So what is beauty? I am torn with that answer. I look back 15 years, to others it may seem like a long time but to me it seems like only yesterday.  It was yesterday that I was the 102 pound homecoming queen. It was yesterday that I played right field on my high school softball team with my bronze skin tinted by the sun.  It was yesterday that I ran the mile faster than anyone on the team. It was yesterday when I  had a stomach as flat as a board and an ass that I was quite proud of. It was yesterday that my hair was long and shiny. It was yesterday that I had the perfect 4.0 GPA teetering between first and second in my class.

It was also yesterday that I was a lost, lonely girl looking for the love of her addict parents. It was a girl that cried herself to sleep many nights. A girl that wanted her momma. I was a girl that yearned for love. A girl that wanted to be tucked in at night. A girl who wished she had a father to escort her on homecoming night like the rest of the court. A girl who looked in the stands every game to she if her momma would make an appearance even though knowing in my heart it would never happen.  I was a girl who wanted so badly for someone to congratulate her on her good grades and her outstanding accomplishments.  That was then.

Now I am a woman that is plagued by a weight problem that is not made any better with a slew of medical conditions. Joints that ache with every step and medication by the handfuls to cure my list of aliments all with the side effect of weight gain.

Now I have the stretch marks due to childbirth and the fat rolls to accentuate them. My hair has loss its luster and is thinning and limp. My once perky and firm breast have gone south. My once firm rear, now resembles that of a tire.

The good news is, I no longer cry myself to sleep and I get a kiss goodnight, every night. I no longer worry about where my head will lay at night. I now have a safe, warm shelter.  I now have the title of mommy, which I am extremely proud. I have a life most could only dream of having.

So then I had beauty and was hallow inside now I have everything but the outer beauty.  In the world we live in, I wonder which one is better.

I feel so undesirable.  I feel as though everyone is staring at me when I go out in public. I was much more pathetic then, but I feel so pathetic now.  Where did my beauty go. I want it back.

]]> http://www.time4mom.net/what-is-beauty/feed/ 3 http://www.time4mom.net/9-nights-and-10-days/ http://www.time4mom.net/9-nights-and-10-days/#comments Mon, 14 Sep 2009 21:19:18 +0000 Sandy http://www.time4mom.net/?p=312

I think back over my accomplishments and the things that I have had the opportunity to do and I smile. I remember the sad broken little girl with straggly black hair and  worn, dirty clothes.  I contemplate, how did I get here? How was able to over come insurmountable odds? How was I able to break the cycle? How am I not a crackhead, prostitute, or alcoholic? How am I not dead?

The nightmares still haunt me. I often awake fighting off my abusers. But the victory is mine because I overcame. I made it. I am not a statistic. I am a law-abiding productive member of society. I beat my abusers.

My husband and I are leaving this weekend on a 9 night vacation. Oh, I forgot the best part, Grandma  is keeping the children. That’s right. Just the two of us. 9 nights and 10 glorious days. What ever will we do?

I am going to see the Grand Canyon. You see, this is a milestone for me because I have always thought of that area of our country as being very spiritual and healing.  As a young girl, I always dreamed of seeing this wonder of the world and  I imagined the views to be breathtaking and I always thought of throwing all of the pain, abuse, bruises, and tragedy over the edge of the giant gorge and walking away a new person.

I have had the pleasure of traveling all over the U.S. on various vacations with my husband and family.  San Diego, Myrtle Beach, Las Vegas, Washington, D.C., and Wisconsin  Dells are the most memorable.  Each time we reach our destination, I always think the same thing; How on earth did the daughter of a alcoholic crackhead get here?

The answer is drive. I always wanted to have a better life than the one that was given to me.  I used to dream of having a pantry full of food and having enough money to buy all the grapes I wanted. The purple ones, not the green ones.  Even at the age of 4, I wanted more.

My drive and determination is what made me overcome. Now I get to see Santa Fe, Carlsbad Caverns, the Grand Canyon, Sedona, AZ and best of all I get to get dressed up in a fancy dress and stand beside the love of my life as we watch his best friend say, “I do”.  I am so excited I can hardly wait!

Stay tuned for more as I chronicle my journey from extreme poverty and abuse to my new life of love and happiness.

