Today I took my son’s favorite Christmas toy to the park. His happiness is palpable.
He actually said “mommy this was the best Christmas ever! I got so many cool toys but I was naughty some days. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten so many” and I told him that what matters is that he was nice most of the days and that nobody is perfect 100% of the time. He then replied “I love my gifts! but my favorite thing is that you are not going to work (I am off Till the 2nd) and we are playing Every day! That’s my favorite about this Christmas!”
Every child loves toys. But they love affection and attention way more. That helicopter would have meant nothing to him if I wasn’t there playing it with him and cheering him on.
I know a lot of feminists these days are anti children. I have felt the discrimination more than once. Having a child is a choice. I made my choice and I don’t regret it. And it doesn’t make me any less of a feminist. In fact I think it makes me an even stronger one. I like to think of my son as my progressive contribution to the world. And to be honest if I had the means financially I would have at least 3 more. God knows the deplorables are doing their part in overpowering the good people in his country.
And let me tell you that these little beings are the most innocent beings alive. They are filled with love and they see the world with so much purity it hurts because deep inside you know one day their pure soul will get crushed by this shitty world of ours.
Children are the future. They are ones capable of changing this country, and our world for the best. And there is nothing, I repeat, there is NOTHING more fulfilling than raising our country’s future.
But this “fulfilling” feelings comes with a huge price tag. And you work and you work and it never seems enough.
Most of you know that I work a shit ton to support kaio which means he is at pre school from 7am Till 6pm every day. It means the poor kid has to be up at 5:30 every day. It means We don’t get much time together. It also means I don’t get much time for myself outside of work and motherhood.
It’s hard. Because unless you are very privileged, life is hard period.
But 2017 was more than just your regular hard. This year broke me. It whooped my ass both financially and emotionally. It matured me. It humbled me. It fuxking exhausted me. But it also made me smarter and wiser. It showed me snakes and Shitty people are everywhere. Friends is just a title and family is more than blood and both means nothing if the love and loyalty is not there.
2017 taught me to be a better parent regardless of others think of me. It taught me to fight fiercely for my son. It taught me to have more patience with both Kaio and myself. And it was also extremely exciting because I got to travel to the beautiful state of Alaska and ended up going on a solo trip to Singapore, Indonesia and Thailand.
So basically 2017 was the best and worst of my entire life. Hoping for a calmer 2018.
May y’all look at my son’s smile and remind yourselves that the future is still bright and pure. Let’s not fuck it up. You have kids in your life? Either your own, or nieces and nephews? BE KIND TO THEIR SOUL. it’s easier to build up a child than it is to repair an adult. If you want a the next decades being governed by kind and SANE people, Handle them ALL with care. We don’t want them turning into Paul Ryan’s and Donald Trumps.
Here is a little story about irony and karma (if you believe in it).
I was at this custody hearing lately (of a friend of course) where the absent father told the judge (in writing and in person) that the mother was crazy and a psycho and that he (the father) wanted custody of his son (which he hadn’t seen in 4 years) and he wanted the cray cray mother to go to therapy and report back to him (the excellent mentally stable father).
The judge instead, after hearing both the mother and the obsessive hate filled rant from the father, grants the cray mother (my friend) sole legal and sole physical custody of the child and forces the FATHER to see a psychiatrist 3 times a month for an undetermined amount of time until the psychiatrist clears him to be in the SAME ROOM as his son.
You simply can not make this shit up. It’s beyond Hollywood’s wildest plot twists.
Moral of the story: Irony is not dead. Life is a mirror and what you project in others is just a reflection of what you see in yourself. What you wish for others, you get back to yourself.
Dear son, you will never be like him.
No matter how many people assume otherwise, you will never grow up to be him.
I know that you’re looking to see yourself in me.
But in truth, I am sorry that you are so much like me.
I’m sorry that I gave you a heart stronger than a thousand warriors, because it will take you years to learn that not everyone loves like you do. It’s a hard lesson, and its scars gleam from you never giving up on what you truly desire.
There are moments that I look at you in this beautiful world and see you mesmerized by the simple brilliance of life unfolding. In these moments, my heart splits open a little bit wider for you.
I see your innocence and desire to help others, and I wonder when it will be that you first feel the sting of being used. I wonder if your faith will be tested in the world or if you will hold onto to your morals against those who have blurred the lines of theirs.
