Things are starting to get rough.

I know that right now I don't have legions of loyal followers, but that is no excuse for slacking here when I said I will try to write every day. I don't like to disappoint people, I know it is a good quality in people, it is just extreme in my case. I spent so much time when I was young, saying "I don't care what people think, and screw you if you don't like it." I had such an attitude problem, but I simply replaced one type of attitude problem for another. I am that way when expressing anything public. I am Switzerland, you would be hard pressed to find someone more sensitive to others feelings. I have been working on that because I am not sharing some true feelings to people who I consider pretty good friends. I disagree strongly with their political, and sometimes personal, ideals and don't want to just say "you're crazy." You know what I mean? I used to entrench myself in every argument trying to usually force sense into someone or everyone's heads. I am not perfect and to say I still don't allow that to happen would be disingenuous. I am baited.... wait that is a cop out, I get over heated and then I get a little insane. The reason I am keeping that previous sentence that way is that I want for people to see that I recognize or attempt to recognize where I am lacking simply because I am trying to show my family that it is important to me. Accountability, Responsibility. I think I have worn those words out for my children. I hope they have not lost their meaning.
I am starting to feel a little irresponsible for not trying to keep up with the way others are being raised. Being good is somewhat of a disadvantage if you are not also a bit street smart. My children don't understand what I am saying when I say that because they know some rough people, or what they think are. But that is different from living the lessons so many live today. A really smart man wrote a book about the new rules for living in today's society, he is a popular t.v. Doctor. These are the things I wanted my children to learn about but not have to live. You can no longer give anyone the benefit of the doubt. People look for that as a sign of weakness and thus recognize an easy mark. You have to show your boss you are doing a good job instead of hoping he will notice, because trust me there are many others that are showing the boss or telling the boss just how good they are doing. People are more cutthroat, you have to watch your back, you have to stand up for yourself, and also to know that you can resolve any problem if you try. It is hard to navigate the new rules without appearing to be a bad person, or accidentally hurting someones feelings, or telling them everything I tried to teach you will actually hurt you if put into practice in the real world. I don't want anyone to misunderstand me, what I am talking about is how we tell our children, if you work hard, it will be noticed.  "The Golden Rule, Karma." Those are the things we would ideally like everyone in the world to believe in, but sadly that is not true, especially today. I know it has to be possible to still be that good person, but still flow with the changes in society. Even the changing laws are starting to go against even the basic values most of us hold dear. We are allowing mediocrity in our schools in our workplace and there is no longer pride in performance when others advance beyond you when they are an inferior employee, what can you do? I don't have all the answers, but I am trying to figure it out. I feel for them, each time I see something happen that is not fair, and I spent their whole lives saying nothing is fair, just learn to deal with it. Now everyone can say it's not fair and guess what happens? Everyone gets an award or a raise or whatever it may be. I think you get what I am saying. Talking this out truly does help. I know they will be successful in life, just because they are good people and they will not change who they are but how they operate and that is what is necessary to move forward without hurting others.
I know I have procrastinated and given excuses for the delay in starting the next chapter of my life, but this is where things get tough and I have tried to work out how I can write this and not hurt anyone. I have decided it will not be possible and that it is best for me to share the way things really were in my life. So I end this very long opening to this day's writings and start what is going to be hard but I also know I will feel so much better to be telling it.

