Available Balance
THE NEED FOR HOUSE RULES AND POSITIVE IMPACT FOR HOMES

Why are family rules important?

Family rules help children understand what behaviors are okay and not okay. As children grow, they will be in places where they have to follow rules. Following rules at home can help children learn to follow rules in other places.

It is normal for children to break rules and test limits. Breaking a rule is a child’s way of learning about his world. Consistent follow through with consequences when rules are broken help your child have a clear understanding about the importance of rules. Remember, young kids sometimes break rules because they simply forget. Not all broken rules occur because kids are testing the limits. But, our responses should be the same no matter what the reason for breaking the rule.

Why should all family members know and follow the rules?

For family rules to work well, everyone needs to know, understand, and follow the rules. By doing this, children don’t get mixed messages about what is okay or not okay. For example, you may feel that jumping on the bed is a dangerous behavior. You set a family rule that “The bed will be used only for sitting, lying, or sleeping.” If another caregiver jumps on the bed, your child may be confused. Your child may think this behavior is sometimes okay. Your child’s behavior will be better if all caregivers support the rules in the same way. This is true for parents, grandparents, or any other caregivers in your child’s life.

How can all family members get on the same page about rules?

There are several steps that can help all family members be consistent.

  • Parents can talk about what rules would help their family and agree which ones to set.
  • Parents can post the rules in the house so everyone can know them.
  • Parents can have conversations with other adults who care for their children about the rules. This helps make sure everyone knows what is allowed and not allowed.
  • Parents can ask all caregivers to be consistent in monitoring and enforcing the rules.
  • Parents can remind children about the rules. Repeating the rules and posting them in the home are all good ways to remind children of the rules.

What is a good number of family rules for toddlers and preschoolers?

The number of rules you set depends on your child’s ability to understand and remember. It is also hard for parents to consistently enforce lots of new rules. For young children, focus on only two or three of the most important rules at any one time. As your child learns a rule and is following it consistently, you can add new rules.

I use the term organized chaos, because that’s probably the most we can strive for without a staff of 7 or having Martha Stewart move in and run things. In our house, the list of family house rules isn’t the pirate’s code where it “is more what you’d call “guidelines” than actual rules*.” Nope.  We stand by these. When you really stop and think about it, they’re just examples of plain old-fashioned consideration towards the other members of the household. I think that type of consideration for others is always in fashion. It’s like taking the golden rule, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” and spelling things out. These rules are simple, straightforward and get right to the point. I’m sure you’ve seen similar versions of this before, but I think we can always use a little reminder.

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The Extortion of Foster Children By A Warped Mother – My Personal Childhood of Corruption and Worthlessness: Part 1

My mother was a beautiful, cunning, manipulative, abusive, alcoholic with a hatred for me.

After my parents divorced when I was nine years old she made it crystal clear she couldn’t stand me because I was “My Father’s child.” I was not allowed to be with her in public because I “embarrassed” her, and during her drunken nights with the neighbor’s wife (In which she eventually had an affair with her husband) I recall more than once that the reason I wasn’t sent away to live with my father is that I was giving he,r her “play money”, with the child support my father was sending in every month.

She had a love for gambling, and several times a month she would leave for Boomtown, Nevada for nearly a week (or until her money ran out) and I would be left alone in the house doing what I could to go to school, eat, and stay out of trouble.

I had an older half-brother (out of the house), who was the cherished son. My mother would remind me that her and him were together (in the worst of times, living together in a car) and that they shared a bond I would never have. I was not allowed to speak my brothers name to my mother or in public, as “I was not good-enough” to do so. That “rule” stayed in place until the last time I communicated with her in 2009.

Growing up in an environment like that leaves an impact on you. You learn quite early how to take care of yourself and understanding consequences. You begin to be resourceful and have alternative plans to things if the original plans do not work out. It also inhibits your emotional response, and retards emotional growth. I can remember nights I found my mother collapsed out on the front porch and I drug her in. Nights where I showered my own mother due to being covered in vomit and putting her to bed while she called me disgusting names and saying disgusting things (two I remember vividly was that she was going to wrap me up in my sleeping bag at night and kill me or pay somebody else to do it and that she was going to call the cops and tell them I beat her and they will believe her over my “punk ass”). One time in particular, I remember I was 11 years old and got a phone call on the house phone from a paramedic saying that my mother was having an emergency at a bar and that they were transporting her to the hospital. I knew where the spare key to the car was (I used it often) and so I drove to the bar I knew she was at, followed the ambulance with my mother to the hospital, and waited until she was released and drove her home. Again, this was at age 11.

The Shift Into Profiting From Other Children

Somehow her brain realized that having a child in this manner was profitable, and decided to get into foster care.

My mother met up with the director of a foster program (this program has since been shut down) and immediately they began a sexual relationship. This man would come over and I would have the privilege of hearing my mother have sex with him (this was whenever the neighbors husband wasn’t sneaking over).

It wasn’t long until I had 3 new siblings. However, I learned quickly that these children were not ordinary. All three were males with severe mental handicaps and heavily medicated. These children were in bad shape, malnourished and unhealthy, rotten teeth, poor eyesight and development (drug babies) and emotional unstable.

I’d grown accustomed to my broken environment that I was able to manage by doing my own thing as long as I stayed away from my mother, but I now had this chaos.

See, a typical day in my mothers house was to be a ghost. She wouldn’t leave her bedroom until about noon or so everyday. She would grab something from the kitchen or leave and get cigarettes (she also smoked in the house for what it’s worth) and booze, come back, make sure she displayed her feelings about me and disappeared back into her room. The only other engagement I got from her was screaming from her room if she heard me. I had to be as quiet as a mouse at all times, and lord help me if she heard me in the kitchen getting something to eat. On that note, I would go into the kitchen very early in the morning when I was pretty sure she was passed out, or when she was having sex, and I’d load up on whatever I could find and smuggle it outside or in my room so I could eat throughout the day and not get caught. Of course I would still get yelled at because food was missing, but at least I was full and I got very good at hiding things.

It was a horrible system and way of life, but I made it work. I just had to be a ghost.

With these new additions I was now on the radar even more. However, my mother actually solved this problem. The medication these children were on were very strong, they were almost like zombies all the time. She developed a schedule in which she would leave her bedroom around 3 times a day to medicate these kids, and as long as she put in that much work and there was a television and a couple Gameboys, we were all pacified.

