I can’t…

I’ve heard this slogan often in this generation of new adults and parents, and I’m sure that we probably said it too. When life gets complicated, I can’t is quickly uttered and problem solving seems to go out the window.

So, let’s take a look at history with a personal aspect too. 
My grandparents survived the Great Depression and WW2. WOW, think about that. Think about being alive during this era of history and what it took to survive, not only taking care of yourself, but children too. 

Or perhaps the founding of America. Think about it, the founding fathers could have thrown up their hands and said eh, I can’t. And the formation of a new nation would have never occurred.

What about women’s rights. If women just threw up their hands and said I can’t, my mother would have never succeeded in accomplishing raising 4 children, two of which were on her own for the most part, and one premature daughter through a mountain of medical expenses, along with graduating college and having a successful career in accounting. 

And then, there’s my personal success story. I gave birth to 10 weeks premature twins, one boy, one girl. Both were diagnosed with failure to thrive. Both were not expected to survive. I can’t was never an option. If it was, I’d be mourning the loss of my children, not grateful for the hugs I can embrace 18.5 years later. And I truly understand just how lucky I am, because even with refusing to give up, sometimes the story doesn’t work out.

So, for the next generation of newly budding adults. We know it’s hard to be an adult. It’s not the rosy picture painted in your fantasies. It’s grueling, challenging, blood, sweat and tears kind of work. I can’t is basically the equivalent of failure to thrive. As long as this is your perception, you’re right, you can’t. You will fail, fall and tumble. 

So, put on your big boy and girl britches and stop saying I can’t and do what it takes to say I can. Life is a miracle and it’s never easy. Get used to it. 

Good luck. 

Blessings Ritual

Some call it prayers, some call it magic, language matters not…

This year for Christmas/Yule, I sent each one of my children a blessing for the next year. I thought long and hard about this one word that had to encompass so much. What did each of them truly need most? 

Then I built a wreath out of Holly and mistletoe, and it was beautiful. It truly represented a circle of love hung upon the door.

Each of us gathered, and made our wishes written upon Bay leaves and we prepared to burn it with the birth of the New Year. 

On the second night of the year, we gathered at the outdoor activities area, aka the BBQ, and we placed our wishes upon the wreath. And we lit that beautiful wreath on fire. The aroma that carries around the fire is quite cleansing, relaxing, and a peace falls over you. And for a moment, nothing but love exist. 

So, with a magnitude of love unmeasured by time, I wished for my children three things.

I wished them hope, hope in the darkest hour, hope to guide them every step, and hope to pull them through when they felt lost. 

I wished them success. I wished them success in all bounties it’s measured, love, laughter, smiles, hugs, and so much more. 

And lastly, I wished them wisdom. Wisdom in their endeavors and trials through life. That when the hardest and most difficult of decisions in life come, they can find their way through the storm. 

I’ve watched each of them grow with their own grace and beauty, and they are strong, and some are wise beyond their years, but I truly believe that each are capable of making their lives beautiful. 

Welcome to adulthood my children. Good luck and I wish you all the best. 


Unexpected Love

It comes when you least expect it, and well, don’t ever want to feel that emotional attachment to anyone. Love.

I was a young girl, a whole 8 years old. My parents had divorced and moved forward, and to be honest, I was a selfish little girl not even remotely interested in my parents moving forward, as I was still a massive bottle of anger and hatred. 

That’s when this amazing woman entered my life. In spite of my personal melodrama, she bestowed kindness and patience upon my world. She never once tried to replace the role of mother, and I’m grateful, because I already had a pretty awesome mom. 

Over time, my rejection of her began to decrease, and it was about this time that I found out about a new sibling entering my life. As her tummy grew, I began to hope for something special, and words can never convey just how special that little red headed girl would be. 

Every visit was brighter because of the gregarious smile that sweet baby brought at the sheer sight of me. I was her big sister, and once she began to walk, there was no where she wouldn’t follow. We played everything from hop scotch to super heros and every visit became an adventure. 

Time passed, and I grew older. Distance spanned the hours and days as life went on.

And now, 33 years later, this beautiful mother of one, grandmother to another beautiful red headed little girl and friend to a broken little girl has been diagnosed with cancer just 4 months after the loss of our father. 

Insurance companies make billions in profit every year and leave their customers with massive bills piling up. It’s enough to make anyone come unglued, and yet, my sister still stands with dignity and grace in spite of the heart break that she’s experienced in the past few months. 

She may not be anything significant to you, but to 3 girls, she has been an impact of unforgettable magnitude. 

