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My Mother In My Life

Decent Essays
My mother is a very complicated woman. I believe the best way to describe her would be, “the road to hell is paved with good intentions.” I know, weird way to start off my literary story, right? As much as I do not like my mother, I love her, and respect her. While I am being honest, I owe my work ethic and a vast majority of my success to her, as much as I hate to admit it. The way she lived her life, most college graduates and the societal hoity toity types would raise their noses to. However, you can’t deny her dedication to her children and their education, she is the start of my literacy journey. My mother wasn’t always…how do it put this? Let’s go with questionable, and she was stable and the picture-perfect mother when she was married to my father. My mother and father thought it would be beneficial for her to stay at home with my twin brother and I. Flash cards were always there, before Kindergarten my mom made sure my twin and I could count to 100, we knew our ABC’s, we could write our names, our parents’ names, knew our address and phone number. Every Thursday we went to the public library for story time and to pick out our books for the week. Before nap and before bed we would read one of Miguel’s books and one of mine, some of the books we read so much that my brother and I memorized the stories. We would even pretend to read those favorite stories. As the years went on and we went to school my mother was super involved. She had all our grades emailed to her,
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