Memoirs: Parents 17 Articles

by Marijo Phelps

Several Days in the Life of Mom's  Dementia

This day was before the family realized the extent on Mom's dementia.  Yes, she wanted to MOVE rather than face issues and get things straightened out.  Yes, she was

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by JoDee Gregory

When the going gets rough most of the world as we know it either goes shopping or at the very least gets going. My mother use to get baking. Her level of worry could be measured by the flour on her back pockets, and how over

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by Janet Harris

My parents were not perfect by any means who is? They were human like everyone else, but I have to say that they were fantastic parents, who did everything they could for my sister and myself and gave us a good life and very

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by Nan Keltie

My Other Dad

I am in the car with my father-in-law, driving him to another cardio-pulmonary therapy session. He rides quietly most of the time, but now and then something will trigger a memory or he'll see something he finds quite

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by Levi Martin

When I was 15yrs old, I wrote my first song called Why Keep It A Whisper. Although there is no actual music written to it, I do have a melody and way of singing the lyrics I wrote to the song. My father is severe alcoholic and

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by Aretha Brown

My parents, are only human i know that, but they are the sort of people who should never have had any children. They both started out too young, my father was running with a gang and was very abusive and my mother wore the brunt

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by Randa Morris

I have a favorite quote.
"Families often help and hurt at the same time."
I cannot tell you who said it, but it was a sign that hung on the wall at the domestic violence shelter, where I stayed with my 3 children, more than 10

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by Joseph Wardy

Have you noticed the thousands of book written for parents about parenting? What a huge waste of money to buy them and an waste of time to read them?

We can't define what a good parent is. I turned out fine and so did my sister

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by Alex Fitzsimmon

The yellow walls were faded and cracks like spider veins ran from one wall to the next. It was a huge kitchen filled with sunlight from the many windows, and I would sit on a stool at the huge wooden table and watch mama roll

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by Deb Keen

The daunting task was mine. It was to differ from the ways of my parents and their parents before them. Knowing the reason I had the strength to do this was the traits that they had firmly planted and nourished in me since birth.

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by Patricia Marzano

I watched mother painfully inch her way up the stairs. Tears welled behind my eyes. A mere two years ago she was vibrant and beautiful, entertaining her many fans in the production the community theater put on every summer in

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by Ayesha Long

I never held any resentment towards my father because I never really knew him. When I think of him, all I ever remember are doors being slammed and tears being cried. often times, my memory of him comes in snatches of images

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by Davina Rush

Parent...a word that means so much more
than any words can define,
A label that is unique to each person
who owns it in their own time.

No one person is perfect at this task
and my parents did their best,
making more memories than

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by Ashley Allred

When I was about eight years old all I wanted for Christmas was a club house. Somewhere that I could go where my mom couldn't make me pick up my toys or do multiplication drills. Somewhere to call my own. I would have been perfectly

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by Scarlett Woods

She had brown hair, frizzy and wild, a crown of grey around her face. Old tired eyes that always knew you were up to something sneaky. She was strong like a man and wasn't afraid to get the paddle. I loved my mother, I still

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