I’m asking for help with her medical bills in order to alleviate the mounting pressure already delivered this year. Anything would be greatly appreciated. 



Do I work??

Ha ha ha ha ha.

It’s weekly shopping trip day, and their is inevitably that one person that asks me what I do for a living. Short answer, stay at home mom.

Long answer…

I am the stay at home mom who has raised 4 children to adulthood. Sure, I’ve had failures, some with flair, BUT I’ve had successes too. 

When my children were born, I could barely cook a box of hamburger helper. I’m just glad I didn’t burn boiling water!

Now, I’m pretty good at this cooking thing, and my baked goods are pretty good too.

And well, blah blah blah…

So, how do I shorten the point???

I now have created a series of rapid questions, accumulated over the years of experience.

How many children do you have? Do you pay for child care? How often do you eat delivery? How often do you pay for that nicer restaurant with the home cooked meal flavor? Do you have a maid? How much is your dry cleaning? And, how comfortable are you wearing high heels and business suits?

I have 7 amazing children, and no, I didn’t give birth to all of them. I have one amazing grandson I get to see often, and I get to see his momma several times a week. I’m watching her become the amazing woman I’ve always seen inside her waiting to grow, burst out into the world, and become the person she is. I’ve was in attendance when my children were learning to crawl, walk, talk, and so much more.

And, we don’t pay for those services I questioned, because I provide those services. I cook, I clean, I bake, and I love, every minute of it. 

Now, how much is that worth???

State of Affairs

Today, I am concerned. Today, I look at the world my children are inheriting and I am saddened.

I was born in the 70’s. Free love and flower power. There was still a whole lot of racism in that decade, still unwinding from the life of segregation.

As a young girl, I went to school with all races of children. We all played on the same playground, had the same superheroes, and laughed. I miss the simplicity of the playground.

As I got older, I began to see the division of friendships. I watched as we went from being children playing together on the playground, to teens in high school. I watched as superheroes were traded for cars and guns.

I watched the community I loved become a place where a stray bullet or a hit of heroin could take a friend quickly and without good reason.

What would surprise you the most about these scenarios is where they took place. You see, the childhood playground was in a suburb of Dallas called Oak Cliff. The teenage years were part of a suburbanite neighborhood that became well known in the country for being the heroin overdose capital, Plano, Texas.

In my twenties, I went to concerts and festivals. I went to the cultural showcases of rock, rap, tejano, and country music all being played on different stages at the same time. We laughed and danced and enjoyed the music together.

I truly believed we had come so far to overcome racism. I never thought electing a man of mixed heritage and severe daddy issues would lead to such a mess.

I never thought I’d see the riots and anger of desegregation come full circle. I never thought I’d see a group demanding segregation, the very scenario their grandparents fought to overcome. The very scenario that Martin Luther King Jr gave his life for.

It saddens me that people are being gunned down in the streets regardless of race. It saddens me that drugs, hatred and self-loathing have combined to become the very thing we were trying so hard to put an end to, and it saddens me that the legacy of Barack Hussein Obama will be division. Destruction. Hatred for the very country that tried to come together to erase racial hatred.

I don’t believe for a second that the sociological issues we are dealing with truly have anything to do with race. I believe they are economic issues, and finger pointing at racial issues is drawing attention away from the real issue.

We have an overwhelming percentage of dollars being controlled by the top 2% of the world. Those are the masters and decision makers. They form the policy and agenda. Two percent of the world has a voice.

Then we have the middle class. The guided cage of slavery in America. Where children are left in daycares and mother’s must work in order to afford a higher class of slavery. Because every one of those mothers and fathers are working, lining the pockets of the top two percent, and being taxed approximately 40% of their income to help with assistance programs for the poor while the top 2% get tax breaks that avoid it’s responsibility to give back to the very people that helped make their companies and government positions possible. And I have watched the poor be given assistance for necessities, ie. food, clothing and shelter, while they are encouraged to spend the small amount of income they possess into the very companies that are their masters.

We don’t have a race issue America, we have an economics issue and race is being blamed to cover up the evil that is truly the problem.

There is no such thing as equality in this system. We need a better solution, but first we must understand the underlying issues that led to this moment in history.

Perhaps it’s time we banned together and utilized the strength of our collective numbers and the amount of money flowing around to boycott the very top 2% that is the driving force behind the current state of affairs in this nation and nations around the globe. Thus ¬†we will see who truly controls the world and whom our true captors are.