That was life. Medication. Cartoons. Pokemon. Occasionally dinner or McDonald’s cheeseburger if they were on sale (I think back then we had the 29 cent Tuesdays or something).

The director continued to come to the house and have “private meetings” with my mother. There was never once a check on the children, not even questions besides the condescending “See you all again soon!” after he got done with my mother, who just stayed in the room afterwards.

Before long we had our fourth sibling, just as damaged and medicated as the rest. My mother never skipped a beat with her drinking and gambling outings, the only real change is that we had a babysitter as a few of the children were younger than myself. Having the sitter was a luxury in all honesty, we got attention and we got fed. Just a little bit of interaction went a very long ways, but sadly the turnover was high as it seemed my mother was difficult to work with or the sitters realized what was going on and didn’t want any part of it.

The Extortion of Foster Children By A Warped Mother – My Personal Childhood of Corruption and Worthlessness: Part 1

entrepreneur916 (56) in life •  10 hours ago
Abandonment-Issues.jpg

Backstory

My mother was a beautiful, cunning, manipulative, abusive, alcoholic with a hatred for me.

After my parents divorced when I was nine years old she made it crystal clear she couldn’t stand me because I was “My Father’s child.” I was not allowed to be with her in public because I “embarrassed” her, and during her drunken nights with the neighbor’s wife (In which she eventually had an affair with her husband) I recall more than once that the reason I wasn’t sent away to live with my father is that I was giving he,r her “play money”, with the child support my father was sending in every month.

She had a love for gambling, and several times a month she would leave for Boomtown, Nevada for nearly a week (or until her money ran out) and I would be left alone in the house doing what I could to go to school, eat, and stay out of trouble.

I had an older half-brother (out of the house), who was the cherished son. My mother would remind me that her and him were together (in the worst of times, living together in a car) and that they shared a bond I would never have. I was not allowed to speak my brothers name to my mother or in public, as “I was not good-enough” to do so. That “rule” stayed in place until the last time I communicated with her in 2009.

Growing up in an environment like that leaves an impact on you. You learn quite early how to take care of yourself and understanding consequences. You begin to be resourceful and have alternative plans to things if the original plans do not work out. It also inhibits your emotional response, and retards emotional growth. I can remember nights I found my mother collapsed out on the front porch and I drug her in. Nights where I showered my own mother due to being covered in vomit and putting her to bed while she called me disgusting names and saying disgusting things (two I remember vividly was that she was going to wrap me up in my sleeping bag at night and kill me or pay somebody else to do it and that she was going to call the cops and tell them I beat her and they will believe her over my “punk ass”). One time in particular, I remember I was 11 years old and got a phone call on the house phone from a paramedic saying that my mother was having an emergency at a bar and that they were transporting her to the hospital. I knew where the spare key to the car was (I used it often) and so I drove to the bar I knew she was at, followed the ambulance with my mother to the hospital, and waited until she was released and drove her home. Again, this was at age 11.

How To Make Money For Kids.jpg

The Shift Into Profiting From Other Children

Somehow her brain realized that having a child in this manner was profitable, and decided to get into foster care.

My mother met up with the director of a foster program (this program has since been shut down) and immediately they began a sexual relationship. This man would come over and I would have the privilege of hearing my mother have sex with him (this was whenever the neighbors husband wasn’t sneaking over).

It wasn’t long until I had 3 new siblings. However, I learned quickly that these children were not ordinary. All three were males with severe mental handicaps and heavily medicated. These children were in bad shape, malnourished and unhealthy, rotten teeth, poor eyesight and development (drug babies) and emotional unstable.

I’d grown accustomed to my broken environment that I was able to manage by doing my own thing as long as I stayed away from my mother, but I now had this chaos.

See, a typical day in my mothers house was to be a ghost. She wouldn’t leave her bedroom until about noon or so everyday. She would grab something from the kitchen or leave and get cigarettes (she also smoked in the house for what it’s worth) and booze, come back, make sure she displayed her feelings about me and disappeared back into her room. The only other engagement I got from her was screaming from her room if she heard me. I had to be as quiet as a mouse at all times, and lord help me if she heard me in the kitchen getting something to eat. On that note, I would go into the kitchen very early in the morning when I was pretty sure she was passed out, or when she was having sex, and I’d load up on whatever I could find and smuggle it outside or in my room so I could eat throughout the day and not get caught. Of course I would still get yelled at because food was missing, but at least I was full and I got very good at hiding things.

It was a horrible system and way of life, but I made it work. I just had to be a ghost.

With these new additions I was now on the radar even more. However, my mother actually solved this problem. The medication these children were on were very strong, they were almost like zombies all the time. She developed a schedule in which she would leave her bedroom around 3 times a day to medicate these kids, and as long as she put in that much work and there was a television and a couple Gameboys, we were all pacified.

That was life. Medication. Cartoons. Pokemon. Occasionally dinner or McDonald’s cheeseburger if they were on sale (I think back then we had the 29 cent Tuesdays or something).

The director continued to come to the house and have “private meetings” with my mother. There was never once a check on the children, not even questions besides the condescending “See you all again soon!” after he got done with my mother, who just stayed in the room afterwards.

Before long we had our fourth sibling, just as damaged and medicated as the rest. My mother never skipped a beat with her drinking and gambling outings, the only real change is that we had a babysitter as a few of the children were younger than myself. Having the sitter was a luxury in all honesty, we got attention and we got fed. Just a little bit of interaction went a very long ways, but sadly the turnover was high as it seemed my mother was difficult to work with or the sitters realized what was going on and didn’t want any part of it.

Child-Sexual-Abuse.jpg

Sex Makes Any Story Better, Right?

After about a year of this I was around 12 or 13. Life was the usual, mother making money off me in child support, making ridiculous money on the most damaged children she could get, the director still getting his “cut”, and honestly I was able to get out of the radar even further due to one of the children becoming too much of a “headache” for her…so for a time he became the scapegoat.

However, that all changed with child number five. A female.

This new child was I believe around eight or nine, about the “median” age of the others as I was the oldest by about a year.

