Santi is whining because none of his brothers will give him what he wants. Dominic, in disbelief, asks, "Is he *really* CRYING??!"

​Adrian, who I'm sure still remembers the sense of loss he felt the day his own baby powers lost their punch, says in a very melancholy voice, "Yeah. Sometimes baby brothers do that." 

​

A while ago, I walked down the hall of my boys’ elementary school heading to one of their classes. As I turned the corner, I was startled by the impact of many emotions hitting me at once as I saw two rows of profile cut-outs on black paper with inscriptions below each. I realized these were profiles of each of the 1st graders, and, suddenly teary-eyed and short of breath, I rushed to find the twins’ among the different first grade classes on the wall. I realized that the inscription below each profile was that particular student’s own words about who he or she is. I couldn’t wait to read what Javi and Dominic had written about themselves, and I couldn’t believe how uncomposed I had become.
I need to back up for a second and explain that there have been certain impactful moments (good, bad, and just telling in some way) in my life that I still feel at a cellular level for different reasons. I suppose most people can be transported back to certain moments with just a smell, a sound, a sight, a touch… something that ties them to a particular memory or experience. Such was encountering this hallway full of profile cut-outs.
It is my hope and goal that when my kids are grown, they are the kind of people that say things like “I wish I could go back and be a kid again” or “those days were the best!”. I’m sort of mesmerized by people who feel that way, and I very much want the kinds of feelings and memories that provoke that sort of longing to be a part of my kids’ grown-up worlds. I’m not someone who has ever felt that way… closer to the truth was that I couldn’t grow up fast enough for myself. I think a lot about just why that was… there were many reasons, I suppose, but there was something deep in my psyche at a very young age that was self-conscious and self-loathing… I wanted so badly to feel deeply loved and utterly cherished (it's still what I want most!), and, even now, I sometimes feel very sad for the little girl that is still somewhere deep inside me. I can still vividly recall how she felt about herself back then… I wish she could have shed all of those feelings of inadequacy and could have just “been”… just lived, just played, just been a carefree girl without the weight of the world on her shoulders. From time to time, I will come across a little kid in whom I recognize something about myself at that age, and I wonder, “Why? How did this happen? How does this child already feel such a strong sense of self-awareness? And why does it manifest itself in this child as somehow being an insufficient little person in some way? Who is loving this child and are there enough hugs and self-esteem building going on in his/her life?” And then I wonder if anyone in that child’s close circle even sees this and realizes it’s there… because I think most parents are doing the best they can with what they've got. I often wonder if I am missing anything in my own kids that may be obvious to others.
I had a lot of friends who, to this day, tell me I seemed so happy when we were in elementary school, which is really when all this started for me. People would say I was popular among friends, and that it appeared from the outside that I had it all. As for my own feelings about myself, on one hand, I knew I was a good person with a good heart. My heart bled for animals and for people and for doing the right thing even when it wasn't the easiest thing. On the inside, I was incredibly lonely, and I cared way too much whether or not someone liked me. I hated so badly that I was so sensitive and cried very easily. People would tell me I was pretty, and I couldn't reconcile it with how ugly and awkward I felt. I worried whether I was annoying someone by just breathing. I felt incredibly self-conscious on every level. There were some significant losses in my life at a young age, and I won’t pretend they didn’t contribute to my sense of unworthiness. When I had breaks from these feelings was when I was focused on practicing something… piano, sports, etc… and part of me thinks that I immersed myself in as many activities as possible to get away from myself… to get out of my head.
So getting back to the reason the profiles of the first graders at my boys’ school affected me so much… I hated certain aspects of my face, and my profile basically spotlighted one of my biggest insecurities. This is such an insanely ridiculous thing for a kid to even think about - I mean, why would it even occur to a kid to hate how they looked from the side? And yet, I did, and, while I won’t go into it here, deep down I do think I know unequivocally why. But, moving on, I remember the day our teacher had each of us stand up against a chalkboard with the lights out and a projector light shining towards us so that she could draw an outline of our profiles on some construction paper that we would then cut out, and I remember the anxiety I felt waiting my turn, the nausea from the embarrassment I felt at having this permanent record of it in a cut-out. When it was done, I could barely look at it. I felt humiliated.
All of this must seem crazy to be reading, but what I will say is that I think every child sort of needs something different, and they don’t always know how to communicate it, and they don’t always know how to find the words to describe any of this. Further, there are words, events, and experiences that - no matter how big or small - can sometimes take root in a person, and they can be like an invasive weed. I was a jumbled-up bunch of emotions on the inside, and I was a calm, friendly smile on the outside. Who could have known what all was going on inside my heart and head? I didn’t dare speak of it to anyone and risk someone making light of it later, and so it just stayed inside me and was compounded by other events in my life while growing up. It left emotional scars that I still feel today but that show me how far I’ve come in my own personal journey just as everyone has their own difficult journeys to overcome. 
