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Deborah Cruz

catholic church, abortion, roe v. wade, open mind, parenting

Today is the 43rd anniversary of the controversial Roe v. Wade abortion ruling. I have always been torn between my pro-life Catholic upbringing and my pro-choice heart. I hoped I’d never find myself in the position to have to decide whether or not to have an abortion but I also learned at a very early age that sometimes women( and girls) do and it’s one of the hardest decisions they ever have to make and it’s one she has to make for herself.

When I was 15-years-old, I had a friend who confided in me that she was pregnant and was going to have an abortion all on her own. I had no idea what to do but listen and hold her when she cried at her predicament. I was young and naïve and had no experience or reference to what she was going through. I felt useless because I couldn’t help her. The decision was one of the most agonizing things I’ve ever seen someone go through. In that moment, I knew I would always fight for a woman’s right to have dominion over her own body and reproductive system. I’ve been prochoice ever since.

So this morning when I went to mass, the one my daughter has been asking me to attend for 3 months because she was leading the choir, imagine my shock when the first words out of the priest’s mouth in the homily was, “Since today is the anniversary of Roe v. Wade…..” followed by the phrase, “Women commit abortion” which is code for sin and then he went into how every life from the tiniest in the womb to the most elderly person on the footsteps of death are loved by God. That was powerful but it rubbed me the wrong way because I knew his undertone. He continued on saying, “ No matter what the mother feels, God loves that child.”

My mind was filled with all the noise and chaos of that moment when you know you have to say something, “OH.SHIT. This is the worst possible mass for me to attend because I instinctively go into defensive mode.I have a crazy need to right all the wrongs, especially when my children are part of the captive audience. 
People, it took everything in my body not to raise my hand in front of a packed church of children and elderly, stand up and ask, “ But is God going to feed them, cuddle them, provide shelter and clothing for them? Is God going to make sure that every child born has all that he needs?” I was flabbergasted. Then something crazy happened, this priest, who is almost fanatically pro life, began to speak and his words were filled with compassion, caring and love.

His next few phrases are what blew my mind out of my head, right there in the back pew as my baby girl sang.

He said, “Abortion is man’s fault, not women. Because men should treat women like the crown jewels they are and love, respect, honor and support them and if they did, there would be no need for abortion because there would be no unwanted children.”

Let that sit with you for a minute.

Then he said, what I’ve said forever, “ Women are God’s most precious gift to Men and they are not to serve us, they are here for us to marvel with love, respect and adoration because without women, there is no life. Only women have been blessed with the ability to bring forth life.” Everything I thought I knew up until this point about this man changed.

Then he said, “ By men making women objects of lust instead of objects of love, they are to blame for putting women in these compromising positions.” I know that pregnancy take two and I don’t blame men alone for women being put in the position to choose life or not, but it was nice to finally here a man (a Catholic priest no less) say that men should take responsibility for their actions and keep it in their pants. I never expected to hear those words echoing through my church, ever.

Women have always been treated like second-class citizens throughout history in society and especially in the church. I’ve always felt differently and that’s made my views as a Latina and a woman unpopular with many men I’ve known.

I’ve never been particularly fond of this priest because I’ve always felt that he’s too judgmental on situations like these but this morning his words and his heart were filled with kind words of love and compassion for our children and that is so important when you are molding young children’s minds. His words moved me.

Don’t get me wrong I haven’t changed my mind. The feminist in me will always believe it is the woman’s right to choose and the 15-year-old me will always fight for the right for women to make their own choice without condemnation from others but he made me appreciate the choice from another perspective, more importantly he explained to my children in a way that fosters compassion and self-respect. I was impressed and in the end, I didn’t have to raise my hand or storm out of mass.

 

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Play Dates, mom friends, older mom, role model, role model mom

I think role model moms should be standard issue to all new moms. Being a mom is hard. It is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Not because of all the work it entails but the sheer force of the all-consuming energy that unconditional love tolls on your mind, body and spirit. Having done it twice, I really think that most of us spend the first four years of of our children’s lives in a fog induced by sheer love meeting complete desperation and exhaustion. I mean, I know I didn’t have a full night’s sleep until year 8 and it was only once.

 

The thing is when we come up for air from the insanity of new motherhood, we need to look for a mom role model.

I don’t mean someone to emulate or keep up with. Believe you me, I’ve had more than my fair share of those in my parenting lifetime. I’m not even referring to those amazing mom friends who hold your hand and lift your soul when you are neck deep in diaper blowouts, colic and regression. Though those broads are worth their weight in gold, for the listening and nodding agreement alone. If they can offer helpful advice and be a gentle sounding board, bonus.

 

When I say a role model, I mean a mom you meet who has older kids who are turning out pretty damn good. She might know a thing or two. Sure, she might not have cloth diapered but her oldest just started college and that kid’s got all of his shit together. This mama knows how to get things done the right way. I was fortunate to meet one such amazing woman on my oldest daughter’s first day of kindergarten.