I can sort of remember the day my Grandparents arrived to take my sister and I to Montana.  I know in our young minds that we really had not comprehended what was happening. We were told that our Mom would be on her way to Montana soon.
It was a fun trip. We rode in a camper on the back of a pick up, I believe. I don't thing it was any other kind of motor home. I remember spending most of my time looking out the tiny window while laying on the bed that was over the cab of the truck. It was a first experience for us travelling.
When we arrived in Montana, we wound our way through the mountains which were unbelievable to me. I fell in love with them from the first time I spotted them. We drove into the Bitteroot valley, where my Grandfather's house was located, just outside a tiny town called Victor. The Bitteroot River flows north through several small towns all situated on the valley floor between the Rocky and Mission Mountains. The largest city was Missoula, and it is still not very large, but it is where the University is located. We turned from the old hwy, onto a small dirt road and there were very few houses in sight. Just about a half a mile down that road was my Grandparent's home. It was a large double wide mobile home and on part of the land there was a tiny little one room house that had a very old run down house, directly in front of it. I think there was about 5-10 acres of land and it was a dream for me, to have so much land to run wild on. I can remember more about the day we arrived than most other days during that year. We were shown into a home that was very nice. It was the nicest place we had ever lived. We were to be sharing Michelle's room. Remember she is my Aunt/Sister, as I explained in the previous chapter that our mother told us the deep, dark secret that we must never tell. That is that Michelle was our sister and not really our Aunt. She is two years my elder and she was adopted when she was born, by her Grandparents my mother's father and her step mother. Michelle is rather exotic looking. She has the most beautiful olive complexion, she turns a dark brown during the summer, and has very dark, thick, somewhat coarse hair, with a natural curl, she has big brown eyes, and over all I was blown away with how pretty she was when I first saw her. I am an odd duck in the family the only one with blond hair and blue eyes, my sister has a darker complexion, though not a dark as Michelle's and Jennifer also has very dark hair almost black, and brown eyes, and she can turn a dark brown during the summer when she spends a lot of time in the sun. My complexion is pink and white and I burn very easily. We could tell quickly that Michelle was not happy to be sharing her room with us. She laid down her rules and showed us the bunk beds which we were sharing and she had a bed opposite us. I remember seeing how much she had and being envious even in the beginning. And far from being welcoming and accepting Michelle made us feel as much as a nuisance as she possibly could. After all of my years of experience I can say now, I know exactly where she was coming from. There was also two older sisters of Michelle's they were Carol's daughters from a previous marriage. Carol is the woman my Grandfather was married to during that period of time and for a few years after that. I believe she was only a  few years older than my mother.  I will tell more about that later. Dawn was the eldest and a junior or senior in high school at the time and Christia was just a year or two younger I believe. I thought dawn was like a glamorous model. I remember thinking how I though she just had it all. Looks, smarts, and popularity. I did not see much of her during my life. When she graduated high school she was on her own from then on. Christia had this amazing, thick, long red hair, that I loved and she had freckles everywhere. She was cute and had the biggest, brightest, smile that was contagious and she was also so very kind. She seemed to have more patience with my sister and I than anyone else in the home. And she had the one thing I always wanted, a horse. My desperate love of horses started then.
I remember in the beginning, crying a lot. Missing my mother so much. I was never a kid who was cuddled and hugged and shown a lot of affection. But I knew my mom loved me and I missed her so much it hurt. I saw my sister hurting and that was the time I started to be a protector. I took on that role for many years to come. I would hold things in to try to make her feel better. I always saw Jennifer differently than most people. I saw her as fragile. I think I always have and still do. Being tough and holding things in, is like a cancer. It changes you. Things were not so pleasant. Carol was very tough on us. I know she was a young woman with two new little kids to take care of, I know many things now I wish I knew then, and maybe it would somehow have made things better. One of the first things she did was cut our hair. Both Jennifer and I arrived in Montana with hair almost to our behinds and she cut our hair all the way up. I literally had a boys haircut. Not even a bowl cut it was above the ears and everything. I know it was easier and that was why it was done. I was pretty upset about it. It was probably the only girly thing about me. Every bath time was a horror story. I don't know what kind of anger was in Carol. I have been in her position and I think about hormones and depression, those kind of things, but when you are a kid you don't understand. a 4 and 5 year old missing their mother and then experiencing a coldness from those who care from you is very hard. Any way bath time as I was saying was not good. I wanted to run and hide and did try from time to time, but nothing I did would let me get out of bath time. Carol would scrub us so hard our skin would be red. and she would use the wash rag to clean our private areas with the same vigor as the rest of our bodies. Inevitably there was soap getting into places that would burn so bad. There were many nights I lay in bed crying from the pain caused from the baths. I started to notice that I was the "problem" I guess you could say. I do not like saying it because it seems I have said it so often in my life. I think it happens because I don't let anyone see it really get to me. Although my heart was always broken. No one else could see it. I say I was the problem because I did have some behavioral issues. One was hyperactivity. Back during that time it was the late 70's and there was not all of the a.d.d and a.d.h.d diagnosis's and definitely not a bunch of drugged up kids. There was other methods of trying to "cure the problem". I did not get sugar period. None in kool-aid, no Jelly, no candy, definitely no sugar. I remember specifically a few instances, like having water while the other kids drank kool-aid or soda, just peanut butter and no jelly sandwiches, and then there was a Christmas where I remember watching everyone dump out their stocking and the other girls had these books of lifesavers and Tootsie roll banks, I know they still sell them at Christmas, I buy them for my children just because of the memory. They had candy and I had some fruit and nuts. There was more than one night I can remember sitting at the dining room table, all of the lights in the house were off except for the one above the dining room table, and everyone in the house was asleep because at dinner Carol made liver. It is the only food I cannot stomach. I would not eat it and Carol and my Grandpa told me I could not leave the table till I had eaten the piece of liver from dinner. I sat at the table while everyone slept and when everyone woke up, my head was resting on the table where I had fallen asleep.
I know it was difficult for their family to take in two kids that came from a home that had little discipline, and not much consistency. I know that Michelle was technically the baby of the family and she was incredibly spoiled. I also know that I came with a whole set of my own behavioral issues. It was during this year that the stubborn me was born. I have so much more to tell about this year of my life, and so much of a different perspective than I had then. I am sharing what I felt then and now as I go. I am allowing for the hardship that we caused. I know how difficult it can be and I have been in a nearly identical situation Carol found herself in, and I can empathize and forgive. But I wish I could forget. I experienced a level of  discipline that was both excessive and at times inappropriate. I really do wish I could forget that year all together.