Over the course of my teenage years, as I worked through the questions of “who am I and what is my deal?”, I adapted this attitude that if I didn’t like something, I needed to find a way to fix it or change the way I looked at it… which is why that quote from Maya Angelou has always spoken to me so deeply. So as an 18 year old, knowing how much I hated that I allowed people to see my vulnerability, I got to work on that… I started working towards being tougher and not letting the tears fall… I had started building a pretty sturdy wall as a younger kid to protect myself, and this gave way to an even taller, thicker one… However, who I am at my core is someone who wants to be honest with myself and others about my feelings, and so, while I trained myself not to cry so easily and not to openly discuss my feelings with just anyone, when I really trusted someone, I would open up. Not fully. But it still felt very vulnerable for me.
When I fast forward to today, March 29, 2017, a LOT has happened since then. And I can look back and see how my approach affected times and areas in my life, and I can see where I overcorrected here and there until I leveled out and found a balance I could live with. I can see how my approach of building a protective shield over myself saved me in some areas - truly - and how I learned in other experiences that it wasn’t as impenetrable as I thought - truly. I can look back and see how some people know me and my layers very personally and others know me very ostensibly. I am genuine but some times guarded with my feelings. I am more open with some people than others. I am more sharing in my writing than I am in day to day conversation. I think this is probably true for most or at least a lot of people. All in all, I'm an introspective person with enough life lessons and experience to dole out decent advice but still be able to recognize that I don't know what I don't know. Other folks have demons that are different from my own. Mine were rooted in a deep sense of less-than and inadequacy. But where my strengths have always lain were in areas of drive and tenacity, stamina and goal orientation. And those things drove the broken pieces of me in a direction that ultimately led me to the person I am today, more solid than ever, all of my glued pieces still in place… there are some crumbly spots in between some of the pieces, but the outer shell more fixed and becoming stronger by the year the way a large chunk of fossil becomes more embedded in the rock around it.
Now, as I walk down a hall full of cut-out profiles, I am thinking about what I would have written about myself had we had to write inscriptions of our own. I honestly don’t know if I would have known what to write. I didn’t know my place in my world, and, if I had, I don’t think I would have trusted having that information out there for all to see. How sad. 
But. 
My kids feel loved, they show that they feel secure, they show that they feel open to talk about their feelings, they show that they feel insecurities and are able to express them openly with us. And for whatever struggles they will have in their lives, I hope each of these things provides them a foundation for feeling their individual significance and contribution, what they have to offer the world and its value. I hope they never worry about superficial things like what their profile looks like (it’s beautiful) or whether they should be ashamed or embarrassed about who they are (they’re amazing). Hopefully their challenges are further up the chain so that they can reach further than even I did. And hopefully they are able to recognize someone else drowning in self doubt and instinctively extend a hand and encourage that person to see their own value.
What all of this has taught me is that I have been a constant work in progress, and that for all of my hard work to mould myself into someone who is tough and unbreakable, the older I get - and post-child bearing - the more I revert back to some of the qualities I originally possessed. I cry easily again, and I don’t hate that about myself anymore. I wish I could hold my shit together a little better, but when something touches me either sentimentally or poignantly, the tears often start to fall before I can even get a word out. While Jose and I don’t get a lot of one on one time, when we do and I get the chance to tell him about something that I saw or experienced or read or thought about, more often than not, my eyes fill up with tears and I think, “Damn it!” But Jose has stopped asking me to wait until later to talk about it so I don’t cry all over my dinner (thanks, babe) and the people in the restaurant don't think he's some ass that made me cry. 😂 I guess he just realizes this is me now. He never knew me when this was the old me. But I did. I can say I knew her, that I felt sad for her, but that the strength I have today came from her. So my easy-falling tears today are a tribute to her and her goodness, to her profile cut-out that was just as deserving as any of the other students’ and whose inscription should have been easy to write. I guess I can say I’m living vicariously through my boys’ profile cutouts and their confidence now, and I. Feel. Such. Pride... and Excitement... because somehow this former internal-mess-of-a-person-with-good-intentions is raising confident, caring kids who will hopefully not only see their challenges but also - and this is important - *concurrently* see their strengths - and in shorter order than their mom did of her own.

​My heart is full.

Giving the boys their antibiotic they were prescribed last week for strep, and Javi  tells me how awful it tastes. "Mommy, I hate 3 medicines more than anything in this earth. This is the worst medicine, the 2nd worse medicine was the flu medicine you made me take that almost made me throw up, and the 3rd worstest in the whole world is the broken head medicine."

