Today, I am going to tell you a little story about raising daughters and menstruation. No, it has nothing to do with half-naked selfies but it just might be TMI so if you are squeamish about lady parts or feminine hygiene products and the such, I should warn you do not read any further. If you faint at the sight of blood? Stop! Do not continue reading! Back the truck up and run in the other direction.Go. Run. Fast. It’s about to get real up in here. For real, for real!
As many of you know, I have two little girls that I am trying to raise with self-confidence, independence and verve for life. I want them to live life so fully that they just grab it with both hands and jump. I want them to live life on their own terms. I want happiness and equality for them but more than anything else, I want them to always know they can come to me.about.anything. ANYTHING! That includes pubic hair, menstruation, boobs and yes, even sex, masturbation and childbirth.
I parent with honesty and openness. I want them to ask questions. We talk about everything. If they ask, I answer. I am trying to build trust and respect to compliment the unconditional love. I want them to not only be children that I love but people that I like and I hope they feel the same way about me one day but today, I am their mommy and my job is to mother them.
Anyways, sometimes even when you think you are doing it right, things get muddled and you are left wondering WTH just happened? This is what happened to me yesterday in the bathroom at Panda Express. Don’t judge.
The girls had their well visits yesterday and got a surprise Hepatitis vaccination and flu mist sprung on them. That did not go over very well so to “help the medicine go down” we promised them a dinner out. It was the least we could do.
In the middle of dinner, my littlest one informed me that she MUST go to the potty or she will “actually” pee herself. Her words, not mine. Obviously, that’s kid code for four-alarm code yellow. I realized that I could use a little tinkle and check myself, so off we went. Of course, we travel in packs, where one goes, so shall the other and with that, per usual, we had 3 girls in a stall. Only once we got in there, I realized shark week was back with a vengeance.This was a straight up Jaws emergency. If you know what I mean?
FYI, public restrooms are not the place to tackle the subject of menstruation.
The girls have always gone into the bathroom stall with me in public places if I have to use the facilities. Its just the way it’s always been; co-sleeping and co-toileting, attachment parenting gone wild.I don’t want them to get abducted but I also don’t want to give step-by-step directions on how to use a tampon yet either. I practice discretionary, ninja-like tampon changing skills. They know that sometimes mommy gets a “booboo”. They think a tampon is like a Band-Aid for your vagina and they are sort of right. But they are getting older and we just had the conversation in May about puberty and periods, thanks to a dog that went into premature heat.
I asked the girls to turn around. They do and I successfully execute my quick change and flush. This is nothing I ever thought I would be doing in my life, then again I never thought I would randomly be smelling baby’s butts in public restaurants either. How the mighty have fallen. Remember, a baby changes everything and all that shit?
Only, life hates me and the toilet is one of those green, low-flow, crunchy granola Woodstock, no bra-wearing, hairy armpit bastards and no match for the super duper, no-holds barred, epic nuclear- reactive, cotton torpedo that I needed to use that day to keep the sharks at bay. So everything flushes. Except.the.Damn.Tampon! It re-appears waterlogged and even larger than before and as it does, in slow motion, both girls turn around to see it breaking the surface of the pink toilet water. Then this happened.
Menstruation happened!
Gabs (screaming at the top of her lungs): “Oh no! Mommy, I saw blood!!!!”
Me: “Remember I told you what happened with the dog?”
Gabs (whispering and completely serious): “Oh my God, Mommy, did you just go into heat???”
Me (dying of laughter on the inside, trying my damnest to keep a straight face): “No honey. People don’t go into heat. We have periods.”
Gabs: “Oh because I was scared we were going to have to keep you inside because all the daddies in the neighborhood were going to try to jump on you.”
Then, I died.
And just like that shark week wasn’t so bad anymore. Have you ever been caught in a state of shark week? How did you explain menstruation to your little one?
A new pope, Pope Francis, Jorge Mario Bergoglio has been elected. The white smoke has risen and a new day for Catholics is upon us. Hopefully, a time to get back to the fundamentals, a change back towards simplicity and faith and away from being a business; an entity.
I don’t usually talk about religion on here because my faith is very personal to me. I love all people and respect all faiths, not just my own. I’ve never bad mouthed anyone’s religion. I needed to mark this occasion. This is, after all, my chronicle of our life and is, in most part, written for my daughters to one day read. I want them to know and to remember this. So, if you don’t want to read about my feelings on Pope Francis or how I feel about the Catholic Church, then stop reading. I will not be offended. I don’t want you to be either.