 

You see, it was my first child and I didn’t want her to go to school all day. I wanted to cherish these final moments together. Plus the kid was still taking naps and who was I to take that away from us. Her sleeping peacefully while I gently stroked her head and silently sobbed because she was leaving me. Looking back now, on the precipice of puberty, I wasn’t wrong.

 

Anyways, I digress. This other mom, let’s call her Maureen ( because that is her name and she is too awesome for me not to refer to her by her real name), had a little boy who also happened to be only going ½ day. We.were.the.only.2. ( It’s Catholic school, people. Most of these mamas have plenty more and full day it was.) But not us, we wanted our kids home with us.

 

I walk into the corridor to wait for my daughter and I see this lovely woman, blonde and beautiful. Obviously, she has her shit together. She was not wearing the yoga pants and t-shirt with spit up on it that I was and her hair was so not in a ponytail like mine. We started talking and she was a little teary eyed and all I thought was dear Lord, what are they doing to our children that this obviously seasoned mom was brought to tears by. That’s when she told me that not only was this her youngest child’s first day of kindergarten but her oldest child’s first day of college. You see the irony, first and last and last and first all in the same day. I got a little choked up myself. I just wanted to hug her but I didn’t because that would have made me seem deranged, right ? Well, maybe I did, who can remember, the brain fog was strong with me in those days. Either way, I knew I loved this woman instantly.

 

Her heart was as big as anything I had ever seen and she was is (she’s not dead or anything) just a really lovely person. She had kind eyes and an unspoken kinship that put me at ease. For once, I felt like I could shut up and listen and not tell the other mother what month of life my child achieved a basic life skill (good thing too because I was getting tired of pulling out those motherhood aces up the sleeve: Bella walked at 10 months and Gabs totally potty trained herself by 18 months. Ok, see that was the last time.)

 

From that first day, I knew we would be friends and when I met her other children ( she has four) I realized that I wanted to be just like her when I grew up. Her kids are kind, well-mannered, smart, well-rounded citizens of the world. Her kids blow my mind, ergo, her mom skills are the bomb.

Six years later and she is still my mom role model. I hope one day I can be the same for some other new mom because God knows, I am not the youngest mom in the class, ever.

Who is your mom role model?

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Lea Clark, American Girl, Girl of the Year 2016, Giveaway,sadness

It’s been a difficult past 7 days. The kind of epic bad days those tear jerker country songs are made of. Last Thursday, my youngest daughter’s pet Guinea Pig got pneumonia, I took him to the vet, got him meds and we held him all day long nursing him back to health and then he just died. I was mad. I wanted a refund. I did all the things I was supposed to do and yet, still, I had to break my kids’ hearts.

We had to tell the girls when they came home from school and they both had massive breakdowns, one of which was outside on the front porch, screaming and wailing. Of course, this in turn broke our parent hearts and we all sat sobbing for most of Friday evening.

Lea Clark, American Girl, Girl of the Year 2016, Giveaway

Saturday, we had a funeral for said Guinea Pig. Sunday, I was awoken at 10:30 by my daughter who insisted we go to 11 a.m. mass. Did I mention that I hadn’t slept since Wednesday night when the guinea pig first presented with the sniffles? So to mass I went, after spending all of 5 minutes getting ready. Did I mention I am on the board at our school, which is at our church? Oh yeah, did I mention I know everyone there and I looked CRAZY.

Monday, my husband gave me the news about the death of David Bowie. Then on the way to finally get my stitches out from my second surgery to this never ending broken leg saga, just when not walking like a pirate was in my line of sight, my car decided that it doesn’t like the cold. In fact, it hates the bitter cold we are experiencing so badly that a censor automatically turns traction control off which in turn reduces the engine power basically leaving you stranded in traffic moving at the pace of a slow turtle. We’ve had snow days, delays and elearning ( shoot.me.now) and it’s only Wednesday.

***Update: Thursday, my daughters’ school was locked down due to a crazed man and a hostage situation in the neighborhood addition behind the school! Bonus, the school didn’t even inform the parents until pick up. I’m assuming it was to avoid mama bears like myself from scaling the building to get to their locked down children. This is no joke a terrible week.

The car can’t be seen until Friday. Oh and the dog also has to be seen Friday by the vet because apparently the stress and bitter cold have also made her start losing her hair on her flanks. Great alopecia one more thing to worry about. On a week when we have a thousand places to be, the snow, ice and bitter cold does not want us to do any of it.

Any ways, now that you know how horrible my last 7 days have been I will tell you that I need a little joy in my life. They say be the change you want to see in the world so I am turning this frown upside down, pulling on my big girl panties and faking it until I make it and all that. I’m holding fast to the little victories, like I had my first shower in 4 months standing on my own 2 feet without using the bench for the elderly that I have been dependent upon since September.

