When I was a kid I was a bit of a hypochondriac (well ok so I still am). Whenever I heard of a new illness or ailment of course I thought I had it!  I remember lying in bed praying asking God to please let me live long enough to fall . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: Our Story by Jenn]]>

When I was a kid I was a bit of a hypochondriac (well ok so I still am). Whenever I heard of a new illness or ailment of course I thought I had it!  I remember lying in bed praying asking God to please let me live long enough to fall in love.  I wanted to know what they were talking about in all those love songs I would play over and over again on cassette tapes lol.  Time passed and I dated a few people in high school but I know I was never truly in love, so I kept praying every night that God would send me someone who understood me (I am a pretty complicated girl!)  When I was a senior in College I went to a party and there was a freshman football player working the keg (I know glamorous right!) I went over to fill my cup and we started talking.  He was so easy to talk to and he had the cutest smile I had ever seen!  I spent the whole night standing by the keg talking to him.  He came over my place and we watched a movie and talked until we fell asleep. The next day we stayed in bed all morning just talking. I remember he skipped all of his classes that day.  From those first moments things were just different with him.  It had never been so easy to be with someone.  I remember when he would hug me with his big football player arms a felt so tiny and safe. He had a way of making me feel like I was the only person in the world in crowd full of people. You know how people say they just know, well I just knew he was the one, and that we would grow old and gray together with a houseful of kids and grandkids. I got a job teaching near the college while Aaron finished school.  He proposed to me the summer before his senior year.  We were married the fall after he graduated. God had answered my prayers, I had found true love.

Now onto the babies!  I remember thanking God for letting me find love.  It was the most amazing thing I had experienced in my young life.  We both wanted kids and lots of them.  I always said at least three and Aaron was convinced five was a good number.  The exact number didn’t matter, we thought life would just happen and that detail would play itself out.  I remember not really trying but not using anything to stop a baby from coming either.  I began to worry because 6 months had passed and nothing had happened.  We then began to “try” to have a baby.  Another 6 months went by and still nothing.  I remember sitting in church praying that God would give me a baby.  I remember thinking you let me find my soul mate, now please let us have a baby together.  Another four months passed, it had been over a year now. I was late so I got a test.  I had taken at least a dozen in the past year and they were always negative to I thought nothing of it.  I remember sitting in the bathroom looking at the stick as it read PREGNANT!!!  I was full of joyous emotions, laughing and crying all at the same time.  I pulled myself together and ran down stairs to tell Aaron.  He was like a little boy filled with excitement and hugged me so tight.

Our first baby was a beautiful little boy.  We named him Henry.  We could not have been more proud of our little man.  It was so hard to get pregnant with Henry that we figured with breastfeeding we really didn’t need to use protection.  Well we were wrong!  When Henry was just five months old I was pregnant again.  We were nervous having them so close in age but were overjoyed that we were able to have yet another baby.  Little Sophie came fourteen months to the day of Henry’s birth.  We were a happy little family we had a boy and now a girl! Aaron had a good job that allowed me to stay home with the kids and I was loving my time with them.

Sophie was eight months old when Aaron lost his job due to downsizing. It took him a little over a year to find a comparable job. It was a very scary time, it was a very trying time, and it was one of the best times because Aaron got to spend a year at home with his kids at such a precious stage in their lives.  He got to experience a lot of firsts.  Had the stress of money and fear of not making it day to day not been present it would have been pure joy.  We definitely had some of the happiest moments during that year, but the stress especially on Aaron played a toll.  They say money does not buy happiness, and I believe this, but I also think the lack of it can make you pretty stressed and unhappy.  I started Bowinhairos during this time to bring in extra money. During those first few months that I opened my Etsy shop I would check my site every half hour to see if I had sold anything. Every sale counted, it was diaper money! It turned out to be something I was extremely passionate about.  I think it was an endeavor I was meant to take on.  It’s funny how God works that way.