Eight years ago, I had just given birth to my first child. Less than a month later, I remember holding my beautiful new baby in my arms and watching the funeral of Pope John Paul II. It was bittersweet to me. My life was completely changing. At this huge moment in my life, when God was more present than ever before, I lost the only Pope I had ever known. I was sad that my daughter would never know the leader of our church who had made such an impression on so many of us. I was sad that a man who had fought so strongly for our religion was gone and his mission would be ended. I was afraid that with him went the cohesion of our church and that all that was good was left to spoil. (more…)
Okay, it’s about time I admit something to you guys; something I am deeply embarrassed about and have been in denial about for some time…my children are spoiled. Hi, my name is Debi and my children are more spoiled than expired milk left in a Sippy cup in your minivan for 2 years. (more…)
In the simplest terms, regarding higher education, affirmative action (which stemmed from the civil rights movement in the 1960s) is the practice of considering a student’s background characteristics such as race as a factor in deciding whether to admit an applicant. This is typically referring to admissions policies aimed at increasing the number of black, Latino, and other minority students on campus. This is really important to me right now especially because I have a daughter who is beginning college in the fall and I want her to see diversity everywhere.
This is done so that colleges and universities can factor race into the equation when considering who to admit. This is not a free pass for minority students, it is a part of a holistic approach that reviews every aspect of an application, including grades, test scores and extracurricular activities.
The fact of the matter is that even though I believe that all people are created equal, not every one of us were dealt the same hand in life. Our experiences are very different, and race plays a huge part in how our experience plays out. Whether or not English is your first language matters. Ignorant, racist predispositions that society holds tight to are holding minority children back from evolving and succeeding in the United States.
Regardless of how many “woke” people want to say they don’t see color, they are the minority and worse still, in many cases, they only don’t see color when it’s easy or convenient or doesn’t affect them directly. I’m not blind to race or skin color. I was raised to see the differences, embrace those differences, and appreciate the differences. We don’t all have to look and believe the same to deserve human respect. We don’t even have to be friends for me to respect your humanity. You still with me?
The bottom line is that the goal of race-conscious admissions policies is to increase student diversity, in order to enhance the educational experience for all students. It’s a counteraction to white privilege. Schools also employ recruitment programs and scholarship opportunities intended to boost diversity, but the Supreme Court litigation was just focused on admissions. Remember a few years ago when there was a scandal about celebrity parents paying their children’s way into college? Yeah, see, minority children don’t do that. They can’t do that. We have to work for it. We know that education is the great equalizer and to be educated is to have power so we are determined to do our best.
To be completely honest, when I was a teenager applying for colleges, I hated the thought of affirmative action. Not because it wasn’t for me. Nope, I was the exact kind of kid it is meant to help. I was a very smart, capable, involved, first-generation student from a blue-collar family who worked my ass off to get into my top choice schools. I did it. This little freckled Mexican got into Harvard and every other school I applied to.
But I never ticked that fucking “Hispanic” box, not even once. I refused to because I didn’t want all my hard work being diminished and reduced to charity by some ignorant asshole who was jealous that I got accepted and he didn’t. I didn’t want people saying, “Yeah, but you only got in because you’re Mexican.” No bitches, I got in because I’m really fucking intelligent, and I worked twice as hard as anyone else I knew. Yeah, I’m humble too.
My pride made me lose out on scholarships that I could have gotten had I just checked that box. But I couldn’t do it. I’m still paying for that mistake, literally. I refused to let anyone think I needed their charity. I was just as good as any middle-class Caucasian student only my skin wasn’t alabaster, we lived pretty close to the poverty line and my dad’s first language wasn’t English. But how could I, at 17-years-old, accept that as my destiny? I couldn’t.
You can only live for so long hearing that “Mexicans are coming over here stealing all of our jobs, living on welfare and not paying taxes.” In my house, none of that shit was true. We were taught to work hard for what we wanted. In fact, if I’m being completely honest, that is pretty much across the board for us Latinos, at least for every Latino I know.
We are not taught to take handouts. In real talk, most of us would rather starve than take handouts. We don’t take your jobs. We take the jobs we earn and deserve, and, in some cases, we even take the jobs that most won’t take because we’re taught from birth that family is everything and hard work is honorable. So, with no shame at all, we put our heads down and do the hard, back breaking work to feed our families because that is the point of everything.
When I heard that the Supreme court overturned affirmative action, I was conflicted. But, I wasn’t surprised at all. After the events of recent years and the blatant racism that plagues this nation why would I be shocked that SCOTUS did this not so covert microaggression against minorities? The more I thought about it, the sadder I got because what a boring and unseasoned life we would live with no diversity?
