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Listening ears on: God told me to visit my ex in-laws.

Being human is hard. Add being a Christian and you have a whole list of rules and regulations you must follow in order to truly be a follower of Christ. Usually, especially now, doing the right thing and being sweet and kind has come easily. Even things that would trigger me, just goes over my head and I say a prayer in my mind, grin, and keep it moving. Last week however, I was thrown a curve ball that I really just wanted to dodge.

My ex told me that his parents were going to be cooking a big meal and asked if the kids and I would come over. Without hesitation, I said NO. I mean, why would I? Besides the fact that I’d have to drive over 45 minutes, I’d have to come in close contact with the family of the man I abruptly left in the middle of the night, with a week’s worth of clothing, and my kids. It wasn’t exactly a peaceful breakup and I found myself on the hated end of the stick. His father had a lot to say about me in the past and would quickly jump on social media in defense of his son, whenever I was the topic of a falsified rant.

I insisted that I had no business going there and I prayed to God that some crazy occurrence would happen so it would be set in stone that I couldn’t go. Be careful what you pray for because four days later a tropical storm came through AND a tornado happened 9 minutes away from us. We were obviously spared and I thought that was God’s answer to my prayers– no honestly! You want to know something? It wasn’t.

My ex told me he would be getting out of work early so he could take us if I didn’t feel like driving. I told him that was great because that meant he could take the kids and leave me out of the equation. He seemed hurt and told me not to be that way. They weren’t my family and I remember how dysfunctional it was when all of us lived together. I did not want to go so I purposely ignored all my ex’s text after that.

You know, God works in very BLUNT ways and as I headed to the bathroom I heard, “Go” in a vey soft voice. Now, don’t call the luny bin on me but I heard it clearly. I remember saying, “yeah right, God. You would never want me to go there.” I then saw a vision of me walking into their home and a voice said, “Go, so they can see all I’ve done for you. Go to be a light. ” Guys, I laughed so hard and said NO! Then I tried to convince myself that I was the one creating the instructions that I had but when I said the word “Go” in my mind it sounded different from what I first heard. This was not something I wanted to be obedient to. I didn’t want to feel uncomfortable and I didn’t want to break bread with my ex’s family.

When my ex arrived, I grabbed my purse and roughly told him to hurry up and let’s go. He was shocked but he got up from the chair quickly and we headed to me car. Once we were all buckled and ready to go, my ex thanked me for going. I heard a voice say, “I told you.” I rolled my eyes and replied ok God, of course in my head because I didn’t want to sound crazy. 😂

The drive down was actually enjoyable and I didn’t find myself ready to jump out the car or complain to the heavens. But when we got to his parents house I found myself feeling uncomfortable and nervous. My girls rushed inside and I bought myself time by getting my son out of his carseat. Surprisingly, I was greeted genuinely and asked if I wanted some food and my ex made me a plate. I can’t even lie, for a second I thought they were trying to poison me so I asked my kids if they wanted some food and when no one screamed out “No”, I knew that the food wasn’t unsafe to eat.

I stayed for maybe an hour and a half and I watched as my kids enthusiastically ran around and played with the side of their family they hadn’t seen for so long. I felt relieved. My kids were so happy and I felt good. I talked with everyone and at no point did I want to run for the door. When I left I almost felt sad. His dad thanked me for coming and said we could do something for Christmas if I had no plans.

Before last Sunday, I had so much anger towards my ex father in-law. I was upset because he knew what I went through with his son and he completely turned against me when I left. I was mad and hurt and really wanted nothing to do with him ever again. Visiting him was a healing moment for me. It thought me forgiveness in a way I did think I needed. There is so much truth in forgiveness being for you and not the other person. I was released from the grip of anger.

If there’s anyone you need to forgive, whether they said you an open invitation or not, forgive them. Listen to the voice inside that sounds crazy because it goes against every logical thing you believe in. I listened to God and went somewhere I DID NOT want to go and it ended up being a beautiful moment for me.

I hope you liked this post and as always Hugs and Love!

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I’m obsessed with watching my kids eat

Growing up, my family struggled a lot. We were poor—not just poor but very poor. I remember one time, the only thing in our stomachs, for five days, was water from the facet. I lost about ten pounds during that time. Food stamps ending our five days of tears, stomach growls, and despair. I think that had to be the hardest time in my mother’s life.

We struggled, yes, but it was never that bad before and thankfully never got that bad again. We were always grarunteed two meals at school so even if we had little at home, we still ate. Unfortunately, those five days were during Christmas break and there was no chance of us getting fed any other way. It was difficult time to say the least.

Now that I’m a mother, the fear of not being able to feed my kids sometimes cripples me. I pinch every penny, I look for the best deals, and I never spend more than I have to. I don’t want to feel the devastation my mother did. I sometimes think her life echoes in mine as I come to the realization that at my age, she too was a single mom of three. Could history repeat itself and cause me to be so down on my luck that I wouldn’t be able to provide such a basic need?

