if you are told about it does it count as a memory

Much of my childhood I only remember through stories or photographs. I was Kid #4, girl 4 in a family wanting a boy.My dad was a first generation Italian, his parents came over in the early 1900's and settled in the western NY town

Start at the middle

How I wonder Did I get to this point?? My life in shambles and me once again picking up the pieces. Its worse this time , baggage and plenty of it.Well I guess that would be if you consider 4 kids excess luggage.Now I love my kids don't get the wrong idea. I know that if it wasn't for the strength and love of my kids i would not have survived this latest chapter. I realize that my kids are probably the only thing I have ever done right....my pride ,my joy,my four banged up suitcases held together by duct tape.Bruises, I am covered inside and out with ugly purple-gonna look worse before they look better BRUISES! Yeah thats how my boys learn to count ... by counting momma's boo-boos,and they sure could count pretty damn high! So Here I am, my thirties,deadend waitress in a small western NY town. The area where we are most famous for our triple foot snowfalls and second rate sports team. No way job in a nowhere town, except its my hometown. That's right all my mistakes made right here,sure glad that I am not a celebrity,hard enough to deal with so and so's mom asking if I am alright. Neighborly folks just checking out why the cops were at the place again at 10 am. This wasn't what my life was suppose to be like...nope.. plan was to go to college become an architect, leave Gossip valley,have a boy and not get married. Never was big on the marriage deal but you would have to know the family to understand that one. Boy was I way off on my life's plan!! So in order to figure out where I am going and how the hell I am gonna get there you and I sort of need to see where I have been...