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The beginning of my little story…

Growing up in a household with a mother and brother was great. Now, when you add in the step father and brother.. well, things just get tricky. Imagine for a second: a young, 17 year old mother with two kids who fell truly, madly, deeply in love (or infatuation) with an Italian man whom had a child of his own. [thank you savage garden for coming into my life by the way, great song.]

I was 2 when they met, and 20 when they (my mother) decided to ultimately split. They were never married so I use the term “step” father and brother loosely. So that’s a good 18 years or so of memories- some great, some not so great, some that just need to be written down and exhausted from memory.

Now, imagine being 6 years old and having your step father exclaim proudly that he was the big bad wolf and you were his three piggies. [hellllllo children’s story book reference, great book.] Anyways, this was after he yelled at us for not doing all of our chores one afternoon while he on the other hand was on the couch watching Saturday morning cartoons and playing the Nintendo. I was sure then, and I am still sure to this day that he was not an individual I liked one bit. Why would you when that’s your first real memory you have as a child. That day I remember stomping to my room and crying because I was so scared of him. I couldn’t wait to grow up and do things that way I wanted.

& with that the big, bad wolf puffed and he blew me into the bubblegum pink bedroom…