I was recently called upon by a loved one who needed help. She was in distress and I was on my way. This is what I do for the ones I love. I try my hardest to make myself available when times of need strike.

I do not care for the close quarters of airline travel. I like getting where I am going but the cramped spaces are not my thing. I guess I am a bit claustrophobic. I had to get from San Antonio to Springfield, Missouri. I was not looking forward to haivng to change planes in Chicago to make my final destination. The layover time was only 40 minutes and I was sure that I would have to walk the entire length of Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport. One could say my mood was that of a crab!

I always choose a window seat when I can. The window helps me not feel so confined.  Because my seat was at the front of the plane, I was one of the last to get on. I just knew I would have no room for my purse and laptop bag. I was also praying the person I was sitting next two went easy on the cologne and passed on the bean burrito before embarking the plane.

From the moment I met her, I knew she had kindness in her heart. The lady that was sitting in the aisle seat didn’t act annoyed as she stood to let me in giving me extra time to get my laptop bag under the seat in front of me.  She was dressed as though she was a career woman in her slacks and blazer. She looked very professional and I admired her hair style. Actually, class just dripped off of her.

The first thrity minutes or so of the three hour flight, I dozed off and on. We finally exchanged words as the flight attendant was making her drink rounds. Over  the next two and one-half hours,  I realized that I had just met a wonderful human. In that short amount of time we both realized we were both of Southern Heritage.  In those 150 minutes, Lori and I laughed until we hurt and cried until we smiled.

I truly believe that God puts people in your life in the exact times that you need them most.  When our flight was over and just before we walked our separate ways, Lori and I hugged because we both knew that we would always remember flight 408 from San Antonio to Chicago.

God Speed Lori. I hope we meet again.

The job title of stay at home mom is a very different one for me . Since the age of 15, I have had a job. Granted, said jobs were not scientifically ground breaking but it was a job in which I felt I was contributing to the family financially.  That has come to a screeching halt.

My health is the main reason that I do not work any longer. The other reason being my children are in their teens or approaching their teens and we feel that this is a time in their times when the children need us the most.  Now my children do not have to share my time with an employer.

My new job as stay at home mom is the best job I have ever had. I love being home when my children get off the bus. I love preparing meals every evening and I love being more involved in my children’s  education. I get to be with them completely.  I know that I am fortunate to have such a gift. I know there are many parents that would love be able to stay at home with their children.  For this I know I am blessed.

All of my adult life I have had a job that has contributed to our families financial needs. Now I do not have a “paying” job.  Since I am no longer on the payroll we have had to make some sacrifices. By no means are we hungry nor do we do without the necessities but their are no more luxuries.  Because I had to grow up meagerly, I have always been “thrifty”.  I have always clipped coupons, bought nothing unless it was on sale or better yet clearance, and avoided wastefulness at all cost. The skills of being frugal that I learned growing up are now really coming in handy.

With every change their comes turmoil. My husband has always been the one who oversees the budget,  pays the bills, and balances the checkbook. Mostly because his math skills are way better than mine. To be honest with you, I didn’t even know how much money I earned on my paycheck or when payday was. My earnings were automatically deposited into our checking account and that was that. I never knew and still don’t know if there is $10 or $10 million dollars in our checking account. I am pretty confident it is not the latter.  I pretty much bought what I wanted when I wanted it, within reason, and I handed the receipts over to my DH. We also consulted each other on large purchases and there was no problem.

As a working person I did not have a problem with treating myself to a pedicure once or twice a year or purchasing a new pair of shoes. I  love cosemetics, purses, shoes, jewelery, and clothes.  When I was working I didn’t have a problem buying these things.  Now, I feel like a prisoner. I feel like every decision is being made for me and I hate it.

Because of medical reasons I have not been able to drive for the past 5 months. I have had to depend on my husband  for everything.  He is a busy man so I have to go through him to go or do anything.  It has been five days since I have left my house.  Now add that to that fact that I fell like I have to ask permission to buy a Coke. Now don’t take this the wrong way, my husband is the kindest most loving man on this planet. He is not one of those controlling possessive types.  I  just don’t earn any money so I fell like I don’t have the freedom as I use the money we do have.  I am not dealing with this well at all.

So now that I am a stay at home mom do I stop wearing cosmetics? Do I stop getting my hair done?   Before I felt as though I deserved those things because I worked hard. In fact, I had two jobs. I did all of household task plus worked.

I feel that each person in the relationship needs to have money that they don’t have to be accountable to the other person for. It could be $5 or $500, whatever the budget allows.  I am just not sure how to accomplish this. Before it wasn’t a big deal, now it seems to be a huge issue. I feel like I am asking Daddy for an allowance.  I feel like everything that I want or need is a luxary and I don’t have a right to ask for anything. It sounds crazy even as I write this, but it is how I feel.

