Memory and my childhood
So I just tried to log into my blog to write an actual blog and promptly forgot my user name. NICE! I am a dip shit, srsly. I do that often, I have so many user names and passwords everything (side note: I’ve never forgotten my user name and password for the Porn site I always go too) that I do tend to forget sometimes. Because I’m good like that. And I swear that the whole world is going to one day become, Under Name: and Password:… what do you think?
Okay so the real reason for my post, I was reading Josh’s blog, then went to Romi’s blog cause Romi is hilarious and awesome and so hilarious. Did I mention that she’s hilarious? I did? Oh okay. Moving on… Romi was talking about how some little mini chick, her words not mine, was in a posh salon getting her hair cut and how it brought out her own pissed off inner child and it made me realize, Hey! I have one of those! Totally! Then Josh left a comment about how that little mini chick could possible grow to be a crack whore do to a loveless marriage and well… go read it, it’s better then I could describe it.
Moving on… it reminded me of my own childhood and how well, we were poor. No other words could describe it other then, POOR. To be able to feed my siblings and I, my mom had to run a day care out of our house where at one time she had 14 kids plus my brother, my sister and I so that’s 17 kids in the house. Holy shit did I ever hate it but even then I understood that hey, if these bastards aren’t here and their parents aren’t paying my Mom, we don’t eat. So I barely tolerated them touching my stuff…. barely. Those little bastards being in my house also meant that we got clothes on our backs and shoes on our feet and birthday presents and Easter baskets and sometimes Valentines day candy. I remember my Dad having to ride his bike to work for awhile because his car died and there was no money to get a new one and that on Friday my Great Grandpa would come pick up my Dad and take him to the grocery store so we could eat. The one memory that will forever stick on in my head was that my parents would sometimes go hungry or not eat until they were full so my siblings and I can eat. It’s rather humbling to think about it now being almost 27 and realizing the love my parents felt for us to make sure we had enough and if they had to go without, that was okay. My parents are fucking awesome.
Once all of us kids were in school full time, my Mom got a part time job while we were at school and my Dad got raises and things went from POOR to lower middle class. Things were a bit better, Dad was able to buy a new car and we were able to not have to worry about food as much, although to this day my Dad will wait until my Mom and I have gotten our food until he will make his plate.
I made friends that were Upper class for some reason but hey, when you go to a school were grades 9 – 12 have roughly 225 kids, you make due. They were always talking about how their parents bought them this or that and how over the summer they had awesome vacations and I would get jealous or I would envy them like kids do. And then I would get asked, what did you do this summer?? And I would usually respond with, went to my cousins house and borrowed a couple hundred books to read. And then their faces would get this…. almost…. kinda like a OH look. And I would want to scream, look fuckers my parents worked their asses off all summer long so I could have new fucking shoes and new fucking school clothes so you can take your vacation to Yosemite and shove it up your ass. Heh, that angry kid is still inside there and she came out to say HI!
Then the teenage years hit and soon it was time to turn 16. And everyone knows what that means, you can legally drive all by ourselves. And these friends of mine? Well one’s mom bought a new car and GAVE her the old car, here you go honey! car on a silver platter. One’s parents bought her a BRAND NEW car, BRAND SPANKING NEW. One’s parents bought her a car about 5 years old. One’s parents gave her their 4 year old van and to this day, her family members STILL give her fucking cars. Me? What did I do you might ask? Well my dad went on 3rd shift and when he would get home, I would go to school and then when I got home from school, he would go to work. Because that’s what you do when you can’t afford two cars. Fast forward to a few years ago when I was at one of my friend’s houses having dinner and she was telling me that her Mom and her GRANDMOTHER were going to trade in THEIR cars to BUY her a brand new Santa Fe. And me, being me, raised my eyebrow and said, “You have a job, why don’t YOU buy your own car?” And she said, “I don’t make enough to buy a new car.” And I said, “Well then I guess you don’t need a new car, do you? See that car out there? I pay for that, that’s MY car.” (This was before I bought my truck, but that’s a whole different post) And man oh man you should have seen the look I got from her that day and her Mom, oh I loved her Mom’s face it was like light bulb went off over her head and guess what? She never did get that new Santa Fe. HA! Take that bitch! … Sorry.
So anyway this post did have a point, I now appreciate the things I buy with my own money. My clothes, shoes, truck, food, everything I buy I appreciate. I keep my clothes in good condition. I keep my truck in good condition. The shoes on my feet I’ve had for 2 years and they have a few good years going for them. The glasses on my face will last me a few years because I’ll take care of them. And when I pay off my debt and finally move out of my parents house and have my own stuff, well damn I’ll feel like a Queen because it will all be MINE.