To start the happy train rolling, I am giving away one 2016 Girl of the Year doll, Lea Clark!

I refuse to let this chaos keep me down so I spread a little happiness by giving a Lea Clark doll to my daughters and through the generosity of American Girl; I am also giving one away to a lucky reader.

I love that American Girl’s 2016 Girl of the Year, Lea Clark, dives into adventure and helps girls see life through a new lens and is in collaboration with the world wildlife fund to help protect animals and their habitats. Grace was perfect for my eldest daughter because she is a little chef and loves all things Parisian but Lea is my youngest all the way. She even looks like my little girl.There is so much to identify with and my little girl adores Lea. I think yours will too.

Lea Clark a talented photographer with a love for animals, discovers a wide world of possibilities when she embarks on a faraway adventure to Brazil.   Available for only one year, Lea’s collection includes a beautiful 18-inch Lea doll featuring long wavy hair and warm hazel eyes, plus several tropical-inspired outfits, accessories, and toys that reflect her Brazilian travels—including Lea’s Rainforest House with over 30 pieces! Coming this summer, an all-new, action-adventure film will debut on DVD from Universal Studios Home Entertainment .

Written by award-winning author Lisa Yee, the 2016 Girl of the Year books—Lea Dives In, Lea Leads the Way, and Lea and Camila—introduce girls to a curious ten-year-old girl with an adventurous spirit. On a family trip to Brazil to visit her older brother, Zac, who is studying the Amazon rainforest, Lea is excited to capture everything she sees with her camera. Soon Lea   makes some incredible discoveries, but she also faces unexpected challenges, including a fear of the ocean, tension with Zac, and finding a baby sloth that has been gravely injured. With the help of her family, her new Brazilian friend, Camila, and her late grandmother’s guiding inspiration, Lea finds the inner strength and confidence to live her new adventures to the fullest.

Giving Back with Lea Clark

To show girls that, together, they can make a difference in helping protect animals and their habitats, American Girl has created Wild at Art, a year-long fund-raising campaign in support of World Wildlife Fund (WWF). Starting January 1, American Girl is encouraging girls to use their artistic abilities to host an art sale and donate the proceeds to WWF. To launch the campaign, American Girl has made a $50,000 donation to WWF and also invites customers to contribute at American Girl retail stores and americangirl.com. Parents can visit americangirl.com/wildatart to learn more and register for Wild at Art, plus get animal-themed craft ideas, and be entered into a sweepstakes for the chance to win one of 17 Lea prize packages.

In addition, from January 1 through December 31, 2016, for every purchase of one of the three plush animals in Lea’s collection—the margay, sea turtle, or sloth—American Girl will donate $1 (up to a maximum of $100,000) to WWF.

Just leave a comment below telling me who your favorite American Girl doll is and why. One lucky reader will randomly be selected to win a Lea Clark doll.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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David Bowie, Original art, Obie Cruz

As I sit here stunned, I can’t believe David Bowie is no longer on this earth. The news was sudden and jolted me to my core, not because I was his biggest fan but because, like air that I breathe, like my parents love, like my faith in religion he has always just been there; a piece of my puzzle.

He was an amazing, thought provoking, forward thinking, take-no-prisoners kind of artist whose presence will indeed be missing from this world. Oh, but what a legacy he left and really isn’t that all any of us wants? To leave a mark on this world, something to make the world remember we were here even if only for a brief moment, long after we’ve gone, like the sharpied commentaries on the human condition decorating bathroom stalls across the universe?

His art was trailblazing. He pushed the boundaries between the acceptable and the absurd. No matter what you thought of his genre of music, you had to respect the technique and the lyrics. You had to respect the man who would not let himself be shackled by conventional thinking. Every word he sang was layered and nuanced, nothing meant exactly what it said and was so much more than you’d expect.

David Bowie was the soundtrack to my formative years.

He made deep, dividing political statements palatable and made being weird beautiful and cool. He made love so deep that it tore at your soul and made death transcendent. Bowie made you not only think your own thoughts but question the status quo and, somehow, made it all not awkward.

David Bowie stepped outside of everyone’s comfort zone to stretch the comfort zone big enough for all of us. He made the world all inclusive with his art. It was a good thing in this world and now he’s gone. I will miss knowing he’s on this planet.

I will miss his music always playing at just the right time or just beneath the surface, saying just the right thing at just the right time. He made us all believe we could be heroes no matter how weird, little, strange or different we may have been. He made us feel like we meant something and we could do/be anything we wanted to and it was all going to be alright.

Bowie taught us to fall in love and be all in, to live with no regrets in big, bold, beautiful living color. That lesson was imprinted on my soul. I think we all need a little Bowie in our lives to keep us shooting for the stars even when we know that we probably won’t stick the landing. I think there’s a little Rebel Rebel in all of us.