I’m sorry that you see only the good in everyone.
Childhood is about seeing everything with wonder. You look around, and there is no evil, no danger lurking around hidden corners. It’s inconceivable that the greatest pains you will ever encounter will be at the hands of those you love the most.
I wish that I could instill all of my lessons into your warm heart, but I know that you need to learn on your own. I can spend days with you in the sunshine telling you life’s truths, but in the end my experiences won’t necessarily become yours.
I’m sorry that you feel everything as deeply as you do. It’s both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply.
There are caverns inside of your soul that ache to feel everything that this life has to offer. I can see the way that you feel compassion for strangers, and how you sometimes just stop to look at me as if I hung the stars in the sky. I can see the way that you are brimming with the ability to feel the world around you and with it, all of the heartache and passion it can offer.
You might have moments where you wish that this wasn’t so, and while I’m sorry that I have given this quality to you, in time I hope you see that it is truly a gift, not a burden.
Many parents delight when their children exhibit the same qualities that they have, but in my heart I secretly send you a thousand sweet apologies, because even though one day I know you’ll gain strength from these attributes, I also know that the pain they can inflict could tear you in two.
And so, while I am sorry that you are so much like me, I also couldn’t be more proud of you.
I see the way that you forgive everyone around you with such a delicate tenacity, and how you already have learned to stick up for yourself and your needs. I see the way that you’re already so much smarter than I was, so much better equipped to handle the ways of the world, and in those instances, I know that there is no doubt you will one day learn how to use your wings.
While I may not be perfect, I am precisely the mother you need.
I may have given you my giant heart and sensitive soul, but I am giving you my strength too, so that even on the darkest nights, you will know you can get through anything life may toss your way. And I will always be there, too.
You are a little warrior.
I know that you have heartbreak ahead of you, but I also know that you will change the world simply by loving how you do. You have a gift of lighting up the room just by being yourself; my only hope is that you won’t let any encounter change that.
As you grow older, the world will begin to tell you that magic doesn’t exist, and while I know that you may have your faith tested, I hope that you continue to wish on falling stars and believe in all that is unseen in this world.
I’m sorry that you are so much like me, but only because I know how hard this world will try to change you and at times break you.
So, while one day you may strive to show how different you are from me, there is no doubt—nor has there ever been—that you, my sweet warrior boy, are my son.
You are not him. You will never be him. You are me.
I know its hard to see our lives and actions through the lens of those around us but please try.
For the last 2 years I have seen you search for love in the arms of every stranger you ever felt infactuated with.
As a friend, and as someone who has experienced heaven and hell with you, I have seen them come and go and I have watched from afar you try so desperately to find the loyal love we are both looking for.
And it hurts.
Because I see myself in you.
I see the same mistakes. The same hope. The same pains. We are like a mirror reflecting back to each other the exact things we need to change.
I don’t know what that means. But I am pretty sure it means something.
I have seen each and every woman you have picked, each and every woman you have developed feelings for and each and every woman you have dumped for one reason or another and the pattern is clear: You my friend, just like me, are addicted to love.
Remember that insecure teenage boy who used to be rejected?
You need to let that boy go.
And with him, his adolescent desire for approval and acceptance. You are not him anymore. You have grown past him. You have reached what you still hope to prove. And you don’t need a woman or love to validate that.
As I stood in the waiting line, I have watched your struggles in this crazy world of dating. I have hurt with you, trust me. With every break up, I have felt your pain. With every rejection I felt my ego crush alongside yours. When X wouldn’t kiss you, I felt the sting. When 21 year old Y wasn’t ready to be committed to 37 year old you, I felt the sting. When every single girl you dated somehow didn’t turn out to be what you expected, I felt the disappointment with you. Sometimes from far, sometimes from very close, playing with your hair while you slept.
I didn’t want it to be like that. Every time you decided we need it to “call it quits” because you had met someone else, I rooted for it to work. The selfish part of me that wanted you all for myself, that wanted you to wake up one day and see in me what you are looking for, was never as strong as the part of me that wanted to see you happy.
So with every good bye, I sent you off to them with the hopes that they would put a smile in your face, even though deep inside I knew they wouldn’t.
