"Where are my..."

Stench rising in my room, wailing from the baby in crib that sat at the far side of the bedroom. I loved that baby, I loved to hold her and play with her. I wanted to help, but I was too small. Alone, 5 years old, I couldn't reach to pick her up and pull her out of her crib and my aunt... well, she was out again.

My aunt, really a family friend but I called her my aunt, was always apart of my life growing up. She was one of the few people who knew both my mom and father (who I didn't know). I thought she was exciting, fun, and cared for me like her own child.

When I was about 4 1/2 we moved into a duplex. She moved in with us. I was so excited... She had a little baby girl and I loved babies! I had wanted my mom to have one so badly--but of course, I didn't understand that they didn't just come :)

Anyway, I had no idea that my aunt was really doing a lot of drugs. I remember waking up with her baby in my room and no one else home. I was too small to lift her out of her crib. My mom was at work and my aunt was supposed to be babysitting me. I wasn't allowed to eat without permission--so I would stay hungry and so would the baby, although she was sitting in a dirty diaper in addition to her tummy grumbling.

Things got worse. I guess my aunt had fallen victim to drugs and sex. She was always with a different man (her husband was in prison at the time), leaving her baby, out for her next fix. She started stealing from my mom. My mom didn't realize it, she just noticed things disappearing. I remember once, I was severely punished.

"Honey, where are mommy's colored pencils?"

"I don't know mommy."

"You were using them, where did you put them?"

"I put them back where you told me mommy."

"Well, they aren't there, you must have forgotten to put them back. Where are they?"

"I don't know, I put them back."

"Stop lying."

Sobbing, "I'm not, I promise, I put them back where you told me."

The belt came out, I was punished for missing colored pencils. I cried and cried. I didn't understand, I wasn't lying, why didn't my mom believe me? I couldn't use her colored pencils anymore, I was crushed. My butt hurt.

This was just one of the many times I was blamed for things that went missing. Each time my punishment more severe. Five year olds don't understand. You don't realize that these things aren't right, you think you are supposed to be protected and loved by your mom and your aunt. I was hurt, and it seemed no matter what I did--I did something wrong again because something else went missing.

Eventually my aunt was kicked out. My mom (FINALLY) recognized her crazy behavior. Wouldn't you know it? As soon as my mom started packing my aunt's stuff up, she found her colored pencils among other items that had gone missing.

I hope her guilt was punishment enough...

Lesson learned: If you are going to have tweakers living in your house, give your kid the benefit of the doubt!