Kids

Looking in the rear view

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Today marks 1 month since my faith was seriously tested. On January 27, 2020 around 7:30pm I was driving with my sister and three young children. We were rear ended and then we hit the van in front of us. I can still remember the  disoriented feeling, the sent of intense heat and fumes. I cringe and shutter every time I think about it because it’s so vivid in my mind.

I remember looking behind of me and seeing my 4-year-old face full of blood, my 3-year-old looked fine, and my 1-year-old’s rear facing carseat was slightly elevated and his legs were dangling up in the air a bit. I later found out he had a bruise and cut on his forehead.

I couldn’t get the door behind me open and as I frantically began to undo my kids’ carseat buckles, a panicked man furiously tried to pry the other backdoor open. When that didn’t work he banged the glass in attempts to free my baby boy but nothing. I eventually handed my daughters one by one to strangers who waited by the passenger door. I held on to my son.

We huddled in a ditch next to the wreck. There were so many people there, helping, coving my kids with blankets, PRAYING OVER US. My son began to go limp in my arms. From crying and clutching me tightly, his grip loosened and his eyes began to roll back into his head. I thought, no God, NOT MY SON. I prayed, that was the only thing I could do in such a helpless moment. Some of our rescuers began to join me and my son gained back his strength.

Shortly after that, the man we hit came over and began checking my kids. He was an EMT in training. He checked them for any signs of trauma to their neck, ribs, and stomach. There was none. I just remember feeling so grateful that when the police arrived and asked if we were ok, I walked off and began shouting, “In Jesus name we are fine. God is good!”

I didn’t feel fear in that moment. Nothing in the world seemed to matter. All I could think about was how blessed we were to be alive. Seeing the car and feeling like we were hit with an explosion, I knew it wasn’t anything short of a Miracle.

My faith kept me sane in the crucial moments after the crash. So many questions come up after seeing the car. There was a lot of impossible things that happened that night.

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Check out photos of the car Here

Hear more details Here

Please drive safe and NEVER drive distracted. We were blessed to literally walk out of that car alive.

We are all doing okay. Driving now does get me anxious but I can’t be afraid of being behind the wheel or even in a vehicle. Mentally, I have to pray everyday about the crash because I am traumatized. It’s a lot more mentally taxing than I anticipated. You never get over the event.

I just wanted to make a quick post so as always (HUGGZ & LOVE)

I’m obsessed with watching my kids eat

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Growing up, my family struggled a lot. We were poor—not just poor but very poor. I remember one time, the only thing in our stomachs, for five days, was water from the facet. I lost about ten pounds during that time. Food stamps ending our five days of tears, stomach growls, and despair. I think that had to be the hardest time in my mother’s life.

We struggled, yes, but it was never that bad before and thankfully never got that bad again. We were always grarunteed two meals at school so even if we had little at home, we still ate. Unfortunately, those five days were during Christmas break and there was no chance of us getting fed any other way. It was difficult time to say the least.

Now that I’m a mother, the fear of not being able to feed my kids sometimes cripples me. I pinch every penny, I look for the best deals, and I never spend more than I have to. I don’t want to feel the devastation my mother did. I sometimes think her life echoes in mine as I come to the realization that at my age, she too was a single mom of three. Could history repeat itself and cause me to be so down on my luck that I wouldn’t be able to provide such a basic need?

As of now, that hasn’t happened and I find myself cooking and preparing meals with immense glee knowing that my kids won’t go hungry. When I set their plates before them, I see their faces light up and they usually shriek with excitement. “Yummy mommy!”, “I like this food.”, is what I hear from time to time in between bites. It’s like music to my ears and I can’t help but smile.

There are moments after we say grace and they begin eating, that I tune out the world and just stare at them. Their giggles filling the dining room. Conversations about how their day was and what they want to do during the weekend bounce off the walls and invade my observation. “We can do that on Saturday”, would be my reply to their inquiries. I soak up every bit of those times.

There is no better feeling than knowing despite my hardships, my children won’t go without. They know nothing of my struggle and dinner time is a celebration and not a reminder of how bad we really have it. Happiness stretched across their faces is a complete contrast to the days I would cry to my mother telling her I was hungry and she’d tell me, “I know baby”, and hand me a cup of water with a little sugar in it.

I know  what I went through was something that humbled me but that’s not the way I want my kids to grow up. That’s not how I want my kids to become appreciative people.  We all go through some lessons that taught us something and hope to God that our kids don’t have to go through it too. I don’t want the pain of watching my kids starve and I’ve been blessed enough not to have to. So, when I see my children stuffing their messy little faces, sometimes getting food all over the table, I’m thankful knowing that their bowls will be empty for the right reasons.