I am closing just as my emotions are building. I will not avoid writing. I am working on it, and I know that this will get easier and more difficult at times. I appreciate the feedback I am getting from a few people. And I will always try to keep you engaged in what I have to say. I know I did not live an exciting life, but I also know that I am not the only one to live that kind of life. Even some of the newer members of our family have or are having some of the same experiences and that breaks my heart. I have wracked my brains thinking how can I explain everything I want to explain. I just hope that my writings will somehow help them understand me. Someday.
I want to say a special I love you to Emily and Noah. The love I have for you both is tearing my heart in two. I wish I could rescue you save you and I don't even know how or what I could ever say. I know the saving needed comes from deep inside you that you may not even recognize for years to come. I don't want that to sound arrogant at all. I just know how you don't recognize the pain when you get so used to suppressing it. I just want you both to know it. You have never been far from my thoughts and are often in the forefront particularly when I was writing today. I will be here for you anytime in your life you need someone and you don't know where to turn. I will always love you both and do whatever I can even to just be there for you always.

Age from Birth to 5 years old

I skipped a day of writing and it will not be the first time. I really this time wanted to be thoughtful about how to write what I want. I am always afraid. One thing that really held me back all my life is fear. Fear that if I say something deep that it will make me vulnerable and that feeling is terrifying. When you worry all the time if someone will use your pain and your weaknesses against you, it holds you back from doing everything and saying everything you want. I am at a stage where I feel ready to do this but I still feel a bit of that fear deep down. I try to view this as a gift for my children. A legacy for them to know more about their family history and to know more about me. My children have known me through their eyes and only know a Mother who is tired, weak, and in pain lately, and earlier I had so many emotional issues that my children endured too much of that as well. I raised my daughter to be strong and not to allow anyone to show her any disrespect, or to hurt her mentally or physically. And lately my daughter has watched me tip toe around her Father always so worried about his reaction to everything, and allowing him to treat me not so nice. I think this made her lose respect for me. I have allowed this over the past 7 or 8 years, and not done more to protect her from the problems that developed. The anger and fighting that ensued when my husband returned home from Iraq was something I did not know I would have to deal with and how bad it would be. I know that his personal change made me personally change. I want my children to know I am the sum of my experiences and that everything has been for them. I may not have always made the best decisions, but after giving birth to my first child, I was forever changed, and I became more afraid than I ever thought was possible.
Today's writing will not be so bad, my first 5 years are not very clear, and the memories I have are not all bad during that time, even though my parents were not that great, it is an age where you don't notice if you have bad parents. And perspective is everything.