Our Gen Z and Alpha children, they truly don’t give a shit about color. They see it and they respect it, and they move the fuck along. My daughters don’t discriminate against anyone because of the color of their skin, their religion, their sexual orientation, their pronouns or birth gender. My children don’t care who you love or how you celebrate that love. My girls, they judge you on your character and even then, they let it go. They believe in second chances and know that people are fallible. They choose joy and love over hatred. They make better choices than the generations that came before them and they move along. If you try to challenge their beliefs, they’ll hear you out but if you’re wrong, they will stand up for what is right and what is fair. All this to say, I hope these children stay this way and change the world.
I think affirmative action still needs to be in place because minority students are still getting passed over and shut out of colleges and universities across the country. Look, my children have had the good fortune to go to the best private schools and have every privilege there is to help them achieve their dreams of university and a career. They have choices. My girls also have upper middle-class parents who paved their way. They want for nothing. They have resources, 3 meals a day, a refrigerator full of food, air and heat. Comfortable beds and don’t have to worry about things like translating for their parents or figuring out where they’re going to get money for school lunches or clothes. They have a stay-at-home mom with 3 Master’s Degrees who makes her own rules and chooses her collaborations. They have the life they have because their father and I worked tirelessly to give them that life because someone gave us a chance to work for our dreams.
But that is not what my childhood was like. I did have to worry about where I was going to get money for lunches, books, clothes and field trips. When I was growing up, there were six children raised on a factory worker’s salary and a stay-at-home mom’s love. When I went away to college, no one helped me. I had to pay my own way. As a 17-year-old, had to figure it all out. I had no support system, and it was very difficult for me. But I still made it. I went hungry sometimes and sometimes the cultural differences between inside my home and outside made me feel like I was from a different planet. In retrospect, I realize that I had to work twice as hard because my situation was different from the middle-class Caucasian kids that I went to school with, which is not their fault, but it wasn’t mine either. Being different shouldn’t be a character flaw.
Being a minority in the United States means being born with stigma and shame because the majority will make you feel like you are less than, no matter what you do. Affirmative action was an attempt to level the playing field. It wasn’t perfect but it was something and some kind of effort is better than none; if only to make us feel like we are seen, and someone cares enough to hold their hand out to help us up. It’s not a handout but a hand up. We’re not about stepping on the majorities back to get to the top. It’s about us all starting from the same point and being afforded the same opportunities to compete for opportunities, despite the differences in our skin color. That’s what affirmative action is about.
There was one weird exception to the conservative Supreme Court majority’s decision ending race-based affirmative action in higher education on Thursday: military academies. Apparently, using race as a factor in admissions to military academies can “further compelling interests,” Chief Justice John Roberts wrote.
The distinction suggests that there could be value in using race to diversify some American institutions i.e., the U.S. military’s officer corps but Roberts’ overall decision says loud and clear that it would be unconstitutional to do so at public and private colleges and universities.
I feel that the U.S. government is sending the message that they don’t mind our minority children dying in service to their country in the name of equality and justice that they can’t even fully receive themselves. By the same token, they can’t be afforded that same luxury at the collegiate level. This sends the message to minority parents that the U.S. government finds our children to be disposable and unworthy of educating. I call bull shit. Don’t tell our children they don’t deserve your help to better their situation while simultaneously telling them that they are perfectly okay to die for the same country, that refused to care whether they lived in poverty and ignorance.
According to Huff Post, Liberal Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson wrote in her dissent, “The Court has come to rest on the bottom-line conclusion that racial diversity in higher education is only worth potentially preserving insofar as it might be needed to prepare Black Americans and other underrepresented minorities for success in the bunker, not the boardroom.” What the fuck America? What the actual fuck?
Affirmative action is about equality, that is it. No one is trying to out do the majority, we just need our kids to get a fair shot at achieving the same things in life as everyone else. What are your thoughts? Do you think affirmative action in schools is a good thing? Or is there something more progressive or maybe even more effective for leveling out the collegiate playing field for all students?
This approach builds resilience by allowing kids to experience natural consequences and problem-solve independently.
Open communication replaces monitoring, fostering trust and emotional coaching between parents and children.
Training wheels parenting strengthens connections, enabling children to seek guidance willingly while respecting their autonomy.
Ultimately, it shifts parenting from control to mentorship, preparing children to handle life’s obstacles confidently.
Remember when you taught your child to ride a bike? That moment when you knew they were ready, but your hands still gripped the seat a little too tightly? That’s exactly where I found myself as a mother—not with a bicycle, but with life itself. There was no new mother or parenting book for that so I’ve been winging it by the seat of my pants since 2005.
For years, I hovered. I anticipated. I solved problems before they even happened. I was the quintessential helicopter mom, and I wore that badge with pride. After all, wasn’t that what good moms did? Protect, guide, cushion every fall?
