The men.

  One of the strange things about all this is how close me and my mother used to be. When I was a teenager I called her my best friend. As I said in a previous post, I didn't realize until I was an adult and had my own daughter how bad things were. Like I said my mom never shielded me from anything, I understand now that that was wrong and unfair to me, but when I was younger I thought it was cool that my mom treated me like an adult. Mom needed a partner in life and that was often me. Unless there was a man in her life then I was second fiddle. Always even as an adult I was her best friend and most important person in her world unless she was in a relationship then I ended up on the back burner. The different men that came in and out of our lives were an integral part of my childhood.
  My parents divorced when I was 5, my dad stayed around for about a year then moved out of state. I don't really know all the specifics but over the years I've heard bits of details here and there and I know my mom made it very difficult for my dad to see me. She also spent my entire childhood telling me bad things about my dad. The thing that I remember the clearest is her telling me dad was selfish. She once told me that if I lived with dad and there was only enough food for one of us to eat that he would eat and I would go hungry. Even if that were true you don't tell a small child that their father would eat while they starved. Over the years I've rebuilt my relationship with my father and I find it very hard to believe that he would have ever let me go hungry. When he found out about how rough things were for me growing up he was very upset and he apologized for not fighting harder to be in my life. From everything she told me he was a terribly cruel man who didn't really love me. From what I've seen of my father this was just more of her bullshit. It was part of a whole thing where she systematically led me to believe that she was the only person I could believe in or trust.
  Mom remarried when I was 6, and divorced again when I was 7. I loved my step dad very much and losing another father figure was very hard for me. I asked her why she was divorcing my step dad and in true mom style she told me everything.She told me my step dad had been very abusive and nearly killed her. I don't why she told me all this but the affect it had on me was profound. It was the first time I realized my mom could die. As my father was gone and she had led me to believe she was the only person I had in the world, this was terrifying to me. It also made me very scared of men, any man she dated after that seemed like threat to me. I never saw a nice man who was taking mom out to dinner. I always saw someone who could be dangerous, and possibly orphan me. I remember her always getting mad about that and saying "you never like anyone I date". Sometimes she dated men who were abusive and I would tell her she shouldn't and her response was always "you never like anyone I date". While she usually treated  me like an adult it was always made it very clear to me that my opinion didn't matter to her.
 When I was ten we lost several apartments and eventually ended up in a seedy motel in a pretty bad part of town. To give you an idea of what kind of place this was, a man was shot in a drug deal gone bad outside our door one night. About this time my mom started dating this man who was living in a halfway house as he had just gotten out of prison. I'll never forget how scary he was to me, he had yellow eyes. I've never seen anyone else with eyes like, that yellow and cold and full of hate. He scared me more than anyone she had ever dated. He tried to make friends with me but even the way he played with me was cruel. He used to hold me down and tickle me until I wet my pants then he would laugh and laugh. To this day I freak out when anyone tickles me, I would rather be slapped across the face than be tickled.After maybe a month of dating they decided to move in together. I do believe my mom thought living with him would be better than the motel we were living in but she was so wrong. We got a crummy apartment across the street from the worst projects in town. The first night I couldn't sleep and I went in to the kitchen to get a drink. Moms boyfriend came out of their room and told me I better get "my ass" in bed because I had to start school the next day. It was a Thursday night and mom had already told me she would let me wait until Monday to start school, I told him this and he got really mad and said since I was living in his house I had to respect him and follow his rules. Even at ten I knew my mom was paying just as much for us to live there as he was, but I was scared of him so I just went to bed.They fought about it and I got to stay home Friday.I remember wanting to make them happy so no one would yell at me anymore so I spent the whole day unpacking. I put away tons of stuff but there were boxes, bags, and packing material all over the place. When they got home I was so proud of all I had done and my mom was happy with it. However, as I would soon learn nothing was ever good enough for him. Mom said "look at all she did, isn't it great?" I remember his response like it was yesterday he started yelling, "great are you fucking kidding me look at this mess, it looks like a bunch of fucking niggers live here". I had heard that word before but never really like that. I was devastated, I ran in to my room crying and closed the door. While I was in there they started fighting, they were yelling and screaming then I heard my mom scream as he began to hit her. I jumped out of my bedroom window and ran to the corner store and called 911. When the police came my mom wouldn't press charges and they left. This was a recurring thing while we lived with him and finally after the third or fourth time I just gave up and stopped calling the police. Me and her would fight about it and she would always say the same thing, "you just don't like anyone I date", once I told her " your being stupid and when he kills you I'll be all alone". She got so mad she slapped me across the face and my glasses flew across the room. I remember her telling people that story later as the time I got lippy with her and she slapped the glasses right off my face. Maybe I shouldn't have said that but I was right and I didn't deserve to be hit like that. After a little while I would just sneak out whenever the fighting started, ten years old out roaming the streets at night in one of the worst parts of town. Its a miracle nothing ever happened to me. By that time I was pretty scared of everyone so I mostly stayed away from other people and stayed hidden in the shadows. The sad thing is nobody ever noticed I was missing from my bed in the middle of the night. I'm not sure what happened with him and mom, but one morning she was pretty beat up and stayed home from work. When I got home from school she told me she had gone to see his parole officer and found out he had been in prison for the attempted murder of his ex-wife. They told her if she pressed charges he would go back to prison and we would be safe. So once again I was given more burden than a child needed and I was enlisted to help get him arrested. The plan was for her to pick a fight with him, then I would sneak out of my bedroom window and run to the store and call the police. I was to tell them that he was on parole for attempted murder and very dangerous, then wait at the store until my mom or a policeman came for me. I was so scared, but I stuck with the plan. It seemed like I waited at that store for hours before I saw the police cars pulling into our apartment complex. Then it seemed like more hours before mom came and got me. Eventually she did come and told me they took him away and we never saw him again.