Here’s a perfect example: A couple of weeks ago my DH handed me $40. For days, I sat and pondered what I should do with the money. Should I spend it on the long sleeve tops that I need since the weather is getting cooler or should I spend it on a hair cut? Should I spend it to get my eye brows waxed or maybe some new makeup or lunch out with a friend?  This decision kept me up at night. I did not know what expenses of mine this $4o was to cover. So I sent the money to the relatives of a friend that just passed away to help with her burial expenses.

So here is my question to you: How do you other SAHMs  and SAHDs do it? How do you maintain your independence when your whole lives are in the hands of someone else? How do you not resent your partner?  How do you handle your financial freedom?

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.

This photo is of my dear husband and I  many years ago on our 1st anniversary.   On this anniversary  Zack and I  traveled from Denver to Colorado Springs so we could see Riverdance, which was amazing. We always look forward to dressing up and spending time together just the two of us.

Through the years we have always made our anniversaries a very special occasion. In the early years there were  times that we didn’t have $5 to our name but we always managed to make it memorable.  We have gone to plays, had special dinners, gone to fancy French hotels (this was one of my favorites, the chocolate covered beignets were to die for), and taken weekend trips. I could go on and on. We always have made our anniversaries a big deal because we both so much believe in the sanctity of marriage and each year we are together is truly a blessing.

Anniversaries should be special. I always think back to our wedding day. I wasn’t nervous at all. It was a lovely ceremony in a cozy church nestled in the Rockies. The views were breath taking.  It was a very special day that I will cherish forever.

Each year that I spend with my hubby is truly remarkable. This past Tuesday was our anniversary and I was heartbroken. You see I have been quite ill lately. For the past eight  weeks or so  I have been having seizures and flare ups do to my Rheumatoid Arthritis as well as experiencing horrible medication side effects.  The past eight weeks we have been in and out of doctors and specialist’s office. I have had extensive blood work, MRI’s, MRA’s, EEG’s, and CT scan’s. I should be glowing now.  Not only do I have a primary care physician but I now have a Rheumatolgist and a Neurologist. This year on our anniversary I felt so bad. My pain levels were at a all time highs and I was miserable.  I feel like our special day was kind of overlooked because of my illness. We didn’t even exchange cards .  We had a nice diner at home but I couldn’t enjoy it because my pain was almost unbearable and I was out of it due to the medication. I wished my hubby  a “happy birthday”.

I want a do-over. I love having anniversaries and I love planning our special day together. I am really bummed out  and heartbroken. I feel cheated. I hate the fact that I didn’t do anything special for the man of my dreams and love of my life. How can I make this up to him?

I think everyone should treat anniversaries as a “holiday”. In fact, I think you should get a paid day off work if it is your anniversary. Marriage is such a beautiful thing and  it should be celebrated.

WARNING: This story contains very graphic content.

This evening as my family and I were finishing up dinner. I heard a news story on t.v. that caught my attention.  My husband made the comment  he had heard about this and felt that I shouldn’t listen to the story. Being the hard headed stubborn woman that I am, I ignored him and now wished that I had not.

The story is about a woman who had killed her 4 week old son by decapitating him and eating his internal organs. Disturbing as this may be, the saddest part of this story is this little angel’s death could have been prevented. You see his mother had just been diagnosed with postpartum psychosis as well as being diagnosed as a schizophrenic last year.  It gets better, on July 20th, just six days before she committed this act, she checked herself into a hospital for “hearing voices”, but soon after was released by  emergency room personnel.

Mental illness in any form is a serious medical condition. Schizophrenia is one of the most critical mental illnesses. Postpartum psychosis is far more severe than post postpartum depression.

I am no expert, but there needs to be more awareness when mental health is an issue.  One person named “Lazlo” actually stated these words in a comment, and I quote: “Unless we as a country take steps to sterilize all Bipolars, schizos and the dangerously depressed from EVER breeding we will always have these tragedies. Blame the infected family lineage that keeps breeding these disease minded individuals”.

It is  comments  like these that prevent people from seeking treatment for mental illnesses. People with mental illnesses are reluctant to get treatment because of these stereotypes.  Our society ignores the mentally ill until something tragic happens and then the blame game is played. It was not a secret that this woman had some serious issues.  Upon delivery, why wasn’t she assigned a social worker to monitor her behavior? The woman was schizophrenic.  Why would heath care professionals allow this woman to walk out of the hospital with a child without some sort of follow up treatment?  Baby Scotty’s father and grandparents needed to be trained on how to deal with a family member that has schizophrenia and look for signs of instability.

I know it is hard for people to understand how a woman could do this horrible act to her only child, but  one must really understand and educate themselves on mental illnesses before they make opinions about the mentally ill.

It is my opinion that the mentally ill are discriminated against. Most times these very sick individuals are just thrown away.  There needs to be awareness in our country to help prevent such tragedies  as this.

Rest in peace little Scott Wesley Buchholz Sanchez. June 30, 2009 – July 26, 2009

My San Antonio