Then my daughters started growing up, and I realized something profound: I was so busy being their safety net that I forgot to teach them how to land. Yeah, ‘Oh fuck’ is right! I overcorrected. Yes, therapy has been teaching me some things. Imagine a little girl who never had enough of anything, including attention, righting every perceived wrong ever done to her. I was so busy trying to heal the child in me by making my own daughters lives as close to ideal as possible. I was trying to heal myself by preventing anything bad from ever happening to them because no one protected me; well, not to the degree I needed anyways.
What Is Training Wheels Parenting?
Training wheels parenting is the revolutionary middle ground between helicopter parenting and complete independence. It’s the art of being present without being overbearing, of offering support without suffocating autonomy. It’s not easy but it’s what’s best for my daughters.
Think about actual training wheels. They don’t prevent your child from riding—they stabilize them while they learn balance. They’re adjustable. As your child gains confidence, you gradually raise them until one day, they’re barely touching the ground. Eventually, they come off entirely, but not before your child has built the skills and confidence they need.
That’s what we need to do as mothers in this complicated world; at least, that’s what I needed to do. We need to provide structure and support that gradually decreases as our children’s competence increases. We need to be mentors, not managers. And in my case, we’re friends. I raised two of the best fucking humans I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting and that’s just facts.
The Evolution From Helicopter to Mentor to Friend
The helicopter mom culture taught us that good parenting meant total involvement. We scheduled every activity, monitored every friendship, intervened in every conflict. Good Lord, the playdate moms I endured and who were forced to endure me ( I’m a lot…I’m sorry because I’m even more when I’m stressed and boy, being a mom has always stressed me out because the stakes are too high).
We believed that our constant presence equaled love and protection. But here’s what nobody tells you about helicopter parenting: it robs our children of something essential—the ability to fail safely, to problem-solve independently, to build resilience through experience.
When my oldest daughter faced her first major disappointment—not getting the part in the Nutcracker she’d worked so hard for—my instinct was to march into that ballet and demand answers (or change minds because you know me). The point is that I wanted to fix it, to make the hurt go away, to challenge the director’s decision. I had tunnel vision and the only thing that mattered was that my girl was hurting and I wanted to make it all better like I’d done all of her life. I had to put her needs above my inability to watch her fail or struggle.
Instead, I sat with her discomfort. I listened. I asked questions that helped her process her emotions and identify what she could control. I didn’t rescue her from the pain ( though believe me I have)—I equipped her to navigate it. That’s training wheels parenting.
Why This Model Matters Now More Than Ever
Our children are growing up in a world we couldn’t have imagined. Social media scrutiny, political polarization, economic uncertainty, global pandemics—the challenges they face require more than our protection. They require preparation and education.
Training wheels parenting acknowledges that we can’t shield our kids from everything, nor should we try. Instead, we focus on building their capacity to handle whatever comes their way. We teach critical thinking, emotional intelligence, problem-solving, and self-advocacy.
This doesn’t mean we abandon them. We give them unconditional love and support. It means we redefine support. We’re not hovering overhead, ready to swoop in at the first sign of struggle. We’re standing beside them, providing guidance when asked, offering perspective when needed, and cheering from the sidelines as they navigate their own paths. With a few bumps on the way and a learning curve that left something to be desired, this is how my parents parented. I’ve just made it my own and worked out most of the kinks.
The Core Principles of Training Wheels Parenting
Progressive independence is fundamental. We gradually increase responsibilities and freedoms as our children demonstrate readiness. A fifteen-year-old gets different training wheels than an eight-year-old, and that’s exactly as it should be.
Natural consequences become teachers. When my daughter forgot her phone for the third time, I didn’t rush to school with it. She felt disconnected and out of sorts that day, and she never forgot her phone again. The lesson stuck because she owned the consequence.
Open communication replaces surveillance. Instead of monitoring every text message, we have ongoing conversations about healthy relationships, digital citizenship, and personal boundaries. We talk about and through everything. We build trust through dialogue, not control. Love is unconditional and built on respect for one another, honesty and trust, not fear.
Emotional coaching supersedes problem-solving. We validate feelings while empowering our children to find their own solutions. We ask, ‘What do you think you should do?’ instead of immediately telling them what to do.
Maintaining Connection While Letting Go
The fear that keeps many of us hovering is the fear of disconnection. We worry that if we step back, we’ll lose our place in our children’s lives. But training wheels parenting actually strengthens our bonds because it’s built on mutual respect rather than dependency.
My relationship with my daughters has deepened since I embraced this approach. They come to me not because they have to, but because they want to. They share not because I’m monitoring, but because they trust me to listen without judgment or immediate intervention. They’ve taught me to learn to listen and be fully present before trying to fix it. Sometimes they just want us to support them. That was a hard truth to be told and I still have to work at this because I’m a fixer.