This little girl had a troubled sexual history from family members as well and events in other homes, and was very much sexually active. It wasn’t long until three of the boys were engaging sexually with the girl in mother’s house, under her”watchful eye”. Now, there was no secret that putting a sexually active female in with troubled boys (some with sexual histories themselves) was probably not in the best interest of the child. However, since my childhood home was basically a brothel for my mother, it was just a different twist on the same thing I have dealt with most my childhood.

Now, this is just a summary of my world with five foster implants…it got ever more outrageous when there were a total of sevenchildren and my child support checks stopped coming in…

But that will be covered in Part 2

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The Extortion of Foster Children By A Warped Mother – My Personal Childhood of Corruption and Worthlessness: Part 1

My mother was a beautiful, cunning, manipulative, abusive, alcoholic with a hatred for me.

After my parents divorced when I was nine years old she made it crystal clear she couldn’t stand me because I was “My Father’s child.” I was not allowed to be with her in public because I “embarrassed” her, and during her drunken nights with the neighbor’s wife (In which she eventually had an affair with her husband) I recall more than once that the reason I wasn’t sent away to live with my father is that I was giving he,r her “play money”, with the child support my father was sending in every month.

She had a love for gambling, and several times a month she would leave for Boomtown, Nevada for nearly a week (or until her money ran out) and I would be left alone in the house doing what I could to go to school, eat, and stay out of trouble.

I had an older half-brother (out of the house), who was the cherished son. My mother would remind me that her and him were together (in the worst of times, living together in a car) and that they shared a bond I would never have. I was not allowed to speak my brothers name to my mother or in public, as “I was not good-enough” to do so. That “rule” stayed in place until the last time I communicated with her in 2009.

Growing up in an environment like that leaves an impact on you. You learn quite early how to take care of yourself and understanding consequences. You begin to be resourceful and have alternative plans to things if the original plans do not work out. It also inhibits your emotional response, and retards emotional growth. I can remember nights I found my mother collapsed out on the front porch and I drug her in. Nights where I showered my own mother due to being covered in vomit and putting her to bed while she called me disgusting names and saying disgusting things (two I remember vividly was that she was going to wrap me up in my sleeping bag at night and kill me or pay somebody else to do it and that she was going to call the cops and tell them I beat her and they will believe her over my “punk ass”). One time in particular, I remember I was 11 years old and got a phone call on the house phone from a paramedic saying that my mother was having an emergency at a bar and that they were transporting her to the hospital. I knew where the spare key to the car was (I used it often) and so I drove to the bar I knew she was at, followed the ambulance with my mother to the hospital, and waited until she was released and drove her home. Again, this was at age 11.

The Shift Into Profiting From Other Children

Somehow her brain realized that having a child in this manner was profitable, and decided to get into foster care.

My mother met up with the director of a foster program (this program has since been shut down) and immediately they began a sexual relationship. This man would come over and I would have the privilege of hearing my mother have sex with him (this was whenever the neighbors husband wasn’t sneaking over).

It wasn’t long until I had 3 new siblings. However, I learned quickly that these children were not ordinary. All three were males with severe mental handicaps and heavily medicated. These children were in bad shape, malnourished and unhealthy, rotten teeth, poor eyesight and development (drug babies) and emotional unstable.

I’d grown accustomed to my broken environment that I was able to manage by doing my own thing as long as I stayed away from my mother, but I now had this chaos.

See, a typical day in my mothers house was to be a ghost. She wouldn’t leave her bedroom until about noon or so everyday. She would grab something from the kitchen or leave and get cigarettes (she also smoked in the house for what it’s worth) and booze, come back, make sure she displayed her feelings about me and disappeared back into her room. The only other engagement I got from her was screaming from her room if she heard me. I had to be as quiet as a mouse at all times, and lord help me if she heard me in the kitchen getting something to eat. On that note, I would go into the kitchen very early in the morning when I was pretty sure she was passed out, or when she was having sex, and I’d load up on whatever I could find and smuggle it outside or in my room so I could eat throughout the day and not get caught. Of course I would still get yelled at because food was missing, but at least I was full and I got very good at hiding things.

It was a horrible system and way of life, but I made it work. I just had to be a ghost.

With these new additions I was now on the radar even more. However, my mother actually solved this problem. The medication these children were on were very strong, they were almost like zombies all the time. She developed a schedule in which she would leave her bedroom around 3 times a day to medicate these kids, and as long as she put in that much work and there was a television and a couple Gameboys, we were all pacified.

That was life. Medication. Cartoons. Pokemon. Occasionally dinner or McDonald’s cheeseburger if they were on sale (I think back then we had the 29 cent Tuesdays or something).

The director continued to come to the house and have “private meetings” with my mother. There was never once a check on the children, not even questions besides the condescending “See you all again soon!” after he got done with my mother, who just stayed in the room afterwards.

Before long we had our fourth sibling, just as damaged and medicated as the rest. My mother never skipped a beat with her drinking and gambling outings, the only real change is that we had a babysitter as a few of the children were younger than myself. Having the sitter was a luxury in all honesty, we got attention and we got fed. Just a little bit of interaction went a very long ways, but sadly the turnover was high as it seemed my mother was difficult to work with or the sitters realized what was going on and didn’t want any part of it.

The Extortion of Foster Children By A Warped Mother – My Personal Childhood of Corruption and Worthlessness: Part 1

entrepreneur916 (56) in life •  10 hours ago
Abandonment-Issues.jpg

Backstory

My mother was a beautiful, cunning, manipulative, abusive, alcoholic with a hatred for me.

After my parents divorced when I was nine years old she made it crystal clear she couldn’t stand me because I was “My Father’s child.” I was not allowed to be with her in public because I “embarrassed” her, and during her drunken nights with the neighbor’s wife (In which she eventually had an affair with her husband) I recall more than once that the reason I wasn’t sent away to live with my father is that I was giving he,r her “play money”, with the child support my father was sending in every month.

She had a love for gambling, and several times a month she would leave for Boomtown, Nevada for nearly a week (or until her money ran out) and I would be left alone in the house doing what I could to go to school, eat, and stay out of trouble.

