Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Families.
Step Parent Part 1
Parenting is hard under the best of circumstances, but under the worst circumstances, it can be and is a nightmare. It's like a walk on a long dirt road all alone, no one to talk to, no one to share what it really feels like. No one cares no one sees and everyone just closes their eyes to your pain; it doesn't matter to them they only see what they want to see. So why do it? Trust me, I have asked myself that question more times than I can count. Still do to this day. My mother said once that I must enjoy making my life harder than it has to be. Truth is I love my husband and would never leave him. Truth is no matter what is thrown at me and no matter how much I am hurt by these children, I do love them. Does that make me pathetic? Honestly? I don't know. Some times I feel that way. Sometimes I get in the car and drive, music cranked up and I scream as loud as I can. I yell. I cuss. I cry. But at the end I drive back home and start again. This is my story. This is what I have been through and this is what I have felt and do fell. It is my rant. It won't be pretty and it will not be sugar coated. For years I have kept this all bottled up and hidden in the darkest places of my heart, mind and soul. I haven't shared this with family and only one friend has heard most of this. So why now do I write this down and share it? Simple, I can not keep it locked away any longer. I no longer feel embarrassed. What I feel is pain and anger and I feel done most days. I feel alone in this and I am done feeling alone. Maybe others can relate or maybe others will hate me, but if there is just one person out there that is going through the same type of thing and that person feels alone, then they will know that they are not alone. And since I decide to write this all down and throw it out into the world, I feel a weight lifted from me. For the first time in a long time I feel good. So here it goes and I'll see where this journey takes me. Who knows maybe I'll even be happy in the end.
By Deanne Jensen9 years ago in Families
Discipline
While many people advocate that corporal punishment no longer has a place in today’s modern society, many parents still stand by it. In many cases, it is a tried and true form of punishment while in others it only aggravates the situation making it worse.
By Mary Hunter9 years ago in Families
It's a Girl
Sitting here next to my beautiful four month old daughter, wondering who will read this. I don't think many will but I'm hoping it at least touches the thoughts of a few people. May 8th 2017. The best day of my life and also the most terrifying. After two days of unruling back labor I finally gave birth to a tiny 6 pounds 7 ounces baby girl, only 17 inches long. I know what you're thinking "She was a premie?" No she was full term. I was always told growing up that God will only give you what you can handle, and it that is the case he must think I'm superman. The hospital had broken my water and 18 hours afterwards my darling Cecilia made her appearance, but to my shock she wasn't breathing. At the time we had no idea what was happening I mean really? I just gave birth I was feeling all kinds of emotions and couldn't think straight. My fiancé was by my side repeating the most heartbreaking question any parent would hate to hear. "Why isn't she crying?"
By Martina Hayes9 years ago in Families
Adopted Struggle: Clarity
In my last story, I talked a little bit about myself, and I want to be clear about something: I am glad I grew up where I did and was afforded the opportunities that I had. I grew up in a great school, although I never took advantage of it, a great middle-class town. Being Adopted has never really affected me until I received that letter. And that was twenty-eight years. So, what has changed? The answer, clarity.
By Nathan Stotts9 years ago in Families
To Smack or Not to Smack?. Top Story - September 2017.
The debate on smacking is an interesting one in as much as there are not many fence-sitters on this subject: people either have no problem with it at all, saying “I was smacked as a child and it didn’t do me any harm” while others are vehemently against violence of any sort against children. Just using the word “violence” evokes very strong feelings in many who hit their children because they don’t consider smacking a child to be violence. The “no hitting” camp generally believe that we hit our children out of instantaneous anger, frustration, and basically because we don’t know what else to do.
By Mari-Louise Speirs9 years ago in Families
Is This As Far As We Come?
Even though an estimated 75% of adults agree that women have the right to breast feed in public spaces, health officials in Timmins, Ontario felt it is necessary to keep the discussion open. Life size cut outs of breast feeding mothers dot the city in an attempt to ease the discrimination faced by mothers in Ontario and across Canada. Women are illegally asked to cover up, leave an establishment or are verbally attacked by strangers.
By Sorcha DeHeer9 years ago in Families
One Eyebrow Doesn't Make You Friends
Yesterday, my father bemoaned his feminization over the last decade due to his constant exposure to me and my sister - his two loving daughters. His role as a single father meant the cannibalization of the maternal role, which resulted in a sort-of heightening of feminine characteristics. (I'm sure Stan Lee has written a comic about this, right?)
By Adeline E. Anderson9 years ago in Families
Coming Face to Face With Me
I still remember the day I met you. I was the bratty little sister of one of your friends. You were playing basketball at the fair grounds.My brother was so mad that mom made him bring me along. As I sit there watching you guys play while pretending to read my book, one of the two I brought with me. I finally started to get into one of them when you came up to me. Taking a seat next to me.“What are you reading?” taking a drink from your water bottle.I had no idea what to say, it was the first time you never talked to me. I just kept my head down. I didn’t even look up when you placed your thumb on the page I was reading to mark my place as you turned to read the title.“Out Stealing Horses,” you flipped the book back to the page I was on. “Sounds interesting.”We sat there for what seemed like forever. I wished that you would just leave, being around you made my head spin. The way you smelled made it so hard to catch my breath. I was so happy when my brother called you to come finish the game. You stood and winked as you ran off to rejoin the game. I knew that whatever just happened, was well I don’t know if you started hanging out with my brother more or I started noticing you more, but it was like every where I went you were there.My mind kept going to you sitting there in class, I would day dream about you. Thinking if you were thinking about me too. The age difference didn’t bother me at all. But back then I didn’t know you lied about that too.There were a lot of lies told. I still don’t know what I was to you. I think that is what bothers me the most. Was I just another mark? A score to settle with my foster family for not keeping you? There are so many questions I have and no one will give me the answers. That's another thing that bothers me, they say that they want to protect me from what is going to happen now. That I should not have to relive the nightmare. That’s not the case, every time I close my eyes I see you. I see all the good things that has happened between us. Even though there were more bad times than good, it's the good times that stay with me. It’s at night that the bad memories come.It has been six years since it has ended, and now I sit here wondering what is going on. From the next room, the only good thing that has happened between us is playing tea party with her stuffed animals. I know she hears me cry at night. She asks me why I am sad. I can’t tell her its because of you. She doesn’t know about you. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. It’s still to fresh in my mind to relive.But maybe it is time. To reach out to you at least. Maybe it will help me get over you and move on so I can start living again.
By Lizz DeBow9 years ago in Families
What I Learnt About Death
My Grandfather was a good man. As a young man, he served his country in battle, fighting for the freedom of those unable to defend themselves against the tyrants who imposed their will on the world. As a working man he served his community, fighting for fairness and equality of those who worked alongside him, trading blows with the heavyweights of industry whose tanks and shells had long-since been replaced with cuts in wages and inequitable conditions, and where men who worked themselves into early graves for paltry sums underpinned the few who grew continuously richer from their efforts. As a family man, he fought to preserve the innocence of his children in a changing world which saw men walk on distant rocks and peer into the far-flung reaches of the galaxy; and as an Old Man, he served his peers, his church, and his community, offering shelter and sustenance to those in need of his Christian charity. A man whose honour and decency was well-represented by the hundreds who mourned his passing, and passed glorious platitudes to those who knew and loved him most, lining the wood-adorned walls, smiling solemnly and shaking hands with the well-wishers who wished him well in his passing. Those who knew him well, loved him well, and remarked to his widow as such. And through tear-stained dignity, she accepted each gracious apology for his loss, followed by his children—my father and uncle—then by the grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and countless nieces and nephews.
By Mark Williams9 years ago in Families
