That’s my pretty baby
Driving mama crazy
Lovely little lady
That’s my pretty baby

Eat your macaroni!
It’s good for your bone-ies
So you can beat up “homies” **
And Mama won’t get arrested by the police!
** [implying self defense, not man hating or bullying]

That’s my pretty baby,
Driving mama crazy,
Lovely little lady!
That’s my pretty baby…
That’s my pretty baby!

(The song is on YouTube! https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=D0z8GSFOhTc&pp=ygUdUHJldHR5IGJhYnkgY2hleWVubmUgamFtZXJzb24%3D )

Her first name,
Korina.
She could shorten it to Kori,
so she could rhyme with her sister’s “Tori”
Or if she’s more of a tom-boy and wants it to sound less girly…
Korina is my female English version of the Spanish word Cariño, meaning affection and love.

From conception to birth, she introduced a new kind of love to me, another rhythm to my heart’s beat, & I created it out of my own body… It was almost surreal.
Her middle names, one her father’s middle name and the other the only word that comes close to describing what she is to me, what it felt like when she came into my life.

Heaven.
Lee.

I wanted Heaven to be her first name, but I was afraid she would dislike it as an adult because of the religious affliction or that it might cause some unintentional pressure to be perfect or something.

So I placed it in the middle, right before her father’s middle name “Lee” so that she might remember she is both Heaven and heavenly to both of us.

Korina Heaven Lee.
Mi cariña heavenly, my heavenly love
Pretty baby.

They grow up so fast… Never pass up an opportunity to gush and brag and feel pride in your child… Never pass up the chance to shower them with adoration and encouragement… Say all the things now that you will regret not saying, even if they already know.
It’s still nice to hear.

77%

Entry #001 of ‘should have been a blog post.’

Tonight-
As I wrapped the very last of my children’s Christmas gifts, I stood back and admired my tree that I worked so hard on. Looking at the ornaments I have acquired; both handmade and hand selected. From the driftwood ornaments I love to collect, to the wooden garland I traced with my eyes, around and around the tree.

Perfectly wrapped stacks of gifts for four amazing children. Four healthy, beautiful, smart, empathetic, loving children.
…
Alive children.
…
I looked over to the couch, where B had drifted off. Pure peace all over his face. Turned my head and listening closely, I can hear Kenz’s sweet little snores from around the corner.
I just listened.
I quickly wiped away a few tears.

I sat down in front of the Christmas tree.
I looked to the left and saw Kenz’s rainbow fiber optic lit tree. The one that sheds, it is missing a leg so it’s very wobbly and filled with unicorn and rainbow ornaments; handmade ones too. And right in the center, the glass pink ballerina pig she so carefully selected just yesterday.

My smile quickly faded.
I became so angry with myself.
Why was I so worried about the perfection of this Christmas tree? The family tree. So much that l avoided these wild ornaments that she loves so much. They were all pushed aside?
Why?
Who cares? What does it really matter?

Why do we so often let these perceptions and expectations of perfection take over what is actually important?
Why do we apologize for the chaos? Especially from one Mama to another?

I thought to myself-
Stop saying “please ignore the mess.”
Stop apologizing for the loud laughter.
Stop forcing this fake flawless ideal on what is already a beautiful chaotic mess.

It’s weighing so heavy on me…

I leave for Mayfield in just a couple hours and it puts a terrible ache in my heart to know so many Mamas in Mayfield will never feel the way I was before reality fell upon me like a bag of bricks. Happily gazing at that tree. Maybe they have no tree left for their home, no home for a tree, no gifts for their tree, or the worst… no children for the gifts.

It’s so easy to get caught up in every day life. In work, in chaos, in unattainable perfection.