I had an older half-brother (out of the house), who was the cherished son. My mother would remind me that her and him were together (in the worst of times, living together in a car) and that they shared a bond I would never have. I was not allowed to speak my brothers name to my mother or in public, as “I was not good-enough” to do so. That “rule” stayed in place until the last time I communicated with her in 2009.

Growing up in an environment like that leaves an impact on you. You learn quite early how to take care of yourself and understanding consequences. You begin to be resourceful and have alternative plans to things if the original plans do not work out. It also inhibits your emotional response, and retards emotional growth. I can remember nights I found my mother collapsed out on the front porch and I drug her in. Nights where I showered my own mother due to being covered in vomit and putting her to bed while she called me disgusting names and saying disgusting things (two I remember vividly was that she was going to wrap me up in my sleeping bag at night and kill me or pay somebody else to do it and that she was going to call the cops and tell them I beat her and they will believe her over my “punk ass”). One time in particular, I remember I was 11 years old and got a phone call on the house phone from a paramedic saying that my mother was having an emergency at a bar and that they were transporting her to the hospital. I knew where the spare key to the car was (I used it often) and so I drove to the bar I knew she was at, followed the ambulance with my mother to the hospital, and waited until she was released and drove her home. Again, this was at age 11.

How To Make Money For Kids.jpg

The Shift Into Profiting From Other Children

Somehow her brain realized that having a child in this manner was profitable, and decided to get into foster care.

My mother met up with the director of a foster program (this program has since been shut down) and immediately they began a sexual relationship. This man would come over and I would have the privilege of hearing my mother have sex with him (this was whenever the neighbors husband wasn’t sneaking over).

It wasn’t long until I had 3 new siblings. However, I learned quickly that these children were not ordinary. All three were males with severe mental handicaps and heavily medicated. These children were in bad shape, malnourished and unhealthy, rotten teeth, poor eyesight and development (drug babies) and emotional unstable.

I’d grown accustomed to my broken environment that I was able to manage by doing my own thing as long as I stayed away from my mother, but I now had this chaos.

See, a typical day in my mothers house was to be a ghost. She wouldn’t leave her bedroom until about noon or so everyday. She would grab something from the kitchen or leave and get cigarettes (she also smoked in the house for what it’s worth) and booze, come back, make sure she displayed her feelings about me and disappeared back into her room. The only other engagement I got from her was screaming from her room if she heard me. I had to be as quiet as a mouse at all times, and lord help me if she heard me in the kitchen getting something to eat. On that note, I would go into the kitchen very early in the morning when I was pretty sure she was passed out, or when she was having sex, and I’d load up on whatever I could find and smuggle it outside or in my room so I could eat throughout the day and not get caught. Of course I would still get yelled at because food was missing, but at least I was full and I got very good at hiding things.

It was a horrible system and way of life, but I made it work. I just had to be a ghost.

With these new additions I was now on the radar even more. However, my mother actually solved this problem. The medication these children were on were very strong, they were almost like zombies all the time. She developed a schedule in which she would leave her bedroom around 3 times a day to medicate these kids, and as long as she put in that much work and there was a television and a couple Gameboys, we were all pacified.

That was life. Medication. Cartoons. Pokemon. Occasionally dinner or McDonald’s cheeseburger if they were on sale (I think back then we had the 29 cent Tuesdays or something).

The director continued to come to the house and have “private meetings” with my mother. There was never once a check on the children, not even questions besides the condescending “See you all again soon!” after he got done with my mother, who just stayed in the room afterwards.

Before long we had our fourth sibling, just as damaged and medicated as the rest. My mother never skipped a beat with her drinking and gambling outings, the only real change is that we had a babysitter as a few of the children were younger than myself. Having the sitter was a luxury in all honesty, we got attention and we got fed. Just a little bit of interaction went a very long ways, but sadly the turnover was high as it seemed my mother was difficult to work with or the sitters realized what was going on and didn’t want any part of it.

Child-Sexual-Abuse.jpg

Sex Makes Any Story Better, Right?

After about a year of this I was around 12 or 13. Life was the usual, mother making money off me in child support, making ridiculous money on the most damaged children she could get, the director still getting his “cut”, and honestly I was able to get out of the radar even further due to one of the children becoming too much of a “headache” for her…so for a time he became the scapegoat.

However, that all changed with child number five. A female.

This new child was I believe around eight or nine, about the “median” age of the others as I was the oldest by about a year.

This little girl had a troubled sexual history from family members as well and events in other homes, and was very much sexually active. It wasn’t long until three of the boys were engaging sexually with the girl in mother’s house, under her”watchful eye”. Now, there was no secret that putting a sexually active female in with troubled boys (some with sexual histories themselves) was probably not in the best interest of the child. However, since my childhood home was basically a brothel for my mother, it was just a different twist on the same thing I have dealt with most my childhood.

Now, this is just a summary of my world with five foster implants…it got ever more outrageous when there were a total of sevenchildren and my child support checks stopped coming in…

But that will be covered in Part 2

 

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It pays to be nice: Deepa’s saga

A girl by name Deepa went to school in the neighbouring village where she wasn’t known well.

For three weeks, she came to school late and every time the teacher punished her.

In the fourth week, Deepa didn’t attend school at all and many thought she had *GIVEN UP* on school due to the everyday punishment.

However, Deepa reported again in fifth week and this time she came earlier than everybody.

When the teacher came to class, Deepa was punished for not attending school the previous week but the teacher was also kind enough to commend her for coming early that day, stating that the punishments had finally yielded some results.

Just then, Deepa asked if she could say something and the teacher gave her permission.

*She started :*

” _*I’ve been raised up by a single mother without a brother or a sister. Five weeks ago, my mother fell ill and was hospitalized. The three weeks I came late, I had to prepare something for her every morning and pass by the hospital to deliver the same. Unfortunately, my mother passed away last week and that’s the reason I didn’t come to school. We buried her last Friday. Today I came early since I didn’t have to prepare anything or even pass by the hospital. And now that she is gone, I will always be here early*_”

As she sat down, no one in the whole class was able to hold their tears, the teacher was not spared either.

*Lesson:*

How many times do *we judge others* for things we know not ?

We ask questions like :

– *Why are you not getting married*?
– _*Why are you not having kids*_ ?
– *When will you find a job* ?
– _*When will you buy a car*_?
– *When will you build a house*?
etc….

