The Early Years


Everytime I write; I revel more of me; more of my life. You don’t know me- my struggles. I was born handicapped, but with a brain and thank G-d and my Mom; I am able to vent by writing it down and examining it. My blog is part of me. I don’t think my kids know about this one. I told them- once you write something it can come back and haunt you. Even if you delete it later; it’s “out there”

 

I don’t regret anything I write. I’m honest- it’s therapy. I go to a shrink; I write and I shop. I do all those things ALONE.

 

I write to please me

If  someone besides me

likes my work- great

If not- it’s ok

The pieces that I get comments

are usually not my favorites

The ones I like attract no attention-

that’s ok also

I’ll read it and smile

I guess my poems

are my legacy

I produced 3 kids

and they each produced

2 kids

How did I get so old?

There is something

I left out

I’m handicapped

My Mom

(G-d rest her soul)

raised me to be NORMAL

on the advice of Dr’s

who wanted me to have

a chance in life

Had anyone found out

I had mild CP

I would have

been thrown out

of public school

“inclution”

did not exist

when I was growing up

I KNEW
that was it

I knew, but even I

could not admit it

At a very young age

I learned to  embelish

my life

I had a speech impediment

Why?

Well, I learned

to talk in FRANCE!

Kids are funny creatures

they believe you

if they like you

I tried SO hard

to blend in

Little did I know

my “sweet”

little old lady

Kindergarten teacher

wanted me out

of public school

the principal hated me

but hated my Mom worse

The principal had to order

IQ tests for Kindergarten that year

WHY? me

I tested high and my Mom

and I won

I had to go to speech therapy

Boy, did I hate being singled out

tried to “play sick” every Wednesday

By second grade

I knew

If I was normal

Were the other kids

MORE normal?

 

So- Hey listen I’m a girl

I want to play dolls

I HATE gym

Dodge Ball sucks

No-one; not even

my bestest Friend

wants me on her team

I’ll sit out

I’m 7

and I have my period?

I tell my gym teacher

She gives me a dirty look,

but even in those days

I know teachers cannot lay hands on kids.

I know that

because my sister

got hit in school

by a teacher

The teacher was fired

Now, they REALLY hated my mom

I think “Kermit” said it best:

It ain’t easy being green

And I was…..

Different

 

 

 

 

 

I never knew this

 

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