I have decided I will only have one, and only one resolution this year. And it doesn’t start New Years Day, it starts in this moment, at 3am.
I am going to soak in everything. We’re going to celebrate the smallest things. We’re going to make new traditions and have family game night.. not just plan it. We’re going to do dessert more often, maybe sometimes before dinner. I am going to say ‘Yes!’ More often!
We’re to unplug at home. I still expect to make lots of mistakes. But from now on, I’m going to make the most of every single one of them. I’m going to stop pretending I want perfection. The truth is deep down, we all want the chaos.

Long story short, put the ballerina pig on the family Christmas tree. Because life could be very different.
Grace and Perspective

I am the proud mother of two incredible boys, Kaheem and Xavier. My journey into motherhood began with Kaheem, a blessing I never anticipated but deeply cherish. Kaheem, who has Autism, has faced many challenges, including bullying at school due to both his condition and other medical issues. Yet, through it all, he has shown immense strength, teaching me what it truly means to love unconditionally.

When I first found out I was pregnant with Kaheem, it was just four months and four days before my 25th birthday. I was scared, nervous, and unsure of what to expect. His father suggested abortion, but the moment he did, my maternal instincts surged. “No,” I said. I wanted my baby—he was a blessing from God.

At the time, I struggled with bipolar disorder, PTSD, mood swings, and deep depression. I doubted myself, wondering if I’d be a good mother. When the time came, I was in labor for two days before undergoing an emergency C-section. It was then that my mother faced an unimaginable choice: save my life or my son’s, as the doctors couldn’t stop my bleeding. In that critical moment, she chose both of us.

Even now, writing about it makes me emotional. When it was all over and Kaheem came home, I learned what love truly means. He became the love of my life, and for the first time, I understood the depth of a mother’s heart. My parents stepped in to help, especially my father, who became both a dad and a grandpa to Kaheem.

Three years later, I discovered I was pregnant with Xavier. I didn’t know until I was five months along. Fear surrounded me—everyone was concerned, urging me not to have him because of the complications with Kaheem. But I refused to let fear dictate my choices. Xavier was another blessing from God, and I embraced him with open arms.

This time, my C-section was without complications. I had Xavier on a Monday and, by Tuesday, I was out of the hospital, walking around and shopping for baby supplies. I’ll never forget the older woman at Food Lion who stopped me. “When did you have the baby?” she asked. When I told her, she gasped. “Girl, you need to take yourself home! You had a C-section yesterday—you’re not supposed to be out here!” But I had already endured so much; I knew I could handle this, too.

My boys, Kaheem and Xavier, have been my inspiration through everything. They’ve stood beside me through life’s ups and downs, giving me purpose and strength. Being their mother is the greatest gift, a beautiful duty I would choose over and over again. I love them with all my heart and am endlessly grateful that God chose me to be their mom.

The most amazing thing that has ever happened to me was having children. They saved me you know? I was raised to be a victim. To become submissive to who ever was in charge. Whoever was the meanest, you knew that was who to listen to. You are not allowed to breathe without permission.
I sat in my room one day and had asked for Aislynn to run to the car for me. I heard something that made me pause, “No”. It wasn’t rude, simply no. My gears started turning, and I thought wow! She told me no! That is ….. Amazing! I have raised a beautiful little girl to have the confidence to say no!
For so long, I was fumbling myself because I couldn’t say no to save my life. I had lived in survival mode for so long that when someone told me what to do, I did it. Brainwashed to obey without question because if you questioned, you would soon learn why everyone fell in line.
A few moments of awe fulfilled me and soon there after she says “I’m still eating dinner”. Wow….. Not only did she tell me no, but she had a good reason for it to.
Sometimes the chaos of the world creeps into our sanity and we jump at the first chance to release our pent up emotions, unfortunately children tend to provoke the response because they are dependent on us. They need our help to live, so of course we just want a moment to process our emotions.
Pause
Children should feel safe saying no when they don’t want to do something. Not everything but the smaller things in their life, that makes a huge difference to them.
One thing Alexander would often do was be very literal. I did not realize it right away, but instead of responding to his immediate behavior I had to observe him. He was the selective listening kids, it is no exaggeration when I say from the day he was born.
People would get frustrated because he needed a reason. Because I said so, is not an answer. Because I said so, is a cop out to explaining something that is so simple for their curious minds.
Children are a product of their environment. Unfortunately, love isn’t waiting behind every door. Instead of spreading poison into their souls, try draining the poison from your blood.