I don’t know why it doesn’t hurt to let you go. Ive asked myself this question many times. The few times I have experienced love in my life, it has always been possessive, turbulent and selfish. The thought of the man I loved with someone else would crush me and send me into a spiral of self destruction. But with you is different. With every goodbye and with every new woman, I feel peace. I feel hope that at least one of us would finally find the love and family we are both so desperately looking for.
Maybe I am not that into you. Or maybe, for the first time in my life, I am experiencing real love. The selfless type of love that the bible and romantic authors write about. The type of love that makes us put the happiness of the one we love above our own. I don’t know. But I do know that I am always rooting for your happiness, even if its not with me.
This is why I always come back around. This is why I never truly let you go. This is why I still hold on.
You my friend, deserve the best. And I hope one day you can see what I see.
Until then, may every love be real and heartbreaks be few.
Perhaps we need to be broken first before we can finally become whole.
Painful love is the worst kind of heartbreak. It’s the one we had such high hopes for, the one we gambled everything for—only to find it was a bet that would never be won.
So we break into a million small pieces of ourselves and wonder how we could have gotten it so wrong.
We make mistakes in love.
We choose people based on the lessons that our souls need to learn without realizing that it’s usually those difficult lessons we need to experience the most.
We can’t be changed by ease and we can’t have our minds broken open by the mundane—instead it can only happen when we are left with nothing but ourselves and our regrets.
Maybe there is no such thing as a mistake if we indeed needed it to learn more about who we are and how we love, but still there are those loves we wish we could rewind and just take back. The ones whose endings were too painful for us to want to permanently claim as part of our history.
The thing is, we need that big mistake to help propel us toward our ultimate life.
We need to be broken in order to find out how we want to put ourselves back together.
Often times the biggest mistake of our lives is a relationship that we should have walked away from the minute it began—or at the very least should have let go of long before we actually did, and way before it all went downhill.
But we didn’t, and it’s not because that love was meant to be, but because without it we might never have realized the life we were truly meant to live.
We always have the choice to stay in a relationship that is a constant battle of wills and ideals. Yet, no matter how many times we hope it will end differently, or just maybe work this time around—it never does.
This is because it’s not meant to.
Our mistake is meant to end, usually bitterly, and often catastrophically. Its purpose is to rock us to our core and challenge our very self and our beliefs about love.
We are meant to question what went wrong, and to wonder what love really means to us. This isn’t an overnight process , but one that we need to take the time to immerse ourselves in until we no longer hide from the truth that our hearts whisper.
It’s a state of healing that lets us know that we can send someone our love, but we can also walk away with our heads high and our faith strong knowing that we haven’t messed up the best thing we ever had.
Because the best version of our life is out there waiting for us and when we meet there will be no question about why we needed to have our hearts broken in the way we did.
Because all along they were only leading us to this—a life that was created just for us, and somehow through the meandering paths that life takes, ended up not being perfect, but still being perfect for us.
The life we are waiting for only comes when we are ready for it. When we have broken apart who we thought we should be and instead embraced who we are. The things and people that will make up this life only appears when we have gained the ability to believe that we deserve what we want.
We will allow ourselves to gaze past the superficial and instead appreciate the energy that these people and things bring into our lives, reveling in the new-found depths of connection that we are experiencing.
The life we are meant to live won’t look or feel like anything we’ve ever experienced. The friends and love affairs we are supposed to experience might come softly, or it might even enter as a wrecking ball. It might be a city you never thought about moving to, a kid you never thought you wanted, or a partner that is the opposite of what you imagined and friends you would have never met if it wasnt for your mistake. But, it will all come together and present you with a life that is beyond what we ever imagined.
And that’s the thing about life—it may not end up being how we thought it was, and it may still not come without challenges, but somehow its still better.
Because finally we realize that our “great mistake” was really a north star all along, leading us to the life we are meant to live, with the people we are meant to have around.
“Sometimes the bad things that happen in our lives put us directly on the path to the best things that will ever happen to us.” ~ curiano.com
*This piece is for my dear friends Carrie Hill and Jason J Hill and all the other amazing people I met because of my Big Mistake.*
Friday I got a call from an ex I haven’t seen in years. Someone I was I love with for a long time. He was in town and wanted to see me. I was hesitant at first but I followed my intuition and decided to accept his invitation.
It was weird. It was uncomfortable. It challenged everything I thought I knew at this point. It forced me to look inside.
