Monday, April 29, 2013

Employment: SAHM

So on this mornings couple court a woman called in claiming that her husband backed out of his agreement that when they were to have children, she can stay home for at least the first 3 years to raise their baby. Now that she's pregnant, he demands that she continue to work. The amount of ppl that called in on her defense was surprising.

"A child's psyche is formed in the child's first 5 years... Why would you leave that to someone else?!" one woman said.

A stay at home dad called in claiming "Work, luxuries and money will always be there when your kids grow up... Your kids are only little once."

Another woman proclaimed, "If you're gonna throw your child in daycare, why have kids at all?!"

I can't say that I agree entirely on the above comments. But it's always good to know you're not the only one who feels as strongly on the matter when faced with people who think so highly of themselves as to criticize your choices. I've been on both sides of this debate. I know what it is to be a single mother doing it on your own. I also know what it is to be home and doing for everyone else before you do for yourself. I respect everybody has different needs and circumstances. I feel for the moms who don't have a choice. Whether it be having to put a fulfilling career on hold because doing one would mean sacrificing too much from the other, or having to rely on childcare in order to keep food on the table at night. I totally respect the emotional needs of the woman that says she'd lose her damn mind if she didn't have her job. I lost mine 12 years ago.

SO, why is it that when you tell someone that you're currently staying home with your child... They take it upon themselves to ask the most intrusive and sometimes insulting questions? "So, are you working yet?" Usually followed by a, "Why not?" Which if I weren't a Christian woman that question would be immediately followed with a slap to the face!

For the ones who think they have it all figured out to where they can judge and offer unwanted input into another mothers employment status... How's this as an answer to your unwelcome questions and assumptions:

#1. I'm raising my baby fool. I don't question the decisions you make for YOUR child even if they ARE questionable.

#2. You can keep that application for the position below you. When the time comes, I'll be taking YOUR job.

And #3. Take care of yours before you worry about mine. THANKS!

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

The year of transformation...

I was determined to make the year I turned 30, the year of great transformation. Part of that transformation was to loose the 50 pounds I've spent my entire adult life obsessing over. If I could only lose the weight... I would be happier, better, stronger, faster, lighter, my life would be.... Perfect.
But it only just occurred to me... it isn't so much my body thats in need of transformation. I have to change the way I see myself. Because until that happens, no matter what I do to change myself physically... It's never going to be enough.

It only makes sense that if I can accept myself as a perfect being as I am now... Then anything I do from this day on to make myself better would be a bonus.

I was never the victim of vicious bullying. Besides the rare trips to Puerto Rico where EVERYONE is considered to be a tub of lard if you can't fit into a size 2 pair of Bongo jeans... I wasn't necessarily tortured about it. Growing up with 2 stick thin sisters, however, you can't help but feel that you're being compared. Most of it I have to admit, i did to myself. And the women that I DID resemble... Bigger than life, voluptuous, curvaceous, smart, beautiful- I watched them chip away at their own image with every diet and pill and negative comment they believed would encourage them to change their figures. I never understood it. How these were the same women I saw walk out the door every morning and put the "average" looking women around them to shame.

On the contrary, I was always told I was beautiful, intelligent and talented. But for some reason beyond my own understanding... I was never good enough for me. I wasn't worthy of those titles because in my mind there was way too much room for improvement. If there was someone out there who can beat me at any of those things... That must mean that I've failed. So I stopped trying and decided to hide instead.

I now realize that this is the mentality that's hindered me in many aspects of my life.

This transformation was a long time coming. I owe it to myself. For every time I looked in the mirror and told myself I was ugly. For covering my mouth, biting my lips and swallowing my laugh because I hated my smile. For the times i stayed quiet because I was afraid of being noticed. The ideas i kept to myself because i knew they weren't good enough. For every party I sat out of because I was too ashamed to dance. For every time I chose to wear black because it made it easier for me to hide. For all the things I haven't done because of my fear of failure. For all the times I said yes when I really wanted to say no. For the times I comforted myself with the hope that I would "grow out of it" or "stretch out" or "change with time" and it never happened. My body deserves this from me. I deserve this from me.

A great big THANK YOU for making me different. I nice pat on the back cause DAMMIT... I'm pretty okay. Down to the arch on my nose that I learned to accept because it gave me "character".

Of me there is only One.
One individual, unique, perfectly imperfect in my own perfect way... Me.

The flappy arms I hate are the ones that comfort and embrace. The pouch below my abdomen that I refer to as a "deformity" is what carried my children for 9+ months- and now is cozy place to rest their heads. My stretch marks are stripes of honor and my veins proof that I once carried the weight of the world. My big legs chase the kids down and get me from point A to point B. They've bounced numerous tushies during games of "horsie" and look good in heels. My hands are the gateway to my soul- they comfort, nurture and create. Then there's this scar. It runs straight down my belly. It's probably the first major source of my insecurities considering I was six years old when I cried because my mother bought me a bikini. That scar is a reminder to me everyday that I was meant to be here.

If God himself decided I was to live... Who am I to allow my insecurities to keep me from living?

No one in the world can duplicate my mind. No one will ever speak my exact words with the voice in which I was given. When I'm gone... No one will ever laugh like me, talk like me, think like me, love like me, move like me, dance like me, touch or feel like me, create like me... No one could ever BE or LOOK like me.

Everyday is a battle when it comes to loving and accepting the body I live in. Especially when I can't recall a day in my life that I didn't wish there wasn't something about me I could change. But today more than ever...for everything my body has given me- it's a battle worth fighting.