Dying to Be Someone Else

It wasn’t until yesterday that I realized how much I have changed as a person. I guess this time of not working, relying solely on God, and trusting that each day will bring about a miracle, an opportunity, or some kind of blessing has molded me into this being I never envisioned. So pliable, malleable I’ve become. Does that scare me? Yes, I have never liked being vulnerable, but my life over the last 15 months has set a fire under me, quenching some of the self-sufficiency and pride I held so closely and dear. At all cost, self-preservation…or at least the preservation of my immediate family with no help was my goal. My motto was “We can handle it on our own.”

Apparently, with that thought process, I evicted God of His rightful place as the center of our home and decided that I could pretty much handle our ‘plane’ solo, and He could be our co-pilot when we got too high in the air, because of course I’m scared of heights. However, being that He knows me so intimately well, our plane, directed by my pride was headed higher and higher into the blue skies. The brakes were no longer functioning, and I thought our ‘plane’ was definitely going to crash. Before we inevitably hit the ocean beneath us, I cried out, admitting I was not fully equipped to steer our plane, and because of me, we were headed for oblivion. Mid-flight, I took off my seat belt and handed the controls to Him Who had never let go but allowed me to steer, like a driving teacher with a second set of brakes.

We’ve seen much and we’ve seen little. Being that we love being a blessing in any magnitude, though our funds be low, we decided our truck would be available if and when family or friends need it. Funnily, in return, God has blessed us beyond our comprehension, proving to us just how important simple child-like faith is to him.

Take for example, Tuesday, a friend needed our truck to get somewhere to pick up a heavy item. Funnily, my husband and I had prayed that somehow, someway we would like to be a blessing to someone, despite the fact that we were out of gas in both vehicles and would be extremely low on of funds for the next two days. This request was realized in the form of this friend’s need. We figured my husband should go with her, so she wouldn’t see our near-empty tank and pity us. As the good Lord will have it though, on their way back, she blessed us with a full tank of gas, which meant I would not have to cancel an evening appointment, and we could keep from using our credit card to get him to work the next two nights. No one will ever understand how thrilled and grateful we were.

Friends, the last year and a half has been rocky. Those who know me know finances are the greatest cause of worry for me. I can trust God for so many things, but when it comes to financial security, or the lack of it, I am like a mad woman staying up late and waking up early devising new plans to cut costs, etc. That’s why yesterday was one of the biggest tests for me.

I went to Sam’s Club, in a hurry, and in need of a few essentials. In my haste, I did not realize I was not charged for an item. Upon arriving home, I was puzzled at how low my bill had come to and decided to exam it a bit closer, only to find I had not been charged for a 6lb bag of chicken. My first reaction was to say, “Thank You, Jesus, You’ve provided once again!” However, as it came out of my mouth, I felt a funny feeling I could not explain, and felt the urge to call Sam’s Club and explain what had occurred.

The puzzled woman on the other line was baffled, not knowing what to make of what I was saying and said, “Uhh…I guess next time you come in, you can pay for it.”

I relayed the occurrence to my husband when he woke up, and he said how interesting that the error wasn’t caught by the gentleman at the door who checked me off as having paid for all my items. I asked my husband if it was sufficient that I called, but we both agreed that it would be best to go back the next day, since I had forgotten to buy an item anyway. I sighed but agreed with this.

This morning, I walked in and I felt an impression to ensure that I went to a specific cashier when paying. “Weird”, I thought, “but ok.” I got my bag of rice and made small talk to the lady behind me about her bag of edamame. When it was my turn, I explained my need to pay for a bag of chicken I was not charged for the evening before. The cashier replied, “And you want to pay for it today?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Umm…hold on…I need a manager.”

Manager: “Ma’am…so you weren’t charged yesterday, but you’d like to pay for it today?”

Me: “Yes, would that be a problem?”

Manager: “Umm…no, no…I just am not sure how uhh…”

Me: “I’ll go get a bag of the same kind of chicken I got yesterday, to make it easier to ring me up.”

Both (looking very puzzled): “Okay”

As I paid, the cashier applauded me, stating that “you are one of those few people still out there. Thank you.”

My first inclination was to share how I’d been laid off a year ago and how much saving that money would have meant for our family, but I became someone else and simply said, “I thought God had blessed our family with free chicken at first but realized God wouldn’t bless us with stolen goods…even though this wasn’t necessarily stealing.”

