I’ve been feeling a bit Narcissistic lately in my role of knower of everything, doer of all, aka: Mom. It seems that being the only person in the house that can open a juice box without squirting it everywhere has a tendency to rush a sense of power straight to that lump about three feet above your ass. I spend every minute of my day trying not to end up on Nancy Grace and this crap load of house work is not exactly contributing to my efforts. I’m certain that in my former life there were servants to handle all this mayhem and foolishness for me, so until this blog makes me rich I’m just going to have to keep an eye on Jane Velez-Mitchell as well. (Yes Jane, we see you trying to get Nancy’s job.) Yes, I’m a little off in the head and it feels great! So when someone asked me what my vision of the future of America would be from the view point of a mom realistically raising kids, I thought: Here’s my chance to make a statement to the world. (Cue dramatic music, and bring up the lights)
There is something incredibly nostalgic about my early childhood even if it was soaked in poverty and riddled with traumatic memories. The basics were always provided and although my family wasn’t perfect, they were present. As a child, I had no clue that I was poor, I just remember that my family never let me go hungry or without a roof over my head. As I grew older I began to see the divide between the classes when simple pleasures like shopping at the mall couldn’t even be afforded by my parents. My mother came into a small fortune after a wrongful death lawsuit in the case of my three year old sister. My step father once told me, they went through that money like a hot knife through butter. I remember having cable when my friends didn’t and having the coolest bike on the street. I also remember the struggle my parents had trying to keep up that life style after the money ran out. Their fall from grace back to skid row was ugly because they were dragging three kids along with them. There were countless evictions and no matter how many times it happened, the level of fear when law enforcement came knocking was never any less. I got my first job when I was 14 by forging my mother’s signature to work at a summer retreat. I couldn’t cash those checks, so mamma cashed them for me, and kept every last one. I really hated that woman, until I ended up with five mouths to feed slap in the middle of poverty myself. In November of 2011 the U.S. Census reported that more than 1.1 Million children entered the poverty population between 2009 and 2010. I gave birth to one of them. I know, shame on me. Just understand that birth control and circumstance are never 100 percent. Especially when your husband has super sperm and you have bionic eggs. I’d also like to point out that when you’re poor and have no health care, a trip to the free clinic is nowhere near parallel to a Gynie appointment.
My vision for America is simple. I would like for all of us to stop, turn off the television, unplug from the internet and really take a hard cold look at life from the eyes of child in poverty. We assume what’s in the best interest from our own vantage point all day with no progress, but until we assess the need our children we are missing the ultimate chance to invest in our future. This task doesn’t start on Capitol Hill, or with a left handed signature in the oval office. This task starts at home. It means raising our children with practical morals and realistic values and expectations in life. And for the love of God, stop “telling” your children they can be anything they want to be. Show them. RaiseEmReal.