I grew up as a step-child. My parents divorced when I was four years old. The step-grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins- they were nice to me. But there were those awkward moments when I felt like an outsider, or a misfit.
I’m not putting anyone down. My parents were just navigating the rocky waters that happen after a divorce. However, those little moments where I felt like I was on the outside changed the mother I was going to be. Read the rest of this entry
Sunday I had all sorts of grand plans in my head. I wanted to go to church, then drive 30 miles to visit my mother on her first Mother’s Day as a widow. I wanted to spend a few hours with her, and then go up the highway another 40 miles to see my step-mom and spread around some Mother’s Day cheer to two of the most important ladies in my life. All I managed of that plan was the part about going to church. When I got home someone said they got bit by a flea on the couch.
That’s when I went a bit psychotic. Read the rest of this entry