Mommy?-Personal Narrative

Since I was a kid, I had a ton of responsibilities, cleaning up after myself, doing chores, managing to not fight with my brother, although we fought all day everyday, but you know, it happens. One thing that I didn't know wasn't normal was parenting your parent. I go to school do all my class work and during recess and lunch I listened to all the other kids talk about going to the park after school and eating dinner together with their parents. When I got home from school, I had to do my homework and then take care of my mother. Bring her things she needed such as food, water, help her with many other simple everyday activities. Of course I wasn't the only one who was her “little helper” as she put it, my dad helped her and my older brother by two years,

My interviewee is a second generation immigrant with one parent who was born in El Salvador and the other who has Mexican roots but was born in the United States. For the purposes of confidentiality my interviewee will be addressed as Ana from here on out. In this interview paper I will discuss the experiences that Ana faced growing up in a tri-racial household. I will also evaluate her experiences regarding assimilation to the lectures and reading assigned through out this course.

What does it mean to be a parent? Being a parent means putting the well-being of your family and baby's safety first at all times, and making sure that no one will harm them. In addition, it means to love unconditionally and helping your kids grow to become respectful members of society. They will also be someone who will make the best possible choices in life and are willing to come to you whenever they need help because they look up to you as their strength and guidance. But, the one thing I don’t understand is why so many parents are killing their babies at the first stage of life, just because they are not ready to become parents. Because I believe if a couple is not ready or is willing to put a baby’s life above their own, they should

“The knocking ceased suddenly, although the echoes of it were still in the house. He heard the chair drawn back, and the door opened. A cold wind rushed up the staircase, and a loud long wail of disappointment and misery gave him courage to run down to her side, and then to the gate beyond. The street light flickering opposite shone on a quiet deserted road.”

When I was thirteen years old, I gave myself a shot. I was never good with medical things as a child, like never wanting to take medicine and absolutely hating needles. Many children, and even adults, hate needles but they just have to suck it up and deal with it. That was what I did for most of my life, until I had a very bad ingrown toenail. My mother made an appointment with a podiatrist and off we went. I had no idea what to expect, and figured they could just remove it with not too much difficulty. However, the doctor informed me that removing it would be extremely painful and that my foot had to be numbed before he could do the procedure. Naturally, I freaked out, especially when he pulled out the needle. In my mind, the needle was a

I hopped out of our camper trailer with sheer excitement and in a hurried voice shouted to my parents that I was going to try out my new scooter. My mom yelled back from across the campsite that I was not going anywhere without my helmet. Following my unsuccessful attempt at protesting her advice, she proceeded to inform me that if I did not put the helmet on she would bring the scooter back to the store where she had bought it. I could not let my mother repossess the scooter that I just received, so I scurried off to find my helmet.

"Are you sure you don't want to come babe? There are going to be games and food and everyone's going to be there. It will be fun." "Mom, I'm fine. I'll stay and finish cleaning. Go. Go have fun with your friends." I say pushing her out the front door. "Okay well, call me if you need anything. I don't think I'm going to stay that long. When I get back we can have that movie night I promised." "Have fun at the barbecue. Bye mom. I love you." Before getting into her old gray pick-up truck, she waves to me and blows me a kiss.

"Anita began raising Darnell 15 years ago, when his mother began deteriorating in different ways. They've been through it all; she laughed when she talked about how much trouble he got into early on, and she shook her head proudly when she said he was now "the man of the house," helping with all the other children who have landed in her home over the years after their parents gave up. "She's my second mom," Darnell said. "I don't let that 'mother' word out easily, I really don't. But she deserves it." He told me his story matter of factly, telling me he struggled at times when thinking about his mom, in particular, but "I had to learn how to accept that she was doing the right thing for me when she decided she couldn't raise me."

The past wasn’t pretty for the town. They weren’t always like this. Before, people could dress how they want, say what was on their mind, but most importantly they were free. They didn’t have to listen to anyone, they didn’t have to do what they were told. There were no rules.

Having grown up with a mother who was verbally and physically abusive, love and compassion didn't develop between us two, however, my hate, anger, and resentment thrived.

After my mother and I have an argument she usually smiles at me and says, it’s because we’re so much alike that we argue. She reminds me that our lack of communicating often stirs more trouble than why we were arguing. I used to get upset that my mom didn’t set time aside for our family to spend time together or make us eat together at the dinner table. I was upset because I was comparing our family to my friends’ families. I valued those things and assumed my mom didn’t, but I was wrong. My mom had so much on her mind everyday it was breaking her on the inside. Not only had I wanted my mom to be like my friend’s moms, now I had wanted my mom to be different because she was depressed. Bonhoeffer mentions that we desire images of others that we want, but aren’t the true image they bear as Christ’s (pg37-38). At first I was puzzled. How is a good image of mine, not Christ’s image for her? I learned that His image is neither right nor wrong, but simply uniquely divine. My mom could have done those things, but her whole life would have had to be different, and I would never want to change who my mom is.

Late last night her mother had driven away. Her father’s eyes filled with tears as he told Lizzie her mother had filed a divorce. She could feel the pain of her father’s broken heart. She prayed that her laughter and love would mend the pain.

“It happened long ago in my days of youth, a tale so bizarre, it was as if history itself tried to hide it from the world. Yet those events etched into my heart deeper than I could ever forget, even if I were the only one left who remembers.” A wrinkled, yet sweet and endearing, hand stretches out to touch a young child’s face. A face of innocence to world. The candle that flickered in the room grew strong against the night sky that pierced the windows.

Reporter stated the following: They mom is acting bizarre. The mom showed up with three kids. The mom had multiple stories but nothing made sense. The mom first alleged that the 3 month child and three years old were sexually abused but there was not enough evidence. When there was not enough evidence the mom’s story disappeared. The mom told nurses, doctors and everybody different stories. The mom said someone had papers to make decisions on the children. When I asked the mom if she needed shelter, Mason said will they have to go back to the grandparent’s house. They are still here. We need DCS immediately to see who has custody of these kids. We think the mom took the kids from the grandparents. Mason said the grandparents are Genie and Jerry

The worker contacted Joetta Rhone who is the mother of Kelly Rhone and maternal grandmother of her children. Mrs. Rhone stated “I’m shocked at the allegations pointed at Kelly I have seven grandchildren all together and they’re all active in the church. I see Alaina and Markel at least three times a week especially on Wednesdays when we have church. We I see the children there always clean neat and well groomed. I’ve never seen any mark or bruises on the children and I don’t have any concerns for their safety living with Kelly. Kelly is a good mother she doesn’t drink or do drugs in fact I admire the way she parents her children because she a young mother she had Alaina while she was still a senior in high school and I’m proud of her for continuing