Being 40 and knowing half my life is over is mind blowing to me! How did I graduate High School and be where I am today? Glad you didn’t ask, here my POV…
Let’s start with my younger years growing up. This won’t be long, as I don’t remember a whole lot in my younger years. Maybe its my bad memory already, or maybe I’ve blocked some of my past, either way lets get into it!
I‘ve always been a go-getter, always on the move to help whoever however I can. I started babysitting, I believe, around 10 years old. Back then they had babysitting classes and CPR classes for free. I grew a good business and was always busy on the weekends and all summer long. I did enjoy babysitting, I felt like I was helpful for the adults but I really enjoyed the kids. I would take the kids on walks, to the park, the pool or wherever we found ourselves.
Babysitting never truly felt like a job to me since I knew when I was young I was going to be a mom. If we get into details, I was going to have 4 boys about 2-3 years apart each, unless we wanted more. My husband (at this time my husband would have looked similar to Bruce Willis!) had a really good job so I didn’t have to work and I was the Housewife and Mother I always wanted. Wait, did I just admit that? I think maybe I did. Let’s ease into that later, too much drama too start out with.
I always thought of my dad as a quiet but worked harder than anyone I ever seen. He doesn’t say much, but don’t piss him off!! I’ve seen him mad or angry but never the extent of being scared of him, not me at least. My dad was pretty hard on my brothers; he expected more out of them than he did me. My brothers had more freedom to do things, but they also had to help dad with his projects he always had. My dad is not the typical dad, comes home from work asking how our day was and asking about dinner. My dad got off work and went back to “work” in the garage, house, yard, or helping someone with something. That just struck me, I guess I‘m more like my dad in that way, always wanting to help someone.
I remember being in elementary school and coming home to bust the concrete so dad could build his garage. We have an old concrete driveway and it needed to go before he could pour new concrete for the garage. He told my brothers that was their job as soon as they got home from school, unless they had homework. Many days, my dad would come home to me doing my best to bust the concrete. Where were my brothers? I didn’t know and didn’t care! Dad was going to be so proud of me for doing what he said and the boys didn’t. I thought dad would laugh at how I would pick up the sledgehammer and just drop it to breaks the concrete. I wasn’t big enough or strong enough to do it any other way. But I figured out a way to help and knew my dad would be happy.
My time 