*Do we attempt to understand their situations* or do we just judge from the *case scenarios* ?

Some *situations are not relative* and what we think could be very far from the truth.

*Don’t assume* you know what others go through or that people move in the same pace or direction as you.

_*Life is far from that..*_

*Just be kind enough* to _*love one another as God has commanded*_, take time and kindly *find out* why your friend is not phoning, why your messages are not being replied promptly, *why someone is missing* in our midst as a colleague, friend, brother or sister even why someone is always late.

*Be kind*, always…… _*Be nice to others*_.

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Like mother like daughter… by Tony from vangaurdngr.com

Hi

I’ve always had a reservation about the lifestyle of families living in one room. I mean, father, mother and children all living in one room. I still fail to understand how they can manage to manoeuvre in that little space and live a decent, respectful and meaningful life, without it impacting negatively on the children. I live in a suburban environment where this style of houses are prevalent and I see the resultant effect on both male and female children.

The chances of a large percentage of them making it out of these enclaves are quite slim. While one may be able to tailor their activities as toddlers, this becomes pretty difficult as they grow into their own being. Every night, these kids are forced to see porn movies with their parents as the star actors, and that is besides the other vices they are exposed to living in such proximity with all manner of people. The worst part being that they are usually forced to look for solace outside of the crib as soon as they attain their teen years.

Yet, we keep wondering why we have a high concentration of miscreants, young prostitutes and teenage mothers littered all over our big cities, especially Lagos. This peculiar lifestyle must be checked if we are to get  it right. The narratives of the young man you will be reading today has only further convinced me of my position. Steve, a 39 year old banker says he was exposed to voyeurism at a tender age. He holds his mother responsible for the way his sister turned out and affects the way he relates with her also.

“If you see a wayward young girl, don’t condemn her right away. Sometimes, when you investigate her background, you will discover that she is either a replica of her mother, or a refined version of her. What I’m trying to say is that the exposure and training a child receives in the formative ages will determine a lot about what he grows up to be. Again girls take after their mothers in most things especially sexuality. They look up to them for all the little details, so where these mothers are lacking, there will be  problems.

As a young boy of about four years old, my mother and father were separated. Till today, I cannot say precisely who was at fault, for both of them used to fight endlessly accusing each other of something I later figured out was infidelity. The quarrels were so much that my mother packed out of our two bedroom apartment to her parent’s house, taking my older sister and I along.

We did not stay too long here, as she soon found herself another man, a divorcee like herself who also had a child. All five of us lived in a room with one big bed which served my mother and step-father and any little baby born at any given time. My mother would later say that this was a better deal because my father’s two bedroom was rented while her new husband’s ‘house’ was his by way of inheritance. In her mind, he was a bigger fish though she was proved wrong years later.

It was in this little room that I had my first baptism of voyeurism. My sister who was two years older than me, our new step-brother, a year older than me, and myself slept on the floor on a mat in this same room. Night after night, we watched as the two of them tackled themselves in an endless bout of wrestling, it was not a funny sight.

It took me several years to find out what actually held us spell bound then, about the whole act. You see, it wasn’t that I enjoyed whatever it was they were doing, but we just couldn’t help not watching. It was a scary sight, yet intriguing and disgusting in an unexplainable way. My step brother probably already used to these dramas did not really find it interesting enough to lay awake for. But for my sister and I, it was an entirely new experience and we lapped it all up like dogs on heat.

I remember one night I’d woken up feeling very pressed, I wanted to get up and urinate, but they were still at it and after what seemed to me like ages without any idea of when it would all end, I had to do it on our mat. I couldn’t get up for fear that they would find out that I’d woken up. An incident happened which finally made me lose interest in the little game.

My mother lost her shop to demolition carried out by the government during that time, so our big room had to be divided into two, one served as the bedroom and the other her shop. Around that time, somebody gave me a gold fish and this became our little pet. Because it was kept in the shop, my step-brother and I moved our mats into the shop to keep an eye on it, and we soon lost interest in the game on the bed. However, my sister had become a captive of the act, she refused to move because of what she wanted to watch, and there I believe she formed her ideas about what her life would be.

I remember that I was about seven or eight years old when my mother informed me that I would be going back to live with my father and his new wife. They came to take me that same day, it was later that my father told me that he wanted to take the two of us, but that my mother refused, insisting that she could not leave two of us. Besides, my sister was of great assistance to her at the time. She had given birth to her second child for my step-father then and they too had started having problems. He was now forever coming home late in the night, half drunk and ready to pick a quarrel if queried. To say that I was glad to leave at that period is an understatement. Up till today, I hold my mother responsible for what my sister turned out to be.

She was in JSS1 when my mother brought her to our house one day, she said she wanted to report her to our father so that she would not be blamed if she was suddenly discovered pregnant. According to her, she found a male wrist watch in her possession and on enquiry she revealed that a man had given it to her. The man turned out to be one of the mechanic boys in the area. My father was so angry that she had the guts to bring such a story to him when she had refused to hand over the girl when he asked for her. He blamed her for what was happening, insisting that she was responsible for the girl’s behaviour. I did not realise it at the time but when I grew older it became clear to me.

My sister dropped out of schools two years later, barely managing to finish JSS3. My mother had found more money on her and in a bid to make her account for the money, my sister reportedly ran out of the house and was not seen for several days. She told my father that she did not want to report the case because it might cause a scandal.

After two weeks she was traced to a man’s house where she was staying. My mother wanted to create a scene but we were told that her husband intervened and my sister was taken home. She finally ran away to an unknown destination and for almost three years and was nowhere to be found. My parents were not on speaking terms because of the matter and we did nothing about her until one day, she came to inform us that my sister had returned home.

The story has it that a quarrel had ensued between my sister and her lover. Later in the night, he’d tied her up, plugged the iron and burnt severally with the hot iron. It was incredible, unbelievable, wicked. We all stared at her in disbelief.  She told us that her lover, a teacher had discovered that she was cheating on him with one of their neighbours and after endless warnings, decided to teach her she the lesson of a lifetime.

According to him, she would never be able to flirt around again by the time he was finished with her. It was the neighbours that rescued her from being murdered or fatally wounded  when they broke open the door. The story must sound as weird as it was to us when we heard it. But that was how my sister found her way home. My father paid the hospital bills, but he refused to allow her come to live with us as he was sure she would be a bad influence on the other children. My step-mother had two children too by the time, a girl and a boy.