As always ((Huggs & Love))

 

The reality of my life as a single mother.

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If any of you have read my posts in the past, you’ll know that I left a very bad relationship about 2 years ago. What I never updated you on was that I went back to my ex a year later. Long story short, I was living the exact same hell as before and then some. Surprised? I surely acted  like it was surprising.

So, four months ago I truly decided that I had had enough. I spent the day feeling miserable and down, wondering what kind of life I was living.  My ex’s family had flown up to LIVE with us just a week prior. From the moment they came, I could tell my ex was unhappy. So from him being OKAY and us being in a decent place at the time, the added stress of  having 3 more people in the house got to him. It showed in the way he treated me because as usual he never took his frustrations out on who caused it. And here I was feeling out of place, getting treated like I was a plague to his existence.

I snapped emotionally. I decided that I didn’t want to stay there any longer. I told him I wanted to leave and he told me no. Months before, he had implied that in order for me to leave, I’d have to be dead, so a part of me was afraid to go. He also had my debit card and refused to give it back to me because his money was on it ($19) and told me when I started working I could get it back. I made sure to call my sister in the middle of the drama so if anything happened, someone would know. After realizing that I was telling my sister everything that was happening, he snatched the phone from my ear and left the room.

Guys, there is so much that happened that night that I might just make a video about it. What ended up happening was I packed a weeks worth of clothes for the kids and I, got my cousin to pick us up, and left the apartment around 12am. He was so pissed; if looks could kill, I’d be dead.

There was constant fighting and back and forth after that. Then he’d pretend to be good and act like he was changing only to flip out when I said I was never going back to him. I felt nothing. Plus I had already told all my family members what really happened behind closed doors and if I even thought about going back to him, they wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.

Within a months time, I got a job. It felt like forever! I was blessed to get hired at a daycare so my kids could be there with me. I love my job and honestly the hardest part about it has been getting to and from work. I catch the bus at 7 am but I have to leave the house by 6:35 am in order to make it there in time. Sometimes, if I’m late, I have to carry my daughters the entire 20 minute walk. It might not seem like much but when it’s pitch black outside, you’re carrying around 68 lbs plus their backpacks, and you have to power walk, it’s tiring mentally and physically.

The afternoons aren’t any better. It takes me an hour to get home from work between the bus and walking. It’s a 13 minute drive! Then the sun is so hot some days, I want to pass out. And those are usually the afternoons where I carry my daughters in my arms because I know if I feel weak, hot, and tired then they do too.

It’s not easy. Sometimes I cry and pray and cry and pray because I don’t know what else to do. Each blessing comes with another challenge and I feel so burnt out. I am grateful for everything, it’s just hard trying to keep going when you feel like you have nothing left.

I can say that this experience has shown me that there is a serious need for assistance to help people who have been in my shoes. I hope that I can start some sort of charity to help people get on their feet especially with kids and little to no one to turn to.

The truth is, I’m better off now than I was two months ago. It’s all about progress. Yes, I struggle a lot but it’s only for a shot time. I hope to get a car, more than anything, so that my kids don’t have to go through this. One day!  By the way here’s a Video  of what outside looks like when I head to work.

As always ((HUGGS & LOVE)) and I plan to write more soon!

 

Now officially a mother of three…and I LOVE it!

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In the hospital waiting on daddy to finish work and me and baby to be discharged.

For anyone that’s read a few of my last post, you’d know that I was having another baby. If you didn’t know, well, now you do. 🤗 My pregnancy was a bit rough but not too bad. When I first found out I was pregnant, my stress level went to an all-time high. I felt guilty. I had a one-year-old and a two-year-old who only had been two for three weeks when I conceived. I wondered how in the world I would be able to give three kids, under 3, all my attention. I did it with two easily but THREE?! I didn’t know if I could handle it…I didn’t know if my older kids could handle it. Would they hate the new baby? Would they feel like I was neglecting them?

I barely accepted that I was pregnant. Why? Because I didn’t think I could do it. I didn’t think that I would be mother enough for three babies. It’s not like it hasn’t been done before but I couldn’t imagine having the capability to be a super mama of three. Other women had done it and are doing it now, but I never thought I’d be joining them.

Fast forward two Thursdays ago. I’m in pain so bad my vision was failing me. I had to be super mama still. My kids were in my room and I couldn’t let them see me in pain. I comforted them and talked to them, making sure they were okay. I hugged and kissed my little humans because no amount of contractions could stop me from making my kids feel safe.