I gave you my heart,
And I asked you for wings.
To be the angel I can be.
I had given up hope,
I’d given up pride,
I quit looking beyond my door.
I began to see hatred stamped everywhere,
Even the people I loved most in the world.
And in the depths of despair,
You whispered hey, look here.
You saw what I thought was gone.
You looked well beyond.
All the judgements of the past.
I found my smile,
I found my laugh.
I no longer cry everyday.
I don’t always feel insane.
I flew to the window,
I felt the sun,
I saw a smile,
When I saw none.
You cracked the shell,
You knocked on the door,
You dared me to believe in more.
You opened the door to second chances.
You light up my life.

The Cycle Continues

In my previous post, I explained how my life, and the lives of the people I love, were changed forever in thirty seconds.

And, after 16 years, they are tired of it, and think I need to get over it.

With that said, there are some things you can’t get over.

When this injury first occurred, I didn’t want to leave the house. I was terrified of the embarrassment that I would feel if I was standing in line instead of in front of the refrigerator when my body decided that like it or not, it was time to urinate. I couldn’t sense it, I couldn’t feel that my bladder was full. Or my personal favorite, when I had a bowel movement in my pants like a two year old because I could no longer sense that region.
I’m sure if you put two and two together, you can figure out other things I could no longer sense.

Now, on the flip side of all that, there was the pleasure of fire burning my legs. There was the pleasure of knives being repeatedly stabbed in my body. There was the pleasure of feeling those stabbing knife sensations being dragged down my body like I was being filleted like a fish.

That was in the beginning.

Today, 16 years later, I have given up the hope that I will find a cure. I will continue to do the things that work for me. I will go to the grocery store, and I will leave the DMV and come back later. I will wait for the line to not be 3 hours long, and I will eventually achieve my goals. I will do it in a way that I am comfortable with, because I refuse to stand in a line, knowing that I will have to go to the ladies room prior to getting to the end of that line, and holding it, well, as stated above, doesn’t always work out. And well, I’m sure the people in line appreciate the patience and persistence and the working within my limitations.

After all these years, I still have days that I am in absolute agony and all I can do is lay in the bed and cry. Those are the bad days when I question the reason for my existence on this planet. Those are the days when I believe that the people I love would be much better off without my presence holding them back.
But, then I have good days, and I bake cookies, or I plan a garden, or I teach myself something new, whether it’s how to crochet, play a guitar, delve into the deeper mysteries of theology, plan a garden, and so on.

Though I am constantly reminded of my limitations, I try my best to navigate my world.

I didn’t do anything to deserve this injury and my family didn’t do anything to deserve the fall out.

It’s been a hard, grueling process of having hope one day, only to feel completely hopeless the next.

It’s degrading to have to tell your children that they have to help keep the house clean because you can’t keep up with the pace required to do so all by yourself, not that my children were too young to pick up their toys, they were too young to understand. Even now, they can’t.

Nonetheless, I strive everyday to have a good day. I strive to achieve something every day, no matter how small it might be.

I get up every day, I brush my teeth, comb my hair, and I try. Some days, I achieve greatness. Some days, I fall flat on my face.

But, I am lucky. I am lucky enough to be with a man that sees what I try so hard to pretend does not exist. I am lucky that he has given me the tools to achieve the goals I try to set for myself. I am lucky that he will go outside and help me to do the hard labor aspects that, though I try, I can’t do. I am lucky that he stands beside me, and says it’s OK baby, I got this. I am lucky that he gets up every day, goes to work, and pays the bills. I am lucky that he keeps the baking cabinet stocked with the supplies necessary for me to do those little things. Those little marks of success. Those moments when I can stand up all day without tears.

I am lucky that he is patient. I am lucky that he is kind. I am lucky that he is understanding.

And for that, and a million reasons more that I have not listed, he has my love. He has my loyalty. He has my gratitude. He has everything I have to give. And, for whatever reason, I am lucky that he loves me in return. I am lucky that he is kind, giving and understanding.

He’s one of the many voices in my head telling me that I can do it when I am struggling to just put one foot in front of the other.

And, ultimately, he’s the genius behind my success, along with the group of people that have also challenged me over the years (they know who they are).

Though, for most, my measure of success is not enough, it’s enough for me and the people who live in this house.

You don’t have to understand it. It’s not truly possible unless you have walked a mile in those shoes only to end up feeling like a failure because you couldn’t work, and some days, brushing your teeth and hair was all the success you could manage.

And finally, to all the people who have had all their dreams sidelined due to no fault of their own, keep trying. You’ll find where you belong and you will find that though you are not capable of earning a paycheck, you have are capable of offering solutions to the financial problems that exist in something like this. You will have to think outside of the box, but there are options. Ultimately, support, patience and love go a long way.