Category Archives: relationship

SOMETIMES ALL WE NEED TO SEE IS A NUMBER

Cortesy of Salary.com

Cortesy of Salary.com

The following post is not of my authorship; nevertheless, it is WORTH reading and sharing.
As a stay at home mom, I struggle with crazy feelings of being unworthy and even a burden instead of a partner. A lot of these feelings are attached to the fact that I don’t bring home a paycheck to contribute to the household expenses.
At times these feelings have landed me on the couch at my therapist office, and other times I have had the clarity of mind to just snap out of it and really see the truth. As much as I know how important my role as a stay at home mom is, sometimes I need to just hear it or read it from someone else.
That’s why I want to share this article with all of you. I really hope it brings perspective to every stay at home mom and to every husband of one, because sometimes all we need to see is a number.
CHEERS!

Stay at Home Moms: Stop Feeling Like You Have no Say in Your Family Finances

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As Ugly as Shrek

Real Beauty
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder”, we’ve heard this many times and most of those times we use it to defend what we think is beautiful but doesn’t conform to the popular definition of beauty. I think I’m attractive, more so when I have make up on and hair is perfectly placed. People tell me I’m beautiful and sometimes I believe it, but there are times that I feel as ugly as Shrek.
You see? I’m my worst critic and if you ask me what’s wrong with me I can give you a list of things and body parts. My nose is too wide, my hands are too big, my butt is not firm enough, my hips are wiggling their way to Sunday and on and on and on. Why is it so hard for me to see what others see? It is so much easier to find beauty in someone else but myself and often forget that real beauty is the one inside.
I want my 9 year old gorgeous daughter to know how beautiful she is. I want her to be happy with all her body parts, big or small. I want her to understand that the real beauty lies within, that a giving heart and a grateful spirit surpass the illusion we define as beautiful. And I want my 11 year old son to value the real beauty in his future wife and friendships. I want him to crave it and treasure it.
I want my kids to find and conserve their real beauty because once they do, they’ll be able to see it in others too.

I am beautiful so cheers to that ūüėČ

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They Are Looking

photo (3)Today, as I drawn myself in the vast sea of images and news reports about the event that took place in Boston, I can’t help but feel overwhelmed and confused. Yes, I know that as Americans and as a country that has overcome and risen stronger from numerous tragedies, we are a resilient nation and know how to come together in moments like this. However, I can’t help but feel a very settle wind of fear and uncertainty specially when thinking about my children’s perspective of all this.
This morning while my son was getting ready for school, he turned on the news in my room. As I heard the tv I ran from the kitchen to my room to turn the tv off because I didn’t want him to have those images in his head specially before going to school. When I got to my room and told him why I didn’t want him watching too much of the news, he looked at me and with a very mature stare (which is really unbelievable the fact that I’m using the word mature when referring to my son) and told me, “Oh Mami, don’t worry. You want to know something? The thing I’ve noticed the most as I watch the news is how people put themselves at risk to help others. I noticed one guy who was bleeding but instead of running away he took off his shirt and wrapped it around another person who was also bleeding. That was nice of him. ” Little did that person know that an 11 year old boy would take notice of that small yet impactful act of kindness. Today my son is a better person because someone decided to put his neighbor first. Our kids are taking notice of the smallest things we most of the time overlook. We should always put others first because that’s the right way to live and love, but if that’s not enough, we should do it because they are looking.

Til next time,
Cynthia

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They Know, Trust Me.