At 16 years, my sister had been married and divorced or how would one describe her sojourn in the houses of her lovers? One would think that she would be through with men after her escape from hell, but we were wrong. My mother took her to her home town because she’d caused so much scandal and disgrace in Lagos, besides her mates had sat for their West African School Certificate Examinations that year, so she could not be enrolled in school in Lagos again.

She was taken to Abeokuta and enrolled in a secondary school. Yes, she’d expressed desire to go back to school that was why they took her in the first place. If she’d told them she wanted to learn a trade or something maybe it would have been better for her. Though, she later confided in me that it was our mother that insisted she must go to school because she hoped that my father would take her into his custody seeing her reformed and back in school. Unfortunately, our father refused and only agreed to pay her school fees. Anyways, it was here that she met an elderly man who impregnated, married her at the age of 16 and she had her first child two months after her 17th birthday.

When I remember how my sister finished herself, I blame it on our mother, because she introduced us to the act at a very tender age. You see, the psychological composure of each individual differs and it takes the grace of God for many of us to overcome certain events in our lives. You will see that some people will just say they are giving up an habit and in a few weeks they’ll be back at it, while some will never go back to that thing again. Take for instance, smoking.

The discoveries I made about my mother’s behaviours over the years have only confirmed my beliefs about her and I regret to say that it has even informed the way I deal with her today. You can’t believe that I cannot allow my children to go and spend the weekend at her place because I have this fear that they may imbibe one evil or another in a spate of two days. Our visits with the children do not pass more than an hour at any given time. If she is not satisfied that is her problem. My wife cannot visit her without me and that is the way it will be till her she dies. I have no apologies.

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The Story Of The Journey Of My Life And Introduce Myself

I want to introduce myself, it’s too late actually but better late than never,like people say do not know then do not love.

Name. : KHUSAIRI
Country . : ACEH (INDONESIA)
Date of birth: SEPTEMBER 30, 1988

I’m going to start an introduction about curriculum vitae from High School.
Previously I wanted to know that my father died when I was 11 years old.
After graduating from school I really wanted to continue to college but All of that was not fulfilled because I was born from a poor family.
After several months of living without work and without money I decided to go to Malaysia to find work to collect as much money as I can.
Finally after mortgaging the land footprint my parents are ready to make a passport.

Finally on 22 July 2008 I left my hometown, leaving all the people I care about and leaving the country in the hope that it will be a success and my children will be able to achieve all their dreams.
Days change weeks, weeks change month, months change year, 3 years I have been monitored but I have not known success.
In 2011 I was able to work in a tavern, a tavern that was named if dimalay sia, located on the road 4 / 2A BANDAR BARU BANGI,KAJANG,SELANGOR,MALAYSIA.
From the work began to be able to save little by little money for me to send kekampung for parents and to pay land pledge when I go first, thanks every month I can send money to parents.
Did not feel the time run fast time was in 2014.
Right on December 7, 2014 I was arrested by immigration because there was no work permit in this country.
For 3 months 10 days I languished in prison I finally brought home on to Indonesia.
Until my hometown after all the stories I told my family and visited it all, I was determined to go back to malaysia Because my girlfriend is still contracted for 2 years by PT.Hitachi.
At that time he just runs his contract a few months.

And in October 2014 I married her and in november 2015 my wife contracted out and went back to indonesia with age 7 months.
And I live alone again because of difficulties in the handling of passport because then I am a foreigner without any document what.
On December 15, 2015 our first daughter was born without a father by her side, my wife gave birth without her husband.

And in August 2016 I was desperate to come home with a canoe crossing the straits of malacca because of the desire and longing for the family, especially our children.
And with the makeshift money we built a hut for us to occupy that until now we still occupy

I’ve steemit account https://steemit.com/@khusairi  Anyone who read this and have an account, please follow the upvote steemit and my account, comments.

For all LiteracyBase Member please guidance .. guide me to succeed like you guys ….
To change the fate of my family.

thanks very much,!

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Love story: My crush with corper Kellz

Episode 3

But my nerves relaxed when he smiled reassuringly seconds later, turning on his bed so that he could get closer to me.

“okay but why?” he asked,

“becauseeeee,” I tried to continue but I couldn’t; I was too
distracted by his eyes.,”

“I,” I stuttered my words. “I … uh … like you.”

“I like you too,” he smiled.

“No,” I shook my head, my breathing so heavy I was sure he
could hear it.
“I mean, I really like
you.” i murmured.

“I know,” he touched my laps gently, I felt the heat radiating from his body.

“I like you too.” he repeated,

“What?” My voice raised a few notches, only seconds from being a screech.

“I have seen the way you look at me.” He smiled, moving back and sitting on the edge of his bed.
“After a while, I guess I started looking at you the same way. I’m glad it was not
noticeable though. If other students saw it, I could get into trouble.” he added calmly,

“Why?” I asked curiously. “I am a big girl?”

“But you are my student,” he frowned. “That is kind of a big no no in my ethics.” he answered,

“Oh,” I frowned, “I should probably go.”
I turned quickly, just ready to leave his room. {though very happy to learn that he was lusting after me as well.

“Judith,” his voice echoed in my head as i tried to stand, I felt his hand caressing my left knee, my entire body lit up like fireworks.
I turned around quickly, my heart
pounding so loudly that it was all I could hear. His hand had touched me.

In the last couple
months of being in his class, I could not remember a time in
which he had touched me. Even when submitting my assignment book, our bodies never once came in contact with one another.

“Yes?” I answered,
“Never mind,” he sighed, hanging his head down low as he took off his hand from my body.

“What is it?” I asked with concern, “Is
something the matter?”

“You should probably go.” He murmured, avoiding making eye contact with me.

“I truly don’t want to go,” I held my ground, resisting the urge to
slam my foot against the ground.
“I want to be here with you.” i added shamelessly,

“I can’t” he shook his head at me before breaking eye contact once again.

“You can’t what?” I asked, “Tell me.”

“I can’t touch you,” he answered with a sad look hanging in
his eyes.

“Why not?” I wondered aloud.

