OVERVIEW OF FIFTH CHILD

We can fool ourselves into thinking that we have our lives well planned out. It was that way for me, being a product of the 1950/60’s: I’d go to college, meet my prince, get married, have children and live happily ever after. As much as I thought I knew what to expect, my life was riddled with surprises. But the last was the most unexpected, compelling me to write Fifth Child, a non-fiction book about the anguish and consequences of a drug-addicted child, which resulted in parenting her child almost since birth.

My husband and I are cast into a shockingly large demographic. Grandparents raising grandchildren is a growing phenomenon in our country because of our shifting economy, unmarried teen mothers, alcohol abuse and illegal drug use. Close to 10 million grandparents comprise the club. We had already raised four children. Jaime was our third child, and Brady is her son, who began calling us Mommy and Daddy when he was three. Readers may be amazed to find calamity overcoming a so seemingly traditional family. But as events and family history unfold, disturbing pitfalls and unfortunate genetic vulnerability reveal fault lines that can sabotage people from any walk of life.

"The Addict's Mom Sharing Without Shame" Video is so important whether addiction has touched your life or not. It's powerful. Please click on the link below to watch the video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gHNZbbePiKg

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Wednesday, October 24, 2012

When Brady Was Five- Chapter Excerpt from"Raising Brady"


After we got home, playing with his trains got boring so he begged to go to his favorite place, The Model Train Store. Even the fifty-minute drive to Culver City didn’t bother or bore Brady. Pulling up to the store, I couldn’t get his seat belt off fast enough.

“Why can’t I buy the Lionel Train?” he pleaded. “I’m old enough to work it.”  

The train was expensive and a very serious train. I kneeled down to be sure he’d hear me.  
“Brady, on the box it says you have to be at least eight years old,” I said, relieved I had an out.
“But, Mom,” he said, "the box won’t know I’m only five!”

We left the store, with Brady yearning for his eighth birthday. I left hoping they’d change the age on the box to twelve by the time Brady turned eight.