​And by "broken head", he means the antibiotic he had to take last year when Max's tooth caught his eyebrow when they were playing. #brokenheadmedicine #itsathingpeople
​

Dominic: "All the time I'm just running away from this girl. She chases me each day. It's my nightmare. And when she isn't chasing me, she's looking at me all crazy and freaking me out." 

#WonderingHowManyBoysIFreakedOutInMyDay

Everyone is starving. It's bad. This might be the last picture we ever take. These smiles are taking our very last bit of energy... #Mommywhenisthefoodcoming? #MommyImStarvingTODEATH #WeWaitForGoodTacos

The boys have been having rhyming battles (like rap battles without the beat), and every morning and evening I listen to things like "Did you know a hog that likes a dog?" "Have you ever seen a fish make a wish?" "I saw a cat ride a bat." Etc etc etc 
​
​This morning I'm running around doing my usual 1000 tasks to get us all ready to get out the door and Dominic asks me, "Mommy, did you know Daddy likes a hammy?" And then, the winner, "Daddy, have you seen mommy holding salami?" 👀 His answer, "Actually..."

​#ohtheinnocence

​I'm pretty sure Javi Bear lost weight after this haircut. I always enjoy cutting his hair, because he loves to talk when it's just us. I don't even have to say anything... I just let him unload his mind, and I collect his thoughts like gems from a treasure chest. 🤗

Max: "So tell me more about these cats upstairs..."

One minute you're in the closet changing and laughing to yourself about how your 3 year old is singing The Farmer in the Dell while he's showering. The next minute you peek around the corner and realize he is pouring your expensive shampoo into your expensive conditioner while he is singing The Farmer in the Dell.
​#ItsNotSoCuteAnymore

Santi: "Mommy, I lub you toe, toe, toe, toe, toe, toe, toe, toe, toe, toe much. I lub you bery bad." ❤

If my bill payment shows up late, I miss a permission slip here and there, or one of my kids isn't someplace they're suppose to be this month, I'm blaming Tobey who sits on my lap and gets in the way of my laptop, calendar, etc. #hinderingprogress
​

Sometimes kids ask the hardest questions... like, "Mommy, if Max got out and someone found him, would we use our money to buy him back?" 😳 ummmm 👀 "Sure, we would, baby." 😩​😜

I woke up yesterday morning to Adrian in my bedroom happily announcing that it was a SPECIAL day! I thought, "How sweet that he woke up excited about my birthday!" But then he goes, "Know WHYYY it's a special day? Because today is the day my tooth is gonna fall out!" Well. I think it must have been every 15 minutes or so that he came to me to show me "how much more it wiggles now" and asking me to pull it... this went on all. day. long... all the way up until the final seconds before he fell asleep. This morning, he sits with me and cups my hand below his chin "just in case my tooth falls out so you can catch it." When it doesn't just fall out of his mouth even as we rigorously sit on the couch, he moves on to more extreme measures.

In the past few hours, he has brought me several "tooth removal tools", such as a drum stick, a water gun, an hors d'oeuvre fork, a spoon, and a hot wheels car, etc., asking me if he can use it to take out his tooth. I've had two other boys before him and one after, as we all know, and never have I seen this kind of savagery. God help me if this tooth doesn't fall out today... oh wait, tomorrow is a school day... God help Mrs. Johnson.

Wanted to practice my napping skills today, but one can only be awoken every 2 minutes for so long before giving up. So "How to Nap" will be rescheduled for a later date, and, we will just call this session "How to Wear Fur" instead.

The boys chose their own bday cards and gifts for me using some of their chore money, and while I love everything they bought for me, by far my favorite things are the cards they chose and the things they wrote. Dominic's card for me made me laugh out loud... "Advice for a great son in law" 😂 and on the envelope he wrote a song that's been stuck in his head; you might recognize it: "Last Christmas I gave you my heart, but the very last day I gave you away..." 😂 And then below that... "You are so skinny and big. Happy Birthday, Gina". They were so excited about today, that I can't help but think about what was on their hearts that made them want to tell me these things and make me feel truly special. Alas, some of it will remain a mystery, but it sure is fun trying to imagine it!
Javi got me a beautiful necklace and wrote a joke in my bday card: "What do you call a grone up woman?" Answer ~Gina #obviously #goodone
The bday card Adrian chose for me began, "6 year old, fearless and bold! #thatsme! He chose it for the poster inside. :)
Santi read his whole envelope and bday card to me and surprised me with heart earrings and chocolate. <3
Had a wonderful 43rd birthday celebration with family today. That number still doesn't look right, but I suppose it is.