She smiled and said, “You know, this act has to count for something. Thank you. I appreciate this.” She grabbed the bag of chicken, walked over to the manager and another co-worker who had overheard the incident, and they all just stood there in awe of this strange lady and smiled, waving to my children and I and thanking me as we left.

About a year ago, I would probably have decided not to say anything and praise Jesus, or see the incidence as a reason why more competent employees should be hired for certain jobs. However, today, I’m dying to be someone else…the woman who has declined the steering wheel of her family’s plane, making her husband very happy, and hopefully becoming a better example to her children as they mature and grow in a world full of tough decisions and so many easy-outs. 

Great Expectations?

If there’s one thing that is starting to bother me as a parent, it’s broken promises. Having had two parents who were always there, for track meets, spelling bees, etc., I guess I must have gotten spoiled. I guess my expectations of friends, and family in particular, are what I consider realistic, but others may consider unreasonable or great expectations?

When someone, whether family of friend, tells one of my children they will be somewhere, I expect them to be there. If they are not, I feel the person is disappointing my child. Am I being ridiculous? I don’t believe so. Just as in any other situation, I would prefer someone to say, “I’ll try to be there” and honestly make an effort. Or, “You know what? I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.” Please don’t give my child(ren) false hope. Don’t have them asking for you or looking for you in the audience. That’s not fair to them, or me, as their mom, who has to explain that so-and-so couldn’t be there because something came up, or he/she “is not feeling good” almost all the time.

I’d rather you late for a ball game you promised you’ll be attending than not show when you’ve told him/her you’ll be there. I think it’s becoming more and more of a pet-peeve of mine recently, being that we’ve been focusing on accountability at church. We have been encouraged to let our “yay” be “yay” and our “nay” be “nay”. It’s better to say you can’t do something or be somewhere and actually end up finding time to do it or be there than say you will and not.

I’ve been doing a lot of growing in my personal and spiritual life of late, and I’m realizing I’ve been at fault for the above as well. It’s amazing how spending more and more time with my children is changing my outlook on a lot of things and helping better understand, to an extent, God as our Father. 

Loving to Fear

When I was single and “enjoying my life”, I had a friend who had recently gotten engaged and was super in love with her fiancé. She talked about him often, their future, how wonderful he was, how they met, the wonderful way things worked out, etc. I was sincerely happy for my friend, but even though I thought I may, I was never jealous.

Don’t get me wrong; it’s not that I wasn’t interested in getting married or I didn’t like the guy. I think it was the fear she began to express that sort of put me off. Initially, it was that she feared something would happen to him prior to them getting married. I was confused by this and asked why this would even be going through her mind. She stated that she had never been so in love in her life, and he was so perfect for her that she feared that she would lose him before she had an opportunity to enjoy this fairy-tale like love.

Then, they got married, and she stated that she seemed to be more fearful than before they got married. She feared that he would go to work and not make it home, or something bad would happen to him, and she would end up alone, without the man that made her so happy. This irked me for a while, and I just figured I’d pray for her, that it would pass.

Less than two years later, I was engaged and married. Sadly enough, I began experiencing similar fears my friend had. The only time I’d ever felt it prior was the day my family saw me off at the airport, when I was leaving Nigeria for the US. I remember hiding my tears from my family, hugging each member tightly, in case I never saw them again. Due to the circumstance, I had convinced myself that could very well be true. I covered my face and cried myself to sleep on that long plane ride.

Now, here I was…happy, loving my life, my husband, but each morning, fearing one of us may not live to see the other at the end of the day. I’d pray fervently each morning, before my husband woke up, that if I could just find some grace in God’s eyes, we could both start and end the day together. With time, I came to the realization that my life, and all that pertained to it, were in His Hands. There was no move either of us would make that He would not have a say in, and His plans for us are always with our best interest in mind.

Then, we had our first child. Oh, the new wave of fear I experienced! A dream of my son being forgotten while at a water park, in the care of a friend, and me finally finding him floating, sun burned very badly and blistering threw me over the edge. From that moment, I would not let anyone drive him, or any of my children anywhere. If it was not me, then it would have to be my husband. I widened the pool to my sister, but that was it, for a while. I would not let anyone, who I could not forgive, if something was to occur, to drive them any where.