Connection doesn’t require constant proximity. It requires presence when it matters, wisdom when it’s needed, and the courage to let them stumble while you’re still close enough to catch them if they truly fall.
The Hardest Part: Trusting the Process
Let me be honest—training wheels parenting is harder than it sounds but it is what came most naturally for us. It requires restraint when every fiber of your being wants to intervene. It demands patience when quick fixes seem easier. It means accepting that your child might make different choices than you would, and those choices might lead to mistakes.But those mistakes? They’re not failures—they’re ‘wisdom’ loading. Every stumble teaches balance, every challenge builds strength, every disappointment develops resilience.
As parents, we need to trust that all those years of guidance, all those conversations, all that modeling of values—they took root. Our children absorbed more than we realize. When we step back, they step up. I can say this because both girls are adults now and I’ve seen the process succeed in real life.
Moving Forward
Training wheels parenting isn’t about being less involved—it’s about being involved differently. It’s about transitioning from director to consultant, from protector to guide, from problem-solver to confidence-builder.
Our children don’t need us to clear every obstacle from their path. They need us to teach them how to navigate obstacles themselves. They don’t need us to shield them from every disappointment. They need us to help them process disappointment and grow from it.
So today, I challenge you to examine where you might be hovering when you could be mentoring. Where could you raise those training wheels just a little higher? What opportunity for growth are you inadvertently preventing by preventing struggle? The goal isn’t perfect parenting—it’s raising humans who can ride through life confidently, knowing you taught them how to balance, how to pedal, and how to get back up when they fall. That’s the gift of training wheels parenting, and our children deserve nothing less.
10-10-10, this is what I am reading. Well, this is what I am reading…along with Women , Food, and God (yeah, that was a bitch to track down. Thanks again Oprah!), The secret Life of Marilyn Monroe, Jamie Olivers Food Revolution, Eat Pray Love, Vonnegut’s Gallapagos, the Kama Sutra, and A Tired Woman’s Guide to Passionate sex! Oh, yes, I am serious and I am a die hard multi tasker, could you tell? I have a tendancy of biting of fmore than I can chew and then getting it done just to prove to others that I can. Not the wisest way to live life, I admit.
Anyways, enough rambling, I am reading 10-10-10. The premise is to learn to make wiser choices by considering the ramifications of these choices..10 minutes into the future(immediatley), 10 months into the future (short term ramifications), and 10 years into the future (long term ramifications). This is so simple yet so smart.
Just think, someone asks you why you made a choice and you can actually give them a logical answer rather than say because I wanted to. I know our instinct is fabulous but wouldn’t rationale be brilliant to employ occassionally? I know there are some of us who live by the seat of our pants and make choices as we go. Sometimes they work out and sometimes they don’t. This is life. Others of us, not myself, make decisions based on some far off future.
You know, we all have the friends who have been planning for retirement since the moment they gained employment. Unfortunatly, I am not one of those either. But what if we spend our whole lives planning for the next stage and we never make it. What a waste. To spend a life planning and not actually living.
I used to joke that when I got pregnant with my first child that she was a surpeise because we were in the planning to plan stage. Life had other plans and we were forced to jump right into the living part of our lives. 10-10-10, helps us to find the happy medium. I am excited to finish this book, not so sure the others will get finished in any timely fashion but this one will for sure. Just wanted to share.
My nephew was diagnosed with Leukemia at 2-years-old. I don’t normally share this story because it’s not my story to share but today, it’s time to speak the words.
“My nephew had leukemia.”
To be honest, I’ve been too afraid to say the words out loud like somehow the words themselves might give the leukemia power and bring the blood cancer fates down on us again.
As a mother, one of my biggest fears is losing one of my children. I often say that I don’t know how I would survive it but the truth is, I know exactly how one survives it. I just don’t ever want to have to.
In 1996, a decade before I was a mother, myself, I was an aunt. Yes, I was that crazy, (probably) over doting, obnoxious aunt to my first nephew, Alex. I’m serious, I had his baby pictures on my nightstand. It scared many of a date when I was single.
I come from a large Latino family and, in our family, family is everything. Mi casa es su casa. What’s mine is yours and we love each other’s children as much as we love our own so baby Alex was fair game as far as all of us were concerned. Alex was the pride and joy of my brother, Carlos and his wife, Jodie. Alex was the first of the next generation of the Cruz kids and we loved that kid more than a fat kid loves cake. If only love could make you immune to the cruelties of the world.
When Alex was only 2-years-old the unthinkable happened, Alex was diagnosed with T-Cell A.L.L (Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia).