Adrian: "Mommy, take a picture of us and send it to everyone you know." #YesSir
​

It seems like the funniest people, the ones laughing the most and also getting the most laughs out of others, are so often the most sensitive ones too. Dominic is a bit on the moody side, as introspective as he is extroverted, and makes me laugh one minute while touching my heart the next. Some times I think his thoughts are too deep for someone of his age; other times I think it's a truly awesome thing to know that if he is thinking about these things now, then how thoughtful of a man he is going to be one day. I was such a stressed and worried kid, and I don't want that for my kids. I want them to be young and happy and worry free for as long as possible. But here stands my Doodle, telling me he loves me, then getting a pained expression on his face as he tells me that, even when I'm old and I die and my spirit leaves my body and turns to dirt (lol!), I will still be his mommy, and he will still be my baby, and he will still love me. I stand here hoping and pleading with the universe that, when he is grown, he finds someone who will love him as much as he loves... and who never stops laughing at his jokes

I took a similar picture of Javi lying on Bella when he was a baby. With Bella having passed away over a year ago now, and Javi well on his way to the ripe age of 7 1/2, I can't help but be hyper aware of the speedy passage of time we have already experienced and are experiencing. I feel panicky sometimes that I can. not. slow. down. this. life. I fear I will be standing at our front door one day repeating to myself, "I'm not ready. I'm not ready..." And there won't be a damn thing I can do about it then either. This is why moms cry so easily at the not-so-obviously sentimental things, I think... or at least it's why I do.

If you want your life to slow down, just have a few kids. And then go to the mall for a "quick trip in and out". That's when they start playing the "Don't Step on Any Lines game". Voila! Life slows down. Instantly.

Me: "Santi, what did you and Daddy do this weekend while we were gone?"

Santi: "Um. Painted my belly button."
​
And by belly button, I think he means his whole belly, his thigh, his knee, his leg, his arms...

Me: "Wanna go in the store and get some snacks for the road?"
Boys: "oooh yeah, snacks!" After a pause...
Adrian: "Wellll, Mommy... I have a deal for you." He raises his hand up with his palm facing me and says, "How about if you go in and get the snacks and WEEEE will stay out here together and make sure no one steals any of us? How about that?"
Me: "That doesn't really work for me. Pause your iPads and let's go."
​ #nicetry #umno
​

What a great day we had in Houston today - lots of everything... competition, fun, friendship, hard work, rain, grass & dirt, donuts & hot chocolate, swimming, some iPad time now while we wait for dinner to arrive, and then we begin Popcorn Movie Night in our hotel room. Missing our others at home but each of us making memories with the ones we are with.
A fun memory from this trip is the boys' confusion over the lack of wet wipes in our bathroom. One of them had been in there a while and then called out, "Ummm where are the wetwipes, Mommy?" When I answered, "They don't provide wetwipes at hotels; you'll have to rough it and use toilet paper the old fashioned way", the answer I got back was, "Well, I'm gonna need more training then."

Before the boys came along and soon after we moved to Texas, we volunteered with IRC to help a refugee family from Afghanistan settle in the Dallas area. This family - a mom, dad, and two sons - came here with virtually nothing although they had been successful business owners before they had to leave everything behind. I often hear people complain about how much it costs us "to support these people" and how "they put a strain on our resources" and even comments related to handouts. What I will say is that the people that come here get very conservative financial help and are also given very short turnaround times to repay that money - yes, you read that right... they have to repay the money.
I will say that during every meal or visit we shared with this family, their questions were primarily geared towards how much certain things cost here so they could start planning a timeline for getting a business off the ground here - so they did not have to rely on anyone else to support them. So they could repay what they owed as quickly as possible. So they could regain some semblance of the life they once knew.
This picture that people have somehow developed in their minds of what a refugee family looks like is not the picture that Jose and I have in our minds. It's actually of a family not so unlike ours, circumstances that could have been ours had we just happened to have been born somewhere else, and the very human need and desire for love, safety, and community. The need to protect our children and give them the best life we can... including saving their lives.
For people who have always wanted to contribute in some way with your time but haven't known where to go,  this is a great organization. My hope is that when the boys are older and our crazy schedule is more manageable that we will once again be able to volunteer with the IRC. And I really hope this organization is still working in the US and that we have not lost our ability to empathize and show compassion and have closed the doors on people who need us, because I worry we are becoming a society of indifferent individuals... putting on blinders while ironically wearing our WWJD bracelets.

Leaving Dallas at rush hour on a Friday... after all, why would we do anything the easy way?
​
#rugbytournament #houstonbound
#missingourotherpeople
#shirtscameoffwithinminutes