You have to do things like that. Be strong, even in your most painful moments. Your kids need that from you. I couldn’t believe what I was able to do! All my fears were erased. As much as I wanted to hoot and holler, I sucked it up for my baby girls.

My daugthers were able to be in the delivery room with me. One was sleeping and the other one was watching videos on my phone. Surprisingly, they actually caught on to the fact that their baby brother was no longer in my belly. It’s amazing how smart a then one-year-old(turned 2 two days after her brother was born) and a two-year-old can understand.

I took the first picture you see after my kids and their dad stayed my second and last night at the hospital with me. He had to go to work for two hours that morning. He left around 9am so he could go home and get ready for work at 10:30. As nervous as I was to be alone at the hospital with all three of my kids, I let him leave the girls with me. I got discharged after 12pm and he came for us a little after 1pm. By some miracle all of my kids slept for most of the time I was by myself. Both girls woke up briefly and then went straight back to sleep. Of course my newborn only woke up to eat, or rather, I woke him up.

Honestly, there are certain points in our lives where we are taken over by fear. Sometimes we think we don’t have the strength to live through something or to do something but we do! We just have to believe it. The idea of having three kids under three, petrified me. I was beyond scared but once I had all my kids with me I thought, “Yeeeeeaaah, I can do this!” Encourage yourself and believe you are capable of anything. No matter how difficult you think it might be. You got this! You can do it!

Like always guys, ((HUGGS & LOVE))

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One week after the first picture! 🤗❤️

Why are we more focused on gender rules rather than gender roles?

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Before I start, let me first say that my goal is not to offend anyone. Now, let me say this as well, I don’t care if I do. We live in a society where people tend to tiptoe around what they really want to say, not because it’s truly disrespectful but because someone, somewhere will take offense to it. I know in this day and age people everywhere are fighting over gender rules. Parents want their sons to be able to wear dresses without any kind of judgement. PERSONALLY, if my son said he wanted a dress, I’d tell him no. Call me a bad mom. Say I’m dimming my child’s light. I could careless. Children want what they see without any thought to it. I don’t think it’ll determine their sexual orientation later on. However, I’m not about to listen to someone whose best decision is having candy for breakfast. Down the road, when my kids aren’t impulsive and irrational, I’ll take things like that seriously.

The point of this post isn’t about letting kids where whatever they want is good or bad. My actual concern is how these kids grow up to view their place in the world as men and women. Whither you’re straight, gay, trans, there is a certain role people expect you to play. Growing up boys were expected to be rough and tough and girls were expected to be delicate and sweet. If a boy cried, even if he was hurt, he was seen as weak. If a girl stood up for herself and gave her opinion, she was seen as rude or a trouble maker. Boys couldn’t have a soft side and girls couldn’t be strong.

If you go to the toys section of any store, you’ll see how the world has already decided who men and women should grow up to be. The girl’s toy section is filled with baby dolls, brooms, and shopping carts. A girl is meant to grow up to be a house wife. Sure there’s doctor toys and some expensive sports cars thrown in the mix but that’s not the main focus. The boy’s section is filled with racecars, army men, guns and any “beat my chest, I’m a man” type of toy you could think of.

I always wondered why parents lost their minds whenever their son touched a doll or yanked a toy car away from their daughters. “That’s for boys.” “That’s for girls.” Some parents would go on to say, “Are you gay? Leave that alone!” Girls tend to get a less aggressive response when they play with boys toys. Either way, I don’t see how a bloody toy could indicate a child’s sexual orientation. Let’s face it. That’s exactly why some parents react the way the do.

Boys are told to leave the baby(doll) alone, they don’t belong in a kitchen, and chores, like washing dishes, is a girl’s job. And when men grow up and leave the child raising and housework to women, it’s somehow a surprise. It’s been drilled into their heads that anything that doesn’t dirty their hands should be left for women. And when a man is a stay-at-home-father he is judged harshly and seen as a disappointment because he isn’t the breadwinner. WHY? It baffles me!

I always think about my little brothers when it comes to this topic. They are two rough and tumble kids. They hate dolls and say it’s too girlie. One day, my sister had bought barbie like dolls for the little girl I was taking care of. She was 5 and my brothers were 6 and 9 at the time. She had no one to play with so she asked them to play with her. They barely hesitated to. They even did character voices. Granted after she got up they started sword fighting with the dolls but for that moment those little boys wanted to make her happy despite their own personal feelings. They are still pretty boyish to this day. And their actions then and many times after that, showed me that they’ll be great fathers. I’m not saying go out and buy your sons dolls but understand that what  you put in their head as young kids will affect how they view their role in society.