I shared my very first childhood memory, putting the cart before the horse so to speak. That was my first post if you did not read it. Burning down my Aunt's house, was my first memory for obvious reasons it really stands out. I will always remember that fireman's face and him wagging his finger in my face even if I cannot remember what he said. I could definitely fill in the blanks now that I am an adult and know now how very bad that was. It probably helped to label me as well because I later was labeled as a hyperactive child. There was not a lot of those a.d.h.d. and a.d.d. diagnosis' back then, so I was just called hyperactive.
There was one incident that I don't have an actual memory of my own about. I was only told about it by my Mom. She told us how my sister came by these bald spots she has on her head. My sister has 2 or 3 bald spots on her head that are maybe the size of a quarter each, and because she has such dark hair, they stand out if she puts her hair back or up. My Mom said that Jennifer spent quite a bit of time in intensive care at the hospital because of a drug overdose. She blamed me for that happening and I could not have been older than 2 because my sister was just an infant in a crib. My Mom said that I had been playing with things in a closet and there was a bag I had gotten into that had some pills in it. I had apparently been playing with these pills and put some in the crib and my sister ate some of them. I don't know the full extent of what happened, except for that she was in a coma for a short time and got these bed sores on her scalp from the hospital where she stayed. It was those bed sores that caused Jennifer's bald spots. I don't know anymore about this really. My Mother was never very detailed, for what now seems like obvious reasons, but as a child I actually felt responsible for it happening.
A few little memories took place at a tiny apartment in Indiana. I can remember playing hide and seek with my Dad and he used to hide in the funniest places. I remember seeing him, feet and head sticking out when he hid under a mattress and another time he crammed himself into an old wardrobe in our room. We laughed so hard and thought he was the funniest guy in the world. I was only a few years old at that time, I did a lot of getting into the cupboards and pouring ingredients together on the floor and doing the same with the laundry soap etc., I just got into mischief whenever possible. There was one morning that I have a strong memory of and I am not sure why other than it seemed to me like a perfect morning. I woke up before everyone else, and made a giant bowl of cereal all by myself and sat down and turned on the t.v. while I ate, then I went to the bathroom and stripped off all my clothes and instead of changing them just walked outside in just my "birthday suit" if you know what I mean. I had this cute little, rusty, squeaky, tricycle, I hopped on and started riding up and down the sidewalk and the sun was just starting to rise. I don't know how long it took but I remember my Mother running outside yelling at me "what are you doing riding around with no clothes on?" she picked me up and ran into the house and it looked like she was so embarrassed.  That was my first memory of enjoying being naked. I always have for some reason and that is probably because we were raised without paying attention to nudity, it did not seem abnormal if I was sitting on the bed talking to my Mom while she was nude after just taking a shower and she was getting dressed. Each of us children seemed comfortable with our bodies and we were taught modesty but also taught that we don't need to be ashamed of our nakedness.
Where we lived in that apartment we were about a block away from a large pasture and there were a few big bulls in the pasture. I would spend a lot of time just staring at the bulls. I remember one man telling me you better stay out of there or those bulls will go after you. I don't know what went through my mind when I was 3-5 but what normally goes through the mind of a child that age. None of us will ever know. But one day I stood by the fence to the pasture and just stared for awhile and contemplated making a run through the pasture, there were only 2 problems I could see at that age, one was that I had not ventured that far from the house before and that the bulls will come after me. I apparently decided to go for it. I climbed under the bottom part of the barb wire fence and started running as fast as I could toward the far end of the pasture which was probably about a half a mile away. I ran and ran as fast as I could go, just sure that the bulls were right behind me, and when I finally looked back all out of breath, I saw the bulls standing exactly where they were before just eating and not paying any attention to me whatsoever. The bulls probably should have chased me because from that day on my parents had a heck of a time keeping from going into that pasture. I don't know if they even knew that I had done that.
For a while living in that apartment, my father worked for a short time at a sewage plant. I only remember this because he took me to work with him once and showed me around. I know I was a small child but I don't think that is a good reason for someone to enjoy a trip to the sewage plant though. I think that it was spending that day with my Dad and getting that personal one on one time made me feel special, even if the environment did not. That day we arrived and the smell, oh my gosh the smell. It was unique. My Dad walked me through every part and told me what everything did. I can remember the big tubes or tunnels with stuff coming out in every different consistency in different tubes. It was a special day at the sewage plant. I know how crazy that sounds trust me, but it is my only memory of just me and my Dad having a great Father Daughter day, it was a short time, and after that, I did not have a Father ever again.
I have a few little short memories and one was a day at Kindergarten. I remember my kindergarten was in a large room which at the time felt like the size of a gymnasium. It was so huge and we had a lot of kids in our classroom. Even at such a young age I asked questions that most kids don't. I think I would describe myself as exasperating but many grown ups probably found me annoying and an inconvenience, which is why this memory sticks out I believe. This day I remember was a day like any other I just remember there was a conversation with my teacher that irritated her. I said why do we have to have nap time. We take naps at home, I said specifically "Why are we taking a nap a school when we can take a nap at home?" This required my teacher to explain, and she was not happy about it. Probably because nothing she said made sense to me and so I just kept asking more questions and not accepting what she was saying. I never liked naps nor did I just take "because" as an answer. Thus the beginning of my pissing off all the people around me. I hate saying I was too smart for my own good, but it seems I was. Maybe I was just disrespectful, maybe these are questions all kids ask and they are just too respectful to piss off the adults they come into contact with. I was not that way. If someone I knew would not give me a satisfactory answer I would ask a stranger. I always asked too many questions in Sunday school, and that is not a place where good questions are welcome. This all brings me to one of the most relevant memories I have, it is the last memory of my childhood in Indiana.
As very young children we could not tell when there were things wrong in our parent's marriage, or to even consider them splitting up and our lives changing forever, it was probably in some ways for the best, but you always look back and wonder what you did not see. One day our Mother and Father sat us down to have a conversation, and that conversation had to do with what was to come. My Mom told us that our Grandfather was coming from Montana to take us back with him and that soon she would come and get us. She explained very little at that time but there is something big she told us and I know now that it was for her own selfish reasons she would share this with children who were ages 4 and 5.  My brother was just a new baby and my Mom was keeping him with her while my Grandpa took us with him. My mother told us the story of Michelle the daughter that she gave birth to and that our Grandparents adopted. She said "now Michelle is really your sister not your Aunt. But you cannot tell her ever." You will see how well that worked out later.
Now I think I have shared about as much as I can remember of that part of my childhood, I know there is so much blank space there, I don't know why I don't remember more, but wish that I could. The next thing I remember is a road trip in the back of a motor home, on our way to Montana. I loved the road trip but my life was getting ready to change forever, from a content somewhat happy childhood to a life of so much fear and so much instability, it will show you all how I became who I did.