The heavens shine a little brighter tonight as I lay here questioning my own mortality and place in the world, even in death, Bowie makes me contemplate the deeper meaning of life. There’s been a cosmic shift and it feels as if all the air’s been sucked out of the atmosphere because something that always was, in my life, no longer is.

I fell in love with David Bowie the first time I heard Space Oddity and fall in love over and over again each time I hear it.

This morning I lay in bed with my youngest sharing headphones, like I did so many times in my youth with a brother or sister or friend, and we listened to my favorite Bowie songs and I saw how he will live on forever in his music/art. When someone leaves an imprint this big on time and space, they are truly unforgettable.

 

Photo Courtesy of my brother, Obie Cruz.

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teaching your child about loss, losing a family pet, pets

The hardest thing we have to do as parents is teaching your child about loss. I have two daughters and my youngest is 8-years-old. In the last three years, she has felt the weight of the loss of a sibling, her beloved dog, a cousin and a goldfish. She has a great grandmother and a great-great aunt who are both in their late 80’s and we know more loss is on it’s way but I want to protect them for as long as possible.

 

Yesterday morning before school, we had the girls say goodbye to Teddy just in case the vet could not save him. I was a nervous wreck. My daughter collapsed into my arms and whispered through tear stained cheeks, “Mommy, please don’t let him die.” I knew in that moment, I was going to fight as hard as I’d ever fought to keep this little guy alive.

 

I found the best exotic pet vet in town, begged to be squeezed in as soon as possible and drove across the city with the weak little guy strapped into the front seat in a box, I gingerly seat belted him in as to not disturb him in his weakened state. I felt sick to my stomach. A million what ifs ran through my mind and they all ended with me breaking my daughter’s heart.

 

At the veterinarian’s office, Teddy was thoroughly checked. I was told that it was pneumonia. The remedy? Antibiotics and IV fluids. I was given more liquid antibiotics to give him twice a day until he was well. I left there feeling like I had dodged a major bullet. I had saved him and spared my daughter, yet another loss.

 

We spent the day holding him and talking to him. He quietly chirped and nuzzled into my chin. At first his breathing was labored but soon it quieted and he lay, softly against me where he stayed for hours before doing the same with my daughter.

 

This morning, she held him while she ate breakfast. The Big Guy and I took him briefly to administer his meds. He chirped loudly, which at first I thought was an improvement from his listlessness yesterday but then I began to consider that maybe it was pain that elicited his reaction.

 

My daughter kissed him goodbye and told him that she loved him before she went to school this morning. Then she said, “See you after school, Teddy Bear.” Only she won’t.

 

I came home and cleaned up the house a little bit and then I checked on our little Teddy. I picked him up and he was completely limp but warm. A first, I thought maybe he was fine just still because of the pneumonia and then; I realized he wasn’t breathing and he was not responsive.

 

I can’t even explain the reaction I had. I sobbed and lost my breath because I don’t want to be the one to break my daughter’s heart. I can still hear her whispering for me to save him. It lingers in the air like the faint smell of perfume after someone leaves the room.

 

Today, when she comes home, I am tasked with the unfortunate duty of telling her that her beloved longhaired Guinea Pig, Ted Koppel, has died in my arms from pneumonia while my daughter was at school. I hate teaching my children about loss because it is one that they will learn over and over in this life.

 

Now, it’s pick up time. Time to be there for my girl, after I have to break their tiny hearts and tear their world apart. I hate this part of parenting.

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tyrant, child, stubborn, disciplining an obstinant child

My daughter has metamorphosed from a sweet, loving child into a tyrant who rules with a iron fist and a sadistic sense of humor. It feels as if she’s made it her mission to frustrate me to the point of submission. I have to admit, she’s getting close this morning.

I was all set to write my post about this upcoming year…my resolutions. I have them plenty, only mine aren’t resolutions they are revolutions. Nope, no empty threats, just promises to myself to do and be better. I had it all worked out in my mind only I can’t write that post today because I’m laying here on my bed contemplating the meaning of it all. This, my friends, is what happens when you are taken emotionally hostage by a tiny tyrant whom you happen to love unconditionally.

Look, I’ve never been the mom who could say, suck it up and rub some dirt on it and move on. I’m the mom who gasps and kisses booboos, even when it’s not my kid who got hurt. My mommy heart is just too damn big for my own good. My daughters know this.

Sure, I come off like a cold-hearted twat sometimes but I’m not. Not even a little bit, especially when it comes to little people. That’s my soft spot and when they are my own, well, that’s my fucking kryptonite and they know that.

This morning, my littlest one made it her mission to do my head in. There is no other possible explanation for it. You see, my eldest has entered the tween years and is emotional, hormonal and has perfected the eye roll to my dismay. I expect this and I have developed a tolerance as to not lose my mind. We’ve been having long discussions about hormones and puberty and why it’s necessary to wash your face every single day, especially since your dad suffered from acne. She half gets the message. All I can do is offer advice, give her a facial cleaning system and be there, astringent in hand, when the shit hits the fan.