Today, I would like to say things have changed, but only slightly so. I realize that sometimes we love so much, care so much, that we forget the fact that God is truly in control. I pray each morning, for every member of my family, but because I’m human, I do have to remind myself daily of His great love for us. I also recall that all experienced was part of what he feared the most. I refuse to be Job and lose all I love because I forgot I’ve been given a spirit of love, power, and a sound mind. Also, “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment…”

I cannot allow myself to love to the point of fear. 

You Parent Your Way, I’ll Parent Mine

In a world laden with self-help books, do-it-yourself guides, etc., it would seem that parenting would be so much easier than it is. Books on raising autistic children, the angry child, the difficult child, and so many more make it seem that as long as each step or piece of advice is followed, parent can be as easy as 1, 2, 3. Well, for those of you who are single, married with no children, or even have children, parenting can sometimes be quite difficult.

I’ve had individuals, parents and non-parents, praise me based on my children’s behavior, and how respectful they are. I’d like to say this makes me feel good about my parenting skills, but it puts quite a bit of pressure on me to ensure that my children continue to see Christ in me and trust that I love them enough to do what I believe is best for them. They spend most of their day with me as their primary caregiver and the main adult they interact with on a daily basis. At such impressionable ages, I have to be conscious about the words I speak, whether to them or others, and I must be cautious about my actions.

Some have scolded me, believing that how interact with each child is different, or may be viewed as unfair. However, once again, in parenting, I have seen Christ’s heart and have a better understanding why He says He is no respecter of person. His approach with each of us is different, knowing the intricate parts of us: our hearts, our emotions, our desires, what makes us tick, our future, and everything that matters to us. The way He scolds me may be different from the way He scolds another brother or sister in Christ. I, for one, am stubborn. It takes almost a slap across the face for me to stop dead in my tracks to make me realize the consequences of my actions. While, a “check” in one’s spirit may be all it takes for another to come to the same realization.  

Each of my children, I’ve noted in a previous blog, are similar but VERY different. The way I handle one child for not listening may not be the same way I discipline the other. However, discipline them, I will, because I firmly believe in what Proverbs 13:24 says:

He who spares the rod hates his son, but he who loves him is careful to discipline him.

I never really understood the reason behind this when growing up; I just thought our parents were mean or old fashioned. How could their forms of discipline really achieve the desired effect: obedience? Somehow, someway though, it worked, and I’m living proof of that. If my parents had not disciplined us the way they did, I would believe I could do anything I wanted anytime I wanted, because lack of discipline would be interpreted as them approving of my behavior, in my mind. And inevitably, I would repeat the actions.

Children crave structure. It’s just a given. No matter how difficult a child is, as a parent strives to implement structure in their lives, behavior will improve, even if only a little. Having worked with children with behavioral health issues for five years, I worked with some pretty messed up children - socially, behaviorally, mentally. Week one would be the most difficult: establishing who is boss, reiterating rules, being consistent with scheduled tasks, and breaking bad habits. The first step in establishing who was boss was  by having them address staff as “Mr” and “Miss”, versus simply calling them by their first names. Then, the other processes are tackled one at a time.

Parents who picked their children up at the end of each day would notice the interaction of their children with us and inquire, “How in the world did you get him/her to pick up his toys without having to yell or end up picking it up yourself?” My answer was always “Structure is key; every child needs it.”

Regardless of what anyone thinks about how I parent my children, what is important to me is that I “train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it”, as Proverbs 22:6 advises. I endeavor to raise godly children, individuals who make a positive impact on this generation. With that as my goal, I will be certain to stress to my children that “Bad company corrupts good character," per 1 Corinthians 15:33. This is simply to ensure that all the time I spend investing in them is not undone by fair-weather friends or “the little foxes that spoil the vine” of love.

Our dad used to tell my siblings and I a story about a woman who never disciplined her son. People would complain about him, warn her about the direction he was going in his life, and advise her to better lead him as a parent rather than as a friend. She shrugged these off and considered the fact that she and her son were so close as sufficient for her. Unfortunately, years passed and he was convicted of a crime, for which the punishment was death. Prior to being executed, he requested to speak to his mother one last time. She wept bitterly to see her dear son one last time. When he asked her to draw close, she assumed he was going to whisper how much he loved and cared for her. Instead, he bit off her ear and rattled off insults about how if she had just instructed him better, rather than covering for him when he was in trouble, he would not be dying so young.