Family Tree Continued....... Grandparents, and parents

This is a hard day for me to think about writing. I know what is coming up and the beginning of this Biography will be hurtful to some, at least one person for sure. She stood by my Grandfather even after he passed and refused to believe anything bad about him, and she really did not see the bad when it was in front of her face for many years. I am resolved to be as honest as I can be when writing this. To lie or omit much of this would be wrong because what I want to accomplish is to show others they are not alone. That we all have issues with family and that some of us have had difficult lives and we overcome or let it drag us down, until our lives are out of control. After all I believe that many of the issues from my childhood shaped who my Mother became, who I became and ultimately who my children have become and who they will be. I deeply apologize to the person who will be the most hurt by what I will say about my Grandfather. We have had our many falling outs, even at this time we do not speak. But I don't want her feelings to be hurt. She was loved by him and spoiled beyond belief. My words at times will be harsh because they will reflect my feelings about certain things that happen. And the one thing I want everyone to know is that these are my memories my perspective and I will be specific about what I definitely remember and tell you if my memory is fuzzy about something or if it is second or third hand information. And some names may be difficult for me to remember, so I will let the reader know when that happens. I also have a problem with speaking ill of the dead in any manner whatsoever. I have pondered this and decided that what can be gained is more important in this situation. I will try to be gentle. This will be very hard. I am procrastinating so here goes nothing.