The Ones that drive me crazy but I love them more than life

The Ones that drive me crazy but I love them more than life

As you know by now, I have been blessed with two kids. I have a hormonally flatulent 9 year old beautiful daughter and an imperfection intolerant handsome 10 (soon to be 11) year old son. They are very close in age, seventeen months apart to be exact. I know what you’re thinking “who does that?”, well it was not the plan but I’m glad it worked out the way it did.
Deep inside of me, really deep, I believe my kids love each other. I would like to think the endless arguing that lives in the car, dinner table and everywhere they coexist, is just a front. I don’t think they want to show us the love they feel for each other. Yeah right!
From the moment they wake up to the moment they go to sleep, they are arguing. It’s the worst thing to experience. It’s a situation that is driving me to unthinkable measures. There are moments when I really think I can end up in a mental institution, or at least they think that because of how I react to their arguing.
I’ve tried everything. I’ve tried “the hippie mom method”, you know, whispering voice, smiling and letting them be the natural beings that they are. Peace and love and heck!…it doesn’t work. They get me out of Zen two seconds in.
I’ve tried “the iron mom method”, this one is where you ignore them no matter what’s going on. Nothing makes you flinch. You are as cool as ice. You see no evil, you hear no evil. Couldn’t do it. How can I ignore the fact that they are hitting each other, one can easily make the other bleed and then I would have to clean up the mess.
I’ve tried “The drama queen method” where I just scream in a very dramatic way, in the middle of them arguing: “Oh No, what did I ever do to deserve this pain. My children don’t love each other. There is nothing more painful for a parent than to see her kids fight and argue. Guys please stop this because I don’t think my heart can take it.” Couldn’t keep it up for too long. They know that before they kill me, I’ll…they know, trust me.
I’m currently using “The crazy, lunatic, mentally unstable mom method”. Say we are in the car and they start their annoyance, I wait and wait and wait and then all of a sudden I scream OMG!!!!!! STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!! Sometimes I stop the car and tell them to get out (not that I would let them, but…). Sometimes I just scream one of their names in the same manner and that’s been getting their attention. They get a little nervous because they know, oh they know, trust me. They know their old school, raised in the islands, Dominican mama is crazy and she will always get her way. So until this method fails I will continue and then it will be on to the next one. But until then, lord have Mercy on THEIR souls, CHEERS!

Til next time,
Cynthia

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Ciao Bella!

20121211-171119.jpgThis morning I got out of bed and sleep walked to my espresso maker as I do every morning. I pressed the button to turn it on and got no reaction. I unplugged it and plugged it again and got no reaction. At this point I’m waking up because panic is taking over my body. “No, no, no! Come on baby stay with me, stay with me”. But after trying for a few minutes I got a flat line. It had decided to quit on me. Do you all know what this means? Anyway, I managed to make the kids breakfast and take them to school. As I walked into the school campus, I remembered I needed to speak to my son’s teacher. I will refer to him as Mr. You. I went up to him and tried to make eye contact but, those of you that know him know that’s close to impossible. So I went on and started to talk to him just to get interrupted by him and blown off. “Yeah yeah I know…blah blah blah” he says as he walks away from me.

Now, you all remember that my morning had, up to that point, been traumatic enough. My espresso maker is dead and I’m still seeing in black and white. I haven’t had my coffee, right? As he walks away I can feel my heart beating out of my chest and all I want to do is follow his behind and give him a piece of my mind. I mean I got tunnel vision, it was like if hulk was about to appear, but instead, I walked away.
Mr. You is a very interesting being. He has a way of communicating that I still don’t understand and, quite frankly, I don’t care to. I know he is a “good teacher” and all, but man…
It is very difficult to communicate with him and more so for my Dominican self.
So with my tragic loss and communication glitch you can conclude that my morning was indeed a challenging one.
To my espresso machine, I’m sorry I worked you to your max. You and I were really good together. I won’t forget how warmly you greeted me every morning and afternoon- it was like you were saying “Ciao Bella” in a sexy Italian accent, every time. You were very important to me. However, I need to move on. I grieved for an hour or two and now I need to move on to a better you. It’s time for an upgrade. And like Beyonce would say “I’m gonna upgrade ya” ūüėõ
As per Mr. You, well…
I’m sorry you don’t like talking to parents. But guess what Mr. You, I will talk to you anyway. I will walk behind you and continue to talk to you when you walk away from me. I will ask as many times as I need to until I get my answer. I will repeat myself twenty seven million times whenever you pull the “I don’t understand what you’re saying because of your accent” card. You see, God has entrusted me with my son’s life. I’m responsible for raising a man of integrity and honor. My kids are my most precious possession and I would do ANYTHING to ensure their well being. Besides, you should be thanking the heck out of me for making your job a lot easier. I reteach my son everything you “teach” him. The reason your scores are so high is because of parents like me. Parents who care and are involved. Parents who ask and ask and ask questions just like I do. It is for you to endure me, not the other way around.
So for now, ciao Mr. You.
I will now raise a glass to celebrate and welcome my new love who is coming home in about two hours. My new upgrade espresso machine. Cheers!