I refuse to be that mother. I believe my way of parenting is God’s way. Where I err, I believe He grants me grace to improve. You parent your way…I’ve chosen mine.

Tea Time Realization

So...today, I experienced my first true tea party. I was provided some 'tea', 'food' of my choice, and watched while I 'consumed' these items. For anyone who knows, or has ever known me, this is not me at all. I always said I could never bring myself to pretend to eat or drink foods in any ridiculous kind of ceremony, no matter what. I remember stating the following to a friend who'd shared she had spent much of her morning having a tea party with her daughter. "Tea party? Me? Never. I don't see the purpose or what it would benefit my daughter to involve myself in one. I don't know, I just don't see myself having fun or being convincing enough as I pretend I'm enjoying it."


I guess I was wrong. This morning, my children requested a tea party. I brought out the tea party set and encouraged them to play nicely together.


Iniabasi asked, "Mommy, you don't want to play with us?"


I attempted to give a reason I could not participate, but I couldn't look at those questioning eyes and simply tell him the truth: "I just don't want to play". So, I told him I would love to join them. In unison, they responded rather loudly, "Yay, Mommy!"


I was directed to my side of the 'table' by Iniabasi. Mayomikun presented me with a cup atop a saucer, along with a spoon. Abasianam 'poured' me tea, and Iniabasi took my food order and made a few suggestions. I could not very well ruin this moment and not give them the opportunity to serve me, as I have them so many times. They were just seeking an opportunity to imitate me and allow me to partake in their idea of how grown-ups behave. 


Simply watching them made me realize just how important my words and actions are. These little beings, so eager to learn, sponges, just itching to grown up, do what adults do, be like their parents. It made me smile but saddened me at the same time. Soon, these little people will be going off to high school, college, and taking over the world. Therefore, I, as a parent, need to be more mindful of my choices. I need to ensure my words are uplifting, so they can grow to be confident individuals. I need to help hone their skills, to encourage them in their God-given talents. Every fiber of their beings require me to assure they have a sense of hope and purpose.


However, at the same time, the sadness came from the realization that they would not forever be 5, 3, and 2. At some point in time, I will lose these tiny beings to a world that will attempt to influence them, change who they are, make them question the way they were raised, have them wondering if some of the things we've instilled in them truly have worth or meaning. I have a task before me, greater than any I had ever really considered, and I believe I am up to it. I just need to equip myself mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and financially for the journey ahead.

A Lesson My Children Taught Me

Well, July 1st made it a year since I was laid off, a year I've been a stay-at-home mom. I've discovered new recipes, fun ways to pass time (on the whim), cheap art ideas, etc. In my daily interactions with my children, I've also learned how God must feel when it comes to us, His children.

For instance, four days ago, Iniabasi came into our room and asked, "Mommy, where is my bag?"

Me: "Which bag? The one on your bed?"

Iniabasi: "Yes"

Me: "Sorry, I threw it away, Buds. It's dangerous to have a plastic bag on your bed when you sleep. I didn't want any of you to get hurt."

He proceeded to whine and complain, saying, "Mommy, I need it. That's not fair."

After I tried to convince him how important it was for him to trust me, I gave him a hug, and he walked away. His head was down and I faintly heard him mutter, "I never get anything". 

This encounter led me to realize how much like him I often am. I ask God for things, and if I don't get them, I sulk and feel destitute, wondering if He really cares. I forget about the many times He's answered my prayers, performed miracles, provided for me/us, etc. So many times, I worry, complain, compare myself or situation to others, wallow in self pity, but the underlying truth is that no matter how bleak the circumstance may have seemed, all has been well. Many of the things I've thought I wanted, I've found would have led to misery, a life of unhappiness, or would have changed my life in ways that I would never want to imagine now. 

In essence, I'm learning that despite how I feel in any current situation, I embrace the "no"s, unanswered requests, struggles, and days of 'hopelessness', believing that God has the best future and intentions for me. 

I.A.M.

I have three beautiful children, each very unique. If one did not know them, it may be difficult to believe they have been raised in the same home from birth. They are 5, 3 1/2, and 2. (Yes, we whipped them out pretty fast...almost back-to-back.)