With that diagnosis of leukemia, as a family, our world crashed down all around us. The world as we knew it ceased to make sense. I questioned everything I’d ever believed or knew because how could this be happening to a child.
I wasn’t a mother myself at the time so I couldn’t fully understand what that diagnosis felt like as a parent. Hearing my brother’s voice on the phone, hundreds of miles away, with no family around; the pain and anguish in his voice was palpable when he delivered the news. I knew he was broken but he was stoic for his son.
I hung up the phone and sobbed, cursed and prayed. I couldn’t wrap my mind around what was happening. I just knew that this couldn’t be happening. That moment changed all of us. In many ways, it has defined the person I am today.
Experiencing that kind of vulnerability and helplessness makes you realize that every single day is important. Every moment counts. Every word, deed and action of your life means something because your moment may be someone else’s lifetime so embrace life.
Life is fickle and just as quickly as you are crying tears of joy as they are laying your precious newborn baby onto your chest, you can be holding back tears of sadness as you fight for their life. Cancer doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care if you are someone’s everything.
My brother and his wife are two of the strongest people I know. When you are a parent of a seriously ill child, you lose the luxury of choosing to collapse in a pool of snot and tears when the world beats you down, you just have to suck it up and be strong for your children no matter how broken and vulnerable you are feeling yourself. Once you get behind closed doors, you can collapse, cry, scream and rage against the world.
You have to be brave for the both of you. You stay strong for your child until you make it out the other side; healthy and happy. My brother and his wife are still two of the strongest people that I’ve ever known.
Back in those days, I was terrified every time the phone rang when I saw North Carolina on the caller I.D. On one particular night, I saw my brother’s number. I held my breath and answered the phone, as I always did in those days. My brother recounted the day’s events, heavily uttering the words that he had to lay across his toddler to hold him down so the doctors could do a spinal tap as my confused 2-year-old nephew screamed,
I could hear my brother’s voice cracking as his heart was breaking.
That’s cancer. Doing the hard things to save your loved one even when it breaks your heart. Watching as the person you love is in pain, wanting desperately to take their place and being helpless to take it away.
This all happened when Carlos was only 22-years-old. My brother and his wife survived Alex’s leukemia with grace, love and hope. Thanks to so many amazing people (doctors, nurses, family and friends) including Wake Forest Baptist Medical Hospital and Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. They went on to have 3 more beautiful children.
Alex went into remission and has not had any relapses. Today, my beautiful nephew, the firstborn Cruz grandchild is a 21-year-old sweet, caring young man. He is our miracle. He is a survivor and we are blessed every single day that we have him here with us. Other families are not so fortunate.
Since then, my brother and his family have hosted countless events to raise money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma society. It’s the one charity that I never say no to when asked it donate. How can we ever repay the debt of a child’s life?
This year my brother was nominated for the honor of being The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society’s (LLS) 2017 Man & Woman of the Year campaign. He deserves it. He is a devoted husband and father who is a pillar of the community and does his best to give back to a world that gave him his son back.
As a family, we have set a goal to raise $100,000 for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society between today and June 1, 2017. I know it’s ambitious but that’s how we Cruz kids roll. We go big, especially when it’s such an important cause.
I am humbly asking for your support in our efforts to help the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society in its mission to find a cure for blood cancers and to assist patients and families as they battle this disease. No donation is too small or too large. Every single dollar counts towards finding a cure. Your donation could help save another parent from having to live through this excruciating experience.
There are two easy ways to help the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society find a cure:
Make a personal gift. (Your donation is a tax-deductible contribution.). Go to my Leukemia and Lymphoma Society campaign Web site and make your contribution at https://www.mwoy.org/pages/in/neindiana17/dbeckp
Invite your business or organization to be a corporate sponsor.
If you can donate to help us meet our goal of raising $100,000 by June 1, 2017 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society please go here and donate whatever you can.
When I was pregnant with Bella, I constantly listened to Celine Dion’s album Miracle. Honestly, it was my first pregnancy and I was so in love with my baby before she was ever born, like all moms-to-be. From the moment that I knew she was there, I loved her, more than life itself and I still do. This is how I have felt about every pregnancy and every child I’ve had the pleasure of growing in my body.
I would sway back and forth in her nursery, rubbing my belly and singing the songs to her, imagining all the things I would get to do with her throughout her life. All the books said that you should talk to your unborn baby because they would know your voice, and she did. She kicked and we had our long conversations in that nursery as the sun shone through the window and kissed my belly; just the two of us.