Destiny

I must apologize. I know that it has been awhile since I have written. You see, this has been a very hard week for me. My friends think I am crazy. I actually mourn each year when my children start school.

The kids are all so excited about getting new shoes, their classes schedules, and seeing their friends they have not seen all summer. They can hardly contain their excitement waking up the first day of school a half hour before they need to.

This year was especially hard. You see our oldest, Destiny, started high school. She is almost 15. I look at her innocence and I envy it. I look ahead at all of the things that she has going for her and all the things that are special about her and I thank God that my precious Destiny does not have to endure the things that I did at her age.  When I was a freshman, I entered my first foster home.

Destiny has more drive and determination than anyone I know. You see, from her very first breath she has been a fighter. Born 10 weeks early and weighing less than 4 pounds, we were told she wouldn’t make it through the night. Now she is going to high school.

Destiny not only has outer beauty but her compassion for others melts me. She is my little hippie chick.  She actually owns a shirt that says, “Hug a Tree”.  She is studying Chinese and she has a passion for art. She got that from her dad, I can’t draw a stick man.

Destiny’s biggest problem in life is trying to decided which top goes best with her purple shorts. Isn’t that the way it is supposed to be?

These are not tears of sorrow, but tears of joy.  I rejoice in the fact my children will have their childhood innocence. They will not be forced to grow up fast due to addiction.

Stay tuned for more as I chronicle my journey from extreme poverty and abuse to my new life of love and happiness.

]]> http://www.time4mom.net/first-day-of-school/feed/ 0 http://www.time4mom.net/the-3rd-of-the-month/ http://www.time4mom.net/the-3rd-of-the-month/#comments Wed, 19 Aug 2009 18:03:17 +0000 Sandy http://www.time4mom.net/?p=282

The third of the month was an exciting time for my siblings and I. We  looked forward to it every month. The third of the month was the day that our food stamps were to arrive by mail.   It was known that the mail was to come around 10 o’clock every morning. We played outside anxiously waiting for our relief.  Our heads would turn toward the railroad tracks as we would  hear a car approaching.  When the green Scout mail truck would finally come into sight we would run to the mail box hurriedly.

There they lay.  The food stamps that were to feed us for a month. The orange envelope was filled with with the paper bills that were to fill our stomachs.

We would run back to the house to give mama the envelope that contained the $302 worth of food stamps. Getting our food stamps also meant that we got to go to town. So we would all bathe outside under the water hose, this was a much more pleasant event during the summer than the winter, and we would put on our best clothes.  We would also guess on whether we would go to Winn Dixie or to Piggly Wiggly. Those two stores were our only choice at the time.

Before we would go to town we would always make our 45 minute trip north to Coy, Alabama in Wilcox county.  It was there in a small store with wooden floors that my parents were able to trade some of the food stamps for money.  For every dollar of food stamps they would give us 50 cents. So my parents would give them $100 of our $302 so they could get $50 in cash.  On occasions my parents would buy us one of those delicious Coca-Colas that came in the glass bottle for us to share while we waited quietly for this transaction to take place. When they were filling real generous, we would get one of our own.

After that, they would usually put $10 in the gas tank of whatever clunker we happened to own at the time and then we were off  to the liquor store to make the standard purchase of 2 12 packs of Milwaukee’s Best and 2 1/2 gallons of Heaven Hills whiskey with the $50 they had obtained.

Mama was usually the driver, especially when they were taking care of business. The car that we drove was most times illegal in some sort of way whether it be expired licenses plates or no insurance. My daddy thought that the cops were less likely to pull over a female driver than a man.

After the food stamp exchange and the stop at the liquor store, we were finally at our grocery store destination.  Most times my parents were “buzzing” by this time because it was an hour drive from Coy to Monroeville where we did our shopping.

We were excited to finally be there. They would buy several loaves of Sunbeam bread, a couple gallons of milk, sugar, flour,  tea, 50 pounds of potatoes, several packages of chicken leg quarters, and some 80/20 ground beef.  If we behaved in the store and didn’t ask for anything we sometimes got a box of banana moon pies. My favorite.

As the years passed and my parents addictions got stronger, the $50 cash turned into $100 until eventually we had nothing left to buy groceries with. We no longer ran to the mail box because the pain that was to come from drunk parents was dreadful. What was once a happy time was now one filled with pain and sorrow.

