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Growing up, I always remember my parents being happy together. I never had to deal with them fighting or having problems. They were the couple that everyone looked up to. They were both very classy and graceful. They were like the couple you see on TV, always smiling, and upbeat, well, at least, that’s what it looked like. Being an only child, I always received all their love and attention.
Being an only child, I always received all their love and attention, but this all changed when my father lost his job and my mom had to pick up more shifts to provide for us. The loving, happy mother that I knew was slowly changing. She was always tired and agitated. Her clear, glowing skin she had, was replaced with dark circles around her eyes and wrinkles. The long curly hair she loved to show off was always tied up. She looked exhausted.
Not too long after their fights started. They were loud and they went on for hours.I would curl up in my bed wishing that it would stop soon. I wouldn’t hear the exact words they were saying, but the constant banging on the wall and the sounds of objects being thrown around weren 't hard to hear. I was scared. I would hear someone getting hit and that seemed to always end them My parents always told me not to irrupt when adults talk so I couldn 't do anything. My
Father always looked sad and
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There wasn 't anything out of order in the house. I called out for my mom but she didn’t answer. I quickly made my way upstairs. As I made my way into parents room, I saw my mother laying on the floor. She was drenched in blood. She was beaten so badly that I couldn’t recognize her face anymore. I could hear my grandmother screaming but I felt numb. My grandma was on the phone with a 911 operator. I didn 't want to touch her because she looked so fragile.My Grandma was wiping the blood off of her face. My mom looked up at me but her eyed were so swollen that they looked closed
I can see a crack of light coming from under the bathroom door. I keep hearing a strange sound, almost like a hurt puppy. As I walk closer, I see a dark puddle on the floor. Suddenly, I am very afraid. I slowly open the door. “Mommy, Mommy, are you ok?” My mother looked at me and cried, “Dial 911, Darling! Hurry, Honey, Hurry!” There is so much blood—on the floor, on her clothes, and on her hands. I can hear the sirens now. Mommy goes for a ride in the ambulance. My three day old baby brother and I have to stay with the neighbor until Daddy comes and picks us up. What happened to my mother?
They worked very hard to provide for each other and their families, and for the three children that they would eventually give birth to. My father in his old age often tells stories of how he worked many odd jobs while studying with every minute of his spare time. My mother sometimes mentions the difficulty that she, her sisters, and her mother had with transitioning to living in America. And yet despite all these hardships, they managed to stay strong and live amazing lives. In the spare time they would tell my brothers and me these stories to teach us the importance of hard work and tenacity, just like my grandparents had told my parents when they were children. My parents were never the most emotionally open people, and with it is understandable. Their strong, tough exteriors were the results of many decades of hard work and survival. It was considered weak to show vulnerability. For this reason my parents showed little emotion, and taught my brothers and I to do the same no matter how harsh we are treated. But they also comforted us, saying that this "harshness" is just how adults are, and under the harshness is love and care that connects our family together. Despite their toughness, my parents always try their best to provide love in their own
I never would have imagined feeling like an outsider in my own home. Unfortunately I wouldn’t even go as far as considering my current home as “my home.” I live in a house with eight people and two dogs and for some, that might not even be slightly overwhelming, but for me it is. I try to keep my heart open about the situation, but I always end up feeling like I don’t belong. Given the circumstances of my situation, I would say life definitely turned out better than what I initially expected, but I was left feeling like a “stranger in a village” having to live with a family that is nothing like my own.
Becoming a mom at sixteen was the hardest thing I have ever done. Trying to work, go to school and take care of my daughter seemed impossible. My mom was always there to support me, but from the moment I found out I was pregnant I was determined to do it on my own. When you become a mom at sixteen the paths you can take in life change, and you are no longer a teenage you become an adult really fast.
Education is not to teach men facts, theories or laws, not to reform or amuse them or make them expert technicians. It is to unsettle their minds, widen their horizons, inflame their intellect, teach them to think straight, if possible, but to think nevertheless. Robert Maynard Hutchins
Ever wonder what your life would be like if you lost one of your parents? Growing up with a single mother losing my mom was always my biggest fear. Although growing up without a father figure in my life was challenging, overall it made me a stronger, more independent woman.
As I walked in to their bedroom, I found my mother sitting on the bed, weeping quietly, while my father lay on the bed in a near unconscious state. This sight shocked me, I had seen my father sick before, but by the reaction of my mother and the deathly look on my father’s face I knew that something was seriously wrong.
