The meaning behind "Open Arms"

Umm what's up with all these folks having a blogs dedicated to the kids they have? I find my self outrage and jealous! OK not so much outrage but jealous of all the little rug rats in these blogs.

I was close to my Mom till I was five and then she went to work and that was the end of our relationship. Monday to Friday my Mom busted her ass being more of a Mommy figured to kids at the day care she slaved at for minimum wage wile I went to school and came home to an empty house. When she got home she cook dinner for us and watch TV till she went to bed. I'd play by myself till she forced me to go to bed. On the weekends she got up at 8am and made a home made breakfast for our family. And at 10am she started to drink her Mexican brandy and coke and cleaned the house from top to bottom, after that she made an amazing home made Mexican dinner that was spoiled by her drunken bitterness with us kids, my Dad and her life. By 1AM she passed out cold and I would carry her to room and clean up the next meal she was cooking for us and take her boozes and pour them down the sink. Sundays was the day you fended for your self because Mother was too hung over to cook for us. We usually took care of her while she was hung over. Come Monday we started the same routine all over again.

The years passed and my mother's drinking got worst and my father started drinking again and the fights they had seem to never end. Year after year the bond my Mother and I had started to cave in on it's self. By the time I was 14 our arguments would end insults and by the time I was 16 I told her once "I wish you would die." in a heated argument and I told her a few times that I had hated her and she called me "ass hole" on a daily bases. When I was 17 things got better for a short time. Both my parents stop drinking things seem good but nothing good can last for long. Just two weeks before my 18th Birthday my Mother was diagnosed with liver Cancer. On June 8th 2000, just four months after we found out she had cancer, my Mother died.

There was so much I wanted to say to my Mother but i never got the chance. I lost what little was left of my child hood that day.

There are times when I'm mad at her for all the hell she put me threw. There are days when I feel like shit for saying the hurtful things i said. There are times when I'm OK with it all and times I'm not.

The kids on these blogs have parents that love them and I'm assuming love them right. My Mother loved me but it was some messed up love. My sister has kids now and she is pretty fucked up for a mother. My grand parents were abusive to their kids. See the cycle?

I don't know if I want kids but if I do have kids i want to love them the right way that all kids should be loved. And everyday greet my kids with "Open Arms."