Family

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I like my family, somewhat, they have their moments. I got along best with my mother for my whole life until she moved our family here to Las Vegas about a year ago. Nowadays I get along best with my twelve year old brother Jason. I never call him that though, unless he pisses me off. The family calls him JJ or Jay. I wish he was two years older or younger because I feel like we’d be a lot closer. We have a lot of jokes and just the way he does things makes me laugh, he’s a goofy character. I have another brother Nicholas, but nobody calls him that. For some reason when the kids were younger my mother made little cutesy names for the kids. Jason became JJ which with time became Jay and Nicholas was named little Nico, which just became Nico. Even teachers in school address Nicholas as Nico. I don’t get along very well with Nico, he gets me in trouble a lot and cry's whenever he doesn’t get his way. Its annoying, and he gets away with it every time just because he’s “Momma’s little baby boo.” Nico is eight years old. He just turned eight in November, but that changes nothing because my mom still calls him “my baby.” Nico plays football and he loves it. He loves hitting people and getting tackled but when I tell him its my time to play xbox he breaks down into a deep hysterical cry that could shatter glass. Whenever he cry's I say “I thought you were a ruthless football player?” Wimp. We have our few great moments of life like when he was younger. He loved wrestling and we would wrestle. I never really liked it but it made him happy so I did it, sometimes. I remember how crazy he was, he would jump off of couches and on to my back and let out a vicious (not really) battle cry as he lunged towards me. Recently we’ve been getting along but his bad over does his good.
When I lived in New Jersey, I wasn’t close with my brothers at all, mainly because I was always out. I came home to do my homework, eat and sleep (main teenager things.) That was all. My mother and I had a great relationship, she wasn’t just the person that did my laundry, gave me food, gave me shelter and hugs when I needed them but she was my best friend. Sort of. Of course there was some things I couldn't tell her but what I could, I did. My mother is very understanding. This is why I have no problem telling her things. At one time in my life, my family was all messed up. My father was in prison, mother was depressed, Nico was young so he was just happy and annoying all the time, Jay was crying every morning because he hated school and I was out all the time. There would be times where my mom would sleep all day, I’d wake her up and tell her to make food and she’d just order a pizza, give me the money and go back to sleep. I took care of the kids when I was home (being responsible I’m proud to say) but when I wasn’t home my brothers would ask my mom only if it were a dire situation. My mom set the tone for “not to be bothered.” The reason for her depression? My father was in prison, she was unemployed, our dog died and we lost our house.
I look at families nowadays and see kids disrespect their mother and father like it’s their jobs. I swear if I ever did that I’d get smacked in the forehead with chancla (Spanish word for sandal.) I never did that though because my mother and I got along. You might be thinking where’s your dad during your childhood? Before he went to prison? Well he’d come home on some nights and sleep at his friends on other nights. He claimed his job was too far away and that he worked over time. So instead of driving home to his family he would just stay at his friends. On Friday he’d come home to play with us which was nice. He eventually starting getting tickets for speeding and got into drugs so he got put away. I went from 10- 15 without my dad. Depressing right? WRONG! I still had my momma, girlfriend and friends to make me forget about it. I mean yeah I was a little sad when my mother told me dad was gonna be locked up for a few years but I got over it quickly. Due to sports, family and friends.
My grandparents aren’t really in my life. My mother’s family is in South America. Uruguay is where my mothers parents live and her brothers (my uncles) both live in Chile. I went to visit them a few times and that’s where I spent my sixth birthday. The best party ever in history for a six year old. I also got “hit” by a car. I remember seeing a car and then waking up in the the car that “hit” me. When I ask my mom what happened that day she says it just wasn’t your day to die. Gods angels lifted you off the ground right before you got hit and you just floated in air and therefor you didn’t get hit. Those are just some of the memories I have from Uruguay.
My fathers family is dead. Except for his sister, my aunt Dawn. She’s awesome and my cousin Ryan, her son, is awesome too. He’s hilarious and does great impersonations of comedy movies. Every Thanksgiving and Christmas they’d all come over and have a great time. We’d watch Christmas movies and eat pie and decorate the house. This is my so called “perfect family.” Or at least that's what my friends say my family is, they’re all jealous. For some crazy reason.





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