This paper is going to show two of the various theories of being an only child. These theories come from a famous psychologist known as Burrhus Frederic Skinner and a psychology major at Northwestern University known as Alissa D. Eischens. But first it will mention the stereotypes given to the “only child” from an outsider’s point of view, then two cases that describe different childhood experiences that they had as an “only child” and how they dealt with it. Then it will go on and discuss a few statistics.
Being the oldest sibling isn't easy. Your brothers and sisters look up to you, which means there's a lot of extra pressure to always be a good role model. So when my mom told me she was pregnant right before my sixteenth birthday, it worried me that now I'd have another sibling that was going to look up to me. In addition, I started thinking that having another sibling was going to dramatically change the family dynamics, and I was happy with the way things were. The idea of change and the unknown were scary things for me.
Adolescence... a time of seemingly more freedom, junior high to high school, football games, dances, parties, going out for pizza, dating, driving, a later curfew, going to the mall, and talking on the phone almost non stop. Many mothers rarely see their daughters during these times. With all the time she begins to spend with her friends, it seems as if the major issues constantly being discussed are bedtimes, clothing and chores. #Girls are growing up and it may seem as if their mothers are being needed less, but they are needed, just in a different way. When I was beginning to enter adolescence, I wasn’t completely separated from my mother, but I could feel it was beginning to happen. My sister Erin, who is now 21 felt the same way. #“When I was younger, between 14-18 I separated form my mother and it almost felt like I was completely separated from her.” Even though girls may feel like they are farther away from their mothers that they could ever get, it is not the end of the world. Most girls are close to their mothers when they are young, and many return to that closeness as adults. But few girls manage to stay close to their mothers during junior high and high school. I have realized that before I entered into high school, my mother and I had a close relationship. I was the exception of most girls my age and many of them seemed jealou...
I wake up in this room. My mother is to my left crying with her face in the palms of her hands. My dad, he paces the floor with his hands in his pockets. I am scared I can barely remember what has transpired. As my mother stands and looks at me square in the eyes, the nurse comes and says with a grin on her radiant face “Hello, Mr. Howard. How are you feeling?” I attempt to sit up, but my body is aching. My dad hurries over to help, but it was no use the pain was overbearing. I began to weep and apologize. My dad with a stern look on his face says, “Andra, you are fine now just relax”. How could I relax? I am stuck in this room with no memory of what happened.
I lived an average life of a young girl up until the night of my sixteenth birthday. I had a few friends over and just because I am an amazing big sister, I let a couple of Griffin’s friends come over as well. At my party, there were about four girls including myself and my mother, and maybe five to seven guys if you count Griffin, his two friends, and my step-dad, Shane.
My mom and dad both worked full time jobs to support our family. My mom would cook dinner every night, she would do our laundry, she would prepare our clothes for school, and she would read to us at night before bed. On the weekends, we would go out to eat, we would play mini golf or any activity that suited our age at the time, and we would spend quality time together. In the summer, we went on vacations to Six Flags, Schlitterbahn, South Padre, Corpus Christi, etc. My parents always made sure that we were well taken cared of and made sure we knew they loved us, my parents gave us things that they themselves never had and missed out
On May 25th, a Monday, my grandmother was not feels well, so my father decided to drive her to the hospital. Most of my family members were worry about my grandmother health, but for some reasons my father did not take my grandmother to the hospital. It was raining hard that day. My grandmother body slump over on one slide of the wheel chair. Her face and mind seemed like she was flowing on midair even though her body was still there. He decided to take her home instead. Later, my father dropped my grandmother home, and then he went home to take a shower and come back to check on her. When he came back home, he said to me in a shaking tone “I think grandmother is going to die soon.” While my father was taking a shower to release his stress, his cellphone rang. After my father got out of the shower, he called my uncle back right away. Then he quickly changed, and he ran out the door.
It was Friday night, I took a shower, and one of my aunts came into the bathroom and told me that my dad was sick but he was going to be ok. She told me that so I did not worry. I finished taking a bath, and I immediately went to my daddy’s house to see what was going on. My dad was throwing-up blood, and he could not breath very well. One of my aunts cried and prayed at the same time. I felt worried because she only does that when something bad is going to happen. More people were trying to help my dad until the doctor came. Everybody cried, and I was confused because I thought it was just a stomachache. I asked one of my older brothers if my dad was going to be ok, but he did not answer my question and push me away. My body shock to see him dying, and I took his hand and told him not to give up. The only thing that I heard from him was, “Daughters go to auntie...