Narrative Essay : My Mom

Mom had always been the provider of the family. She worked at a failing elementary school as a reading recovery specialist. She didn't care so much about the money as much as she cared about her school kids. She was a very loving person who wanted her school kids and her actual kids to succeed in life. Mom was 5’2 and weighed one hundred and two pounds, she also had short brown hair. Her eyes were the color of the sky. Your mother cared so much about you in particular because you were the oldest and hoped that you’d go off to college and travel the world. Your father, on the other hand, was nothing to look at. He stood at 5 feet and weighed one hundred fifty pounds. He was bald, sunburnt, reeked of pot and lone star beer. He was in the military

Growing up my mother has always been the most supportive person I know and also very independent. I’ve always had respect for my mother, she has always been a role model for me and my siblings. My mother has always been very supportive of me and my siblings, for as long as I can remember. Growing up my mother always encouraged us to follow our dreams.

As an eight year old kid in the 80’s I remember watching the movie Popeye by Robin Williams. “I yam what I yam, and that’s all that I yam.” I sang this tune in my head and out loud over and over again. I even added lyrics to suit me., “I’ll be want I want to be, I am what I yam.” It may be my first attempt at being true to myself, a self-identification, a personal statement and a compass of sorts

Nelson Mandela once said, “I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.’’ My mother was that “brave man” who didn’t let fears get in her way. She taught me to become a strong women and have courage in your life. She was the one who educated me to lead a successful journey. Now, here I am telling the story of how my mother influenced me to become the young women I am today.

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.

Everyone says February is filled with love and happiness because of Valentine's day. Well February has not been the best month for my family and me. We loved February but now not so much anymore. One day I will learn to love February again, hopefully, but as of right now I can only think of what has happened.

I was so scared, I was about to walk down the aisle for my mom’s wedding. September 9,2017, I felt so pretty with my long rose colored dress with my makeup and my rose colored nail polish. Holding flowers and a ring box, it was a little hard but I did it! Ok, here I go everyone was clapping and I was nervous, then I got to the end of the aisle and “plop” the top of the ring box fell ugh I was so mad I couldn't even get it because I had so much in my hand I had to go back for it, so I turned around and got the top and stood in my place.

I interviewed my mother. Although my first initiative was to interview someone one else, circumstances changed my original plan. Which in turn, allowed me to have a personable conversation with my mother. My mom is fifty four years old. She had her first child at sixteen and her last at twenty seven. Overall, she has six children in total. Having a baby during adolescences is difficult for anyone. Actually having to sit down and converse about my mother’s past experiences as a parent, was difficult for her. She chose to reminisce about her experiences with her second child. I am going to take you on a journey between a mother and her son.

I had this neighbor, she was a single mother of two daughters, one was 15 years old and the other was 8. Over the two years that I lived in my home we were friendly but she had a tendency to need things quite often; my husband to watch and walk her dog while she was on a cruise, her daughter to stay in my home to wait for her to arrive from work, printer paper, there was always a knock at my door from her and after a while my family and I started to not answer. One morning she walked up to me while I was waiting with my daughter for the bus and asked she crudely asked me, “Are you trying to be rude?” After feeling attacked, we went back and forth verbally attacking each other. I felt she had no reason to attack or confront me because I had never asked her

Mama always had a love-hate relationship with my hair. If she was around me all the time, she’d comb and gel my black curly hair into an unpredictable shape, whatever she wanted. It almost always became a frizzy, tangled mess. I never liked her hair styling but I finally learned not to argue with Mama. I liked my hair like I like my food: simple. No need to add anything, or spend more money. My mama didn’t see it like that.

The children were listening to the Alligator Alphabet book and were introduced to the letters and their sounds.

Growing up living with my mother, she was always my number one supporter. While having me at a young age, she had to grow up fast and take on the responsibility of having a child. She went to Dorsey College instead of going to a University, which was her dream. My father has been in and out my life since the day I was born. He never and still hasn't owned up to his responsibility of having a child. To me, that was fine; my mother was the only person I needed in life to get me through every day. My mother was there for me when I took my first steps, said my first word, and even when my teacher realized I needed more help in school than others. It only took a long time for me when it came to doing English work. Being young, it was easy to get

Not only as a woman, but as a Mexican, my mother demonstrated to be the strongest person in the world. Since a very young age, growing up in a very difficult environment like it is Mexico, she learned how to see for herself. And through her life my mom appreciated all the lessons she experienced, never with a pessimistic outlook. That is why she always had the wisest words that encourage me to be brave when taking decisions. As the same way her mother’s determination shaped her to become someone independent and with more knowledge, is the same way my mother’s experiences influence me to have her strength. Unlike other mothers, mine was excited when I started solving problems by my own without her guidance, acting like a young adult. The fact

My mom used to beat me every single day. And I do not feel bad about saying this, it's in my memory and yet something tells me not to believe it. She not only beat me but my sister Angelica as well. I remember her beatings on myself more. If I think back to it I can almost feel how fearful I felt and how much I wanted her to stop. Anything or everything would make her go off on us. We were walking on eggshells. No matter how many times I tried my best to avoid making her mad or cause her to verbally abuse us, nothing worked. I grew up thinking I was a bad kid. I grew up thinking her actions and behavior were my fault. I found ways to keep her happy and she was always miserable. We never seen her genuinely happy for us, not a single day. Her

Any women can be a mother but it takes someone special to be a mother. Having someone in your life who means so much to you is a blessing. My Mom, Fatima was born on June 4, 1973. Moving to her appearance, I could say that the way she acts says a lot about her personality. She is the kind of person that is interesting to listen. Every time I listen to her, I learn something new. The moment she had me in her life was also a blessing for her. Im her third daughter. She is someone who cheers me up while I’m feeling sad. Without her, I wouldn’t be who I am today. Her smile is the only thing that will make me happy throughout the day. Her guiding hand on my shoulder will remain forever. Ever since her childhood, my mom was taught that