“You are a student and a little girl, you seem not to know what you are up against.” He looked up at me, trying to give a reassuring smile, but it was not working.

“moreover I can’t risk it.” he murmured under his breath, dashing my hopes.

To be continued.

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Love story: My crush with corper Kellz

Lot of secondary school girls at some point had petty crushes on male corpers, but what I had was not a crush; I lusted for this guy.
Everyone in school knew that corper kellz was sexy. All my {female} friends had a slight thing for him. We all prayed to be his girlfriend..

I truly wasn’t the best student in the class,
but really, how could any girl focus on learning, when six feet
of tall dark handsomeness was in her line of sight every
day?

“Judith!.”
I was suddenly pulled out of my dirty thoughts as my Idol {himself} called out my name.

“Where was your mind?.” i heard him ask, while the entire classroom chuckled at
me, but I did not care. He had spoken my name. My name had
crossed his lips that were slightly hidden behind a perfectly trimmed goatee.

Our eyes locked for a brief moment and something clicked. I
could feel it and I knew that he could feel it also. I felt myself dripping wet into my panties.

“why are you lost in my class?,” he asked, but before i could give an answer, the bell rang for break, making everyone jump to their feet. Everyone except for me seemed to be in a hurry to leave the class.
I waited for the classroom to clear open before making my way up to him. I
seemed to have no control over my actions. My body did not want to leave, it wanted to stay and enjoy every moment with him.

We silently stared at each other, my heart pounding madly.

“sir, i really havn’t been concentrating in class, due to some family issues” I lied effortlessy, making my way to his side.

“so what exactly is the family problem you are having?,” he asked curiously, “perhaps I could be of help?” he added softly.

“it’s a long story sir, but I really was wondering if you could help me with special lessons after school, my parents will be willing to pay,” I asked with a sweet smile, while he shrugged and breathed deeply, staring at me as if i asked for something impossible.

“I am not the best at asking for help, But, if you can’t help me, don’t bother, I will
figure out another solution.” I murmured with a coloured face, before turning to leave, surprisingly he grabbed my left hand.

“alright I get off work at 2:30pm, maybe we could be meeting every 4pm at your house, i’m here to serve everyone who needs my help” he said softly, smiling calmly.

“nooo i think your lodge will be much better, i don’t want to give you the stress of trekking to my house every evening” i answered happily, while he shrugged again.

“That would be great,” I heard him say, while my eyes blossomed with joy.

“AT LAST HE IS ALL MINE” i reasoned.

What a silly naughty girl i was….

Episode 2

hours later @home
________________
I spent the next two hours getting ready. It was harder than I had imagined trying to dress up for someone without it looking
like I was trying to dress up for him. I was sure I could come up with a reason as to why I looked dressed up, because I wanted to avoid raising suspicion.

By the end of my “getting ready” I was satisfied. My black skirt was just above my knees, not showing anything off. Over my skirt hung a long red sleeveless
shirt, showing off my firm arms instead of my firm stomach. My
favourite thing about that shirt was how amazing my 36C
b—–s were perfectly viewable.
You could not see the flesh, but you could see every shape they gave off.

Once I decided I was ready, I snuck out the back door and headed to his lodge. I had to sneak out because i hate lying to mum who would find it very strange that I was meeting my teacher, which made the option of sneaking out more preferable.
{Yea i know meeting with a teacher isn’t really a strange thing judging from a normal perspective, but it truly was more of meeting with my
teacher in that outfit which made it more weird, because my dressing wasn’t study appropriate}.

I panicked the whole way to his lodge, with my maths Text book and a note pad tucked in my skirt {pocket}.
I soon got to his room, breathed deeply before calmly knocking on his room door. I was so nervous and excited that i could hear my heart beating furiously in my chest. Knocking on his door was more nerve wrecking than i had imagined, Still I gained up my courage and continued knocking.

“Come in,” his voice finally called through the door and my entire body tingled. I loved the sound of his voice. It was deep and manly.
I took one more deep breathe and made my way into his room,
slowly pushing open the door. He was sitting on a giant mattress that gave his room a peculiar shape.

“Ah,” he smiled as our eyes met.

“Judith” he greeted,

“good evening,” I smiled nervously, shutting the door behind me. I was not
sure if shutting it was a good idea, but i gave it no second thought.

“Nice room” i murmured,

“I find it a little too stuffy,” he laughed,

“hmmm do you?”,
“anyway thank you for meeting with me”, “I really do appreciate” i said polietly before settling down on a plastic chair.

“You generally seem to have no problem with your school work until lately?” he added after a little silence,

“Can I be honest with you?” I blurted out, almost placing my
hand over my mouth.
I had no idea what my brain was doing, but I knew it was a very bad idea.

“I don’t see why not,” he smiled over at me.

“I was thinking about you in the class before you noticed my absent mindedness,” I confessed nervously, my face turning bright red.

“hmmm, please i need the truth, what exactly brought you here?” i instantly heard him ask. His face growing serious, his eyes searching me keenly like a policeman. I froze and cautioned myself. I really was thrown out of balance with his question.

“emm emm,” I murmured, losing my
voice which caught in my throat.

“emm I kind of just wanted to see you
outside of class.” i finally managed to answer. He breathed deeply, crossed his legs and held his jaw like an old man.

I LOST HOPE. I was pretty sure he would throw me out of his room after tongue lashing me. What an embarrassment. I felt very foolish.

“Am i not old enough to fall in love??, what is wrong with this corper?, why is he so uptight?, can’t he read my mind?, what is he feeling like?” i wondered as we stared at each other.

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Love story: My crush with corper Kellz

lot of secondary school girls at some point had petty crushes on male corpers, but what I had was not a crush; I lusted for this guy.
Everyone in school knew that corper kellz was sexy. All my {female} friends had a slight thing for him. We all prayed to be his girlfriend..

I truly wasn’t the best student in the class,
but really, how could any girl focus on learning, when six feet
of tall dark handsomeness was in her line of sight every
day?

“Judith!.”
I was suddenly pulled out of my dirty thoughts as my Idol {himself} called out my name.

“Where was your mind?.” i heard him ask, while the entire classroom chuckled at
me, but I did not care. He had spoken my name. My name had
crossed his lips that were slightly hidden behind a perfectly trimmed goatee.