I now understand why I love food so much and I have to remind myself that I will be able to eat tomorrow. Even though it has been almost 20 years since I have had to live in those conditions, I still remember what it was like to be truly hungry. It is something I fear almost on a daily basis. I am truly content when my pantry and refrigerators are full.  To this day  I still love going to the grocery store.

Stay tuned for more as I chronicle my journey from extreme poverty and abuse to my new life of love and happiness.

]]> http://www.time4mom.net/the-3rd-of-the-month/feed/ 0 http://www.time4mom.net/10-things-i-am-thankful-for/ http://www.time4mom.net/10-things-i-am-thankful-for/#comments Mon, 10 Aug 2009 19:00:55 +0000 Sandy http://www.time4mom.net/?p=269

10.  My Washer and Dryer- Most people take this for granted. Not me. I have had to wash my clothes in a bath tub or sink to many times. Or even worse, not having clean clothes to wear and having to wear dirty clothes to school. I am thankful that I have a washer and dryer that I can use anytime I want.  I love the smell of fresh laundry.

9.  A Full Pantry- Growing up in extreme poverty food was very scarce at times. Not having anything to eat for days can make you very thankful for food.  Just knowing that I don’t have to eat things like squirrel or raccoon are also a blessing.

8.  A Car- even though I can’t drive my car right now due to medical reasons, I am so thankful that I have a reliable car. One that won’t keep my children and I stranded for hours at a time on the side of the road.

7.  Electricity- My siblings and I always celebrated when we had this luxury.  It was not often that we had it more than three months at a time before it was disconnected. Light bulbs were an issue. We sometimes carried them from room to room.

6.  Running water- Standing on the back steps in the winter time washing my body with a water hose and a bar of Lava soap, enough said.  We had to wait to nightfall so no one driving by would see us.

5.  Hot water- see above.

4. Toliet paper- yes in latter part  20st century we were going to the bathroom outside and let me tell you we were very thankful to get a magazine or newspaper to use instead of leaves.

3. Heating/Air Conditioning- Yes, South Alabama gets cold in the winter. It is a wet cold and when it is 32 degrees outside and you have no heat and there are not enough blankets to go around, life can be miserable.   As far as air conditioning, I am greatful that I have it in the 100 degree temperatures that I live in.

2.  Socks- We never had socks growing up and the ones we had didn’t match. I wonder if that is why I have two drawers full of socks now?

1.  A House Without Rodents, Lizards, and Snakes- If you opened our bathroom door you saw four walls and dirt. There was no floor. It was very easy for creatures to get into the house.   You had to be careful opening cabinets, snakes could be in there and those  little green and brown lizards were everywhere. One time my granddaddy bought us rat traps. We set the traps one night, we stopped counting after we caught 20  in one evening.

Stay tuned for more as I chronicle my journey from extreme poverty and abuse to my new life of love and happiness.

Yesterday my hubby and I took the kids to Target to finish up our back to school shopping. I stood there amongst the millions of crayons, pencils, notebooks, and pens watching all the moms and dads frantically trying to find that missing item from the list. In our case it was construction paper. I stood there looking at all the parents some were smiling and laughing, most were irritated.

I can’t help it and I do it every year. I guess you could say it is some sort of compulsion or maybe even an addiction, but if the list states  the child needs 1 box of crayons, I buy 3. If the list says 4 note books, I buy 6. If it says 12 pencils, I buy 40. I can’t help it. I always tell my husband the extras are for the children when they do their homework, but in reality, I think they are for me.

As a child in school, supplies were a luxury. Each year, I would give my mom my school supply list hoping and praying  we would get some supplies and each time the school year would start and we would have nothing. No back packs, no pencils or pens, and no paper. The things that a child needs to learn and  flourish, we were denied.

Every year, I would hope and pray that I would be in the same class as a cousin so I could borrow a pencil and a paper to do my work.  I know my fourth grade year, one of my aunts bought the items on my list for me at Christmas. So I went from late August when school started to the end of December without so much as an eraser.

Many times, I would receive poor grades because I never was able to do my homework.  I had nothing to do  my homework with.  School was hard. I was always at the mercy of my classmates to provide me with the things I needed to get my work done.

I failed 6th grade P.E because my mom never gave me $15 for the gym suit that I needed to dress out in everyday.  If there were lab fees, they were never paid and many times I would fail those classes too.