As of now, that hasn’t happened and I find myself cooking and preparing meals with immense glee knowing that my kids won’t go hungry. When I set their plates before them, I see their faces light up and they usually shriek with excitement. “Yummy mommy!”, “I like this food.”, is what I hear from time to time in between bites. It’s like music to my ears and I can’t help but smile.

There are moments after we say grace and they begin eating, that I tune out the world and just stare at them. Their giggles filling the dining room. Conversations about how their day was and what they want to do during the weekend bounce off the walls and invade my observation. “We can do that on Saturday”, would be my reply to their inquiries. I soak up every bit of those times.

There is no better feeling than knowing despite my hardships, my children won’t go without. They know nothing of my struggle and dinner time is a celebration and not a reminder of how bad we really have it. Happiness stretched across their faces is a complete contrast to the days I would cry to my mother telling her I was hungry and she’d tell me, “I know baby”, and hand me a cup of water with a little sugar in it.

I know  what I went through was something that humbled me but that’s not the way I want my kids to grow up. That’s not how I want my kids to become appreciative people.  We all go through some lessons that taught us something and hope to God that our kids don’t have to go through it too. I don’t want the pain of watching my kids starve and I’ve been blessed enough not to have to. So, when I see my children stuffing their messy little faces, sometimes getting food all over the table, I’m thankful knowing that their bowls will be empty for the right reasons.

As always ((Huggs & Love))

 

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The reality of my life as a single mother.

If any of you have read my posts in the past, you’ll know that I left a very bad relationship about 2 years ago. What I never updated you on was that I went back to my ex a year later. Long story short, I was living the exact same hell as before and then some. Surprised? I surely acted  like it was surprising.

So, four months ago I truly decided that I had had enough. I spent the day feeling miserable and down, wondering what kind of life I was living.  My ex’s family had flown up to LIVE with us just a week prior. From the moment they came, I could tell my ex was unhappy. So from him being OKAY and us being in a decent place at the time, the added stress of  having 3 more people in the house got to him. It showed in the way he treated me because as usual he never took his frustrations out on who caused it. And here I was feeling out of place, getting treated like I was a plague to his existence.

I snapped emotionally. I decided that I didn’t want to stay there any longer. I told him I wanted to leave and he told me no. Months before, he had implied that in order for me to leave, I’d have to be dead, so a part of me was afraid to go. He also had my debit card and refused to give it back to me because his money was on it ($19) and told me when I started working I could get it back. I made sure to call my sister in the middle of the drama so if anything happened, someone would know. After realizing that I was telling my sister everything that was happening, he snatched the phone from my ear and left the room.

Guys, there is so much that happened that night that I might just make a video about it. What ended up happening was I packed a weeks worth of clothes for the kids and I, got my cousin to pick us up, and left the apartment around 12am. He was so pissed; if looks could kill, I’d be dead.

There was constant fighting and back and forth after that. Then he’d pretend to be good and act like he was changing only to flip out when I said I was never going back to him. I felt nothing. Plus I had already told all my family members what really happened behind closed doors and if I even thought about going back to him, they wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.

Within a months time, I got a job. It felt like forever! I was blessed to get hired at a daycare so my kids could be there with me. I love my job and honestly the hardest part about it has been getting to and from work. I catch the bus at 7 am but I have to leave the house by 6:35 am in order to make it there in time. Sometimes, if I’m late, I have to carry my daughters the entire 20 minute walk. It might not seem like much but when it’s pitch black outside, you’re carrying around 68 lbs plus their backpacks, and you have to power walk, it’s tiring mentally and physically.

The afternoons aren’t any better. It takes me an hour to get home from work between the bus and walking. It’s a 13 minute drive! Then the sun is so hot some days, I want to pass out. And those are usually the afternoons where I carry my daughters in my arms because I know if I feel weak, hot, and tired then they do too.

It’s not easy. Sometimes I cry and pray and cry and pray because I don’t know what else to do. Each blessing comes with another challenge and I feel so burnt out. I am grateful for everything, it’s just hard trying to keep going when you feel like you have nothing left.

I can say that this experience has shown me that there is a serious need for assistance to help people who have been in my shoes. I hope that I can start some sort of charity to help people get on their feet especially with kids and little to no one to turn to.

The truth is, I’m better off now than I was two months ago. It’s all about progress. Yes, I struggle a lot but it’s only for a shot time. I hope to get a car, more than anything, so that my kids don’t have to go through this. One day!  By the way here’s a Video  of what outside looks like when I head to work.

As always ((HUGGS & LOVE)) and I plan to write more soon!

 

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Now officially a mother of three…and I LOVE it!

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In the hospital waiting on daddy to finish work and me and baby to be discharged.