Aaron now has a good job at a local college. It is a very low stress job in comparison to the one he lost.  He comes home happier than before.  Like I said, funny how God works that way. He has good benefits and things are slowly getting back to normal. Henry is now three and Sophie is two.  I am a little sad that if we have another baby there will be a few years span between them. Looking at Henry and Sophie today, I don’t know what they would do without each other.  They are truly each others best friend.  They wake up in the morning and call out the other ones name to start their day of toddler adventures. I know that Sophie was meant to be born exactly when she was.  We would have never tried to have a baby while Aaron was unemployed and Henry would be lost in this world without her. Again, it’s funny how God works that way. Although our life is not playing out exactly how we imagined it, we do not forget for a moment that we are blessed.  We are blessed to have found each other in the world.  Aaron is, and will always be my best everything.  We are blessed to have these two amazing healthy little people that we created.  I look at them every day in complete amazement.  Our family’s journey has just begun.  Now the only question is who is yet to join us.  We now are ready to start trying for number three.  If it happens we know that it was meant to be.  If not we also know that everything happens for a reason.  Sometimes it’s okay if things don’t go exactly as planned.  Sometimes the long road leads to the best destination.

About Jenn:

Jenn is one of five children who loves the idea of a large family. She is a former elementary school teacher who now stays at home with her two children ages two and three.  She loves creating different and unique hair accessories for her Etsy shop.  She and her husband  love spending time outdoors with their kids.  They love campfires, grilling and just enjoying the fresh air.  She believes in living in the now and enjoying today because life has a funny way of passing us by while we are busy making plans for the future! You can follow Jenn on Twitter by clicking here.

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“My father didn’t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.”

Clarence Budington Kelland

Dear Daddy,

Sorry I didn’t buy you a card this year. As we re-evaluate our spending habits, I have opted to reduce the amount of cards I . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: Open Letter To My Dad on Father’s Day]]>

“My father didn’t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.”

Clarence Budington Kelland

Dear Daddy,

Sorry I didn’t buy you a card this year. As we re-evaluate our spending habits, I have opted to reduce the amount of cards I buy. I find that people like handwritten notes better and I can easily express how I feel. And anyway, what do people do with cards after the holiday/special day has passed? I always feel bad throwing away old cards, but I have found that I have become sort of a card-hoarder. So last year, I went through all of my cards- there was an entire box- and kept the ones that meant the most. The ones that I could due to part with, I sent to an organization that was using recycled cards for something. So, consider this your father’s day card.

Our relationship has always been… interesting- wouldn’t you say?

There are definitely moments from my childhood that weren’t so fantastic and that I probably resented you for at the time. There’s no need to rehash old stuff, though. Regardless of what I thought or felt at the moment, I am sure that those experiences only helped to mold me into the woman that I am today.

I wanted to take this time to thank you. Our family has never been good about expressing our feelings in a positive manner. We are more yellers, shouters, point-the-finger(ers) lol. Which is the first thing I wanted to thank you for.

You taught me how to feel. I was always the “sensitive one” in the family, always crying, “just like my father”… and while I admit, I never understood your sensitive side, in retrospect, it is important to be in touch with one’s feelings. Over time, I have learned how to have more control over my emotions- when to allow myself to be vulnerable and when to stay guarded. I guess you can say that I have become a mixture of you and Mommy. And I am okay with that. One needs to be tough, but to a certain extent. I think being in touch with my feelings and emotions allows me to express in an honest manner how I am feeling- something that many people cannot do. The toughness in me allows me to be vulnerable enough to put that out there and not really care about what the person has to say in return. As long as I am honest with myself and others, that’s all that matters.

You taught me the importance of managing my money. Some may laugh at this, thinking that you have lived… beyond your means at certain points in your life. While I understand your rationale for wanting some of the things that you want, behind that, in my opinion is someone who is very aware of how much money he does and does not have. You taught me how to balance a checkbook and that would be an important skill as I left the nest and went out on my own. I will admit, that I don’t balance a checkbook anymore… one needs money in their checking account to do that. When I start working again, I can take that up again. Your money management tutorials has allowed me to be responsible for our household income right now- I pay the bills and I know what is and is not feasible for us financially.

