For My Birthday, I Just Want...

My daughter’s fifth birthday is coming up, and I’ve been so excited. I’ve been planning, for the longest time, how she’d probably want to celebrate with a tea party, a dress up theme, or have a mani-pedi party or something. I’m not a girly-girl, and I’ve never been, but the chance to do something totally different, other than a bounce house, karate, or Avengers party is something I’ve been looking forward to now for the last few months.

Up until a few weeks ago, my baby girl was game. She was interested in a tea party-super hero-princess party. I was a bit overwhelmed, as I had envisioned her honing in on one theme and sticking to it. However, with her fascination with princesses and Super Woman and the idea of tea time, I guess it was completely inevitable for her to make the outlandish request.

Last week though, she began talking about how she wanted a bicycle, gear, outfits, etc. I had to reign her in and remind her of our family birthday rule: one big gift or a party, not both. Therefore, if we were throwing her a party, she would not be receiving a bicycle and all the gear she wanted from us as well. Why, you may ask? This is our happy medium as their parents. My husband loves the idea of celebrating birthdays, as his family is big on them. However, we never really celebrated birthdays growing up, so they aren’t a big deal to me, especially as an adult. So…we decided, years ago, that we’d do up the children’s main birthdays: 1, 5, 10, 13, etc. The agreement was that each child would have to decide between a birthday party or a big gift, regardless of the giver.

 I’m all about contentment and teaching children that excess is not necessary. I want my children to appreciate everything they have and not feel they are entitled to things for any reason. We have other birthday traditions, and we believe they help our children to really appreciate us, as members of a family, a unit, versus material things that fade away.

Anyway, back to my lovely daughter… Earlier this week, she decided that she wanted to forfeit her party plans so she could go to the store and pick out her own bicycle, helmet, knee pads, etc. Crushed, I asked her again, reminding her that she wouldn’t be dressing up with her friends or having a tea party as we had discussed. After about the fourth time, she firmly stated, “I know that, Mommy; I just want to pick out my own Elsa bike and stuff. I don’t want a party anymore.”

That was it then…sigh…an Elsa bike and gear.  That is…until Thursday afternoon, when she threw a wrench in her request by stating that she would also like to cut her hair much shorter and get various wigs as well. 

Times Have Really Changed, But Not for the Better

A very dear friend and I got a chance to get together today and had some interesting conversation. We spoke about everything from how tolerance has been redefined around the world to how bullying is such a big issue in schools, on social media, and on television. We spoke for about three hours straight, and there were so many issues we touched upon. The more we spoke, the more sad I felt.

Our children will never understand how paddling in schools helped curb certain behaviors that children today feel they are entitled to, because they have freedoms they abuse. Today, children talk back to their parents, ridicule their teachers, and poke fun at the elderly. This is not to say that those behaviors were non-existent when I was growing up; they just were not tolerated. What is now considered “corporal punishment” or “organized fear” was actually not seen as such by most of us. You did wrong, and you suffered the consequence. Discipline was served as a result of negative behavior. Action leads to reaction, which although from Newton’s third law of motion, is still very true. In a world where children are taught to freely express themselves, no filter or consideration of another, we have false accusations against adults, especially teachers, ruining their lives...and then there's bullying.   

Oh bullying, the issue which social media has been a big instrument in perpetuating. No longer are notes placed in one’s locker calling you all sorts of names, things thrown at your head from behind in class because a popular group of children don’t like you, or your heritage attacked, as if there’s something you can do about it. Now, the haunting follows children home. Being that they do most of their reading and homework online, there are ways to hack computers, etc and make others’ lives a living nightmare. It’s becoming such an issue that even though we were taught that “sticks and stones may break (our) bones but words will never hurt (us),” we are finding out that either parents aren’t teaching children this mantra, or children are simply overwhelmed and incapable of handling it all.

I’m a “MAN UP” mama. I’ve been called all kinds of names in my lifetime. I’ve been spit at by racist teenagers when I was minding my own business and walking to elementary school, I’ve had to defend myself countless times against people who “come for me”. I guess in a way, I’ve become immune, to a certain extent, when it comes to what others say. I know my worth and realize that most times, people who have nothing nice to say about me have insecurities eating at them.

Unfortunately, we’ve sold children the lie that life is fair. Life is NOT fair. You and Little Richie across the street will NEVER have the same life. You may be able to bleach your skin, but you’ll never pass as white. The beautiful tight curls they call knots are what make you who you are. Own who you are, your truth, and realize how awesome you are. Easier said than done, right? Maybe, but we’ve got to help these children. The words and actions of others are leading children to take their lives, and blaming it on bullies is doing us little or no good. Strength from within is where it starts. Confidence is important, and it starts at home.

We used to call the faint of heart sissies in my day, because if they just searched within themselves, they would realize that the things that they were being bullied about were the things that made them unique. Past mistakes were just those, past mistakes. We had to encourage one another to dust ourselves off and start over. Bullies should not be given power. They bully because they often lack self-worth, and what better way to get an ego boost but to pick on someone that’s everything you either wish you could be or who has what you wish you had? Even in cases where jealousy is not a factor, as the daughter of a quick-witted dad, when I was younger, by the time a bully tried me with his or her useless words, I had a few to fire back at him or her, which ensured they were aware I was confident, smart, and not one to mess with. I realized self-confidence was a deterrent to bullies, and I played mine up whenever necessary. Nowadays, children take the ignorant words of fools to heart and allow it to define them, and that’s not how it should be.