My Father,
I am starting out with my Dad and get it out of the way. He plays such a small role in my life and by having such a small role it turned out to be a major role. I discussed his parents yesterday, my knowledge is limited. My Mother's parents were a much larger part of my life and I have more information because of that, therefore my writing will be unbalanced as far as the family tree.
I know that same sex parents are the most influential on children. But both parents are essential. My father was in my life for the first 4-5 years, I am not quite sure how my Mom and Dad met but it seems it was some party of sorts, because from what my Mom said they were doing nothing but partying. Like her Mother before her, my Mom met my Father when she had already given birth to a child. A daughter when she was 18. My mother apparently had a one night stand with a man she describes as being gorgeous, she said he was Italian and had dark skin. I remember she knew his first name at least but I do not know that now. Although she had given birth to a daughter when she was 18 she gave her up for adoption to her parents, just as her Mother had done for her when she was a child. I was a surprise, and what made my Mom and Dad get married quickly as far as I know. My sister came along so soon she is the same age as I for 1 week out of the year. My brother is 4 years younger than I. My Mom and Dad divorced when I was 5 or 6, and that was the last I saw of him until I was 17, and one other time when I was 22 or 23. My Dad remained in Indiana and my Mother took us to Montana where we stayed. My Dad continued to procreate as I will explain later.

My Grandfather on my Mothers side, 
This is where things get tough. My Grandfather was quite a guy and there is so much to be said. And believe me there is so much I still don't know and never will. I am going to try to leave this a more of just the family tree part of him because he will be in my story quite a bit and you will get to know who he was later on.
I explained where he came from and I think he was a creation. What I know is his name was Carlton Patterson, but his nickname was Pat and he went by that for his entire life as far as I know. He had a privileged life, was very spoiled, and he had so many issues, my Mom said he was such a heart break for his parents. They loved him and spoiled him so much. They bailed him out of any trouble he ever got into, gave him whatever he wanted and I believe left everything they had to him when they passed. I know he squandered it all and he even eventually sold his parents funeral plots and had them buried in a cheaper plot. They had purchased plots together when they were alive, in a particularly expensive site. I remember hearing how upset my Mom was about that when I was still a child and I heard about it for years. I don't know how my Grandfather and Ann eventually split up but I do know the next wife I knew and who was my "step Grandmother" for years, was Carol, and she had 2 daughters already when she married Pat, and was just a couple of years older than my Mother. Carol and Pat adopted Michelle from my Mother when she was a baby. Carol's other 2 daughters were older Christia, who was maybe 5 to 7 years older than Michelle and Dawn who was just a year or two older than Christia. They all lived in Montana when I was growing up, because when my Mom and Dad went through their divorce my Mom sent Jennifer and I to Montana with our Grandparents I was 5 and Jennifer was 4, and Kurtis my little brother stayed behind with Mom because he was a baby about a year old.
After going over the few childhood memories I have in Indiana,  I will be starting my story, and it basically will be starting with Pat and Carol, going to Montana and the year we spent with them until my mother arrived from Indiana and took us back in with her. This is was a trying time, it seems they were trying to retrain us and get rid of the behaviors they did not like. I will wrap this up for now. And leave you with that bit of a teaser.

Family tree continues.... now my life is shaping up to be more interesting than I thought.

This is great and scary all at the same time. I woke up this morning so insecure about my writing as I shared it on my facebook page for the first time yesterday. I was thinking why would anyone want to read my writing. Even though that was not my sole purpose for doing this, my children were the main reason, I wanted to leave some sort of legacy, something my children will have knowledge of and but for that some of these memories would be lost forever. Well this is just one more great thing about facebook. I had words of encouragement on my wall, and that was such a weight off my shoulders. To those with the kind words. Thank You. And now on to my Grandparents. This could get confusing even for me so again bear with me.

My Mother's parents, (Biological),

This will be confusing even for me because I just realized how little I know about my Grandparent's lives, together anyway, because you will see later that my Grandfather plays much more of a role in my life than any other extended relative. 