You know, you always wanted to hold my hand when we crossed the street or something like that when I was younger and I hated that. I’ve never really liked to be touched- hand holding and hugging… not so much my thing. But having those moments with you- as much as they made me want to cringe at the time- they have taught me what is important regarding my daughter. I need to give her hugs, hold her hand and tell her that I love her every chance I get.

We were (and still aren’t) the ‘I Love You’ family. You were the only one who said it and I couldn’t understand why. But now, as a Mom I get it. I can look back and remember my father telling me that he loved me. I want Cadence to be able to look back and remember the same. It is a feeling that I cannot describe to you for me to be able to tell my daughter that I love her. If anyone in our family besides you told me that they loved me, I would be sure to cringe and feel uncomfortable. I don’t want it to be like that in my (new) family. I want us to be open and honest about those feelings we have for one another. There are so many people out there who don’t have parents or don’t have someone to tell them that they love them. So.. I get it. Thank you for that, Daddy.

Something that stands out in my mind is when you would go to BJ’s after work and buy a super-sized box of Always pads- just that. I don’t know how many men would walk into a wholesale club and buy a ginormous box of maxi pads, but you did that for me. That showed me right away what kind of man I needed. One who wasn’t afraid to do those little things. Yesterday, we had lunch on base and Cadence was being a handful, so while I tried to calm her down my awesome husband stood there in line with lots of male soldiers in uniform around us and held my very large white Coach bag with purple writing all over it. That’s what real men do- you taught me that.

Of course, there were things you inadvertently taught me like: how not to speak to people. You taught me that I knew I was going to marry a man that knew how to cook and iron his own stuff. You taught me that I was not going to be anyone’s maid. I am an independent woman and needed someone who would respect me as such. I appreciate you for these things.

You always told me that I needed to marry someone who was going to treat me like a Queen. That let me know what to look for in a spouse.

You have made many mistakes in your life. I don’t judge you for these, because though the road may have been long, I believe that you have learned from them. And those lessons are ones that you have tried to instill in both me and Junior to learn from. I am proud of you for having turned your life around and not looking back.

And though you pushed me in ways that I definitely did not appreciate at the time, you taught me the importance of education and striving to do/be the best that I could. You are one of the smartest people that I know and I take pride in knowing that I can call you for a word definition or to edit a paper for me.

Thank you for always supporting me, regardless of whether you agreed with the choices I made or not. Thank you for giving me that good balance of parent-”friend.” I always knew that I could come to you to talk, but I also knew that there would be consequences for any poor decisions that I chose to make.

We aren’t best friends, we have our fights- some last longer than others, but at the end of the day I know that you will always be there for me- regardless of how mad we may be with one another at the moment.

Most importantly, I am happy to have a dad. I’ve said this before, but one thing that I find repulsive is “men” who plant the seed (if you will) and walk away. You are not a man and there is nothing more irresponsible and disgusting to me than someone who doesn’t want to own up to their child and give them the opportunity to have both parents in their lives. So thank you for being there.

As it is always said, “Any man can be a father, but it takes a special person to be a dad.” (Proverb).

So, Happy Dad’s Day.

Love,
DEW

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Three Years…

Three Years Ago…

Three Years Ago Today…

Three Years Ago Today I Made The Best Decision Of My Life

Happy Anniversary To Us.

Come . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: Wordless Wednesday: Three Years]]>

Three Years…

Three Years Ago…

Three Years Ago Today…

Three Years Ago Today I Made The Best Decision Of My Life

Happy Anniversary To Us.

Come on…don’t copy- get your own material. Nobody likes a cheater! Original & Hand Written Plagiarism Will Be Detected. This site is being monitored by CopyGator. Mmkay? Thanks.

Come on…don’t copy- get your own material. Nobody likes a cheater! Original & Hand Written Plagiarism Will Be Detected. This site is being monitored by CopyGator. Mmkay? Thanks.

Isaiah 49:14-16 But Zion said, “The LORD has forsaken me, the Lord has forgotten me.” “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: For Layla]]>

Isaiah 49:14-16
But Zion said, “The LORD has forsaken me, the Lord has forgotten me.” “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.”

