Lights On or Mouths Open?

In a well-intentioned movement crossing the country, people are leaving their porch lights on in honor of Caylee Anthony. Impotence in the face of tragedy is a common and terrible feeling.  But there is far more that can be done to remember a doomed child then turning on a light.Christian Choate was 13 when he died.  He had been imprisoned in a pet crate, a cage, in his parent’s home for over a year before he perished, starved and beaten.  People had known about the abuse, but nothing was done to save him....more

The Children Are Back!

My memory was fractured in early childhood. I have always been able to recall with great clarity the house and neighborhood in which I grew up. We moved in when I was four and live there until the summer after I turned seventeen. To this day I can close my eyes and take a detailed tour through our two-story home and up and down the street. However, until recently no people animated this inner playback. No parents, no siblings, no one –and our block was filled with children I played with as a child....more

The Casey Anthony Trial Begins

I write for EmpowHER - a women's health website and many of the questions asked in our Community and our Groups are questions about being a parent; for example, the physical, emotional and sociological aspects of life as a woman and mother.  One thing we clearly see is the genuine concern, fears and passionate love our moms have for their children. Which is why such horror is expressed when parents (allegedly, in the case of Casey Anthony) kill the children that the rest of us would die for. What are their motives? Are they mentally ill or just evil?...more

My Stepfather Molested My Daughter

I continue to be asked over & over again "WHY DID YOU START YOUR WEBSITE?" I want everyone who reads this to know EXACTLY "why" ........more

Ogres are like onions...LAYERS DONKEY! They have layers...(Good luck making sense out of this one.. ha ha)

Discussion of the evening: Me: Why are you so afraid of upsetting me? Am I scary? I don’t yell… I don’t throw things… I don’t say mean things… I hate feeling like the monster that makes you walk on eggshells… but I see you walking on eggshells…. Mr. Amazing: You disappear… You check out… You are just gone, nothing inside... A Kerry shell… Me: How do I do that?...more

SPILLED MILK… cont. “Some Memories Are Better Wished Forgotten”

Dulcenia and Little Fredo were counting down the hours to their mother’s return from America. And Canela, too, was most anxious to get back to her children in San Salvador. She’d been gone nearly three months now—months of worrying and feeling helpless—and sitting on the plane now, alone, she remembered things she wished she’d forgotten; of a time when she was just a young girl of seven, and Margarita had locked her in a room for an entire day, with no light, no food, no water, and no one to talk to. On this account, she has worried for Dulcenia, too.  ...more

SPILLED MILK… “Like Mother Was Treated, So Daughter Too” Part 2

Because Dulcenia had again wet her bed, she was punished, like a common criminal, to kneel on the hard marble floor in the hallway; and with little hands she balanced a washtub filled with water atop her head. And even though the tub was made of mere tin, filled with water, it was 100-pounds to a small child of seven. She trembled with exhaustion, desperately trying not to move lest she spilled water. For spilling, even a drop, meant a stinging blow with a twig to her buttocks....more

SPILLED MILK… continues “Like Mother Was Treated, So Daughter Too”

They’d reached the room of discipline, and Margarita took out heavy keys from her pocket and searched for the one that would fit to open the door, all the while Canela tugged and pulled on her arm in a futile effort to get away. Alas Margarita found the key that fit. She opened the rusty-sounding door and pushed Canela with a very hard shove, and with a heavy thump Canela landed on boxes. And just as quickly Margarita closed the door and locked it, imprisoning her own daughter....more

SPILLED MILK… continues “Poor, Sad Rich Girl, Feeling Unloved?”

Canela would later regret ever having left her children in her mother’s charge, ignoring her heart’s warning against leaving them—more specifically, she feared for Dulcenia’s treatment at her mother’s hand. She’d never forget how she, herself, had suffered at the hands of her own mother as a child. And Margarita had not changed—a woman veiled by beauty, but a beast at heart.   “Brown sugar and spice,  Sprinkled on toast with butter is nice....more

12-Year Apart Twins

My twin and I were born twelve years apart in two different states from two different sets of parents. Well… other than that, we share so many “coincidences” you’d think we are twins. We are constantly amazed at our similarities. About the same height with fine hair and blue eyes, we share any number of likes and dislikes. We hate shoes and kick them off whenever possible; cannot stand turtleneck sweaters –in fact dislike wearing anything around our neck....more