My Grandfather's name was Carleton, but he went by Pat. My Grandmother's name was Ann. I don't know how they met, but I can imagine that my Grandfather's family, and their money played a role in their getting together. He was very rich and she was an immigrant from Russia who was beautiful. I know that my Grandmother did a lot of modeling and she was a very vain, woman. And one other thing that is significant is that she had a daughter when she met Pat. My mother has an older sister named Judy. I have never met Judy in person, I have had correspondence as a child, and heard about her life second and third hand and that is about it. I will talk about her briefly later on. These are facts that I do know. At the same time I know she had a huge heart. I just think her Narcissism, and vanity, held her back from her family more than anything else. It seems she may have been a bit of a gold digger from an outside perspective. I have never even heard a reason that made sense to me, as for why my Mother's Grandparents adopted she and her sister. I do not know either what happened with Pat and Ann. I am not positive that they ever married. I think from what I know about Pat's parents, they would have seen a single mother as an unsuitable match for my Grandfather. Especially as their only child. It just now occurred to me what may have happened, and what is most likely. my Grandfather was an only child and if he and Ann were separating My Great Grandparents would have probably gone to any lengths to keep my Mother and her sister Susie. They could have even paid Ann off to be able to adopt them. I don't know why them and not my Grandfather but I can imagine they did not see him as a suitable parent at that time, or ever for that matter.  My Grandmother eventually married Norbert and remained married to him until she passed away a few years ago, and Norbert was set to go to Seminary school when he met Ann and he had money, and I am not sure what his profession was but he did very well in his life. And my Grandfather married I believe a total of 10 women in his lifetime. Not any bigamy I believe. You will understand why I say that later on in my writings. I will be talking about some of my Grandfather's wives through telling my story. 

My fathers parents, 

O.k. I messed up on this one. I went over my Father's parents yesterday. I think the reason I made that mistake was I had gone over my Mother's Grandparents, and that is because they adopted her. And I know nothing about my Father's Grandparents at all. But what I went over yesterday was what I know about My Father's parents.

My family tree.........

I am so excited today. I have started working on this goal that I had set for myself so many years ago, and have just reached a time in my life that I feel is just the right time. I started at a run and let me tell you that this will not be abnormal for me. I often put the cart before the horse, so to speak. I started with my first childhood memory, so today is family tree day. I have some really messed up family tree info so this will not be an average endeavor. I want to let the reader know that I am far from perfect, I have always been hyperactive and my brain  runs at a million miles an hour every second of every day. Even typing I always triple read what I have typed because the thoughts role out so quickly and then I have to try to mold them into something that makes sense. So bear with me, and I hope that you will get something from all of this.

I am going to start my family tree with my Grandparents, each side is sort of a mystery to me, as you will see.

Great Grandparents on Mothers side,  

My Mother's grandparents were an elderly couple who adopted her, and her younger sister at a very young age, I am not sure exactly of the age. I do know they were a very privileged couple and they provided so much for my Mother and her sister. My mother has told me a few stories about her life with them. She said they had a butler, several maids, nannies, stables of horses and lived in a mansion. I recall at young age seeing all of my mothers trophy's from horses she showed, specifically a Palomino horse she showed, and he was a champion American Saddle bred, show horse. There are so many things relating to my Mother's childhood that I now can recall in just writing this, that I had forgotten all about. I remember now the first Communion photos, in which she looked like a beautiful little girl in a gorgeous wedding gown and veil, and my Mother explained to me all about her Catholic upbringing. She had gone to Catholic school and I believe she had attended boarding school for a time. She had pictures of her with her horses and the many shows she had shown her favorite horse the Palomino I even recall his name it was Destry. He was so pretty, I as a child was so horse crazy and remember envying my mothers childhood. She described it to us children from time to time. She had a doll, it was called a "Chatty Cathy" and her favorite story to tell involved that doll. She had an argument with a Nannie and she ran into her room and slammed the door and she said she threw the doll that was in reach against the wall and when it hit the floor the doll said "Ouch, I hurt myself.". My mother said the doll had not worked, or "spoken" in years. Funny that this is going to be so much more than I imagined. My memories are flooding back every time I start writing. These were lost memories and but for me writing this they would be lost forever. Now my children and everyone else can see them.  There is so much to be said in this family tree history that I will have to make it more than one day of writing. 

