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.