No matter where you two are, you’ll always have a special place in my heart.
My two little rays of sunshine that shine the brightest in the dark.

I miss waking up to you two every single day.
The warmth of your hugs and smiles made everything okay.

You two taught me patience and how to be more responsible.
The bond that we share is nothing short of remarkable.

I miss the sound of your voices and your adorable laughs.
I promise to cherish each moment, no matter how much time has passed.

I’ve always wanted a family, so I was blessed with two little angels.
Your laughter fills my heart with joy, like life’s sweetest jingles.

To my Little Potato, stay true to yourself and don’t ever change.
To my Emotional Butterfly, there’s always sunshine after the rain.

I’m sorry for leaving you guys, that wasn’t part of my plan.
I hope one day you’ll forgive me and try to understand.

You two will always be my babies, no matter what anyone says.
I’ll cherish our memories until we can be together again one day.

Parenting in the 21st Century

In the glow of screens and endless feeds,
We’re raising children with modern needs.
They grow up fast, they know so much,
Yet still need love and the softest touch.

We juggle work and home and life,
Strive to shield them from the strife.
From cyber worlds and shifting norms,
We guide them through these modern storms.

The joy is fierce, the laughter pure,
Moments fleeting, barely sure—
One day they’re small, arms open wide,
Then grown so tall with dreams untried.

Late nights, long talks, the whispered fears,
Their hopes, their hurts, their teenage tears.
We’re learning too, as much as they,
Trying our best, finding our way.

So here’s to parents everywhere,
Doing their best, hearts laid bare.
The world has changed, but love’s the same
A guiding star, a steady flame.

If you had any shred of decency left in you
You’d stay away from my boo
To that little boy
I’m the only one that’s true
If I could flip it all back
Spin it all around and let you see
Literally the little me…..
Nurturing, loving, carrying him through
When not everyone else was always onboard too
I’m the only thing and woman he’s ever really known

Now he’s sitting here looking at me full grown
What you tried to protect your whole life, sits there looking at you like you’ve just ripped out a knife
What I tried to avoid his whole little life
Will he ever understand that all mommy every wanted was to make a good man?
Can’t he please just understand?
This precious seed turns around and now questions me, how dare he?
I can’t explain it all, I don’t know how I could
If I could lay it all out right here, right now trust me I would
Let it all go for good
Let you see all my choices weren’t always the smartest
But always out of love and always for good

I guess protection is a strange thing
You want to take them under your wing
You don’t realize how much you cling
Well, here we are young man, here I stand
This is all of me, still standing, still fighting
Always will
At least I will try
I hope one day you understand

Love Always,
Your “Teen” Mom

Clear the road- I am 16!!
Happy birthday, my sweet boy.
This is when I legally run out of excuses to get you that driver’s permit. This is when I nervously let go of your last little finger , only to grasp and firmly shake your hand in friendship🤝 This is when many transitions happen. This is when some of it makes sense to you but a lot more does not. This is when the world suddenly looks weirder, scarier, cooler, exciting, fun,crazy and different for you, all at the same time. Then is when we may agree to disagree on a lot. Remember, nobody has it all figured out entirely, neither have I, neither will you.
But I promise to try and understand..I promise to stay onboard, face the tides and ride the unending high and low waves of life side by side with you forever and ever and ever.
Love,
Amma

