My motherly experience I'm an addict, there's no doubt about that. But, I'm not a bad mother; I swear. As I sit in fetal position on the floor with a wailing toddler next to me I think, “am I dying?”. That's the last thing I remember. I awaken to the noise of glass shattering all over my kitchen floor. I stumble out of the bathroom of my small studio apartment to see my half sister starring at me with eyes of vexation. If I wasn't dead I'm sure as hell dead now. “Why weren't you answering your phone?!” Gabby yells through the other side of the now empty window hinges. “What are you talking about?” I questioned, my voice scratchy as if I've been smoking cigarettes back to back. Or maybe I have been.. The last thing I recall is walking over to Dandfords; my local bar that's 10 minutes walking distance. Dandfords graciously pleases me with a good morning when I wake up everyday. I remember meeting up with Mandi and a couple of her girlfriends and yes, of course I was with the baby. I wasn't going to leave him at home alone; what kind of mother would I be? I had a couple drinks. Ok, maybe I had one too many drinks. And well, I went home. Apparently a lot of mishaps went down when I arrived. I miss out on my life constantly because of my addiction. Half of my life is a blank sheet of paper. You know when you print a document and you run out of ink? The document comes out blank? Well that's my life summed up in one. My arrival was followed by a phone call to my half sister Susan. I killed the conversation by her interpreting my words as “goodbye I'm going to kill myself and the baby”. So, for the past thirty minutes, Gabby has been banging on my door with no response. Police were notified and neighbors were petrified by the news. It was a whole commotion. While I was just passed out drunk on my cold tiled bathroom floor. It could be worse.. I take it back, that was the worse day of my motherly experience. Two years and a magic pill later, I'm in recovery. I'm an event photographer, a mommy blogger, and a super hero to my three year old. I'm also a daughter, a sister, and a wife who has some issues to resolve. I'm still in a quandary over what to do with my life. All in all, I'm only twenty-three. I don't know what lies underneath the ocean. I don't know if the boogie man exist. And I don't know if Pluto is really a planet. But, I do know I am a great mother.

This aspiring novelist, writing enthusiast and food blogger was born on July 16, 1968, in Flint Michigan. Her musical talents began at a very young age. She began singing in church at the age of 7 and had the violin mastered by the age of twelve. Then, before she knew it, she was whisked away with her family, to sunny Florida to live. She was a middle child who grew up and spent her teenage years on the boardwalk of Daytona Beach. She attended a private Christian academy where she was active in cheerleading, dancing, journalism, and swimming. After high school, she decided her horizons needed broadening. She attended college in Michigan and obtained her degree with a major in Business. Then she got a job and wore black pumps to work every day. She had lunch with the girls, drank coffee every day, wore suits to work, and treated herself to manicures on a monthly basis. She became a top seller in lead sales in her division and overall ranked #13 in the United States as the top seller in her field. She was given a bonus, a promotion, and a lovely spa package. She was managing to raise four children as a full- time mom. Her children were all teenagers by this time. She was working many hours overtime, parent-teacher meetings, homework, school plays, science projects, and after-school activities. She was that one woman trying to achieve it all and trying not to allow her kids to feel left behind. One morning, she woke up for work and found her thirteen-year-old son half dead, slumped over on the living-room sofa. She had him rushed to the emergency room. It turned out that he happened to be sick and needed hospitalization for several months. He would need after-care treatment once he returned home. After very little thought about her decision, while her son was in intensive care, she went to her work and turned in her keys and resigned. She felt deep in her heart that her son needed her. She belonged at home with her son. Financially they were fine. She had her savings, 401K, and bonuses she managed to save. Her son remained her only concern. A year passes by, and her son became strong and healthy. They all started going to their local church not far from their home. She became a Sunday School teacher. She also started singing in the adult choir and played her violin. She began teaching at a girl's club in the church and she also taught at the Christian camp every summer. She was scheduled to sing a solo one night. She waited to be called up to the stage. Once announced to the stage, she briefly told her testimony. She glanced around the room and noticed people whispered to one another. They pointed at her. It made her feel awkward, but she continued with her song. They graciously applauded and she took her seat. After she had taken her seat, she felt someone rub her shoulder, and she turned around. Nobody was there. Then, something caught the corner of her eye. Laying draped across her shoulder. She gasped. Her hairpiece that was attached to her ponytail had fallen off. It had fallen across her shoulder. Her face started to turn beet red, and she started to sink down into her seat. She could see the people that sat around her with their pitiful smiles, It made her feel more embarrassed. She had to find her escape route immediately. She excused herself. She took her children and herself at home. She didn't return back to church for a couple weeks. Unexpectedly, she met and fell in love with a southern gentleman. He lived in Alabama. Now she lives in the country in Northern Michigan. Her days are spent working in the garden, planting flowers, cleaning the dirt out from under her fingernails and making gravy. They have a home that they purchased and are fixing up. They are renting out the guest house and are in the process of painting and redecorating. It is a chore but the process has been refreshing. It took a while for her to adjust to being without her children. It was the five of them for so long. She went through empty nest syndrome. She even cried and went through depression for a short time. However, she found writing as a way to escape. She would journal and also write in her food blog. She would also find refuge in her garden. I'm sure if her adolescent self could see her now she would cringe at how she traded in her idea of becoming an unmarried, without children, fashion designer in Paris, to a Business degree achiever, writing her first novel, completing an E-Book called “Comfort Foods for the Soul,” and falling in love with a better life. A life full of possibilities, a life much better for her.