The day that Cadence was born was the happiest day of my life. Almost everyday my husband and I wonder aloud why she is so “bad” and where she gets this behavior from. When my days with her get so overwhelming that I feel like I’ve reached my limit, my husband grabs my hand and reminds me of Layla Grace and what I’ve told him about her.

Then came the following Tweet from Layla’s family:

I cannot explain the pain that ripped through my body. I know that I don’t know this family, but it is hard as a mother not to feel their pain, to imagine what they are going through and to realize that this could be my child.

I find comfort knowing that Layla is no longer living in pain. It was tearing me apart watching her Mom and Dad tweet about her not eating, not pooping, not waking up and then last night they mentioned Layla’s feet were getting cold.

All we can do is continue to pray for their family, especially their other two daughters: Jenna who is 9 and Claire who is 3. May they find strength in one another, in their family and friends and the extended family and friends they met online who all supported and loved Layla. May they continue to find peace in their faith and know that Layla is with the Lord now.

We can also help to continue to raise awareness of Neuroblastoma. Click here to see how.
If you can, you can donate to Layla’s family by visiting their site and clicking on the Paypal “Donate” button. (All donations go towards Layla’s medical expenses).
Donations to Layla’s medical expenses can also be made at any Wells Fargo bank. Ask a manager to make a deposit to the Layla Grace Marsh donation account.

How to connect with the Marsh family:

- Follow Mom & Dad on Twitter
- Join their Facebook fan page
- Visit Layla’s website

In her short life, Layla was able to touch so many. It’s because of you that I am raising money to help fund pediatric cancer research. It is because of you that I fight for a cure. It is because of you that I now know what my purpose on this Earth is.

God Bless you Layla. Dance with the angels sweetie, dance…

2 Corninthians 4:7-12, 16-18

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

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This friends, is the top shelf of my pantry. I should rename it to Cadence-ville.

I told my family back in New York what type of stuff she likes to snack on and they stocked me up.

That is part of what family is . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: The Love of Family]]>

This friends, is the top shelf of my pantry. I should rename it to Cadence-ville.

I told my family back in New York what type of stuff she likes to snack on and they stocked me up.

That is part of what family is all about…

Never mind the fact that Cadence is the only girl in this generation of the family,
surrounded by 6 boy cousins.

Family is love. Family is caring. Family is sharing.
Oh and family is Gerber foods. (lol)

Thanks, Guys.

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I’m a biracial woman in an interracial relationship living in Omaha, Nebraska.  I’ve lived here my entire life and I’ve experienced all sorts of reactions from people in regards to my race.

I was raised . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: I Am Proud]]> **The following is a guest post from Crissy from Our Life… One Step at a Time.**

I’m a biracial woman in an interracial relationship living in Omaha, Nebraska.  I’ve lived here my entire life and I’ve experienced all sorts of reactions from people in regards to my race.

I was raised by my white mother and aunt.  My father left when I was three and I never had any sort of relationship with him or that side of my family after that.  There was nothing wrong with being raised in an all white family except that I just never got to the know the other side of “me”.  I also wanted to know more about my African American side, but my mother didn’t want me having anything to do  with my father’s family.  I don’t blame her.  I just feel like I missed out.  Growing up I went to a school of about 400 children with 92% of the school being Caucasian.  I’ll never forget that number because I felt like such an outsider most of the time.  Then, in junior high, I came to know my first bully.  She was horrible to me.  She told me I “acted white”..she told me I had to “pick a side because I couldn’t be both”…she called me.. “an Oreo”.  It was terrible.  Then I moved onto high school and things got much better.  There was LOTS of diversity and I made friends of all different races.  I’ll forever love my high school memories for that reason.

Since graduating from high school and going to college I have seen many things that make me proud to live in Omaha as well as some things that make me not so proud.  I really don’t understand why everyone just can’t get along.  I know, it seems so simple.  But, it’s not. Not in this world.  Not with so much hate and pride.  I’ve heard the term “hoods” used many times.  People have to “represent” these hoods.  A large majority of the African American community lives in North Omaha.  Hispanics represent a large majority of South Omaha.  I’m not saying that these ethnic groups don’t live in other parts of Omaha as well though.