I was a disappointment from the moment I crowned.

  I tell people I was a disappointment from the moment I crowned. I wasn't even all the way out yet and I was already wrong. The story my redheaded mother tells everyone goes like this: She always knew she would have a red headed daughter. So when she was giving birth and the doctor said she was crowning, she asked my dad what color my hair was and he said red. When the nurse brought me to her with my full head of very dark nearly black hair mom told the nurse I was the wrong baby,  and that her baby had red hair. The nurse assured her I was the correct baby and left. So my dad comes in the room and mom tells him whats going on and he admits he lied because he was scared she would stop pushing if she knew I didn't have red hair. Most people found this story amusing. Maybe I would to if I wasn't the ugly little brunette who could never be as pretty as the mom I thought was so perfect. I don't remember ever not knowing this story. She even told me I owed her red headed grandchildren. As a child it made me feel like there was something wrong with me I could never fix. As an adult I even dyed my hair red for awhile. This was also not good enough, because in my moms words fake redheads never look natural and don't deserve to have red hair because they didn't have to grow up with it. I'm a parent now and I can't fathom telling my child something about her appearance is wrong and that she owes me better. I feel like my daughter is as close to perfect as any human can be. She is truly a beautiful child and my world. 

  Having my daughter made me realize just how off my childhood was. I grew up in horrible poverty.  There were homeless times and hungry times.Times we lived in motels or with guys she had been dating for a few weeks.I remember not always having money to buy new school clothes and the great drama when I would outgrow a pair of shoes. Sometimes that kind of poverty can't be avoided and I don't think its only bad parents who end up in that position. My mother however had a support system she refused to utilize. She wouldn't sue my dad for child support, she wouldn't ask her family for help, and  she wouldn't accept any charity or government assistance.She let her pride get in the way and in the end I had to suffer for it.  Whats worse is she never shielded me from any of our financial troubles. The first time I remember being evicted I was 8. I have to think that if I was in the position I would do everything I could to keep my child from finding out what was going on. I didn't need to know we had to leave because we couldn't pay our rent.If she had told me it was time to move I would have just said ok and never known the difference. However mom wasn't real big on protecting me from adult matters, if we couldn't pay the bills or she wasn't sure how she would make rent I always knew. Its so horrible for a child to go through everyday not knowing if there would be electricity,water, a safe place to sleep,or even food to eat.  The worst part was that I always knew it was my fault. I was reminded almost daily of how much of a burden I was to my mother. I always knew that I cost my mom way to much money and anything I needed put her out. I would hear all the time about the things she couldn't do or couldn't afford because of me. As a parent there are times I have to skip buying something I want because my daughter needs something, and there are times I cant go out because I don't have a sitter. I've even had a few moments of panic over getting the rent or electricity paid. However my daughter has no idea. I figure it out even if it means I have to ask for help and she never knows anything was ever wrong. I don't understand how someone could let their child know about such things. Its not fair for a kid to have that much worry.