Every year there is always the school fund raiser.  We are all aware of the $20 box of candy that contains 5 pieces of chocolate and the $15 wrapping paper that will maybe wrap one shirt box. We also know how the kids are so excited to sell at least $50 worth of stuff so they can get the 50 cent crappy toy. Well I was one of those kids too. I loved selling that stuff because I always wanted the cool prize. I was in the 3rd grade the first time I remember selling the stuff. I was determined to win the walkie talkies. I wanted them bad. I went to every house that was in walking distance. I also went next door to the grandparents house to use the phone and called everyone on my mother’s side of the family, and she had a huge family. I sold  $196 dollars worth of products. The products came in and I delivered them to the neighbors and collected the money for the products. I talked my grandfather into driving me to town so I could deliver and collect the money from my mom’s side of the family. I had never seen so much money in all of my life. There in my hands I had $196. Those walkie talkies were mine.  I couldn’t wait till Monday morning so I could claim my prize. My grandfather told me to give the envelope to my mom so I wouldn’t lose it.

I woke up the next morning to find the money gone. My parents had spent it on weed, whiskey, and beer. I dreaded going to school. Our school was a firm believer, as many are in the south, of corporeal punishment.  I had failed to produce the money after six weeks so I received a paddling. My mother’s mom, my beloved grandmother, paid the $196 after I told her I was getting paddlings at school because of the money. I never participated in another fund raiser.

So the next time you see that huge box at the entrance of your local store that allows you to drop in some supplies for the kids that don’t have any, please remember my story and help a kids that would other wise have nothing. It is hard to focus on learning when you have to worry about where you are going to get the paper for math class.

Stay tuned for more as I chronicle my journey from extreme poverty and abuse to my new life of love and happiness.

Looking back over my childhood, I never remember being happy. Everything was always a sad time. I always felt embarrassed and ashamed. Being from a small town, everyone knew my family and that was not a good thing. The whole town was quite aware my mom and dad were drunks . Going to school  made for a great deal of playground teasing and bullying because of my parents actions. Many of my classmates were instructed by their parents not to associate with me.  My teachers were also a bit harsh at times because they had also taught my parents and knew what kind of hellions my parents were and had become.

The 12 miles, one way, bus trip to school everyday was the worse. The bus was very crowded. My house was the last stop in the mornings so finding a seat was challenging. No one wanted to sit beside me. I could understand why. Most days I was filthy to say the least. Baths were something that only happened once weekly at best. My clothes were always dirty.

My elementary and middle school years were very lonely. I never played with any classmates. I would usually just sat by myself on a swing at recess.  I was never invited to birthday parties. The only friend I had was the daughter of friends of my parents. Her parents were also alcoholics. We had a lot in common.  I think my friend was better off. She did have running water in her mobile home and her mom also bought her school clothes and she had glasses. Something I only dreamed of.

Birthdays and holidays were always sad for us. As kids we went to grandmother’s house next door for Christmas and watched all of our cousins open their gifts. We always felt sad for not having gifts to open and share ourselves. I remember just looking in awe at all of my cousins new toys and clothes, wanting so bad just to touch one. I remember in third grade all I wanted for Christmas was a Cabbage Patch Kid. I just knew I was going to get one. Again, however I was disappointed to wake up without a Cabbage Patch Kid. The sad part about this is not the fact that we were poor and we could not afford a Cabbage Patch Kid. I think I could have handled that situation a little better. The sad part was at the age of 8, I had figured out that I could have had that doll if mom and dad didn’t drink beer and whiskey everyday. I knew the price of their addiction because everyday it was a fight to scrape up the the $5 for the 12 pack of Milwaukee’s Best and the $13 for the half- gallon of Heaven Hills.  I figured out at the age of 8 that if they did not drink for one day, I could have had the doll. I think it is sad that an eight year old could figured that out, but her parents could not.

I look at my children each day with pure joy. They are young and innocent. Their laughter fills our home and it makes me happy. I watch my children and pay close attention to their  laughs. When our son laughs, his whole body shakes. His dad laughs the same way. Amber, our third child’s laugh is so unique that you can’t help but laugh along with her.