Iniabasi is our oldest, and is our great musician. He can hear a song or tune once or twice and repeat it about 70% of it. He's our sensitive music man. He is quite cautious about his actions and words and tends to say "sorry" often. He's our crier over the simple and the great. He doesn't like being on anyone's 'bad' side. He's our hugger, compliment giver, and smiler. One would hardly know, maybe unless he struggles with a word or two, that he's had a speech issue prior to this year. So, I can't help but melt and smile when he shares his beautiful message: "Jesus loves me, Mommy. Jesus loves all of us." Or says, "Mommy, we don't make noise. We are singing a Jesus song...not loud, because Daddy is sleeping. We are singing carefully."

Abasianam is our three-year-old rockstar. He loves to play the guitar and rock out on his brother's drum set. He's the smallest framed child, but in his mind, he's 8 feet tall and 375 lbs of solid muscle. He is a no-nonsense child. He is our toy police, Iniabasi's English teacher (constantly correcting his pronunciation, etc.), but a good helper. He is a tough little man with a hard exterior, but inside, he is a loving young man. He demands hugs and kisses from his parents, likes to ensure everyone is okay, but he does not mince words, like his mama. He can be heard saying things like, "Pray again, Iniabasi. I don't like that prayer!" Or, "Say, 'car', Iniabasi... c-a-r (sounding it out)...not 'ar'. Can you say 'car'? Say it!"

Then, there's our little diva, Mayomikun. She's our two-year-old with the sass of a sixteen-year-old. She's 70% chic chick, 30% tomboy. She does not like to get her hair combed or styled, but she does not shy from striking a pose if requested when she's all put together. Neither does she refrain from asking her brothers to check her out after her hair's been done, or if she has on a new outfit. When the tomboy in her comes out though, she can rough house with the boys like no other: wrestling, running all over the house, etc. She's a sweet heart though: very forgiving, kind, and doesn't like to see others sad or cry. Her squeal is the best. She can be heard, from time-to-time, running down the stairs after a nap squealing, "Daddy! Daddy! I sleeped!"

This is just a glimpse of my little people, giving an idea of who the joys of my life are and why I'm absolutely in love with being a mom.

Call Me Selfish. Call Me Unrealistic. Call Me Grateful.

Single life was great! I got my hair done every Friday, got my monthly pedicure, and went shopping as often as I wanted. Yes, I worked two jobs: one 30 - 40 hours a week and another 24 - 32 hours a week, but I could do whatever I wanted, any time I wanted. I was able to pick up and go, do whatever I pleased. Well, that was until doing all those things got a bit old, and I began to feel lonely.

I reasoned with myself that being checked out, asked out, and available to hang out with any guy I wanted was nice. The only problem is that I ran into a lot losers...I mean A LOT of them. I was so done with it all when I met the man that would eventually become my husband. I gave him a hard time. I even told him there were five things about him I didn't like, which is why I would never so much as date him. Per his request, I got to know him better, spend some time with him, and I fell in love with this man. He was so kind, godly, and put up with me (and I'll be the first to admit that can be VERY difficult). Now, I had someone to look good for, beside myself. About a year later, we got married.

Then came the children...one after the other. Life was great, but I noticed that with each child, I seemed to lose a little bit of myself. After getting married, I went down to bi-weekly salon visits, but then those dwindled down to monthly, bi-monthly, then almost never. Some days I longed for the single, or pre-children days, just for the freedom to shop as I wanted, get my hair and nails done as I pleased, without having to consider anyone else. I never really thought so much would be taken from me, simply because I "took on a man and had him some kids" (like one of my friends used to say). 

Nowadays, hair chopped off and all (more often than not, to save some cash, time, and the hassle of doing my own hair), I'm quite content. I look at the children I've been blessed with and can't help but smile. I kick myself almost daily, because I feel I take my husband for granted. He's so good to me, yet, I nitpick and nag about so much. In hindsight, I realize how materialistic and selfish I was (and still can be). These days, I realize just how unrealistic my expectations of marriage and parenthood actually were. I may not have the best life, but I have the best family and group of friends, and that works for me. Nowadays, I can't help but be grateful.

Searching for Something More

Fast forward to September 2011, I decided that it was nice and all being at home, but something had to give. Two months of walking a mile with the children every morning, chasing them around to give showers, and coming up with new ways to get them to eat fruits and vegetables, and I'd had enough of this "fun" for a lifetime. The highlight of each day was hearing, "Mommy, I pooped in the 'oilet, not the carpet" or "Mmm...this is yummy" during a meal.


