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Please visit: https://alltherealparts.com/  for all current content.

Rebranding

I do not make New Years Resolutions per se. However, I do set one goal that I will strive towards all year long. Last year, I decided I was going to learn to bake bread - and what a crazy year of baked bread it was. See, all my bread started out dense, and they all resembled paper weights. While not great for eating as sandwich bread, it all made excellent breadcrumbs. So, I learned from the mistake and made a change the next time. Each time I tried to make bread, it got a little bit fluffier, a little bit more delicious, and a little bit easier to do. 

This blog started out as my way of putting my thoughts out there. At the inception of the blog, it was just geared towards other mom's, with no other audience in mind. I felt like men already had all the advantages in the world, why should I give them yet another platform? However, that is quite cruel. The one place men are perpetual outsiders is in parenthood. 

With this in mind, I have decided to rebrand the blog, and the Facebook page. Much like the name says, we want all the real parts. We don't want to just be another mommy page vying for everyone's attention. We want to be a page that commands respect from all, because we include all.

-C

Things I Whisper To My Daughter

I was delighted to find I had, at long last, been published by POPSUGAR again. Despite the numerous edits, and changes, I still think it is a lovely piece. You can read it here: How to Encourage Your Daughter. I would love for you all to share the piece to anyone with a daughter, or anyone expecting a daughter. 

I also want to encourage you to submit your own work here... we will do minimal editing to your pieces, and allow your voice to be heard. 

Please send all submissions to: alltherealpartsblog@gmail.com

Thank you to everyone who has supported this from the beginning, and I cannot wait to see what this year brings for the blog, and for the Facebook Page. 

-C

Wayward Child

Our latest post comes from someone I personally have known since I was in sixth grade. Through the power of Facebook, we were reconnected some years ago. Her situation is not talked about often enough, and I am honored to have a space for her to express her art. She wrote this beautifully haunting poem about her oldest child, and I hope it touches your heart the way it touched mine. - C

Kate was born in Colorado. She has two sons that are now teenagers. She hosts a YouTube channel called advoK8great, where she is a burgeoning lifestyle change coach. Kate firmly preaches the ideals of Believe, Practice, and Evolve. You can also see her work on her Tumblr page.









An Ode to My Child


Encouraged to write About something more.
So here I am to say aloud There are many things of which I am not so proud. What happens when You were a child yourself when you began? To birth a child at 14 seems absurd... But you persevered, Year after year, Only to find that child had a different idea in mind.

For it’s life and future, One that you NEVER thought you’d have to endure. I can’t seem to find the words to say That I feel I failed this child at some point, some way. How do I say Secrets I’ve kept from society? All in an effort to prove, I’m just as good as you. With a child that seems to prove otherwise... Disregarding all you taught, The things you stood for and showed them to NOT - Disobey. Betray. Yet, You see the regret. You feel the shame, the hurt. And by this point ran yourself into the dirt.
Feeling alone. Depressed. Your actual self regressed By ideas and opinions imposed By those whom will never know your path, Or the child’s path. You just hope for self love at last. At some point I may disclose, The hurt that has been imposed. But for now I’ll hang low, Feeling alone in the misery, That is apparent day after day.
I seek the right words to say, That my child chose a life in gangs. And my heart hurts, my stomach pangs, Knots in my throat A sure loss of hope. Will "my son" ever be mine again? Or is he trapped in this stupid fucking cycle of shit sin? Sentenced to 3 years in a juvenile facility.
It breaks my heart to see.
On our first visit the truth to our “system” made evident. When he enters with tattoos on his face... I feel nothing but utter disgrace. Sick to my stomach, Knots in my throat, Holding back tears, I feel I lost hope. How did this happen? He was suppose to be “safe” in this prison. Yet I see the fallacy.
And I’m disappointed - Full responsibility, to myself I've appointed. And I don’t know what to do. Hurt each time I see you, For the face I once knew. Is it never more, never more? My heart is so damn sore. Was this a matter of survival? Backed into a corner?

-K8

You may not take this poem with out permission from this page, or the author. Thank you!