TAKS Essay

February 9, 2011

A Mother at Eight Years Old

     Times when you feel independent should come at a later stage such as adolescence or adulthood. Any earlier than that, children should be just that- children. They should be dependent upon their elders such as mommy and daddy or grandma and grandpa. I am glad to say that a time when I felt independent was when I was eight years old.

     Growing up I thought of this as a bad thing. I felt that children should be children and shouldn’t have to be independent at such a young age. I hated my parents for a very long time because I felt I missed out on my childhood. Truth is, I did, but I thank them for it now.

     The divorce happened back in the fall of 2001. My mother and father had hated each other for years and were finally ending their marriage. They had three children during their years as a couple and my twin brothers and I are still their only children to date. Unfortunately for my mother, her three children were a knot that would always keep her entangled to her ex-husband. He took no hesitation in moving out and I became the care-taker of both my brothers and myself.

     My mother fell into a deep depression and refused to be a mother. All I saw her do on the weekdays was sleep, eat and fall asleep as she drove me and my brothers to school. I was eight years old and my brothers were only about three. I became the one who had to make sure we ate and showered daily, I had to keep them happy and play with them while our mother slept upstairs and yelled if we attempted to wake her. I was the one who had to keep an eye on the road and take a hold of the steering wheel if she fell asleep driving in the mornings. I became “Mommy” to my brothers and our mother became “Rachel” to me.

     The weekends were a relief after a very long and tiring five days with Rachel. Weekends were our time with Daddy and boy, did we love Daddy! He was the parent and my brothers and I were the children- just like it should be. I dreaded Sunday evenings when I would have to make the transition again from eight year old Becca to Mommy for my brothers, but I did it every week. For three years I played mommy until Rachel took the three of us away from our life in New Jersey and packed us away to Texas.

     Now, nearly ten years after the divorce, I look back and am happy I was an eight year old mommy. It helped me to mature at an early age and to see different views of life. My childhood, or lack of childhood, made me who I am today and I’m pretty happy with whom I’ve become.

     Although being independent at eight years old made me into a better person, my children will be my children and I will be their mommy just like it’s supposed to be.