You Can 't Please Everyone

My mother worked day and night so I had to care for my sister and cousins. On some occasions I had to help my mom clean houses to earn money. At the age of thirteen up until I was sixteen I was cleaning houses for the people we longed to be. I got a glimpse of a life I have never known. For the most part my mom’s boss was nice, but her family was ignorant at times. They would ask me where I have traveled and if I’ve been to all these kinds of expensive places. When I answered no they asked why not. I guess they didn’t comprehend the fact that my mom and I were cleaning their dishes and making their beds for less than the minimum wage to be able to barely afford the rent of the small room we all

As a kid I only got to see my dad on the weekends and those were the best days I had, I never understood why I couldn't live with my father full time because my mom never lived a stable life. My mother wasn’t as bad as it seems, she always made sure we had food and somewhere to stay even if it wasn't the greatest, even living with my mom my dad still paid for almost everything I had. When I was about 8 years old I lived in Mccomb and it was my dads weekend and I was so excited to get off of school and go see him, When I got home I was shocked to find everything packed up and my mom told me to get in the car, I was so upset to find out that me, my two brother, and her and her boyfriend were off to Florida. The whole trip to Florida I balled my eyes out and all I remember was that I kept saying that I wanted to live with my dad and that I hated my mom, I wondered how she could just up and leave without telling my

He was always in his room playing video games or at a friend’s house. My mom was always in her room or cleaning up the house. I would always ask to go to a friend’s house. Of course she would not let me. She would always say “ Kaylee we have to get this house cleaned and you are not going anywhere until it is.” When my grandmother finally got me a telephone I downloaded a reading app because I loved reading. My telephone became my best friend besides my friends at school. I sat up in my room just constantly reading one book after another. I was always really bashful and antisocial. After a while my mother met a guy and they really hit it off. He is now practically my step dad and I couldn’t ask for a better

For years, I blamed my mother since she was the one who instigated the divorce. I saw my father every other weekend and some holidays. During our visits, it was extremely spirited – my father and I did all kinds of exciting

My older half sister was their flower girl, but this is also around the time my dad disappeared. My main issue was my confusion in why he obviously fought for my sister, but not me.

My life has been and continue to be nothing but a series of amazing and interesting stories, filled with ups and down as any other normal person experience. What is more special about me is the fact that I have been very instrumental in the remarriage process of my parents who were divorced when I was only nine. Five years later when I turn 14 years I realized that I cannot continue to stay in a single parents house whole under the custody of my father and his mother (my grandmother). Because in a traditional African society, a divorced wife is usually sent back home to her biological parents where she belong. Usually children remain home with their father because that is where they belong, unless they are very young like new born within the age of one month old to 5 years old. I may not know nor was I curious enough to understand the reason behind my parents divorced but I do know this that they still love each other during divorce period due to the conversations I had with both during divorce period. I will often go tell my mother sweet things about my father and will vice versa to my mom and eventually to my surprise and credit, my grandmother just informed me one morning that my mother is scheduled to be back home soon. I could not believe what she was saying. I asked what? She said because she and my father have both realized their mistakes, embraces their differences, apologized to each other and realized that the life and the children they had together and the

When I was young my family and I lived in fairly nice home in the belton area. I had a nice size room, my own bathroom, a walk in closet, plenty of clothes, shoes, and toys; it was safe to say I had everything a child can dream of. One day my mother informed me that we had to move, she didn't give me any explanation just a simple command to help her pack. I noticed changes in her attitude, although she tried so hard not to show any unusual emotions. After this we moved into a much smaller home, a little trailer not to far from my elementary school. My room was tiny, my closet was crowded, We shared on bathroom, and I didn't have much room at all for my toys and clothes. When I finally adjusted to this home, I was informed we were moving again. This time we moved into my grandmother's house, where I shared a bed with my mom. At this point many of my clothes were in totes on the floor, I didn't have my own closet, and many of my toys were packed away, hindering my ability to play with them as I was once able to. Like all curious children I asked many questions for understanding of the sudden life change that I felt was the worst that life could get. My mother gave me short responses and lift me with many unanswered question, she tried to shield me from a lot. When I finally started to enjoy life at my

Growing up, my sister would exclaim how he was an admirable man, and how he’d be able to come home and reclaim his right as our father. He would have the ability to relinquish the worries of our mind, hearing her talk about the fun times they had together made me excited to meet the man who would be the father figure I wanted. I was able to see him when I was a toddler, but after an incident at one of our meetings I wasn’t allowed to visit him anymore. I was heartbroken, at the time I was too young to understand the whole situation and how the place we were at shouldn’t become a normal setting for a kid. After that Incident, my mom would be in my ear telling me about all the awful things my father had

