Looking in the rear view

Uncategorized

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.

33DDE787-2477-4BB8-9AB8-CC3EC685498B

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)

Listening ears on: God told me to visit my ex in-laws.

Uncategorized

Being human is hard. Add being a Christian and you have a whole list of rules and regulations you must follow in order to truly be a follower of Christ. Usually, especially now, doing the right thing and being sweet and kind has come easily. Even things that would trigger me, just goes over my head and I say a prayer in my mind, grin, and keep it moving. Last week however, I was thrown a curve ball that I really just wanted to dodge.

My ex told me that his parents were going to be cooking a big meal and asked if the kids and I would come over. Without hesitation, I said NO. I mean, why would I? Besides the fact that I’d have to drive over 45 minutes, I’d have to come in close contact with the family of the man I abruptly left in the middle of the night, with a week’s worth of clothing, and my kids. It wasn’t exactly a peaceful breakup and I found myself on the hated end of the stick. His father had a lot to say about me in the past and would quickly jump on social media in defense of his son, whenever I was the topic of a falsified rant.

I insisted that I had no business going there and I prayed to God that some crazy occurrence would happen so it would be set in stone that I couldn’t go. Be careful what you pray for because four days later a tropical storm came through AND a tornado happened 9 minutes away from us. We were obviously spared and I thought that was God’s answer to my prayers– no honestly! You want to know something? It wasn’t.

My ex told me he would be getting out of work early so he could take us if I didn’t feel like driving. I told him that was great because that meant he could take the kids and leave me out of the equation. He seemed hurt and told me not to be that way. They weren’t my family and I remember how dysfunctional it was when all of us lived together. I did not want to go so I purposely ignored all my ex’s text after that.

You know, God works in very BLUNT ways and as I headed to the bathroom I heard, “Go” in a vey soft voice. Now, don’t call the luny bin on me but I heard it clearly. I remember saying, “yeah right, God. You would never want me to go there.” I then saw a vision of me walking into their home and a voice said, “Go, so they can see all I’ve done for you. Go to be a light. ” Guys, I laughed so hard and said NO! Then I tried to convince myself that I was the one creating the instructions that I had but when I said the word “Go” in my mind it sounded different from what I first heard. This was not something I wanted to be obedient to. I didn’t want to feel uncomfortable and I didn’t want to break bread with my ex’s family.

When my ex arrived, I grabbed my purse and roughly told him to hurry up and let’s go. He was shocked but he got up from the chair quickly and we headed to me car. Once we were all buckled and ready to go, my ex thanked me for going. I heard a voice say, “I told you.” I rolled my eyes and replied ok God, of course in my head because I didn’t want to sound crazy. 😂

The drive down was actually enjoyable and I didn’t find myself ready to jump out the car or complain to the heavens. But when we got to his parents house I found myself feeling uncomfortable and nervous. My girls rushed inside and I bought myself time by getting my son out of his carseat. Surprisingly, I was greeted genuinely and asked if I wanted some food and my ex made me a plate. I can’t even lie, for a second I thought they were trying to poison me so I asked my kids if they wanted some food and when no one screamed out “No”, I knew that the food wasn’t unsafe to eat.

I stayed for maybe an hour and a half and I watched as my kids enthusiastically ran around and played with the side of their family they hadn’t seen for so long. I felt relieved. My kids were so happy and I felt good. I talked with everyone and at no point did I want to run for the door. When I left I almost felt sad. His dad thanked me for coming and said we could do something for Christmas if I had no plans.

Before last Sunday, I had so much anger towards my ex father in-law. I was upset because he knew what I went through with his son and he completely turned against me when I left. I was mad and hurt and really wanted nothing to do with him ever again. Visiting him was a healing moment for me. It thought me forgiveness in a way I did think I needed. There is so much truth in forgiveness being for you and not the other person. I was released from the grip of anger.

If there’s anyone you need to forgive, whether they said you an open invitation or not, forgive them. Listen to the voice inside that sounds crazy because it goes against every logical thing you believe in. I listened to God and went somewhere I DID NOT want to go and it ended up being a beautiful moment for me.

I hope you liked this post and as always Hugs and Love!

Giving birth made me look at my body differently… but in a good way.

Body Image, Encouraging, Motherhood, Parenting, Uncategorized

From as way back as I can remember, I always had an obsession with my image. Being the daughter of a black woman and a Puerto Rican father, who looked like a Taino Indian, there was a “look” I was suppose to have. Of course, I didn’t create that idea, instead it was implanted in me by my elementary school classmates and random people I met growing up.

I remember being told, quite often, that I couldn’t be hispanic because I wasn’t light skinned. They expected me to be Selena Gomez’s when, mind you, my mother’s skin color is comparable to Denzel Washington’s and my father was darker than her! Sadly, it didn’t stop there. You see, my father had long, straight, black hair and I don’t. So, it became “you can’t be hispanic because your hair is too nappy.” As a seven-year-old, those words knocked bits of my self esteem away.

