Navigating life.

One poop filled diaper at a time.

Amber Alert

Amber Alert

I've been having a lot of flash backs lately. I drive a put 40,000 miles on my car in a year kind of driving. I've noticed lately, as I let my mind start to wander, I get these flash backs. Some times, they're from the good old days of playing with my siblings. Other times, they're the tough lessons that I've learned over my life. The more that it happens (it's like an every day occurrence) my doctor stresses the importance of writing them down. 

I've tried going to Target and getting a journal. The cute pen set to match, too. However, what is the point of writing all this stuff down if people don't get to learn from my experiences with me? Now, airing some dirty laundry of my past is bound to piss some people off. The truth is, I don't care. These are my thoughts and my feelings. I am not responsible for the way they are make people feel. With that being said, lets go back to elementary school. 


Now, I have been to a lot of schools. Like there was a point where I didn't bother even learning the teacher's name because I knew that I would be moving before I could remember it. With each school and each new house came a different set of rules and different routine. I was young and had randomly found myself in charge...without even knowing what the expectations I was required to meet.

I had just started the 5th grade and I was one of those young kids. I was always the youngest in my class to the point that the schools would always offer to hold me back a year. I found it funny because, academically, they always wanted to jump me ahead a year or two once they got me into a classroom. My parents always refused because they didn't want me in the same grade as my older brother. Speaking of him, I had always been the younger sister and I would look to my older brother for guidance for everything. Whether it was finding my class on the first day at a new school or where to wait for Mom after school so we could go home. It was just this unspoken rule that he was in charge, but this was the first time in my life that I was in charge of a very active Kindergartener. 

I remember waiting for my mom for what seemed like forever. The bell had rung, all the kids had gone, and almost an hour had passed. My sister was getting impatient. My brand new friend, who literally lived across the street, couldn't wait with us any longer and needed to get home. Not knowing any better, I tagged along with her so we could use her phone to call my mom. You know, to make sure she had not forgotten about us. 

This is the part that makes me so mad as an adult. You see three young girls standing outside the front office of a school. Most schools, have some sort of protocol that bring the remaining kids inside after a certain time has passed. We waited an hour and not a single adult ever talked to us once. I was even more mad that my mom didn't bother calling the school to tell us that she was going to be late nor did she ever go over with us (in the six years I had been in school) what to do if she was going to be late. 

 Upon arriving at my friend's house, I called and my dad had answered. He gave some excuse of my mom forgetting what time it was and was on her way. I hung up the phone and my sister and I immediately walked across the street back to the school. We were literally gone maybe ten minutes, and do you know what happened? 


I got my ass chewed (and yes, that is the exact picture of what my mom looked like). In that ten minutes, my mom finally decided to show up...which she had to pass me to get to the school... The principal didn't like what I did. The cops didn't like what I did. My mom didn't like what I did. In my little fifth grader defense, I did the thing that I was taught to do. I called my parents. If they would have taught me to wait out them being over an hour late, I would have. However, that discussion never took place. The adults didn't care about me being alone and scared in a new place. There was no conversation on the school's protocol. Nothing.

I share this story with you in hopes that it opens up a conversation. Children don't know what they don't know. Don't get mad of them for not meeting your expectations if you have never taught them what those expectations are. The world is a lot scarier than it was when I was a kid. 


Our Little Miracle

Our Little Miracle

Shut Your Damn Mouth

Shut Your Damn Mouth