by Danielle Dusold

Created on: January 06, 2009

I remember my footie pajamas and my Care Bears blanket. It's one of the few memories of my early childhood that I can still close my eyes and see. I had a pretty good childhood. My parents divorced when I was a year and a half old, and my father chose not to keep in touch with me. My mom moved what few belongings he let us take from our home and me to her hometown, nestled in the Northwood's of Michigan, or as many "Yoopers" affectionately call it, "God's Country". She married my stepdad, Mark, when I was 3. They were neighbors in high school, and my mom had a huge crush on him, as he did on her, but they never dated. He was the all-star quarterback, and she was in drama, band, and future nurses.

He fell in love with her when she moved back to Crystal Falls, and in doing so, he fell in love with me too. He used to babysit me for my mom when she worked the night shift as a nurse's aide at the local nursing home. She came home one night and he had me in my footie pajamas, snuggled up in his arms, both of us asleep. She knew then he was the one. They got married on Valentine's Day in 1987. My cousin and I were the flowergirls (the start to a long road of weddings the two little blonde girls would be the flowergirls for) in our little rose dresses, and that day I got a new daddy.

He was the best dad anyone could ever have. When I started school, my mom worked during the day, and he was a road officer for the County Sheriff's Department, working night shifts, so he would often have the responsibility of getting me ready and off to school in the morning. The first time dad tried to do my hair resulted in a disastrous mess. The man could throw a football, but could not put his daughter's hair in pigtails. Off to the hospital we went, to see my grandma (his mother), who worked as a medical transcriptionist there. Many days went like this when my dad was responsible for getting me ready. Thank goodness the man never became a barber.

November 29th, 1987, I was no longer an only child. My brother Tyler was born, and the family now had four members. I do remember in the first few months of his life, I was really jealous. They were my parents! I didn't want to share them with this squealing poop-pile. At one point, I decided to crawl into Tyler's crib. Luckily he wasn't in it. I broke that bugger, and instead of him having to sleep on the floor, he got a bunk bed. I think I was half hoping they'd get rid of him. I really didn't care for the idea of having to share the spotlight.

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