Sacrifice Is Love

A few months ago, I was stressed out and just done. I had a blog entitled ‘The Married Single Mom’ in the works. I was so tired of holding down the fort: playing the accountant, chauffeur, culinary artist, maid, etc. I think I’d gotten in my feelings and had a pity party with myself as the sole attendee. I was not in a good place. I viewed my husband as unsupportive, clueless to my situation, and emotionally distant. I didn’t believe he cared that I had dreams I was striving for despite being home with and raising our children.

The funny thing is that all changed. As one who doesn’t fare well holding a grudge, or even my tongue, my husband got to know how I felt pretty quickly. Oooohhhh…when I say I didn’t hold anything back, I mean I didn’t hold ANYTHING back. I was standing akimbo, rolling my neck, raising my voice, and occasionally waving my fingers from side to side in front of my face to get my points across.

With all my accusations, my husband could no longer take it and walked away, making me livid. I knew he was just getting away from the situation, in order not to say something he wouldn’t be able to take back, but when I say I went in on him, boy did I ever. I just wanted a reaction…something, anything, so I followed him, continuing to speak loudly to ensure I was being heard. He eventually responded in kind, as I had pushed him beyond his limits, despite his attempt to walk away. Well, this led to a war of words.

I’d said my part, and he’d said his. The only problem is that neither of us had listened to the other, or so I thought.

This weekend really blew my mind. I’m not one to gush, but my husband really impressed me. He surprised me with two days off of work, one in which I was instructed not to lift a finger. He became the transporter, entertainer, cook, etc. It felt amazing to have a whole day off, and I had no clue what to do with the time. Unfortunately, it coincided with me being sick, so I spent quite a bit of time in bed and enjoying the day with my family. Today, he surprised me with an outing and lunch. It took me back to our days of engagement. We laughed, joked, and enjoyed one another’s company. We took it all back to the beginning of us. It had been a while, and it was clear we needed that. At the end of the day, all I could think of was how appreciative I was of him.

He works hard, which keeps him away from us for ten hours a day five days a week, AND he goes to school four days a week, for a total of 22 – 30 hours a week. He’s the “fun” parent and doesn’t relinquish his role, despite how busy he gets. In my pity party, I failed to realize how much he does and sacrifices for us. 

Marriage and parenthood are two-way streets. They both require giving and receiving. He gives a little; I give a little. Sometimes the sacrifices don't seem fair or equal, but they are often necessary in our moving forward as a family. As long as we're united, the sacrifice is just another way we show one another our love.

A Beautiful Mind

My son, Iniabasi, is pretty atypical. From the womb, he was a lover of music. When my husband went to work at night and it was just me and my tummy baby, we’d both be lulled to sleep as we enjoyed Michelle Tume’s “Listen” CD. Once he was born, all I had to do was put that CD in if he cried, and we were good.

When he was eight months old, I got pregnant with our second son. All was well, and Iniabasi loved to listen to “brother” in my tummy. He got a kick out of being kicked by his little brother and feeling him move. He was very curious, even at that age and loved electronics. He would try to unplug cords, play with cell phones, get behind the TV to make sense of all that was going on in there.

Soon after his brother’s birth, he began regressing. Our once very vocal son who was saying several words and  a few sentences began babbling. It was weird, but we were assured it was due to the arrival of his new sibling and soon enough, he’d get accustomed to having his brother around and continue at his regular pace again.

Well, needless to say, it wasn’t until he was three years old that we found out the doctor we spoke to was wrong. Till today, we are still awaiting a call for him to have his hearing tested as we requested. (Thank God we took matters into our own hands instead: he’s  7 ½ now.)

I won’t go into the details, but I learned then to appreciate and go with my gut. A mother’s God-given intuition is nothing to play around with. For months, these children grow within us, feeling our heartbeats, sensing our emotions, and taking pieces of us we’ll never get back. On the other hand, the relationship that seems parasitic actually ends up being more symbiotic. Although the child cannot exist without the mother, at some point, the need tends to feel mutual.

My son was tested at the age of three, and at that time, we were told he had some delays that would affect him academically if he did not receive certain services. My first inkling was to seek a second opinion. After all, I took my prenatals, went to all my doctor visits, prayed over him from the womb. Delayed? No….no…not MY child.

The funny thing is that although my son is labeled as needing "special education" at school, his mind never ceases to amaze me. His reading skill is nowhere near what it should be for his age and grade. He’s a bit socially immature, and math frustrates him. BUT give him Legos, and he creates a masterpiece. Give him blocks, and he can build a castle or beautiful tower. Give him some string, a few boxes, and a pair of scissors, and he can make you a replica of a sound system or even an amazing house or tower. He has a great memory when it comes to music, and if he likes a song, he can remember the exact place/event he heard it for the first time. Ask him how an electronic device works, and watch his wheels turn. His favorite since he was as young as two though is the fan. He can look at one for hours, ever fascinated by the oscillation, of which most of us don’t really care to take note.

I helped him with his  homework once, and the child they said had difficulty comprehending regular math put me to shame. He had answered several questions regarding vertices, faces, and edges, but I, in my mommy-knows-better mindset, corrected almost every answer, despite his objections. Unfortunately for me, the following day, I found I had gotten all the answers wrong, and his initial answers were actually correct. How does one consider a mind like that in need of "special education"?

Well, I’ll give them this…he IS special. His mind works differently from yours and mine. His interests vary greatly from most of us. He is fascinated by things we often take for granted, and he tends to gravitate toward the underdogs and bullied. He has a hard time with people calling others “fat” or anything outside of their name that “isn’t nice”.

Even though it is frustrating sometimes trying to encourage him not to give up when reading, or to keep him interested in schoolwork, my son IS special. The complexity of his mind amazes me. Although I’m considered above average in some things and normal, or average, in others, my mind does not process things the way his does. I appreciate the beauty of what makes my son who he is, and I am now beginning to learn to appreciate his different but beautiful mind.