A big family.

When I was in the, ehhhh, sixth or seventh grade, my mom remarried.  Right before that, I was told I had a little brother on the way.  I remember the burning sensation doing down my neck.  I was so nervous.  You see, my then "step-dad" had three children of his own, and my mom, three of her own.  Six of us, every Wednesday, every other weekend, and most of the summer, all living in the same 3 bedroom house.  I knew we struggled financially.  I knew, too, that they always found ways to make it work.  But I also knew, that adding another baby, was going to make it harder.  Seven kids, two adults.  Cars were repoed, moves were made, cars were driven in neautral to school the last mile or so because we couldnt get gas that day; I even remember heating the house with the stove a few times.  It was hard.  This does not mean that I didnt have anything.  I had clothes, food, a tv, and a bed.  I know some people live in a cardboard box.  I would never wish that, on anyone.  But I can just remember feeling the tension in the air..."How are we going to make it through this month?!"

If you went to school with me then, you knew how chaotic our house was!  On the good days, I loved it.  And I loved my little brother as if he were my own.  He was my entire world.  We lived in a huge farmhouse which was rented, and yes, I DID have my own room!  I knew in my heart that the only good that would come out of their relationship was my brother.  And that was ok with me.  But I also knew, my mom would get hurt.  I was so angry when she would get hurt, and I wanted to badly to just tell her the same thing I told her before; just leave him.  My brother, sister and I were treated a lot differently than he treated his own kids.  Which in a sense, I understand.  But I was rarely allowed to do anything.  A 15 year old girl wants to go to the movies with her boyfriend, go to basketball games with friends; but the decisions, about anything, were never "left up to" my mom.  Another emotionally abusive relationship.  She had to quit her job, and honestly, it was because he was the one doing wrong and wanted her to feel guilty about something, no matter what it was.  I wasnt allowed to go to prom, my brother got the wrath of his anger a lot, and the night the phone rang with someone on the line, finally giving my mom confirmation to leave, we were all relieved.  It meant another move, it meant more tears, but it also meant maybe we could try to start fresh, again.  The same old story came after this; they tried to work it out within that year or two, but I was not having it.  I knew how it would turn out anyway.  He made everyone in that house feel uncomfortable, and it was time to put us first.

In despite of their unhealthy relationship, I loved having a big family, most of the time.  You always had someone, even if it was just to have an arguement with.  I missed that when we didnt see each other much anymore.  But it made me want that.  It made me want to have a big, loving family of my own.  The screams, the laughs, the sporting events; the cookouts, the midnight movies together all scrunched together in a little room.  I want that.  I want the experiences I have shared, and those I havent, to be reasons for me to be better.  I want to be a better parent, to a big family of my own.  I think I'm doing ok so far.  I have my bad days; my very, very bad days.  I have to remind myself that my feelings are not their fault, and to use it as motivation to give them the best.  My kids have been my saving grace.  I may not be the best every day, but they save me.  I hope they know that every single day of their life.  I would be a mess if I didn't have them, or their phenomenal father.  I would be exactly who I hated if I didnt have any of them.  Life is about learning, if you stop learning, you stop living.  One day, I will learn to be able to let go and just be.  One day, I will look back and say, this all helped me.  I am almost there, but some days will be better than others.  Just know, I will be better.