However, when the 8-year-old gets a full on, honest to God pimple on her chin and literally freaks the fuck out, I have no idea what to do. I tried rationale but let’s be honest, you can’t be rational with an 8-year-old with a white head about to burst. She worked herself into such a tizzy that yesterday, I kept her home because she had diarrhea. I know TMI but I honestly, thought the kid had the stomach flu. Not until last night when she came to me with tears in her eyes asking if I could cover up the pimple and told me that her stomach issues were caused by her nerves did I realize the weight of that damn pimple.

I spent yesterday coddling and reassuring her that it’s no big deal and I would help her clean her face and astringent the damn thing to death. I felt bad for her. I know the frustration that comes with pimples and a body that you have no control over. I was understanding and nurturing. I was going to smother that pimple in love and self-confidence if it killed us both. Hell, I even let the little one climb into my bed when she told me she was nervous and her stomach was bothering her at bedtime. However, that was yesterday. This morning was a different story.

In the place where my child who wanted pity and coddling stood yesterday was a defiant, mean spirited tyrant this morning. She woke up tired, because she stayed up too late explaining her stomachache and pimple woes last night. She didn’t want to get out of bed. Finally she got ready. Argued over breakfast. Went to the bathroom, where she proceeded, not to use the bathroom. Cried as I covered up the pimple as she had asked and just when it was completely invisible, she grabbed a tissue and yelled at me that it wasn’t working and smudged the whole thing.

Then she told me that I don’t care about her because if I did I wouldn’t send her to school where she very well might “poop” herself or throw up in mass. I email the teacher to make her aware that my daughter may or may not poop or throw up during mass, either way, please call me to pick her up if she does so and for the love of God, if the kid says she has to go to the toilet…this is not a drill. Heed my warning, woman. What kind of monster am I? (Probably the kind who hasn’t been alone in 3 weeks.)

Meanwhile, I go on feeding her sister and brushing hair, all the while the littlest is dragging her feet and making us late and absolutely refusing to eat. I can do no right. Every single thing I do, including taking breath is annoying her. I wasted so much time trying to cajole her into gear that I have to get myself ready in 1 minute. It’s okay; I have no intention of ever leaving my vehicle. Finally, we head out the door with 4 minutes to get to school that is a minimum of 5 minutes away. She’s fidgeting and sighing exasperation at a deafening tone. I ignore it as I tell myself, this too shall pass.

We get to school and she refuses to kiss me goodbye. Oh the defiance is strong with this one. You know when you’re a child and you piss your mom off and she curses you by saying those fateful words, “I hope you have one just like you when you grow up?” Well, my mom was good at it because I got a Mega mini me on steroids; big heart, big mouth and more stubborn than any mule who has ever lived. It will serve her well in the real world someday but it’s slowly driving me insane.

After all this, in the middle of my daily prayer for them to survive their school day, she walks back to the car and tells me that she’s going to be sick. I offer to walk her in. She refuses and walks away, only to instantly turn around and say, “Are you coming or what?” I jump out of my car, looking like a homeless person (who wasn’t expecting to be seen in public) as I have to chase her down in my boot cast (because I just had surgery a week ago and am back in the boot). She stays at least 15 feet ahead of me all the way into the building.

Finally, I hobble into her classroom, looking even crazier with sweat and explain the possible shit situation to her delightful teacher who looks at me like I might need some lithium in my life. I then walk over to my daughter to confirm that I have, in fact, made the teacher aware of the situation and there will be no shitting or vomiting on herself on my watch to which she responds by giving me the side eye as she maintains her 15-foot buffer and mutters, “Whatever!” I catch up and kiss her goodbye just to show her whose boss.

Just to make the morning even more magnificent than being caught in public wearing leggings as pants and looking like a homeless person covered in sweat and frustration, I was greeted while exiting the building by the annoyingly good looking 20-something year old vice principal who I serve on the school board with. I thought parenting was supposed to get easier as our children got older so why am I feeling like I’ve just been water boarded by a tiny tyrant with a pimple on her chin and a really terrible, no good, very bad Napoleon complex?

If this tyrant attitude is hanging around for the teen years, I may not survive.

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Christmas cards, peace on earth, domestic violence, awkward holiday card, hannah hawkes photography

When you think of peace on earth does your mind immediately go to women should be seen and not heard? Do you think the above photo can be construed as funny? I don’t. I find it offensive that a family would request this sort of photo that makes light of such a serious topic as sexism and condones domestic violence. How can a photo of your wife and daughters bound and gagged ( even with Christmas lights) with your toddler son giving a thumbs up be found anything but disgusting? But I’m not mad so much as I am saddened that anyone would think this is okay.