Our eyes locked for a brief moment and something clicked. I
could feel it and I knew that he could feel it also. I felt myself dripping wet into my panties.

“why are you lost in my class?,” he asked, but before i could give an answer, the bell rang for break, making everyone jump to their feet. Everyone except for me seemed to be in a hurry to leave the class.
I waited for the classroom to clear open before making my way up to him. I
seemed to have no control over my actions. My body did not want to leave, it wanted to stay and enjoy every moment with him.

We silently stared at each other, my heart pounding madly.

“sir, i really havn’t been concentrating in class, due to some family issues” I lied effortlessy, making my way to his side.

“so what exactly is the family problem you are having?,” he asked curiously, “perhaps I could be of help?” he added softly.

“it’s a long story sir, but I really was wondering if you could help me with special lessons after school, my parents will be willing to pay,” I asked with a sweet smile, while he shrugged and breathed deeply, staring at me as if i asked for something impossible.

“I am not the best at asking for help, But, if you can’t help me, don’t bother, I will
figure out another solution.” I murmured with a coloured face, before turning to leave, surprisingly he grabbed my left hand.

“alright I get off work at 2:30pm, maybe we could be meeting every 4pm at your house, i’m here to serve everyone who needs my help” he said softly, smiling calmly.

“nooo i think your lodge will be much better, i don’t want to give you the stress of trekking to my house every evening” i answered happily, while he shrugged again.

“That would be great,” I heard him say, while my eyes blossomed with joy.

“AT LAST HE IS ALL MINE” i reasoned.

What a silly naughty girl i was….

Episode 2

hours later @home
________________
I spent the next two hours getting ready. It was harder than I had imagined trying to dress up for someone without it looking
like I was trying to dress up for him. I was sure I could come up with a reason as to why I looked dressed up, because I wanted to avoid raising suspicion.

By the end of my “getting ready” I was satisfied. My black skirt was just above my knees, not showing anything off. Over my skirt hung a long red sleeveless
shirt, showing off my firm arms instead of my firm stomach. My
favourite thing about that shirt was how amazing my 36C
b—–s were perfectly viewable.
You could not see the flesh, but you could see every shape they gave off.

Once I decided I was ready, I snuck out the back door and headed to his lodge. I had to sneak out because i hate lying to mum who would find it very strange that I was meeting my teacher, which made the option of sneaking out more preferable.
{Yea i know meeting with a teacher isn’t really a strange thing judging from a normal perspective, but it truly was more of meeting with my
teacher in that outfit which made it more weird, because my dressing wasn’t study appropriate}.

I panicked the whole way to his lodge, with my maths Text book and a note pad tucked in my skirt {pocket}.
I soon got to his room, breathed deeply before calmly knocking on his room door. I was so nervous and excited that i could hear my heart beating furiously in my chest. Knocking on his door was more nerve wrecking than i had imagined, Still I gained up my courage and continued knocking.

“Come in,” his voice finally called through the door and my entire body tingled. I loved the sound of his voice. It was deep and manly.
I took one more deep breathe and made my way into his room,
slowly pushing open the door. He was sitting on a giant mattress that gave his room a peculiar shape.

“Ah,” he smiled as our eyes met.

“Judith” he greeted,

“good evening,” I smiled nervously, shutting the door behind me. I was not
sure if shutting it was a good idea, but i gave it no second thought.

“Nice room” i murmured,

“I find it a little too stuffy,” he laughed,

“hmmm do you?”,
“anyway thank you for meeting with me”, “I really do appreciate” i said polietly before settling down on a plastic chair.

“You generally seem to have no problem with your school work until lately?” he added after a little silence,

“Can I be honest with you?” I blurted out, almost placing my
hand over my mouth.
I had no idea what my brain was doing, but I knew it was a very bad idea.

“I don’t see why not,” he smiled over at me.

“I was thinking about you in the class before you noticed my absent mindedness,” I confessed nervously, my face turning bright red.

“hmmm, please i need the truth, what exactly brought you here?” i instantly heard him ask. His face growing serious, his eyes searching me keenly like a policeman. I froze and cautioned myself. I really was thrown out of balance with his question.

“emm emm,” I murmured, losing my
voice which caught in my throat.

“emm I kind of just wanted to see you
outside of class.” i finally managed to answer. He breathed deeply, crossed his legs and held his jaw like an old man.

I LOST HOPE. I was pretty sure he would throw me out of his room after tongue lashing me. What an embarrassment. I felt very foolish.

“Am i not old enough to fall in love??, what is wrong with this corper?, why is he so uptight?, can’t he read my mind?, what is he feeling like?” i wondered as we stared at each other.

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Judging too fast: the saga of Ollie

There was this couple who had been married for several years without a child. For the purpose of companionship, they bought a Rottweiler puppy, named it ollie and loved her like a child. 🐕

The dog had access to every room in the house. The puppy grew to become a large, beautiful and adorable dog and had on several occasions saved the couples from robbery.🐶 Ollie was always faithful, loyal and defended its owners against many dangers.

Some years later, the couple was blessed with the long awaited son.👬 They were very happy with their son and naturally decreased the attention they had given to the dog. Ollie felt neglected and began to get jealous of the baby.

One faithful day, the couple left the baby sleeping peacefully in his cradle and went to the terrace to prepare a roast. They were shocked as they were heading to the nursery and saw ollie in the hallway with a bloody mouth, wagging its tail.

The dog’s owner thought the worst, they pulled out weapons and began to beat the dog they had loved for many years… after so much beating, they killed the dog… then they rushed to the baby’s room, there was blood everywhere and blood dripping from the baby’s cot… they slowly walked to the cot and found a beheaded snake very close to the baby.
Ollie killed the snake…
Then they realized they had butchered an innocent dog who was faithful to its death…

* How often have we misjudged people without finding out facts.
* How easy do you give up on those who are faithful to you?

What the heart sees is far greater than what the eye see…
Never judged people by thier looks, present situation and present life style…
Most of us judge people by what we expect them to be… without finding out who they really are…
Not everyone can relate to you exactly what they feel and how they feel about you!!

How I wish Ollie could talk… she would have expressed her love for her owners

The next time we are tempted to judge and condemn anyone remember the story of a faithful dog, OLLIE.

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