Throughout the dinner he repeatedly told me I looked differenty and Talked differently. But I couldn’t really understand what he meant. It wasn’t until I got back home that it got me thinking.
When changes happen in our lives we can’t really see it. It’s not sudden. Changes happen slowly and almost unnoticeably. As we get caught up in life’s responsibilities and tasks we might forget to notice how substantially our lives are changing. It wasn’t until Mr. Ex mentioned how much I had changed that I started to notice it.
When I got back home I went to look back at old pictures of us and I didn’t even recognize myself. No lines in my face. A lighter smile of someone who didn’t have all the responsibilities of parenthood but a sad smile of someone who was lost and didn’t know who she was.
I was so miserable and I didn’t even know. I was trapped inside my own body with a bright mind I didn’t know how to use.
I was angry at everything and everyone.
I was a rebel without a cause.
A fighter without a reason.
I wanted to change the world but didn’t even know how to change myself.
I wanted to control everyone and everything just so I could feel safer but reality is I couldn’t even control myself.
As months turned into years. As parenthood arrived and along with it so did single motherhood, I learned that I have learned. I have grown. I have evolved. I have become someone I wouldn’t have recognized 5 years ago.
As cliche as it may sound, some lessons can not be taught. They must be learned through experience.
Maturity can’t be forced or rushed. And it has absolutely nothing to do with age.
Going out with my ex made me realize how much I have been underestimating myself.
People change. I’ve changed. Life teaches us to change. With each passing year we learn something new. The irony of life is that as older and wise we get the less likely we are to share those lessons.
So here I am sharing with those who are lost the knowledge that one day everything will in fact be okay.
With times things will fall into place even though there will always be people who want to keep you chained to your past and your mistakes.
I am a mother, a writer, a project manager, an entrepreneur, and a future law student but yet there are people who still hold me to my 24 year old crazy self. To them I will always be the crazy girl.
Break yourself free. You don’t live in your past anymore.
Forgive yourself even if others don’t forgive you. This is what struggle and adulthood has taught me.
You will know you’ve reached personal peace when things start to become so simple it’s scary. We then start to let of some needs, we reduce our baggage.
We begin to understand that people ‘s opinions are exactly just that; theirs. And even if it’s about you it’s irrelevant.
We start to give up our certainties because are really not sure of anything anymore. We stop judging because there is no longer a right or wrong, just the life each person chose to experience. We just understand that what really matters is peace of mind, is living without fear and doing things that makes us happy at each specific moment, even if we don’t get it right.
I got the best one out of all. He is an old soul coupled with sarcastic witty personality.
A caring little dude.
A mini activist who likes to run around the house singing “love Trumps hate!” and “if he builds a wall I tear it down!”.
Yes, I taught him those things, but he still chooses to learn and carry it every day which is rare for 3 year olds who are usually obsessed with super heroes instead.
He is my super hero.
He is confident and he doesn’t let others bully him. When I took him back to school wearing a pony tail, the older kids started making fun of him that he looked like a girl the moment we walked in. He then quickly responded “So? I like girls. Girls are cool. Right mom?”
He is a feminist.
He is strong. Although he doesn’t have a “dad” he doesn’t care. He knows how to tie a knot, ride a skateboard and even throw a punch. He acts every day like his life is perfectly complete. Most of the time I am the one hurting for what he doesn’t have. He simply lives and does so with a continuous smile on his face. Sometimes I even wonder what it must feel like to be so happy all the time.
He is so happy.
He is loving too. I wake up with kisses almost every day. There are constant “I love you’s” throughout the day for no specific reason. Just because he has that much love to give.
But don’t be fooled. He is far from perfect.
He is stubborn and he has the worst potty mouth a toddler can have.
Like every other human being he is flawed, but he knows it. And that’s what makes him so great in my eyes.
After a bad tantrum or a bad word spoken, there is always an “I am sorry mommy. That was bad of me. I will try not to do it again ok?”
“I will try” is my favorite part of his apology. Because damn don’t we all know that trying to change is all we can really do?
This is Kaio. I made him. I care for him every day. And I am damn proud of it.
Today is not my day. Today is his day.
It’s the day I celebrate everything he teaches me and remind myself how lucky I am to have been the portal that brought him from some unknown dimension into this world.
I am just the messenger.
He is the message.
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