I can take a joke just as much as the next person. Hell, I’ve written some pretty off the cuff pieces, dare I say maybe even bordering on offensive, humor pieces about lady bits and I’m no stranger to controversy but as someone who has experienced abuse and spent my childhood being told that I should be seen and not heard, sometimes even threatened by physical injury and other times being on the receiving end of a good slap for speaking up, I don’t find this funny.at.all. In fact, I find that it makes a mockery of domestic violence and women’s rights in general.

I’m not sure why this picture was taken or whose idea it was. The mom’s? The dad’s? Either way, why did the other one go along with it? What kind of message is it sending to their daughters? What kind of message is it sending to their son? What kind of message is it sending to the people they know that they might send these cards to?

There is nothing funny about this photo. I know people push the envelope to get these awkward, funny to some, creepy to others holiday photos. I get that but this photo offends me on every level. This photo clearly sends the message that women should be forced into submission and seen but never heard. It objectifies women and dehumanizes us.

I’ve spent my life speaking up when I was told to shut up. It wasn’t easy and it was even dangerous. It took bravery to break that cycle. Do you know what it feels like to be afraid of your own voice? Do you know what it feels like to be punished for voicing your thoughts? It is a misogynistic way of breaking one’s spirit by humiliating them at their very core. The message is clear, to be seen and not heard means that you are invisible and your thoughts, your existence, do not matter. You do not matter and your very existence is only allowed by someone else’s permission.

Peace on Earth is not achieved by silencing women.

I can’t even be irate by this photo because I am too busy being so saddened that this is the message these parents want to instill in their children. This one photo, that speaks volumes, is telling their children that women should be silent or suffer the consequences and that men only get peace through violence against women. This photo is telling their children that women don’t matter.

I’m sure these parents thought this would be a funny gag but maybe, as parents, they should consider the ramifications and lasting impressions they are making on their children. This one small moment has ripples and if they took this picture, as anyone who has ever told a joke knows, there is always some truth to the joke so if they thought it was funny, somewhere inside they believe that this is how peace on earth is achieved.

Women bound with Christmas lights with duct tape over their mouths, with a young boy giving a thumbs up and a grown man holding a sign that says “Peace on Earth” is not my idea of funny. It’s sexist and wrong. Simply put this photo condones the subjugation of women, in fact, it celebrates it. I want a better world for my daughters and I hope the family in this photo, want more for theirs.

Dear Peace on Earth Family,

I hope this was a failed attempt at being funny and there is nothing more nefarious or, indeed, true about the logic behind this photo. As a mother, a woman and someone who has been told that she was to be seen and not heard at threat of violence for her entire childhood, I implore you to please consider the message you are sending your children, all of them.

Readers, what do you think of this photo of “peace on earth”?

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#HallmarkTradiciones , Hallmark, Noche Buena, nochebuena, christmas eve, latinos, celebrating the holidays

Disclosure:  This is a compensated campaign in collaboration with Hallmark and Latina Bloggers Connect.

This time of year is all about celebrating family. No matter what direction life takes us as we grow into adulthood and have children of our own, our upbringing keeps us grounded in the roots of our culture. Family is still everything.

As a child in a biracial home, the one thing I looked forward to every December was Christmas eve and celebrating Nochebuena. To be honest, I didn’t even realize it was a Latino custom until I was in university. It was just how we had always celebrated.

Most people look forward to Christmas morning but not in our house; in our house it was all about Nochebuena. Every year I looked forward to decorating the tree, eating sweet and savory tamales, buñuelos, attending the posadas celebrations and mostly being together with my parents and my brothers and sisters during the holiday celebrating.

We grew up fairly poor and to be honest, I don’t ever remember believing in Santa Claus… ever. I’m sure when I was very small that I did but I couldn’t have been older than 4. I know, it’s sad. That’s probably why I try so hard to maintain the magic for my own girls, as long as possible. It’s probably the reason the gifts spill out from under the tree and out into the middle of the living room floor every year. This is why we have 5 elfs on the shelf and watch every single holiday classic. I’m trying to preserve their childhood magic for as long as I possibly can. So please, if your kid doesn’t believe in Santa…keep them away from my children.

On Christmas Eve before midnight mass, we would eat and drink and have a blast listening to Christmas music. It was always very exciting. My dad videotaped every Christmas Eve. It was the one night of the year where we all felt happy and things like money and possessions didn’t mean anything. We just enjoyed being together.

#HallmarkTradiciones , Hallmark, Noche Buena, nochebuena, christmas eve, latinos, celebrating the holidays

After all of the eating, drinking, dancing and laughing, we’d venture out into the cold winter night and attend mass. I have very fond memories of those ethereal nights attending church on Christmas Eve. I was there every Sunday but somehow on Nochebuena, it was like God and the angels themselves were in the building or maybe it was just the weary eyes of a small child, half dreaming my way through the celebration.