Anyways.. the point of this whole thing is to talk about what it’s like living in Omaha as a biracial woman in an interracial relationship.   I would like to say that I still don’t get asked what race I am.  But I do.  I would like to say that me and my white fiancé don’t still get stares. But we do.  Not all of the time.  But it still happens.  Just the other night we were going to the mall with our daughter (who has light skin just like my fiancé) and we got some very negative stares from a black man who looked to be around 22 or 23.  He stared at us the entire time until we got into the mall.  At a parade my family went to this summer an older white woman stared at us the same way.  It breaks my heart but never my spirits.

My daughter who is the light of my life and my reason for being is blessed to have dirty blonde hair like her father.  Big blue eyes like her father.  She doesn’t have my black curly hair or my big brown eyes.  But she is my daughter and has other traits of mine.  But because she doesn’t have my skin color people tend to wonder how we’re related.  In the public I’ve been asked if I’m her babysitter. Her aunt. I’ve also been asked if she was adopted.  What are people thinking? Again..it breaks my heart but never my spirits.

I’m grateful that we live in Omaha though.  It’s a very diverse city and I wouldn’t want to raise my daughter any other way then exposed to as much diversity as possible.  I want her to know about both of her ethnicities and her different cultures.  I want her to friend people of all different sizes, shapes, and colors.  I want her to love with all of her heart just like me and her daddy do.  I want her to know that we hope that one day all people are going to be created equal.  I want her to know that it’s never okay to judge someone by the color of their skin.  I want her to rise above it all with her head held high and be proud to be who she is.  Just like her mama.  I am proud to be biracial.  I am proud to be in a wonderful interracial relationship. I. Am. Proud.

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I have a thing for BEARPAW Boots. Yes, a thing.

It started late in 2009 and now has sprung into what you can call an obsession.

Now, I’ve never really been into the furry boots thing like most girls, it just didn’t catch on for me. I never really like Ugg . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: Bear Watch 2010]]>

I have a thing for BEARPAW Boots. Yes, a thing.

It started late in 2009 and now has sprung into what you can call an obsession.

Now, I’ve never really been into the furry boots thing like most girls, it just didn’t catch on for me. I never really like Ugg Boots and Emu never caught on with me… I especially hate when girls choose to wear these types of boots in the 100+ degree weather with shorts- that is just not appropriate.

But there’s something about BEARPAW.

I started tweeting with them right away once I found out about their awesome boots and now, I may seriously be considered a Twitter stalker of BEARPAW.

I think my trip to Omaha, Nebraska over Christmas break sealed the deal for me with BEARPAW shoes.

It was cold. Colder than I have been in a REALLY long time.

I went to the store to try on a pair of BEARPAW boots and as soon as I slipped my feet into that warm sheepskin interior- I was in love.

Chris and I slipped our baby girl into a pair of these:

And we knew we had to have them. They were so cute on her feet. Too bad they didn’t have them in her size. So, what’s a girl to do but Tweet Bearpaw?

@bearpawshoes I’m out of town & need snow boots. Tried on 2 pairs of ur boots yesterday, couldn’t decide on 1.

@bearpawshoes Also I like the low cut boots, but not the shape of the front toe area, so I’m torn…Also wanted sum 4 my daughter

And they replied:

@ABittersweet1 So did you buy all three ?

@ABittersweet1 Go back tomorrow….take your time. You’ll make the right decision. What size is your 11-month old.

@bearpawshoes She wears a size 4 & the kids boots start at a 5? She was walking too funny in the 5 & tripping everywhere…

@ABittersweet1 Ahhhh…soon. A little more mash potatoes and gravy and that little one will be a size five.

Soon, baby girl… Soon.

Have you checked out BEARPAW’s selection? They sell boots for women, infants and children. And okay, they sell Men’s boots too. Frankly, though, the sight of my man wearing suede/upper leather with sheepskin does not turn me on.

Back to me, though.

I like these:

And these:

But I really, really like these new boots:

They also have a brand new line of boots and shoes coming out starting this summer and through the fall. Check out a sneak peek in their You Tube video.

