from marriages/relationship’s are exactly that. They are not yours and that, dear readers is the truth. There are occasions where step parent(s) do make the effort to treat them with kindness and instill some sense of family whether they live with them or during visitation. Facebook is full of “concerned” step parents who bemoan about the terrible parenting skills of the biological. They parade their ready made family across the timeline like a constant breeze. Trouble is…it reeks of garbage in a lot of instances. If it isn’t plastered on facebook, then it is a regular topic at work or whatever social / religious circles you frequent.

I listen and I watch. Those that talk about other people’s children are 10 out of 10 times speaking negatively against what the child does and dovetails it with the other parent being at fault. The child is cast into a shadow of gray and so becomes part of “the problem”. Just this week I heard the term “…my **#t head kid…” when they ARE NOT theirs, but rather the spouse’s. So far, every snippet of conversation has been on the shortcomings of parenting (not from the spouse) and how the child is this or that, always lacking.

Something else…even if you try to be the concerned, loving, great step parent and have a child of your own with current spouse don’t be fooled into thinking that your preference to your own doesn’t show through. I can absolutely say that I have been a witness to it happening. That little blood borne darling is yours. I’m honing in on the mamas especially, because for whatever reason, females seem to have this innate need to tear other women’s children down; even more so if they are married to the father. There is one particular child at the moment I’m feeling sorry for even though I’ve never laid eyes upon them. I know what the step mother is like in an adult setting and can only imagine what she puts the kid through.

I write from what I see. I don’t see the heart, but I do see the looks, actions, and tell-tale signs that all point to my posting. I stand by it even if you don’t agree because it is my experience.

The kindest thing would be to keep your opinions to yourself. The child already knows you dislike them, as children are not stupid. The stupid ones are adults trying to pretend that they have a ‘real’ family when in reality it is only one that is built upon broken promises and dissatisfaction. Throwing children of other people into your SELF CENTERED PLAN of ‘family’ usually leads to a recipe that leaves a bad taste in everyone’s mouth.

 Dear “…my **8t head kid…”, I hope things get better for you.


One Year Later…

September 3, 2015

Mama was born and took her first breath of life in the summer. Her final breath was released in the same season. She lived ninety-four years upon this earth with all its God made magnificence. Each day, month, and year she accumulated those things appointed for her specific purpose.

She was a farmer’s daughter who watched the cotton grow and chopped it in hat, gloves, long sleeves, and britches. She remarked how when they went to town you could tell the farm girls by their tan skin. Mama shielded hers so she would remain fair. She told of how her mother left her in a large box as a baby while she worked in the fields with her husband (Mama’s daddy). According to her paternal grandmother, she “swoll” from being so blistered. Til’ her death she never liked being in direct sun.

I remember how cool her arms felt even if outside temperatures were scorching. How she was ladylike in her actions while dangling a cigarette in her lips at home, only  at home, never in public. Funny how you remember things like that. She loved us, her children and grandchildren, to the best of her ability. There was a tenderness beneath the protective shell she had fashioned from past warfare in the battle of life.

Last year on this calendar date, the shell was broken and she was finally free. Ecclesiastes 3:11 says, “He hath made everything beautiful in his time: …”

I saw God’s beauty, peace, and rest for the weary soul in my mother’s face  a year ago today.

It was her time. It was His timing.

Job 1:21  (Authorized King James Version)

“And said, Naked came I out of my mother’s womb and naked shall I return thither: the LORD gave and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.

I love my children, simple as that. I think each one knows that. I love them as a whole unit and as individuals. Not one of them can ever be replaced. They are woven in my heart, mind, and soul as long as I draw breath. After that, I have no idea, so I won’t go beyond what I know here on Earth. We humans long to believe that love is forever, but forget that forever is not something we really understand. Scores of people through books, scientific studies, and sermons attempt to shed some light on it, but which one of us can really understand? The one thing I know for sure, is someday we each will have that discovery and answer for ourselves. In the meantime, I will love my children to the best of my ability on the limited basis I know here on Terra Firma.

I’ve just been pondering over some things. So much so that I’ve wandered over here several times, reread my posts and decided to wait till I was in a better writing mood. Spring is in the air and we all know that means change. I’m ready for GOOD change.  The squirrels and birds are taking advantage of the sunshine and warmer temperatures. I watch them through the patio window during the day as they explore the brown with green-poking-through grass. On Monday, one squirrel was gutsy enough to climb across the deck railing and scramble his (or her) way to the roof. This greatly intrigued my two year old grandson who fired out a finger and gave his self -language of “Look! Squirrel!” I’ve been steadily telling him about them and the birds that show up so I can keep him in tune with nature.  He adores the outside and being the grandfather he is, my husband takes him there to explore. Of course he managed  to find the water pan that the birds drank from and tumped it over; but Pee Pa didn’t  mind.  After awhile they came back in and I told him that it reminded me of when his father would take our children to the woods beside their house and down to the (now dry) beaver pond.  They still remember and speak about those times. Myself, I remember walking to town with my grandmother to pay a bill. I skipped along the sidewalk as the summer sun snuck between the tree leaves. My Nanny had her umbrella to shield her from its smiling gaze when we were dead in sight. Time and how we felt around people. That’s what we remember.