Continuing with my Great Grandparents on my mothers side, I can tell you I don't have much. I am told they were German born, and that my Grandfather, who was my Mother's father was American born and raised, and he was an only child. They spoiled him terribly and that I believe led to who he became. I am not sure of exactly when they passed away but I can say that it must have been before my Mother reached adulthood.   

I have the most limited information about my Mother's Mother's, parents. They were definitely Russian born, and brought my Grandmother Ann who was also Russian born with I believe 2 siblings to America. I only know that they left Russia during a time of upheaval and they were required to have a sponsor in America. I have no idea what happened to them and my Grandmother's siblings. I believe my Grandmother had many problems with her family and in her life growing up, because she refused to share anything about her family and her history at all. She even refused to tell her age. I think she had a brother with some disabilities, and I don't know anything else about my Grandmother's family, not without really trying to find out either. We often joke that my Grandmother is the famous Anastasia Romanov, whom legend says may have escaped her families execution. I don't have any information to the contrary and her name was Anne. I am joking of course but it is fun to imagine. I do want to try to find out more if it is possible though. Maybe in this process of writing all of this down, I can find out how to get that information. 

This is the extent of my info on my Great Grandparents on my mother's side, and now to the info on my father's side.

Great Grandparents on my Father's side,

I have nearly as limited information on my Father's parents, as I do my Mother's parents. In some ways it seems more limited. And this information is actually easier to come by, as I have relatives alive and well in Indian that can tell me a lot. I have an Aunt +Janelle peters, that lives in Indiana whom I recently met. She came to visit with my Brother's family this past fall, and I spent a very short time talking with her and I honestly wish I had taken a notebook and wrote down as much as I could. As it was I bombarded her with questions. I welcome all the info anyone can provide. I love knowledge and the more I can get the better, and I will try to share more if I find it. 

My Father's parents are nearly the opposite of my Mother's. My Great Grandfather was a fairly tall man with platinum colored hair, this is significant because I wound up being the only other person in the entire family with blond hair. I am the only one with blue eyes as well. He died before I was born I am not sure of exactly when, and I don't know much about him other than he was a hard working man and was pretty laid back and nice. But seems as though he may have been so laid back he ignored the abuse their 8 children endured from their Mother. 

As for my Father's mother. What I know about her is that she was a woman who seemed to have suffered many health issues. I was told she was abusive to her children and she was a mother who lost a couple of children in her lifetime. She passed when I was a child. I only know this because I can actually remember getting cards from her when I was a child. And one year she sent us kids some sort of commemorative coins.  I remember being told that she had passed away when I was a child but don't remember how old I was and did not remember her personally. She had very dark hair and brown eyes, and it seems that was the dominant traits in my Father's family because they all have dark brown nearly black hair and brown eyes. Their physical features seem to be shared by the majority of my Father's family, including my little sister and brother, they look exactly like our Father. I am by far the most different in appearance out of the entire family. I also don't know much about their heritage, other than the majority is Irish and there is some German I believe. I know they are at least a couple of generations of Americans. 

My First Childhood Memory

I want to tell you all everything there is to know about who I am. I would like to sum up me in a few words, but that is impossible. I have been always changing and evolving and experienced more than the average person. My husband has encouraged me for over 20 years to write a book, many of my family and friends have said the same. I have just said to myself, I am not  a writer, I am not interesting enough, and all kinds of excuses. I can say that I definitely would not have been ready 20 years ago. I wanted to just post rants and other feelings that come over me, and I started a short lived  blog. I just find it therapeutic and also enlightening when you put your feelings down on "paper" so to speak. I was afraid my inexperience would be a problem but in today's tech savvy world, anyone can share anything with anyone and everyone, and not worry about your writing skills . I just hope that I can help people to relate and see how I handled things and how I changed. In no way do I want people to follow my example or to do anything the same. I just hope to help anyone who may have experienced a similar life or situation. If I can do that I will be happy, but I am also happy just to put these things in my life down for my children and husband if no one else. A legacy so to speak. One big warning, You may see content you find offensive. Language, racial epithets, sexual situations, and subjective opinions.