I guess I could send them a formal letter, requesting to do a product review. Instead of something like this:

Which I’m sure I sent on one of the many days that I spend obsessing over BEARPAW.

Or entering one of the numerous contests to win BEARPAW boots that I always enter and ALWAYS seem to loose.

I could, but why? The chase is so much more fun.

“Live Life Comfortably“

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I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality…. I believe that . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: Thank You, Dr. King]]> **The following is a guest post written by Cessy from Confessions of a Jibber Jabber.**

I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality…. I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word. ~Martin Luther King, Jr.

I am a Hispanic woman married to a Black man. My story begins when I was in high school where as a freshman I met the man who today is my husband. It was 1991 in Pomona, California. Interracial dating was not commonplace but it certainly was not 1950 and strictly forbidden; at least not legally. I had always been attracted to Black men. I had always been attracted to Black people as a whole. In a high school that was predominantly Black and Hispanic every one of my girlfriends was Black and as an adolescent I just felt like I fit in more with Black people than I did my own people. In fact Hispanic girls hated me throughout my school years. And I loathed Hispanic boys. There I said it – my first encounter with hate and I was at the root of it.

I am confident my prejudice was formed out of my childhood and having nearly every single man in my life who was supposed to protect me, provide for me, and love me – fail me. I knew from a very early age [grade school] that if this was what Hispanic men were about than I wanted no parts of it. As an adult woman I have long seen the error of my judgment; shame on me for putting all Hispanic men into one category of worthless. Nonetheless despite my childhood stigmas towards Hispanic men I did have a very real attraction towards Black men. But dating my husband did not come without consequences. A few of the girlfriends that were once my close friends, the girls I chatted with all night, and ate lunch with were no longer my friends. I had crossed a line by dating my husband. I was accepted as part of the group but once I ‘stole one of their men’ I had lost a few allies.

I continued my relationship with my husband despite losing a few friends. I later became pregnant. Now not only had I crossed a line with Black people but with Hispanic people as well. And they were worse, far worse. You see Hispanic men are raised with a very machismo attitude and are extremely protective of ‘their women.’ We’re often seen as possessions. In the early 90’s this had not changed much. I recall riding city buses and being called the worst of derogatory names by Hispanic males. I had racial slurs shouted at my Black child and me. I saw the snickers, whispers, and looks of shame directed towards me. Hispanic males hated me and definitely were at the forefront of my worst experiences with bigotry. Yes, you read that correctly. Not white people. Not Black people. My own people hated me. In particular boys, men, that I didn’t even know who saw me as trash. I felt so powerless. Like any mother, regardless of race or ethnicity, I wanted to protect my child. I didn’t see him as Black or Hispanic – he was just my son. But the world, this imperfect world, they did see his color and they despised me for it.

The worst was when my grandfather, who I absolutely adored, disowned me, and I was no longer allowed in his home. I didn’t argue with my grandfather I was taught to respect him regardless of my hurt feelings over his disownment. Also, even at a young age I was able to comprehend that he was raised in an entirely different era than I was and it was one where races just did not mix let alone have children. I stood quiet.

My grandfather had Black friends; I know this is so cliché and what every prejudice person says when confronted with their bigotry. But it is true. He did have Black friends and I recall them coming over to my nana’s home where she served dinner and they all sat around the dining room table talking and eating and having a good time. But friends were different. Creating a child with a person outside of my race was way beyond this in my grandpa’s opinion. I stood away for almost a year when I was finally allowed back.

My grandfather was an old man, he was raised in a very different time, born in Wisconsin he spent most of his childhood and adolescent life in Mexico, and he was set in his stubborn ways. But as time progressed the dynamics of the relationship between my grandfather, my husband, my children, and me transformed into something I will treasure for the rest of my life: my grandfather loved my husband. My grandfather and I had a very unique relationship and we were very close. He became so fond of my husband and writing this makes me smile because I remember the struggles we first endured almost 19 years ago and how difficult this grumpy old man was. People can change. My grandfather was able to see my husband for the good hard workingman he was. Not a man of color. Not a man different from him. Just a good man. Regardless of the color of my husband’s skin or my grandfather’s original beliefs my grandfather was able to see beyond it all and recognize that my husband was a man of character who took care of his responsibilities and this was to be respected – man to man. I think this is all Dr. King ever wanted out of each and every one of us was to love our fellow man regardless of the color of their skin and to not be judged for it but by the content of our character as a human being.