Fast forward three years later when puberty started. When I was younger, I expected to look a certain way physique-wise. I had been surrounded by voluptuous women my entire life and when little lumps appeared on my chest, I thought I’d be a D cup the very next day. Okay, maybe not the next day but when an entire year had passed and I resorted to stuffing my bra with toilet paper, I knew something was up.

A lot of the other girls in class seemed fully developed and I felt like nothing had changed for me. I’d overhear them talking about how annoying bras were while my bra was really just for show, a placeholder for what could be. I couldn’t understand how I had started puberty earlier than most of my classmates and was now the hare losing the race. The body I dreamed of was just that— a dream.

My teen years weren’t any better. The taller I got the more my weight evened out around my body. Being tall plus having a fast metabolism equaled out to be for one very skinny me. I was embarrassed. How in the world was I still looking like a little girl when I was supposed to be blooming into womanhood? I was pissed off and I was jealous, jealous of every girl that didn’t have my struggle.

I would see other females and pick out the parts of their bodies that I liked and imagined how I’d look with them. I was creating a Dena-Stein monster in my head. Even at seventeen I was sure that I’d still have a chance of looking like everyone else. But puberty was done. My body had missed the train to Voluptuous Vile and I was stuck in a body I did not want.

I was able to give myself some reassurance that my body wasn’t all bad. I had a thing for how I looked in lingerie and by gully I bought so many pairs of matching sexy underwear that I own less actual articles of clothing. But I didn’t care. You could’ve told me to wear bikinis everywhere I went and I would’ve gladly done it. My past boyfriends always complimented me on my pretty underwear and it felt amazing. Really, I should have known it wasn’t the underwear they were excited about.

I was searching for any reason to simply like my body. I was tall and thin and though I started getting praise for it by older women and mothers who just couldn’t lose their baby weight, I hated my body. I didn’t want it. I wanted the body I was so sure I would get once puberty hit. I didn’t get that and I resented every bit of the body I felt I was punished with. I was desperate to feel proud of it but I couldn’t help but loathe it.

I was like a spoiled child not getting what they wanted from the store when there was no promise of getting anything to begin with. I’d throw tantrums in the bathroom when the jeans I had just bought didn’t fit right or my bra didn’t quite hug my barely there girls. As dramatic as I acted, no one truly knew how I felt about my body and I tried really hard not to roll my eyes at comments like, “You’re so lucky! You can eat whatever you want and not gain a pound.” I didn’t feel lucky, I felt plagued.

The grass wasn’t green on my side, in fact it was brown! Sure, I got into a relationship with a guy that loved all of me but he was over 300 lbs and hated his own body. We were an insecure mess but I loved him just as he was and he loved me the same. It’s a strange thing to come across someone the complete opposite as you but they have the same body image crisis. It’s like the universe brought us together to learn from each other or as a joke.

About three years after we got together, I became pregnant with our daughter. After feelings of fright and excitement came thoughts of my perfect body. “All pregnant people gained a ton of weight”, I thought. Finally, I was going to gain weight! I was actually looking forward to that. Imagine my surprise when I found out that’s not how pregnancy worked and even with a bun in the oven, every body is not created equally.

Normally, I weighed 141 pounds the highest my weight got, while pregnant, was 156 pounds. The crazy thing is, I gained 15 pounds but my pants were falling off of me and shirts that were tight around my arms were now loose fitted. No doubt about it, I was upset. The one sure way for me to get child bearing hips didn’t work! My body had the audacity to betray me?! I felt defeated.

After my nine month pity party, labor and delivery went easy enough. It’s funny how at no point during my thirteen hour ordeal did I think about how my body looked. Not when the EMTs wheeled me into the hospital and told me how “lucky” I was to look four months pregnant instead of 39 weeks. Nor was I thinking about my physical appearance when my stomach felt like it was getting ripped apart or when I was in my birthday suit with strangers huddled around me screaming “PUSH.” Oh, no. I just hoped that my body wouldn’t fail me— that it would dig strength from the depths of my soul to help me bring my baby into the world.

As I laid with a tiny person on my chest, I couldn’t help but look at my sagging stomach with no regrets. And when a TV commercial came on for wounded soldiers and then for breast cancer survivors, I couldn’t help but weep. I was holding a life that the body I rejected created. How could I have been so ungrateful? I hadn’t gone through war that left me disabled or gone through a life threatening disease but somehow I had less of an appreciation for my body than the people who did. They were happy that their bodies survived— that they survived. Their bodies mustered up the strength to keep going. I cried and I cried.