After mass was done, as a family, we’d go home and were allowed to open one present. That was a huge deal because we only ever got to ask for ONE present… the rest were socks and underwear because that’s how it works in a home when you are struggling financially. You were allowed to ask for ONE gift that you wanted, everything else was what you needed and even then it wasn’t much, basically just something to open.

We knew my mom bought us our “BIG” Gift because she asked us what we wanted. When we opened it, we were grateful. We knew there was no Santa because if there was we wouldn’t be opening socks and underwear on Christmas morning but we didn’t care.

Every year of my childhood and still now, I look forward to Christmas Eve because, for us, it is the best night of the year. My celebration with my children may look a little different than it did back then because, just as I was  biracial child, so are my children. There are not 6 children and we don’t make it to midnight mass because our girls aren’t old enough to stay up that late yet. We go to the 6 p.m. mass, then to celebrate with family and then we come home and put on our matching pajamas to wake up early the next morning to open presents together. My children still have the luxury of believing in Santa Claus. Even though the celebration might not look exactly the same, the sentiment is…family is the most important thing on Nochebuena.

#HallmarkTradiciones , Hallmark, Noche Buena, nochebuena, christmas eve, latinos, celebrating the holidays
This holiday season Hallmark helps Latinos celebrate and connect with family and friends. Hallmark’s assortment of cards in English and Spanish cultivate traditions with loved ones, both during the holidays and every day. Hallmark’s beautiful, hand-designed cards offer something for everyone on your list.

Some cards are funny, lighthearted, religious and heartfelt. All are perfect for the holiday season. Hallmark cards speak to the language that everyone understands — the heart, whether it’s for mama, papa, los abuelos, brother/sisters the kids and/or a significant other.

Visit Hallmark.com or a participating store to find the perfect holiday (or every day) cards for those you love.

#HallmarkTradiciones , Hallmark, Noche Buena, nochebuena, christmas eve, latinos, celebrating the holidays

Giveaway:

I will be giving one lucky reader an assortment of five Hallmark Holiday and Everyday cards in a set (3 holiday and 2 everyday) and a $25 Hallmark Gift Card.

The giveaway is open to readers over the age of 18 that live in the contiguous U.S. No Puerto Rico. The giveaway will end December 20, 2015 t 11:59 p.m. EST.

 

Mandatory entry: What is your favorite holiday tradition?

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Momojis, emojis, Luvs, parenting, parenting in the 21st century, diapers

Disclaimer: This is part of a sponsored collaboration with DiMe Media and Luvs but all opinions about Momojis are 100% mine.

We all know that a picture is worth a thousand words and, as parents, we know that we never have enough free time on our hands and little ears hear everything we say, especially those things that we don’t want them to hear and repeat.

Sometimes, as a mom, you need to vent to your partner or a friend about the craziness that is motherhood but words are not an option. A diaper blowout (code brown as we affectionately refer to it in our home) or a toddler’s public meltdown (as we’ve referred to in a Seinfeldian way, “these pretzels are making me thirsty.” Translation: These babies are making me crazy) are not exactly things you want to say out loud in public. There has to be a way to maintain a smidgen of dignity in parenthood, right?

Enter Momojis, emojis just for Parents.

Momojis, emojis, Luvs, parenting, parenting in the 21st century, diapers

Luckily, when it comes to parenting, LUVS gets it. They’ve created the first ever custom emoji keyboard created specifically for moms and dads, the Luvs Momoji Keyboard. Inspired by experienced parents and their affinity for emoji use, Momojis give parents more ways to easily express all the emotions that come with real-life parenting with no danger of little ears overhearing. It’s like parental shorthand for the parent on the go.

We parents keep our mobile devices within arm’s reach and text with people more than we actually talk to them. Who has time to talk when you’re raising toddlers? I never knew that was even an option. But my iPhone has practically become an appendage over the years. I use it to Google symptoms, call the pediatrician, play music to entertain the kids in random dance parties and find recipes to smuggle broccoli disguised as brownies into my girls’ lunch boxes so texting emojis is just easier.

Sometimes the tales of parenthood are so outlandish, it leaves the person on the other end thinking maybe you’ve been hitting the mommy juice a little early in the day but, truly, parenthood is the stuff urban legends are made up of. I mean if you would have told me 15 years ago one day I’d be texting the Big Guy to tell him our 18-month-old made an entire box of feminine hygiene products disappear into thin air or that my 3-year-old almost drove me insane by asking me the same question over and over for 3 hours straight after keeping me up the entire night before, I wouldn’t have believed it either.

Momojis, emojis, Luvs, parenting, parenting in the 21st century, diapers

The Luvs Momoji Keyboard app is also the first to offer access to the latest in emoji technology – the Promoji – which helps busy moms hunt for diaper deals on the go. Hey, who can’t use a deal on diapers?