Enough was finally enough, so I went to a job fair a friend had suggested. There, I met a gentleman who was quite intriguing. He gave me a brief overview on Medicare and what I would potentially be doing. I saw it as an opportunity to 'do some good, help the elderly'. I would be able to learn more about the world of Medicare, educate the often duped pre-65 age group and older, and in some way begin to feel useful again.


I studied long and hard for my health and life insurance exam, but with my responsibilities and feelings of  inadequacy to perform effectively enough to be successful, I failed the first time by two points. The second time, I passed and was very excited to pursue my new career as a Medicare educator/insurance agent. I was   looking forward to assisting those who were often taken advantage of and seeing to it that they received the best service possible, in the form of a thorough education.


I enjoyed learning, meeting new people, interacting with adults again, but guilt began to set in each time I headed out for a day of training, to meet with a client, or to participate in anything work-related. Every time I  put on my work clothes and prepared to leave, my children would ask where I was going and beg me not to go. Simultaneously, the boys would say, "Where are going? Work?" "But Mommy, you don't work!"


Needless to say, I wasn't able to be as successful as I felt I could be, because I wanted to maintain my schedule of activities with my children and was only available to meet with clients two or three times a week. I spent nap time calling clients, since that was the only time available to do so. However, that began to wear on me, as other successful individuals in the business devoted as much as six hours a day to seeking out and meeting with clients, while I only had two hours or less a day to do so.


With a very low success rate, spending more time educating than actually selling, I knew my time as an agent was coming to an end, so I decided to bow out, before I could be let go. Once again, in searching for something more, I felt like a failure. 

Dead Dreams

Let's just say that before I had the opportunity to be at home full-time, I had a list of life goals. In junior high, my good friend and I had hopes of some day running in the Olympics. We had it all worked out: how we would both train hard and come home with gold and silver medals. We pushed each other during cross-country training and made sure we participated in various cross-country meets within our district on Saturdays.


We figured that in the interim, or if things didn't quite pan out, we would be both become doctors. After all, we both liked the sciences, and we could help each other study and eventually attend the same med school, etc. Well, my friend reached "our goal". However, med school never happened for me, due to unforeseen circumstances that occurred in my family. A life-altering event changed the path of my life forever.


Once I got married, I figured I could get "back on track". Even if the Olympics were out of the picture and med school was no longer truly realistic, being that I changed from sciences to arts in college, I decided to work toward a new path. I would work hard to obtain employment with a small company, work my way to a large organization, and become someone really important there, traveling around the country, etc. Then I got married and had children.


I figured my goal was still attainable. I worked toward my Master's degree in Business Administration while working full-time and pregnant with my third child. I hoped I could gain employment with a company like Charles Schwab or own my own business. Once I lost my job though, my dreams sort of died.

Just a Mom: My Difficult Transition from Working Mom to SAHM

As a working mother, I always felt fulfilled, to a great extent. Although the time I spent working with other people's children often weighed on me, I enjoyed attempting to teach the young people how to cope with various issues they were facing or with which they were forced to live. I felt like I was benefiting the world, investing in each child, on a small scale, each day. 


On the home front, I figured that as long as my husband and I worked hard, our family would be content. I'd wake my children, pray with them, give them showers, make sure they had breakfast, and head off to work. I'd come home, give hugs and kisses, make dinner, clean up, take a walk with the family, give showers, pray with the children, and say our good nights. This was our typical schedule, Monday - Friday (during the school year) and Tuesday - Saturday (during the summer). I'd come to terms with living life this way, assuring myself that we were doing the best for our children with all we had. I didn't see how we could survive financially any other way, being that even with both of us working, we were barely making end's meet. 


The day I learned I would be laid off, it felt like my world was crashing down all around me. I couldn't understand how we would make it as a family. I wondered what miracle God had in store for us, but with each passing day, I worried. I was anxious. I wondered how long it would be before I'd find a job that would enable us to move past simply living paycheck-to-paycheck as we had for the previous two or three years. July 1, 2011 was officially the first day of my unsolicited vacation. For many months, I applied for jobs, went on various interviews, went to job fairs, met with career advisers, but it all seemed to be in vain. 


Being a woman who thrives on structure: meal plans, strict daily regimens, etc., I immediately came up with a schedule for each day. I felt like a drill sergeant. I got bored. The children got bored. I hated my life, feeling that I was not doing enough. After all, now, I was just a mom.