When you look at life through insecure glasses, you tend to find every pathetic flaw within yourself. You build this idea that first and foremost you must be good enough for everyone else. You create the assumption that somehow what others think of you is more important than what you think of yourself. From an early age, lies about who I was suppose to be trickled into my mind and created a flood of unnecessary and preventable insecurities. Even on the days that I felt beautiful, I worried about whether or not others would think the same thing.

It took giving birth and being in such an open and exposed state for me to fall so madly in love with every part of me. It didn’t come from a family member, or friend, or even from a significant other. It came from the very body that was no good to me for years. There’s a certain kind of freedom that comes from being released mentally from something that weighed you done all your life. My body impressed me more in those thirteen hours than it did for twenty four years.

I’m not saying that if I woke up with junk in the trunk I wouldn’t be excited. What I am saying is that I love the body I have for what it is now. However it changes, I’ll love it then, too. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to tweak your body here and there: Get some abs, tone up, get a bigger butt(wink wink). I’ve just learned that I have to want it for myself and make sure it’s not some idea someone else tried shoving down my throat because they think God created me jacked up.

I’m unapologetically showing off my thin frame with pride, with the knowledge that it kicks ass. Yes, I am “lucky” to have my body but not because I’m skinny. I’m lucky because it hasn’t failed me— because after all those years of completely hating what I considered a corpse, I realized how valuable it is. I look back now and pity myself. I spent so much of my life incredibly insecure for no reason.

Now, I go out of my way to tell women how beautiful they are. It doesn’t matter if I know them or not. I struggled in silence pretending to have all the confidence in the world and if I had genuine compliments instead of sugar coated insults, growing up would have been a lot easier. The truth is, there’s no such thing as the perfect body. As cheesy as it may sound, we are different and that should be celebrated not judged. Heck, if you’re the only one celebrating your body that’s really all that matters. I learned that what I think of myself is far more important than what others think of me. Others might come to that conclusion in some other way but as long as they do, it’s a major win!

Lost in the choas

Uncategorized

I don’t always feel like a complete failure but when I do, the voices in my head chanting my defeat are deafening. A crippling sense of  utter disaster overtakes me. For a moment I feel suspended in time, then as my heart begins to race, I’m thrusted into a fast paced world of terror.

What does that all mean? It means that you are not alone. Yes, YOU! You know you’ve been there. We all go through times in our lives that leave us breathless for all the wrong reasons. It’s okay to feel claustrophobic out in the open. Some cages can’t be seen.

Society today is unapologetically unaware of all the pressures individuals like me face. Or they blatantly don’t care. Parents, minorities, adults and children in school, people who are told they are way too skinny or way too fat— the list goes on and on, these are societies redheaded step children. Everyday people  deal with seemingly normal problems that they supposedly should be able to fix on their own.

But heres the thing, being on their own is the problem. Mothers can’t express how much they suffer while trying to raise a child without being judged. School kids face pressure from their parents, peers, and social media to be perfect. With no where to turn, many struggle in silence.

You hear it all the time, “It could be worse.” “Someone else has it worse.” That doesn’t make another person’s situation any less of a difficulty. And since when are we in the business of comparing hardships?

I can admit that there’s been moments where I wanted to fade away into the shadows because coming to the realization that my life was a mess, was too hard. Have you ever felt that way? Even your dreams seem comical and unattainable. You have this feeling of not being good enough, so everything that comes from your head seems like a wasteful fantasy.

Time…time is all we need to recenter ourselves, to get our life back on track. A moment of clarity and some positive affirmations to bring our confidence back. Truth is, support is not always easy to come by and at times you’ll have to pull yourself up by the bootstraps and it’s going to be hard!

I found myself watching the social media craziness between James Charles and others. The way he spoke, made it seem like the events that transpired gave him thoughts of ending his life. I don’t know him nor did I ever watch his videos before but what he said hurt. It pains me when anyone so overcome by grief thinks not living is a proper solution to their problems.

This great big world can feel so empty and cold. It doesn’t matter if you’re famous or a regular joe. Struggle is guaranteed. I had to learn this the hard way.

If you read my last post and are now reading this one, you might be wondering what the heck is happening to me. Well, reflection happened. I’m a mess but I’ve stumbled upon others who also frequent Hot Mess Avenue and I found it only right to express my thoughts for the sake of helping someone else.

You are awesome!  You can do it! You, my friend, are not alone in this. Everyone goes through some sort of battle and yours is not to be minimized. When doubt fills your head, remember that you have the power to overcome anything. You are STRONG! Hurt doesn’t make you less of a bad ass. Remember all the times you made it through a difficult situation and know you’ll get through anything that comes your way!

 

As always ((HUGGS & LOVE))

The reality of my life as a single mother.

Uncategorized

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!

Uncategorized
IMG_8511

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))

IMG_8845

One week after the first picture! 🤗❤️

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

Uncategorized

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))