Til next time

Cynthia

 

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Fragile

Today I found out that my daughter’s friend’s dad passed away last Friday. He was not sick, he was only 43 years old.¬† He was coaching his daughter’s soccer team when he collapsed. ¬†He woke up that day and went on to do everything like he normally did, not¬†knowing it was his last day.

I wonder what would have been done differently had he and his family known it was his last day.¬† Would he had taken an extra minute that morning to actually look at his kids and wish them a good day? Would he had told his wife one more “I love you”? Would he had gone to work and let his co-workers know how much he appreciated them? Would he had let that little comment bother him? Would he had let the person at the stop sign go first? I wonder what would he had done differently had he known.

And, what about those left behind? Would they had told him how appreciated he was?¬† Would they had taken the time to ask him what was bothering him instead of judging him for being grumpy? Would they had just taken one more second to put their arms around his shoulders and say thank you?¬† I don’t know what kind of relationship they had, maybe they did take the time to be present in each other’s lives but, I don’t really know.
All I know is, I go day to day sweating the small stuff and sometimes forgetting  what is really important.  The reality is, life is like a flower, in the morning it blooms and by the time evening comes, after the sun hits it and winds blow at it, is dead. Life is so fragile. I must prepare to live a hundred years but I will live today like is my last.

Til next time

Cynthia

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“Let Me Guess, A Lazy Day For You Mami?”

“Mami, what’s for dinner?” ¬†The very first question I get asked every day when I pick up my kids from school. ¬†Sometimes my respose is well received, becuase the menu sounds appealing and to their liking, but other days, like yesterday, my respons,e is not welcomed and it paints a frawn on their faces. “Today we are having leftovers for dinner” “leftovers!, why? Let me guess, a lazy day today for you mammy?” – Did this creature just say that?. ¬†Is this child out of her mind? Is she aware of ¬†the fact that comments like that can be dangerous and sometimes even fatal? Lazy day!? ¬†Of course all these thoughts are crossing through my mind in a matters of milliseconds and all I can actually articulate is “no little girl, it’s been a really busy day for me and last night I cooked enough food for two days, it won’t kill you if you eat the same thing again tonight”.

So many times I do things expecting my kids, husband or ¬†people in general – did I mention¬†my husband?- to interpret the real motive. Most times, I don’t get the reaction¬†I hope for¬†and that leaves me feeling unappreciated and frustrated.¬† But the reality is they don’t know any better.¬† For my lovely 9 year old little human, placed in my life to teach me lessons, my serving leftovers for dinner meant a lazy day for mami. In reality, however, it was the total opposite. ¬†Oh, the complexities of communication. I’m not only a victim in this, I’m also guilty of doing the same, specially to my husband. How many times has he done something meaning a completely different thing than what I think or strongly believe he meant.¬† It’s crazy if you really think about it. ¬†As I write, I realize that what I need to do is clearly say what I mean and be understanding when I’m on the other side. If I’m the one relating the message, say it clearly and if I’m the one receiving the message be open minded and understand that when he asks me if I put¬†pepper in the¬†chicken he is not saying the chicken is under seasoned he is probably saying he likes the way I seasoned it today.¬†The issue is not always how he says it, it’s how I hear it and a lot of times is how I don’t say it. This whole communication thing is kind of tricky but I’ll get it some day.¬†¬†Now, how do I say this?..oh, CHEERS ūüôā

til next time,

Cynthia

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