For anyone that’s read a few of my last post, you’d know that I was having another baby. If you didn’t know, well, now you do. 🤗 My pregnancy was a bit rough but not too bad. When I first found out I was pregnant, my stress level went to an all-time high. I felt guilty. I had a one-year-old and a two-year-old who only had been two for three weeks when I conceived. I wondered how in the world I would be able to give three kids, under 3, all my attention. I did it with two easily but THREE?! I didn’t know if I could handle it…I didn’t know if my older kids could handle it. Would they hate the new baby? Would they feel like I was neglecting them?

I barely accepted that I was pregnant. Why? Because I didn’t think I could do it. I didn’t think that I would be mother enough for three babies. It’s not like it hasn’t been done before but I couldn’t imagine having the capability to be a super mama of three. Other women had done it and are doing it now, but I never thought I’d be joining them.

Fast forward two Thursdays ago. I’m in pain so bad my vision was failing me. I had to be super mama still. My kids were in my room and I couldn’t let them see me in pain. I comforted them and talked to them, making sure they were okay. I hugged and kissed my little humans because no amount of contractions could stop me from making my kids feel safe.

You have to do things like that. Be strong, even in your most painful moments. Your kids need that from you. I couldn’t believe what I was able to do! All my fears were erased. As much as I wanted to hoot and holler, I sucked it up for my baby girls.

My daugthers were able to be in the delivery room with me. One was sleeping and the other one was watching videos on my phone. Surprisingly, they actually caught on to the fact that their baby brother was no longer in my belly. It’s amazing how smart a then one-year-old(turned 2 two days after her brother was born) and a two-year-old can understand.

I took the first picture you see after my kids and their dad stayed my second and last night at the hospital with me. He had to go to work for two hours that morning. He left around 9am so he could go home and get ready for work at 10:30. As nervous as I was to be alone at the hospital with all three of my kids, I let him leave the girls with me. I got discharged after 12pm and he came for us a little after 1pm. By some miracle all of my kids slept for most of the time I was by myself. Both girls woke up briefly and then went straight back to sleep. Of course my newborn only woke up to eat, or rather, I woke him up.

Honestly, there are certain points in our lives where we are taken over by fear. Sometimes we think we don’t have the strength to live through something or to do something but we do! We just have to believe it. The idea of having three kids under three, petrified me. I was beyond scared but once I had all my kids with me I thought, “Yeeeeeaaah, I can do this!” Encourage yourself and believe you are capable of anything. No matter how difficult you think it might be. You got this! You can do it!

Like always guys, ((HUGGS & LOVE))

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One week after the first picture! 🤗❤️
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“What’s the hardest part of being a mom?”

‘Couple days ago, my friend asked me “What’s the hardest thing about being a mom?” She’s 21 with no kids but dreams of having some one day. My answer wasn’t what she expected. I said, “The hardest part is worrying…worrying about if they’re safe, about CREEPERS. I worry all the time!” She continued, “Worrying? Is it like when you’re apart?” I told her that me and the girls are 99.9% of the time never apart. I worry in general.

I think everyone expects a mother’s response to a question like that to be something like, “The late nights and crying duet is the hardest part.” I know some women complain of no social life. Sorry, not sorry…I’m not concerned about a social life, my girls are more important than drinks at some club– I don’t even drink. I don’t need a “break” from my mothering duties. I don’t mind late nights because one day I’ll long for them. I don’t mind them crying over me giving them juice instead of milk because I’m not ready for them to be crying over a boy.

My daughters are my world…my life. They’ve given me so much more purpose. I want to give them everything they deserve, and that includes thinking about them now and forever. I don’t just worry about their safety– I worry about the people they’ll become…the impact they’ll have on the world. I know, wondering if my 1year-olds will end world hunger and create peace among all nations is a bit much. I actually care about the type of humans that leave my home.

I worry a whole lot! It keeps me up at night sometimes. Tonight as I gave my girls a bath and watched them splash and kick their feet trying to make bubbles,  I worried. I worried that one day something as simple as a bath won’t make their day. I worried that life won’t bring them bath-time-like-joy. Even in such a precious moment, where my kids were having the time of their lives, I worried. I couldn’t help it.

I have fears beyond my control. My mother was a worrier too. She saved us from potential sexual abuse…abuse that was happening to classmates who begged my to sleep over. My mother never let me and my siblings sleep over to just anyone’s house. In my entire youth I’ve only ever slept by three homes: My grandparents’, my cousin’s(my age), and my mother female friend who had four kids of her own(about 2-3 times that my mother wasn’t present.) I thought she was controlling and killing my childhood but her worrying saved me. Her worrying stopped me from having sex at a young age and being a teen mom like her. Her worrying stop me from running the streets like the other girls, my age, living in the same projects I did. I wondered why she worried to such an extent but then I became a mom and I’m far more paranoid than she ever was. Lol!

Worrying is the hardest part of being a mother. It’s not money, it’s not the crying, it’s not even the tantrums thrown in public. I don’t know what other mothers might say but that’s how I feel. It’s not going to change no matter how old they become either. Like always guys ((Hugs & Love))