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Rated: 13+ · Non-fiction · Emotional · #1474248
A series of pages dealing with my life, the good and the bad.
So, my mom had finally moved back. Her divorce was anything but easy, but she never did get back together with my stepdad, which surprised me greatly. He never did pay any kind of child support, so she really struggled with trying to survive with 3 kids.

I continued to stay with my dad and grandma. I guess everyone decided it was easier on my mom if she had one less kid to take care of. She literally lived right above me; we lived in a trailer park and she was up the hill, so I could at least go and see her any time I wanted, which was nice. But I really enjoyed living with my grandma. My dad finally got switched to a different shift, he had to work nights occasionally, but he worked days too, so I got to see him more, and spend time with him.

Like I said before, my dad was my hero. I loved and admired him so much. Everything he would say was golden, I wanted to be just like him. All the music, movies, television he liked, I made an effort to like to. I was so scared to ever disappoint him. It was very important to me that he think I was great at everything and I liked what he liked. The fact that he was a police officer, a job that was made for protecting people, cemented the notion even more. He had done that for me, I expected him to do it for everyone else too. We spent a lot of time together, he was my best friend. We would go shopping, the music store was our favorite place. He took me to zoos, the movies, out to dinner. I think he did a lot of it because he felt guilty for not being there when I needed him, but also too, he knew my mom couldn't do those things for me; she couldn't afford it.

My dad was great to do things with and spend time with, but when I really needed someone, I counted on my grandma. She was the one who made my food, washed my clothes, always made sure I had clean sheets, took a bath. She also just made me feel special. Not that my parents didn't, but they always had other stuff going on, she didn't. She didn't work but part time at a hotel doing laundry, and she was one of those people who just liked taking care of someone. She didn't have a lot of money, but what she did have she would spend getting me stuff here and there, like paper dolls. I found so much joy in something she introduced me to, it wasn't popular anymore, they had Barbie dolls, which I had, but I enjoyed playing with paper dolls and stuff that she had when she was young too. She would sing to me and rub my head, braid my hair. She was great.

I had such a great home life in those days. We didn't have a lot of money, but I didn't care. I had fun doing the things we did. School was not fun though. I had started kindergarten later in the year. Coming into a classroom when everyone already has friends and you know no one is tough, especially for someone who was deathly shy, which I was. My clothes weren't anything special and I didn't talk. I couldn't keep up with what they were learning, because their school and mine were so different, I was behind on a lot of things. I eventually started catching up, I was a fast learner and soon I was one of the top students in the class, especially reading and writing. But socially, I was still a mess. I only had one or two close friends. Girls were especially mean and catty, as only girls can be. I got made fun of because I didn't wear my pants the right way, or didn't have the cute clips and scrunchies all the other girls had. I didn't play any sports or cheerlead. That combined with not talking made me just look plain weird. Living in a trailer park added to the poorness factor. I couldn't hide it; I rode the bus, so everyone on there saw where I lived. I guess most people considered me white trash and not "cool".

I struggled too, because I was such a tom boy. I hated dresses, nail polish, being pretty. I loved to climb trees, get dirty, catch lizards in the creek near our house. At school, I preferred to run around with the boys than talk with the girls. My best friends, the ones I ran around with in the neighborhood were my boy cousins and the hispanic boys. We lived for those after school and summer kickball games, freeze tag and red rover. The only girlfriend I had was a girl who lived in the same trailer park who also went to my school but wasn't in my class. She and her 2 sisters lived with their hispanic dad, her white mother had stayed in trouble and abandoned them. She was my best friend besides my cousin who is a month younger then me. My mom ended up babysitting them in the summers for extra money. It was fun having everyone at my house all day, although I think we drove my mom a little crazy!

My cousin, who is the son of my dad's nephew, the one his age, who was his best friend, was my best friend in the world. We did everything together. He understood me, I understood him. Everyone who didn't know us thought we were brother and sister. We both had blonde hair, blue eyes, tan skin, gangly limbs. We went and did everything together. I think I went through a period in our younger days when I thought we would get married, we were so well suited and I could never imagine loving someone as much as I did him. I finally realized I couldn't because we were related, I was disappointed! But we went always went on each other family vacations, I always asked my dad if he could come a long with whatever we were doing, I lived at his house during the summer. I knew however bad things were at school, I could count on him at home.

My mom began dating again real soon, like I said, she couldn't stand being alone. Now she was alone. She couldn't afford day care for my brother and sister, so she babysat the neighborhood kids and had to go on welfare. My dad didn't pay child support, but their agreement was he would pay for anything I needed and he did. But that didn't help my brother and sister. So, I guess she was looking for someone to help her with her kids and with money. She always managed to pick such losers. They always acted cool with her having kids at first, but I think a big part of the reason why was because when she got into a relationship, that was all she thought about. She would ignore us, or become angry when she realized we were still around, like it was our fault that we were here to begin with. She became so wrapped up in the guy, literally all over him all the time that we never had her attention. They all stayed around for a few months, the ones she introduced us too anyway, but they never lasted. But of course, they would have to move in right away to an already small house. The first one I wasn't around all that much because I was still living with my dad. She always made it a point to tell us that they didn't stick around because she had kids and they couldn't handle the responsibility. It always felt like she wanted us to feel bad for her because we caused her relationship to end.

My dad dated as well, but it was different. He dated the girl a long time before he brought her around, and even then we didn't spend every waking moment with her.

I eventually moved back in with my mom. My dad was working weird hours again and my grandma fell and broke her hip, so she couldn't take care of me all the time. I quickly hated being with my mom again. I missed my brother and sister, but we lived in a tiny trailer. It had 2 bedroom, my mom had one and we all had to sleep in the other in the same bed. On hot summer nights, it was brutal. That was always combined with my mom's current live in boyfriend, who she expected to become our next daddy.

My grandma and aunt moved out of their trailer, and we moved in so we would have more room. I was really sad that she was moving, it wasn't very far away, she went into government housing, but it wasn't a trail walk away anymore. My dad moved into his own place right up the road in a single room trailer. We didn't really have much more room, half the time we all had to sleep in one room again because it had heat and the other rooms didn't and my mom slept on the couch. Eventually, I think in the summer, we got spaced out. My mom took the big room, my brother had his own room and me and my sister roomed together in my old room from when my grandma lived there. The boyfriend she had the longest had a son in Flordia, and he decided to move back there to be closer to him... he wanted my mom to move there with him. She, of course was all too eager, that meant someone was going to be taking care of her and her kids... so she agreed. Except that she informed my dad of this and he said no, I couldn't go. I honestly don't think she fought it very much; one less kid to deal with. She would tell me I could come and visit her all the time and I could ride on an airplane. All I thought about was having to ride on an airplane alone and that she would be gone. She blew my fears off, saying a lot of kids did it, stewardesses helped them and I would see her all the time. I knew I couldn't; I had school through the year. But she was happy, so I got used to the idea of living with my dad. A couple of weeks later, he left, but she didn't go with him. She said they had broken up. In the end she couldn't bear to leave me, so she told him she couldn't go. She acted like she wanted a medal because she made the sacrifice and gave up her happiness so I would have a mom. That is what I felt like at the time; I don't know if that was the truth, or she really couldn't leave me. I think it had more to do with they weren't the best fit. Even though the man was nice enough, he was a closeted alcoholic and had rich, uptight parents that thought my mom was white trash. I also don't think he really wanted anymore kids. She had that problem a lot. So she stayed; and we went on with our lives.
© Copyright 2008 Alisha Vazquez (spritedoll83 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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