Life as an interracial couple raising children is not easy. Although I think my husband and I are fortunate to be born and raised in Southern California, because it is definitely on the faster track to diversity sensitivity in comparison to other parts of the nation, it is not without hatred. There are still idiots forcing their judgments on you – and they come in all shades, shapes, and sizes. There have been plenty of painful moments in my life based solely on the color of both mine and my husband’s skin color. For the sake of my children I choose to refuse to allow other people’s ignorance destroy my spirit or me and I teach my children to do the same. Some days this is easier than others.

Thankfully we have each other to lean on when faced with adversity. Being that both of us are minorities and both of our people have experienced racism we can relate on that level, understand each others views, and be sensitive. I think my husband is definitely more of the ‘angry’ one in our marriage. Where I try to see the strides we’ve made in this country he sees the very long road we still have to total equality. We don’t always see eye to eye on many, many issues and we have our cultural differences but overall I think we balance each other. One issue we do agree on is the mutual goal of ensuring our kids know they are both Black and Hispanic [Blacksican as the kids say] and they should stand tall and be proud of both sides of their heritage. They have amazing history on both sides of the family and I hope that it can only enrich who they become as adults. They also have a very diverse family – we are not the only interracial couple. There are Jewish, Caucasian, and Asian people all married into our giant melting pot of a family and I think this is wonderful for them to see that love has no color.

I am not a leader in my community. I am not an activist. I am a really huge nobody in the great scheme of things. But even this nobody can do their part to ensure the next generation is better than it’s predecessors. Like any parent I want my children to live in a world free of hatred and inequality. I believe we create this by raising children who will become adults bearing good character, who are compassionate for their fellow human being, and who are able to stand up to injustice.  Intolerance – it begins and cultivates at home and is passed on from one generation to the next.

In 1963 there was a moment of inspiration and confidence in the future of the human race as thousands gathered for the March on Washington – many, many moments and struggles such as this paved the way for me to be where I am right now. I don’t discount it or lose sight of the goals Dr. King had for us as a people – Black, White, or Brown. I show my gratitude to Dr. King, and all those who stood up to bias, by trying very hard to be a person of tolerance despite differences with my fellow man and God willing by raising decent human beings who will do the same.

I sincerely thank you Dr. King.

Cessy and her husband on their wedding day.

Come on…don’t copy- get your own material. Nobody likes a cheater! Original & Hand Written Plagiarism Will Be Detected. This site is being monitored by CopyGator. Mmkay? Thanks.

Have you tried Bath & Body Works’ Sugar Scrubs? Seriously: Heave in a jar. They smell good and they feel good. Shoot- they make my very rarely taken showers feel like a spa. Hubs and I caught a sale . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: Bath & Body Works]]> I think I know I have found bliss.

Have you tried Bath & Body Works’ Sugar Scrubs? Seriously: Heave in a jar. They smell good and they feel good. Shoot- they make my very rarely taken showers feel like a spa. Hubs and I caught a sale at B&BW so they were two for $20 (I think). So we got one that energizes and one that relaxes you at the end of the day. I love ‘em both. Leaves your skin feeling silky smooth and stuff like that. Thumbs up Bath & Body Works!

And if that weren’t enough…

I got these from a friend for Christmas. This scent is heavenly. Coconut Lime Verbera. I don’t know what Verbera is… but I’d like to marry it.

I don’t usually shop at Bath & Body Works because honestly I often feel like their stuff is a bit expensive for my taste. But maybe I may have to start treating myself…

Come on…don’t copy- get your own material. Nobody likes a cheater! Original & Hand Written Plagiarism Will Be Detected. This site is being monitored by CopyGator. Mmkay? Thanks.