After she was born, I would soothe her to sleep in my arms, rocking in front of that same window looking down into her big blue eyes. My miracle realized; my child in my arms to love for all eternity. The love was sometimes almost overwhelming. It scared me to love someone so much; it still does.
My Bella has been sick since last Thursday when she unexpectedly passed out in my arms and my whole world feels upside down. Nothing seems right and even the air feels thicker. Yesterday, we went for her follow up and they sent us for an echocardiogram…just to be sure. My heart stopped. I thought everything was fine but I’ve been here before, that unsuspecting moment when you think life is fine and it gets completely knocked upside down. I don’t want to be here. I want to be somewhere else; anywhere else. I want to close my eyes and cover my ears and pretend none of this is happening.
The echocardiogram took what seemed like an eternity. I don’t know if that is standard or if they saw something. I only know that I feel like I can’t breathe. She’s been throwing up and laying around the house frail and sickly and I just want to take it all away.
Now, I wait for the results of one of the most important tests of my life. I am freaking out and today was the first time I’ve had the chance to process my feelings. The Big Guy is back at work, Bella went back to school and I am waiting by the phone, listening to that CD that made me so happy when I sung those songs to my Bella when she was safe in my arms and sobbing as I type this because the uncertainty is breaking my heart.
This could be the beginning of something we have to tackle or it could be nothing. Either way, I have to keep it together for Bella, my miracle.
***Update: After the doctor didn’t call last night, considering that I have been frantic since last Thursday when this all started, I called the pediatrician who is out of office until Thursday. I started choking up and crying on the phone with the nurse because my nerves are shot and practically begging them to call me as soon as the doctor walked in on Thursday morning, knowing full well that I will be a hot, sobbing mess until then. The nurse tried to talk me off my worried mommy ledge but it wasn’t working. She just called back and said she called the doctor at home and after consulting with the pediatric cardiologist: “No need to worry. No abnormalities. No issues. No Restrictions!” Thank You God and everyone who prayed. I’ve never been so happy to hear the word no in my life. WHEW!!!Exhale!Breathe….that’s what the nurse just told me. I am trying but first I must finish the stress crying.
Disclosure: This post about living authentically online was inspired and sponsored by Domain.ME, the provider of the personal domains that end in .ME. As a company, they aim to promote thought leadership to the tech world. All thoughts and opinions are my own.
Whenever I am asked by digital influencers new to the space or get emails from people contemplating starting a blog or becoming a digital influencer, my first word of advice is to be true to yourself; be authentic in the version of you that you present to the world. The bottom line is that there is only one you and that is what makes each person’s voice online special. Why even try to be someone else? Imitation is not flattering and you are almost always guaranteed to fail at trying to be someone else.
Of course, it is hard to be yourself in life and even harder in the digital space these days. I speak from experience. In fact, just this week, two separate posts landed me in hot water. I spoke my truth, my opinion on what turned out to be a very controversial subject and then, I had to put on my big girl panties and live with the consequences. After all, if you chose to live your life openly and authentically online there will be repercussions, at some point.
Still, I choose to be who I am, flaws and all. Sometimes I rush to snappy judgements or let my emotions guide my writing. This is not always a good thing. There is authentic, then there is too much information and that’s what happens a lot of the time with me and the fact that I lack a filter. People who know me can be forgiving of a rash jump to a conclusion or one time lapse in judgement, the general public who don’t know by by anything other than one singular loud, opinionated post are not usually so forgiving.
In one way, it’s awesome because if you follow me on social media and my blog you know the “real” me but at other times, when I make snap judgements or speak out before I know all the facts, it’s bad because I’ve already put that bad first impression out into the world. I think, it’s only one bad choice but to someone who doesn’t know me, I am just that one bad choice. I think it’s best to find middle ground.
Here are my tips to living authentically online:
Be yourself.
Don’t over edit yourself and write in the way that you speak. No one’s life is sunshine and rainbows all the tie and no one speaks like Shakespeare in real life.
Be honest but hold the nasty.
Put your real thoughts out there. You are allowed to have an opinion. My only word of advice is if it is a heated topic, go ahead and write it out. Mull it over. Come back to it in a few hours and then hit publish if that’s still what you want to say. Believe me, this is the thing I still struggle with.
Develop a thick skin.
If you decide that you want your brand to be all in your face, all the time, then be prepared for backlash. Someday, some time on some topic, someone will disagree with you. In fact, you may just have the most unpopular opinion out there and when you do, the public will let you know. They can be cutting with their words and sometimes they even go for the jugular by attacking not only you personally but your family, thoughts and beliefs. My advice, if you choose to be 100% authentic all the time be prepared for this and either let it roll off your back (easier said than done) or don’t read the comments.
Be a Big Girl.