Now, as for girls, we’re meant to be clean and pretty. We must bite our tongue and go along with whatever we’re told. Climbing trees and playing in dirt is a horrible way for us to spend an afternoon. Things like repairing cars and building aren’t what we should be interested in. In fact, at a certain age we are “trained” to be able to take care of a household. That’s the role women were meant to play. Mommy and wife. We must live in the kitchen and vacation in the laundry room. We must raise perfect children and keep our husbands happy. These stupid generic rules that have been placed on us. God forbid a woman is the boss of several man, some of them might lose their minds because they might have been brought up believing that is not her place.

You see, I could really care less about the “how to dress your child” debate. I have two daughters and my first son is due in a month. I don’t want my son to cruise through life thinking his sisters are his maids. I equally don’t want my daughters to feel intimidated by a male dominated workforce. This “war” on who our kids should be is superficial. I think so, at least when it comes to what I see on social media everyday. Okay, your son or daughter is happy wearing clothes of the opposite sex. WHAT NOW? What do you teach them now? What role will they play once they grow up? It goes far beyond clothing. It’s about having sons that embrace emotions instead of keeping them inside for fear of being labeled a wimp. It’s about raising strong daughters who don’t take crap from anyone and believe anything is achievable. It’s about men who won’t hesitate to wash a freaking dish and women who can fix a car just as good as any guy.

Do you understand what I’m trying to say? These ideas that we are suppose to be robots going down a conveyor belt in the same path as everyone else is stupid! We shouldn’t have cookie cutter lives. We shouldn’t have these dumb set regulations on what a man and woman should do. Obviously, there are some differences but the differences that are used to distinguish us most of the time doesn’t make any sense. All that old fashion crap should go out the window. Men and women should be seen as a team, sure, but they both should  be able to survive without the other. Example, a single man should know how to cook and clean and a woman should be able to use a drill and put up her own furniture without someone saying, “That’s why you need a man/woman so they can do that for you.” I don’t get all the gender restrictions when it comes to that stuff.

Leave me some comments about how gender roles were presented to you growing up and how you view them now. If you have kids please share if you have set roles specific to the gender of your kids. And remember this is not a post about clothing choice. I want to read what you think about the way society has segregated what is socially acceptable for men and women to do.

Like always ((HUGS & LOVE))

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Things my kids cry about that signify the end of the world!

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It’s obvious that kids are going to cry. They’re little and depend on us for everything they need, so in a moment of frustration or desperation they let out a some tears to let us know something is wrong. Not everything, however, is a cry alerting us to an injury, or hunger, or sleep deprivation. Oh no! Some things they cry about are so much more, to them, earth shattering.

I’ve created a list of some of the things my little ones cry about that have left me scratching my head and saying, “Huh?”

1. A bent lollipop stick- My eldest’s first official “life’s not fair” meltdown was over a bent lollipop stick. It took me at least three times taking it from her to realize what the problem was.

2. Broken piece of potato- Again my oldest wins this one. She was eating potatoes  when one tiny piece broke off . She insisted that I put the potato back together. I’m glad a one and a half year old had so much faith in my capabilities. I couldn’t put it back together.

3. Changing cat litter- My youngest completely wigged out at the site of me throwing away old kitty litter. She said, “Don’t do that, mami!” She told me it was for the cat and that I needed to leave the bathroom.

4. Wanting me to open a book- I recently bought a book about Noah’s art. I got the super hard cover because my kids like to rip pages. My youngest not knowing what page the picture of the monkeys is on, will cry for me to open the page for her.

5. Broken soap- My oldest, yet again, was hopping mad the other day. The soap had broken in half and she asked me to “put it” back together. As any reasonable person would, I smashed the pieces together and made a ball. She was not having it and cried until I made it as close to the normal shape as possible.

6. Rice underneath feet- My oldest has always hated anything irritating the bottom of her feet– dirt, sand, little pebbles. My youngest never cared about that stuff, until now. One night, after messy eating, my youngest stepped on some rice. She lost it and referred to it as poop.

These are just a sprinkle of what they’re gotten upset over. I know, as a parent, I’m not alone in this! I’ve read some hilarious stories of other parents’ struggles. At least we’ll have interesting things to tell our kids when they’re older.

As always, thanks for reading! ((Hugs & Love))