Boy Mom, Daughter, Parenting, Uncategorized

Daddy’s Girl

daddysgirl

Some days I wake up thinking about my dad.  This morning was one of them. I miss his greeting. I miss having coffee with him in the morning. Sometimes, even at 37, a girl just needs her daddy.

As a kid we’d wake up to his greetings, “Good morning viejilla” As a little girl, I had no clue what the impact of having such a loving, caring, compassionate dad would have on my self esteem and adult life. I took it for granted. I thought all dads lived and loved the way my dad did (and still does). He worked nights and three jobs, his regular night job, cleaned offices after that one, and did yard work one on the weekends.  When he wasn’t working he was home, washing our cars, cutting our grass, or deep cleaning the house like washing our carpet or buffing our floors, no joke, our home was always spotless. Growing up our home was always full, family visiting, parties, barbecues, the walls in our home are full of laughter, and stories, and love.  My dad was the reason for all of this. As the head of our home he set the example, work hard, love hard. You couldn’t catch him on a bad day. I truly believe that this is because he is so full of gratitude. As a young boy he had to leave his home because his parents could not provide for him and went to live with his uncle. He was a farm hand living with cousins at the age of eleven. The same age as my oldest is right now.  He shares growing up in poverty with an abusive father and knowing that was not the life he wanted.  My uncle was tough, but taught my dad so much about life, was a great father figure, and my dad is so grateful for all of it. My dad is grateful for good friends, friends that are family. Some have passed but we speak about them so much, that even people that never met them, know them by name (RIP Morras).  My dad is grateful for my mom, and compliments her, and brags about her any chance he gets. He also takes really good care of her because someone once told him, “Happy wife, happy life” and that’s what he wanted, a happy life.

My dad is a friend and my role model to many.  I wanted to share stories about him because he always says, “Las flores se dan en vida.” He is against bringing music and flowers to funerals as says by then it’s too late, that we should do it when people are alive. He was a little sick recently, he is better now, but I figured why wait to share stories about him and his life. I could go on about him forever, and I just might.

 

G

Birth Story, Boy Mom, Motherhood, Parenting

Being the Mother I Needed as a Child

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Mother’s Day made me reflect on my parenting style and what I needed as a child. I think about my mom so much. Every day actually. When my children are playing outside, when my children run up to me, when my children scream and jump, and create chaos. We couldn’t do those things growing up. My mom has always kept an immaculate home, everything has a place, no clutter, no piles, clean counters, floors… she does not buy frivolous items, only buys what she needs or will use, I mean seriously she is hashtag goals in all of those aspects. Growing up though she was very strict, we were not allowed to get messy, make messes, play with water, or make too much noise. We were all up early, cleaned the house, got dressed, and she would say, “nomas que se me ensucien” seriously we didn’t want to know what that meant, so we wouldn’t. I would always think, when I have kids, I will let them play, get dirty, be loud, create chaos…well the Lord answered my prayers and then some. I have three crazy, loud, messy boys.  All three were welcomed into the world by my mother. Last minute decision to have her in the delivery room changed our relationship forever.  I was in labor for over 26 hours with my first born and I had pushed so long (I was 25, a baby, had no clue how my body worked) that when it came time to deliver, I was exhausted. My mother who has always been a hard ass, no whining, put your big girl chones on and handle that shit kind of woman, told me, scolded me, in the delivery room when I said I couldn’t do it, she got in my face and said, “Si puedes, o quieres que te corten, andale, tu puedes”  and I delivered my almost 9lb baby boy. After that, I realized that although I was always close to my dad, I knew who I would turn to when I needed strength. As a child, she was not affectionate with us, and never said, “I love you” back when we said it, I always wondered if she even did, but now I know… My mom was a monolingual teen mom, miles away from the familiar, working in a factory two weeks after giving birth. She had no time for niceties. She was busy, and tired, and homesick, and lonely. I’ve talked to her about how hard my adjustment has been to being a stay at home mom and she said I should embrace this time, because it goes by too fast and she wishes she could have spent more time with us, but she had to work. I love that lady. I call her, “lady” and I know she loves me too. My heart aches for the sadness and loneliness she must have felt, and since there’s nothing I can do to go back in time to help her with that, all I can do is try to be the mom I needed as a child.