If you still decide to put your views online to be scrutinized (and they will be) be a grown up. If someone calls you ugly and stupid (and at times much worse) for having a contrary opinion, the best response is not to hurl insults back at them. Be a professional. If you can’t respond civilly, then walk away from the conversation. I don’t like to delete comments because I feel like if I put a topic up for debate, it is my reader’s rights to be heard too. However, sometimes reading the comments can become so consuming and overwhelming that I just have to not read them anymore. I am a professional, this is my job but I’m also a human and, not going to lie, sometimes my feelings suffer collateral damage as a result of my opinions and choice to live authentically online.
Last but not least, don’t take it personally.
I know this bit sounds crazy because, after all, if you are living online authentically, it is all very personal for you. When people attack your opinions, your choices, your beliefs it definitely feels personal but remember this, they’ve never actually met you. They don’t know you. They are disagreeing with your stance on a topic, not you the person even though it usually feels like they are. This is a very important thing to remember always.
These are my tips for staying authentic online. There is an understanding of culpability when you live your life online. You have a venue to broadcast your words and thoughts to people all over the world, so even when you are being authentic you should still consider the effect your words can have on those around you. There are ripples to every action we do in the world and online is no exception. Be yourself, but be responsible. Obviously, this too is something I still struggle with but I’ve come to a point where when I make mistakes, I am adult enough to admit it and say sorry if need be.
Living authentically online doesn’t mean you have a license to be mean, judgmental or bully others. It means you have a responsibility to be true to yourself while being watched by the world. So be yourself but remember you are a part of something much larger than just your thoughts from behind a computer screen.
A fun way to let people know who you are and what you’re about from the very beginning is to obtain a .ME domain name as the perfect way to stay authentic online. For example, if you are a homeschooling mama from the south how about SouthernHomeschoolingMama.Me. See it’s fun and it lets the world know what you’re about before they even click into your site.
If you are living authentically online what would your perfect .ME domain name be?
I watched this TedX video of Ash Beckham and she reminded me that hard is hard and we truly all do have our closets that we live in. Me, I’ve had a few. Unfortunately, they shroud you in shame but better the devil you know, right? Rejection is the worst and no one wants rejection. Most of us would prefer to not try at all than to try and fail and that is why we live in closets. Closets are not just about being gay; closets are about being afraid to tell your truth. It doesn’t matter how big or small or what color you paint it, a closet is a closet is a closet. No one should be afraid to tell his or her truth because your truth is what makes you who you are.
In my lifetime, I have had many closets. Thankfully, with the birth of my blog, I started busting out of all of my closets. It was one of the scariest things I ever have done; telling the whole world all of my faults. Most of the time when I hit publish, I feel sick to my stomach and I think that is a good thing. How can I be honest with you, if I can’t even be honest with myself? Now, I wish everyone had a blog to help them bust out of their closets. Hard conversations: mental illness, child abuse, obesity,eating disorders, alcoholism, miscarriage and not being the kind of mom I want to be to my children. I used to hide them deep inside me, because who wants everyone to look at them like they’re a freak? It’s one thing to be crazy, it’s quite another to announce it to the world.
When you spend your whole life pretending to fit in but feeling like you are an imposter in the house of life, you might be living in a closet. Have the conversation and like we’ve all heard, those who matter won’t care. Well, that’s a lie, they might, but they will get over it because they love you. Those who have a problem with you being your authentic self? Well, who the fuck wants them in your life anyways? Not me.
You know. I spent all of my life, up until I met my husband, pretending to be what everyone wanted of me. Good girl, good grades, friendly, attractive, fun-loving and life of the party but inside, inside my closet, I was a hot mess and it was like juggling jello trying to keep myself in the closet while the version I thought everyone wanted to know came out every day all day. I cried a lot. My poor husband, he had no idea what he got himself into.
When you hide in that closet for so long, you become a master of convincing, even yourself, that the performance you give every day is the real you but at night, when you are all alone with nothing but your thoughts, you feel like a fraud and that is one of the worst feelings you can have. You feel like a liar. Turns out, once I came out of my closets and had those hard conversations, I was free to be me and guess what? Anyone who has read this blog and then met me will tell you, I am the same online as I am in person only slightly less in your face. Turns out with the freedom of being out of my closet and living out loud and proud, I am the person that I pretended to be only I don’t need to cry at night because I’m not living in that damn cramped, dark closet hiding like a scared child anymore and it is liberating.
So, watch Ash Beckman’s video and come out of your closet. I promise you’ll be so much happier out in the open. Sure, you might feel nauseous right before you have the hard conversation but that’s because it’s important. Do it anyways. Teach your children to be honest with themselves and the people who love them. A closet is no place for a human to live.
