. I blamed myself until I was fifteen. It was my fault my mother tried to drown my sisters and me. I saw signs and clues. I could tell she was not acting herself, but I said nothing. I didn’t go and ask another grownup for help. I put my sisters’ lives in danger, because I didn’t protect them.

Growing up with my father Scott, mother XXXX, and my beautiful sister Paige, I find it easy to reminisce of the happy times we shared together. However, not matter how dearly I pray of ignorance, I can’t erase what has happened from my mind. When I was rather young, my mother was deported back to the UK from which of where she is originally from, due to drug addiction issues. Experiencing the matter from first hand, watching my mother fall, grasping with all her life to find herself inside, whilst clamoring for her next high, tears me up inside to this day. The day she left us was the day I felt that my family couldn’t cope without her. I could never believe that my father could do for us what my mother was able to do. My suspicions to begin with were indeed correct, as we endured homeless shelters. Being in and out of homeless shelters ruined not only my family life, but also my social life. Having to explain to your young friends that you don’t really have a home, is a something I would never wish upon my bitterest of

The following months a winter, cold and gloomy, surrounded the house. My grandmother came to stay with us since my father had fallen into depression and needed help taking care of my sister and I. When my grandmother went grocery shopping my sister would struggle with homework without my grandmother’s help. One day when my grandmother left to go grocery shopping my sister approached me, which was unusual of her since its very rare for her to come to me. Her dark brown hair and big eyes reminded me of my self when I was younger. “I’m hungry” she complained, a question she’s never asked me. My father sleeping and my grandmother away, I was the only one left to take care of her and that terrified me. I had never cared for or known how to care for someone else. All I knew was how to evaluate whether or not someone was caring for another correctly.

When I read “Once More to the Lake” by E. B. White, I was jealous of the father and son’s close relationship as it reminded me of my grandmother and mother’s close relationship. When I was younger I always loved hearing stories about my mother’s childhood because i didn’t feel close to her due to her job. She would often tell me stories about her mother, my Lola, who had died a month before I was born. They were best friends, and my mother would tell her everything. At first they were nice to hear, but as I grew up the memory of the stories became a burden, a constant reminder of my inability to share my feelings, thoughts, opinions, and experiences with my mother. It made me feel guilty that I could not give her the relationship she had with

I buried my head into my mother’s shirt. My warm tears dampened her shirt, but I could tell she had no intention of pushing me away. There were other voices around me, but her’s was the only one that I cared to focus on. “You’re a strong and brilliant little boy,” she said to me, “you shouldn’t let this move break you down like this.” I knew she was right, but I was just so furiously confused that I didn’t want to acknowledge it. “How could you know?” I howled, “you’re not the one who’s spending hours alone every day because you’re too terrified to ask anyone if they want to play a game or hang out or even have a conversation!” My sobbing intensified. “No,” she quietly said to me, “but you’re not the only one who left Costa Rica to come here.”

In the movie “Lilo and Stitch” from Disney there is a quote in there from when Lilo says, “Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten”

Throughout the childhood of David Small, he had to face with difficult realities. These difficulties came from many sources: his family, his illness, his society, … However, David still managed to survived through. All of the struggles are depicted successfully in Stitches which are overwhelmed with silences and secrets via an interesting form of literature: comic book.

Ohana means family and that no one gets left behind right? In some cases yes and in some no, the word family has this picture attached to it. A picture of a mother , father , brother and sister and perhaps a golden retriever named Buddy . It's a picture that no one has developed, every family has its own struggles and memories that makes them unique.

I remember the intense feeling of exhaustion after spending a day at Dalton Prep School, then to fencing class, and then I died of boredom in a session with my private tutor, all stupid things my mother makes me do to be a more “wholesome” and “inspiring” girl as she likes to tell me. I walked up the stairs of our home on the Upper East Side, when the doorman politely questioned me about my day. Wow. Someone actually cared about my wellbeing, how refreshing. Immediately as I entered our home, my mother critiqued my outfit choice, clearly, she disliked the funky artist look I was sporting and made me change before we attended another tragically boring party. Lucky me… my mother forced me to attend another party that raised money for endangered monkeys or children in Africa, my mother could not