I learned the hard way that Luvs nighttime were the only diapers we could use on our girls at bedtime that kept them dry. With new larger stretch tabs for easy fastening, and the same ultra-leakage protection and money-back guarantee, Luvs with NightLock™ provides the high-quality features babies and parents need for less cost then the premium brands.

Through the first-ever use of Promojis (promotional emojis), busy moms will be able to hunt for diaper deals and coupons from Luvs on the go. Promojis are the latest in emoji technology and allow users to quickly and easily find great deals and promotions. Luvs is the first brand to share coupons, deals and special offers with consumers in a whole new way.

For more information and to download the Luvs Momoji Keyboard, please visit the app store. For more information on Luvs Diapers, visit www.luvsdiapers.com or the brand’s social media channels on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/luvsdiapers),

Twitter (https://www.twitter. com/luvs) and

YouTube (https://www.youtube.com/luvsdiapers).

In celebration of Luvs new Momojis, I will be giving away Luvs diapers and $100 Amex Gift Card to one lucky reader.

The giveaway is open to readers over the age of 18 that live in the contiguous U.S. No Puerto Rico. The giveaway will end December 24, 2015 t 11:59 p.m. EST.

Mandatory entry into the giveaway:

Leave a comment on this post telling me the craziest thing you’ve ever had to text your partner about your child and wished you’d had momojis.

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Donald Trump, racist, presidential candidate, 2016 presidential election, republican party, Muslims, Mexicans

On a daily basis, Donald Trump says something that either shocks or appalls me. The man says the most outlandish, hateful and bigoted things; things that seem almost as if he is testing the American people just to see how stupid they really are; how far they will allow him to go, like a toddler testing their boundaries. I don’t know about you, but Donald Trump and his proposed immigration reform scares me.

I cringe every time he insults another race because each time he does, more and more American racists stand up and cheer. There is strength in numbers and with a presidential candidate crazy enough to vocalize the hatred in the hearts of many prejudice people, he gains more support and more influence and that scares me as a Latina woman and as a human being. In the midst of all of this, the brazen racist are revealing themselves; crawling out of the dark corners and alleys and rallying their aryan battle cry.

This goes way beyond Republican and Democrat party lines. Donald Trump is calling for banning entire groups of people from entering the country solely based on the color of their skin and their religious affiliation. He wants to build walls and mark people to identify them. You’ve heard the saying, those who don’t know their history are destined to repeat it? Well, hello, Mr. Trump sounds a little too much like Adolf Hitler to me. In the beginning his over the top antics were certainly controversial but almost comical because, surely, they were not genuine but now, I believe he’s blatant because he just doesn’t care who he offends.

I don’t know about you but I can’t stand by and watch this man round up all those he feels are unworthy to come into our country and persecute them. People who were escaping religious persecution founded this country. People who left everything they knew and loved behind in pursuit of freedom, happiness and a better life for themselves and their families. It’s the entire mission that our country was based on and now; Trump has made it his personal mission to shut people out; to discriminate and persecute the very people that need our refuge. The scariest part of all of it is that with each bit of hatred he spews, more Americans stand up and support these ludicrous, radically racist ideas.

I keep thinking that this has to be a joke. No one can hate these many people. Hatred even in the name of patriotism is still hatred.

Donald Trump must be trying to see how far he can go before someone stops him.

Surely, he cannot be this bigoted. He is a businessman who has made money working with people from all over the world. Am I to believe he has secretly despised them all? Surely, this must be a hoax. Maybe this is a ploy to capture the Republican nomination only to alienate himself so badly that the American people have no other option but to vote for a democrat. Maybe he is a political genius who is a secret democrat.I hope none of this vitriol is real.

If we believe every outlandish thing he’s said, we’d have to believe that he wants to ban Muslims from entry into the United States solely on the basis that because of their religion they should be considered dangerous. Well, I think the Westboro Baptist people are pretty dangerous but I don’t see him trying to kick them out of the country.

He wants to ship the Mexicans out because he wants the American people to believe that we are all criminals, rapists, murderers and drug cartel members. According to his proposed immigration reform, I would be sent to Mexico even though I was born here and have never lived there. He also doesn’t particularly like Asian people or women either. Each thing he says is crazier than the last and still his support grows. What’s next? Will he try to deport all of the African Americans back to Africa? Or maybe he will try to reinstate slavery or make it legal to continue to shoot unarmed black men?

Make no mistake, Donald Trump is dangerous. I don’t want to hurl insults and go off on a tangent about how ignorant I think what he’s saying is but I want to be clear that I am disgusted by his racism, his political tactics and his blatant disregard for basic human rights and I am scared for our country that there are some people who think this is okay. There are people who silently walk past me on the street and inside their head, they agree with him. This makes me feel vulnerable and unsafe in a way that no terrorist ever has. Trump running for president is entertaining to some until he actually gets elected and is corrupted completely by his power.

What are your thoughts on Donald Trump for President?

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