I am so happy  my children  have a safe and stable home where they can laugh at will. I love that they can have friends over. I love having their friends over. I am also glad the only things my children will have to worry about as kids is how they are going to wear their hair, who gets to play the Wii first, who walks the dogs, and what is for dessert tonight.

Stay tuned for more as I chronicle my journey from extreme poverty and abuse to my new life of love and happiness.

Well, I made it through kindergarten and it is summer time. I always enjoyed summer time because my Aunt Joyce and Uncle Ribbit (Robert, I couldn’t say his name) would come and get me and I would spend the summer at their home is Pensacola, Florida.  This was the only time I felt safe.  I loved going to her house. She would always take me shopping  for new clothes. I only got new clothes when I went to her house.  I got to take a warm bath in a bath tub every night and I got to sleep in a nice  cozy bed. My husband laughs at me when I iron my sheets but my Aunt Joyce always ironed her linens and  I remember how wonderful they felt on my clean body. Ironed sheets is a good childhood memory.

Aunt Joyce told me my mom was coming to pick me up. It was late August. I was sad to leave Aunt Joyce’s house but I was happy to see my mama and my new baby sister. My mama had given birth to her 4th child at the age of 22.  When my mama got there she was crying. My mama and Aunt Joyce went into the living room to talk and me and Uncle Ribbet went into the kitchen. He made me a milkshake.

On the way home from Pensacola I learned that my dad was in jail and he was going to be there for a year. Apparently he and a friend decided to burn the sheriffs van to the ground after they robbed it.  Anyway, he was sentenced to one year in jail with 5 years probation.

So there my mama was 22 years old with 4 children, no job, a husband in jail, and lived next door to her in-laws in a  house that didn’t have running water.  She must have felt desperate.

With the help of my aunts (my mother had 5 sisters and 2 brothers), we moved into a HUD apartment. It was a 3 bedroom 1 bath apartment that had running water, heat, air conditioning, and a telephone. I felt like I was in heaven. My mom got a job at the Tom Thumb and my Aunt Mira (dad’s youngest sister, she was still in high school) would babysit us while mom worked at night.

My mom’s sisters and brother that lived in town stopped by frequently to check on us. This was very odd because usually the only time that I saw them was at Christmas.

That was the best year of my childhood. My mom would come and eat lunch with me at school, I was in first grade now. She gave me 35 cents everyday to buy ice cream for my afternoon snack. We always had plenty to eat. My mom was happy and she smiled all the time.  I would watch her put her makeup on before she went to work. She was so pretty.

Christmas came and I had never seen so many presents in my life. I remember I got a record player, a Smurfs record, and a jewelery box that had a dancing ballerina inside. I got tons of new clothes and shoes that fit. We went to my grandmother’s house (not the mean one, my mama’s mom) and she made me a red velvet cake. It was my favorite.

The year flew by and before we knew it, it was time for Daddy to get out of jail. I couldn’t wait for him to see my room and our new apartment. I knew he was going to love our new place as much as I did.

The day he got out of jail, there were several of his friends over and the whole apartment  was full of the stinky kind of smoke. I remember walking in, and the white stuff was was lined up on the coffee table.  I wasn’t supposed to touch it.  Daddy was drinking Jack Daniels out of the bottle like he always did and most everyone else was drinking beer. I hated it when  my dad had friends over because they stayed really late and it was hard to go to sleep with the radio so loud.

That night Daddy got drunk and beat my mama up really bad.  We had to move back to the green house because the neighbor lady called the law on my dad and he didn’t like her anymore. We had to move back to the country so no one would be in his business. We had to leave our warm, cozy apartment that for one year was a very happy time. From that moment on, I saw nothing but sadness in my mama’s eyes.

Stay tuned for more as I chronicle my journey from extreme poverty and abuse to my new life of love and happiness.

Sandy

As a young girl, my favorite story was Cinderella.  It was my favorite story mostly because it was the only book I owned.   I think they were called Golden Books. They were the little books with the cardboard like covers bound by gold foil. My mama got the book for  me using stamps at the Piggly Wiggly. My mama read this book to me so much  I had it memorized cover to cover. It was my prized possession.

I was ecstatic  to learn that I got to go with Mama and Daddy this time to work in Oklahoma. I packed up all my clothes. They just all happened to fit in a brown grocery bag. Mama made potted meat sandwiches for the trip. My Aunt Mira Jane bought me a coloring book and some crayons. I was ready. Mama put Shawn and I in the backseat and away we went. Little Ira never went with us, he always stayed behind with grandmother.

