Every now and again a name pops into my mind for no apparent reason. Yesterday, as I was driving to pick up my son from school, an old name flashed across my mind. Bam! What? Why? Again. Bam!

I haven't thought about my first boyfriend in years. We all think about our past time and time again; after all, our past helps to mold our future - both good and bad. As I thought about him, my heart sank. I wasn't sure why - it just did. I remembered the sadness in his eyes and the anger. The empty feeling of a hollow heart and the signs of trouble in the making.

I had picked him out, really. I knew, even at age 14, that he needed someone to care about him. My own mother used to say that if there was a "needy boy" within a 5 mile radius, I'd be sure to find him and attempt to bring him home. This boy was no exception. He lived within a 5 mile radius and was one grade higher than me. He had very few friends and relished in James Dean movies any time we had a day off school.

I wanted to know why. Why was he a loner? Why was he so withdrawn and why did he keep his feelings locked up, as though they were secrets to withhold?

Soon enough I found out.

His mother was a drinker. When she'd drink, daggers of the verbal variety would fly from her drool-coated mouth:

• "Hey stupid! Can you ever do ANYTHING right?"
• Hey dumb-ass! Have I told you lately that I regret the day you were born?"
• "Hey loser! I don't know why this girl stays with you. What does she see in you, anyway? I sure as hell can't see anything worthwhile! She must be really desperate."

One day I sat down with her and said, "Why do you talk to your son like that? I don't understand it. My parents would never talk to me that way. What has he done to make you hate him?"

She didn't have an answer. Her cold eyes softened for just a moment but then quickly glazed over as she offered me one excuse after the next. I realized: She doesn't know HOW to love him because she was never loved.That only made me want to love her son even more. Not long after that, he gave me a Promise Ring. We agreed to get married and I vowed to show him all the love that had been withheld from the person who should have loved him the most.

The first time he hit me I let it go. "He knows not what he does. He's so hurt and so angry. It's not his fault."

The next time he hit me I let it go. "He'll outgrow this. Some way, some how I'll help him be a better person. He needs me. If I leave, who will he have then?" 

When he threw me to the ground and hit my head against the hard, cold cement, followed by a spit in the face...I left. I walked away and never returned.

It's been almost 20 years since that day.

A few years passed and I ran into this boy on the road. I was driving - he was walking. I slowed down and rolled down my window. He strolled over to say hello and recited my phone number; he hadn't forgotten it.

Several years ago my mother ran into him on the Max Train. He recognized her and came over to ask about me. She didn't share any personal information with him, as she didn't want him seeking me out. You never know what a dope head will do, after-all. With eyes glazed over and a dirty face, my mother left him to his demons.

When his name popped into my head yesterday I wondered, "Did he ever pull out of this? Did he make it through to the other side?" Did he figure out, as Tyler Perry did, that although we can't control our past we can damn sure choose to define our own future? We can let go of the pain and the anger and turn the energy into good. We can say, "I was done wrong to. But I won't allow that to ruin the rest of my life." We can attempt to refill our own self esteem buckets by surrounding ourselves with positive people, faith, filling our minds with positive thoughts and focusing on being grateful for the small things in life.

This boy I mention was a big part of my own choice to be a loving and nurturing mother. After watching the way his own mother treated him, I had thought long ago, "I will one day mother my children in a directly opposing manner to her parenting style. I will love my kids and appreciate their existence. I will tell them that they matter and never, ever undermine their place on this planet."

I Googled his name yesterday. Up popped his Mugshot. Although his face was covered in hair I knew, without a doubt, that those hollow and lonely eyes belonged to my Promise Ring giver. Tears began to burn my eyes as I flashed back to his mother, the hateful things she used to say, the bottled up feelings he kept inside and the rage that ruled his broken heart.

This was all preventable. Angry grownups don't just happen. They are created. When our children know they are loved and valued they grow up to understand how to give love. Giving and receiving love are key elements for a successful journey in this earthly life.

Let's ask ourselves today: "Am I Mothering a Mugshot?"

It's never too late to love our children more - to value them more - to yell at them less - to undermine them less - to point out their values and talents more. This boy of which I mention was a genius computer whiz. Given enough positive feedback from his parents, he could have been working for the FBI or CIA today. I believe that his abilities could have been steered for good, had his parents (and especially his mother) verbally rewarded him and offered him peaceful guidance.

Instead, she Mothered a Mugshot.

ABOUT the Author:

Shara Lawrence-Weiss is the owner of Mommy Perks, Personal Child Stories, Early Childhood News and Resources and Kids Perks. She and her husband co-own Pine Media. Shara has a background in education, early childhood, nanny work, published freelance, marketing and special needs.