“Mom. Mom. MOM!” Dawson yelled.
Why did he insist on calling me from upstairs? Was I the only one with legs in this house? I started up the staircase, muttering as I climbed. I reached the top and found Dawson sitting on his bed meticulously inspecting a sweatshirt in his hands.
“What do you want?” He looked up, clearly as annoyed as I was though not for the same reason.
“Mom, why didn’t you try harder to get this stain out of my sweatshirt?” I strained to see what he was pointing to. He shoved the sweatshirt inches from nose and still the spot was barely visible.
“Did you try all of the stain removing products?” He demanded more than questioned. I resisted glancing at the clock on the wall which would inevitably announce how late this ridiculous conversation was making us. The cats circled his unmade bed, meowing for their breakfast. He’d put on a t-shirt but was still wearing pajama bottoms and hadn’t brushed his hair by the looks of it. All those unfinished tasks yet to be ticked off the morning list caused a nervous twitch at the corner of my eye. I called upon my inner yoga-mom, took a deep breath, exhaled.
“You did not tell me it had a stain when you threw it in the wash, so I washed it. That set the stain making it nearly impossible to remove. When I finally noticed the stain, I treated it several times and re-washed it, still to no avail.”
His eyes widened; he dropped his sweatshirt on the bed. “So, you’re just going to give up?” His voice cracked.
I scanned his face certain he must be pulling a fast one on me. His tight expression revealed otherwise. But instead of conjuring feelings of motherly compassion, I lost my temper altogether.
“Dawson, half my life is likely over. I am not going to spend what precious moments I have remaining scrubbing a stain out of a six-dollar sweatshirt. You’re young. If you want to scrub that stain, have at it. Knock yourself out. But I’m done. Now get ready.”
The drive to school was mostly silent and I had a chance to calm down and see the incident for what it really was, a vehicle to channel emotions he was feeling but hadn’t the words to express. We were both having a hard time accepting this next step, but we’d agreed on it. This was the last day Dawson would attend high school. At least for the year, I was officially withdrawing him.
I pulled into my usual designated handicapped parking spot and unlocked the doors. Dawson cast an accusatory look at me because of course I was breaking the law. But for like three minutes, I reasoned. He snatched his pencil, an eraser, and a protein bar, from the stash in the glove compartment, grabbed the car door handle.
“Hey, babe,” I reached across the seat, laid my hand on his shoulder, “The stain will fade over time. All stains do.” He smiled back at me.
“Love you, too Mom.”
I drove to the district office as if to a graveside, with a heavy heart. I walked slowly up the steps and straight to the receptionist’s desk.
“Hi, I’m here to withdraw my son from school.”
She looked at me with a confused expression. “So, you want to take him out of school?”
I nodded.
“Do you want to homeschool him?” she asked.
“Oh god, no.” She raised her eyebrows, and I was immediately embarrassed by my response. I explained I wanted to fill out paperwork to withdraw him from school, take him out, nothing else. She picked up the phone to call someone upstairs with more authority. It only took a few moments for the woman from upstairs to make it downstairs. She listened to my story, nodded.
“Yes, I’ll get the paperwork for you.”
It was involuntary, the tear that rolled down my nose and landed right where I needed to sign my name.
The woman with more authority leaned into me, patted my shoulder. “He can always come back,” she assured.
I thanked her for her kindness. I wondered if she could feel my failure. I wondered if she knew this was my second son to drop out, that I couldn’t inspire even one of my children to finish school. I thanked both women and made my way back to the car.
Inside the silent vehicle, I leaned onto the steering wheel. Rested my head for a moment. I closed my eyes and just breathed. Dawson never did have a decent day in school, especially once his father left. Every day had been a constant struggle with his tears, anxiety, and the effects of his obsessive-compulsive disorder. For my part, I’d simply tried everything I could. I threatened, bargained, bribed, begged and finally yesterday, I agreed to let him drop out. It was going to happen in less than six months when he turned eighteen anyway. Why prolong the inevitable.
Was I giving up? Maybe. For sure I was being forced to give up on my dreams and expectations for what I believed his life should be. And I’d have to learn to live with the stain it would leave on my mom-heart. But I reminded myself that it would fade over time. All stains do.