It seemed to take forever to get to Oklahoma. I remember singing along to the 8 track tape of Hank Williams Jr. I remembered the words to every song that I heard. I wondered what our house in Oklahoma would look like.

I remember waking up as my mama carried me inside and put me into bed. I wondered what the house looked like but I was too tired to look.

The next morning, I woke up and looked around to see that we were in a hotel… wait hotel is way to nice a word to use. They probably charged by the hour.  I saw the two beds, TV, and bathroom.  I sat quietly on the bed and waited for Mama to wake up. I knew I was to never wake them up. I didn’t know how to tell time but they always woke up about the time the Price is Right came on at least by the first time they spun the big wheel.  Shawn was awake too. I attempted to changed his diaper and found a bottle in the cooler to give to him. I then realized what I had done.  As I was taking the diapers out of the diaper bag I spilled my dads bag of weed on the floor. I am sitting on the floor frantically trying to pick  the weed out of the carpet  when my mama awakes in horror. She jumps up and starts to help me. I am crying  but trying not to make to much noise.  We are both satisfied that we cleaned it up properly. No worries.

When Daddy woke up he was grouchy as always.  He wakes up, lights his cigarette and begins to walk over to the diaper bags. Even though I was only four years old, I probably knew how to roll a joint having seen it done so many times.  I saw his face turn red and the panic set up in my mama’s eyes. I spent what seems like eternity under the bed as my daddy beat mama for “smokin without him”. You see he always measured his stash so he would know if anyone touched it.  He did this with his liquor too.

We had to leave the motel in a hurry because the manager called the cops. We couldn’t get busted. I remember seeing my mama’s face battered and starting to bruise and feeling really bad about it.  She looked back at me from the front seat and whispered “it’s okay”.

It was then as we sped away that I remembered that I left my Cinderella book under my pillow.  I was heart broken.

Stay tuned for more as I chronicle my journey from extreme poverty and abuse to my new life of love and happiness.

The photo above is the house I grew up in. Now granted this photo was taken several years after I left, but it looks pretty much the same as it did when I lived there.  Don’t let the looks of abandonment fool you. It is inhabited, that is until my dad got drunk and burned it to the ground.

This is the home that I grew up in along with my two brothers and sister. It had three bedrooms,  one bathroom , a kitchen, and a living room.

Next door to this house lived my dads parents. They lived in a much nicer house. It had the modern amenities that our house did not have like running water, heat, air conditioning,  electricity, and a bathroom floor. When you opened the  door to our bathroom all you saw was the great outdoors. And yes,  I did say running water. We did not get that luxury until 1989, up until then we had a water hose that ran from my grandparents house  through the kitchen window.

I wish I had the memory now like I did back then.  I often wonder how I can remember the smallest of details of my life as a child but I can’t remember what I ate for breakfast this morning. Anyway, on to the story… I was a couple of months shy of my fourth birthday. It was 1979.  I was very sad and I remember crying in the closet uncontrollably because my mom and dad were leaving to go to work in Oklahoma. This was not a rare event but I hated when my mama left me because that meant I had to stay with my grandmother (my dad’s mom) and she was mean. The two of them were always going to work somewhere. They worked on oil rigs.  I knew as soon as my mom walked out the door I was in trouble. My mom left and promised she would come back for me. It was the day after Christmas when  she left.

Every night I would cry myself to sleep because I wanted my mama to come back. Every day I had to listen to my grandmother bash my mother. I thought my mama was a saint.  My grandmother was angry that my parents left me and my brother in her care and took it out on us, well me.

I thought sure my mama would come back for me by my birthday, February 1st, but it wasn’t’ until after Independence day  that she came back and when she did she brought with her my new baby brother, Shawn.  So my 20 year old mother now has three children ages 4, 2, and newborn. I was so happy to see her.  I ran up to her and grabbed her by the legs. When my dad asked if I was going to come give him “some sugar”, I hid behind my mama.  He took his belt off and spanked me until I had whelps for “not minding”.

Welcome home Mama.

Stay tuned for more as I chronicle my journey from extreme poverty and abuse to my new life of love and happiness.