My parents have always been there for me. Both came from low-income families in the West African countries of Senegal and Gambia. Both struggled to come to America in hopes of a better life and the “ American dream” for their future children. My dad arrived in America first with his closest friends that I only know as my uncles. My mom arrived two years later and after two months of ‘courting’ with my dad, they got married. A year later, they had me. The three of us lived with my dad’s close school friend, his wife, and my brave cousin. The only memories that I have of the little apartment in Silver Spring are filled with happiness and a huge 1st birthday party. My memories are only happy because I was blinded from the reality of the situation. My parents

I had no idea my father lost his job until I got home from school that day. When I walked in, I saw my father sitting upon his chair, in the family room, with bloodshot eyes. I was amazed- I never saw my father cry before. I always thought that he was this extremely tall man who could care less about what other people thought of him, who could do almost anything, who loved my mother, my brothers, and I so dearly. I asked him what was the matter, but all he did was tell me to go to my room and do my homework. Then, I went and asked my mother why my father was acting the way he was, all she said was, “Your father and I will tell you and your brothers later.” It wasn’t until dinner when my mother and father told my younger brothers and I what had happened. My brothers did not seem to

When I visited my parent’s backyard the first thing I noticed was the welcoming atmosphere. My Mother greeted me at the door with ice cold lemonade that was so sweet I felt like I was forming a cavity right then and there. My Mother led me to the grand rustic table on the spacious wooden deck that wraps around the house. The table was gorgeous; it had elegant golden designs painted on it. The four chairs around the table matched it perfectly. Sitting in the other three chairs were my Father, a very tall and very sweet man with blue rimmed green eyes, thick black hair, and a mustache to match. Next to him was as always was my Mother, a very beautiful and generous woman with golden brown hair and rich brown eyes. Also at the table was my sister, a very skinny and sassy girl with bright blonde hair and rich brown eyes that match my Mother’s. That moment is when I realized I was a perfect blend of both my mother and father. I had inherited his green eyes and her golden brown hair as well as his demeanor and her generosity.

No brothers,no sisters,no step-dad,no shared bedrooms or bathrooms,just me and my mom. I can count my shoe collection on several sets of hands,I eat out whenever I want,and my wallet is the reason my pants sag so often. When I wake up I only have to say goodmorning to my mom and nobody else I share the bathroom with just her I eat with only her. But once I get outside the house and see my friends laughing and playing with this guy they call their dad. I get neglectant and jealous. Where was my dad? Well he was only 10 minutes away,stayed the house his family grew up in. He rarely calls and when he does he spits the same lines,where you been,why haven’t you called,I hate it when does that so he gets the same answer everytime. So

Five years later, God blessed them with the gift of a lovely daughter, my mommy, who they love unconditionally every day of their lives. Both Papa and Nanny had other children from a previous relationships, giving my mom two older siblings, a brother named Manuel and a sister named LaPuala. Since my mommy’s siblings are thirteen to fifteen years older than her, Nanny and Papa both told me that it was like my mom was the only child. Manuel lived with them but was gone a lot because he was a jack of all trades, just like Papa playing football, taking martial arts classes, and building anything his hands touched. LaPuala, on the other hand, lived with her mother in Texas. Nanny and Papa told me that they would take Manual and my mom camping every holiday and went to Vegas almost every weekend when my mom was little. One trip that they said they loved and wished I could have gone on was the trip to Canada. They took the camper and drove all the way up to Canada, swung back down to San Francisco, and crossed the state lines into Nevada to go to Las Vegas and Laughlin for a whole month. They also enjoyed going to church because my mom would also be called on to do presentation due to her exquisite reading skills.

I remember all the awful times when my parents were together. Mom worked the night shift and had to study for college during the day. She didn’t have just four kids to take care of at the same time; it was more like five. Father sat in his red sued chair and watched his seventy-two inch flat screen television closer than he watched my baby sister, Alyssa, crawl on the floor. Babysitting became my job while mom cooked, cleaned, studied, and did laundry. I watched Alyssa, Dalton, and Camden, my three siblings at that time. Mom was great and I truly believed she was a superhero. I didn’t really like Father though. I got used to only getting a few hours of sleep every night because I would quietly sob in my room while I heard my father talk down to my mom about how she didn’t get all of the laundry done or complain about how awful dinner tasted. I never saw Father raise a hand at

Few years later they had two more kids. My mom raising four kids while my dad worked hard to keep a roof over our house and food in our refrigerator was hard for a while. Years later, my parents divorced. 16 years of marriage, gone in a blink of an eye. My sisters and I ended up with my dad. I could say it was easy, but it most definitely was not. My dad did not know the first thing about raising four girls considering he hardly saw us with the job he had at the time. I give my dad props for trying his best and doing everything within our consideration. I, as the oldest, had to step up and help my dad out a lot. Throughout the years, he’s called me “his rock”, because through everything, I’ve always been there to catch him when he falls, to encourage him and to tell him that not only I, but my sisters’ also appreciate everything he has done for us. By having to step up