De Su Mama

Legacy of Multiracial Motherhood

Counting Birthdays And Blessings: 3 Reasons I’m Doing Okay

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The last couple weeks have been some of the best in a good long while. Though my personal identity is so much bolder then when I started this blog, especially in my motherhood, it seems I’ll always struggle with the guilt to be more; do more or have more, for my family and for myself, to prove that I have a right to engage within a community or stand alone as I see fit. The realization that I’m enough – in my motherhood, as a spouse and, most importantly, as a human being. I suffer from Question Everything Syndrome or They Don’t Like You Anyway Disease. So dumb. But I promise: my diagnosis is positive. I’ll be fully cured from the damaging affects of low self esteem before you know it.

Here are 3 reasons I know I’m doing okay…

Personal Identity of Multiracial Motherhood Personal Identity of Multiracial Motherhood
1. My Son Turned 3 And Knows It

Since we moved to California almost five months ago, the kids have not been enrolled in any educational instruction. We’re in-between homes and I haven’t been able to commit to classes while also looking for/buying a new house, taking care of their needs, as well as working. We took Alina out of Pre-K, which was a hard transition. Sebas isn’t in any music, sports or mommy-n-me classes like his big sister was at his age. We learn and play at home, but as far as structured learning goes, they’ve had zilch. And I feel horrible about it.

But this past weekend, as my charming son turned 3 years old, he gave his mama the ultimate gift. After weeks of “exercising” his little fingers with play-dough, Sebas was finally able to show how old he is! Not sure if it’s a developmental milestone, but manipulating his fingers like this did not come easy for my champ. With a happy disposition, we practiced and practiced, until finally… SUCCESS!

Oh man, I’ve forever frozen the memory of his tiny, focused face feverishly folding each finger down, with tongue hanging out like his mama and Abuelo do when we’re in deep concentration. I want to remember this success story forever and share it with him as he grows into a man.

I want to remind him that the very smallest successes can remind us that we’re doing okay. That development occurs when you practice with commitment – regardless of how important the task is. And that success feels good, no matter how big the prize is. So proud of you, my 3 YEAR OLD! Cheers to many more committed goals turned successes.

Personal Identity of Multiracial Motherhood Personal Identity of Multiracial Motherhood 2. Our Daughter Witnessed A Success Story

I can’t begin to express how huge this is for Daddy D and I. We moved to Vegas 10 years ago because, in part, we lacked the ability to thrive financially in California. Despite my adoration of this state, it really is impossibly expensive. I’ve written about why we moved from Vegas before, and now I can say we’re officially California residents.

The best part, though, was that Alina was there to watch as we accomplished one of our life goals: to become California homeowners. We had a mobile notary come to the house so that we can sign the paperwork, since D works so many hours and it’s difficult to be in an office with two active kids. As we sat at my mom’s dining table, with the notary across us, our 5 year old took a seat at the table too. She brought her journal and pen, signing each page as we signed ours.

I will never forget this moment in parenting. EVER. My opinionated little girl sat there quietly, engrossed in the process of buying a house, occasionally asking a question, grinning with pride as we talked about the neighborhood. The notary was sweet, wondering aloud if she liked the house and was excited to start a new school. At the end, she asked me why I didn’t have my wallet out to give the man money. I explained that we would send an escrow wire to the bank because it was too much money to keep in my wallet; that Daddy and I had saved for a long time to buy us a safe home in California. And she said nothing. My loud-mouth, baby girl just sat there with a grin on her face, as if she knew this was the beginning of something great.

A few days later, we got the keys to our tiny, California fixer upper. My husband couldn’t be there to open the door… he was busy working. He had meetings and obligations that pays for our dream.

In that moment, with my two kids next to me and Daddy D on speaker phone, I believed I was doing okay.

Personal Identity of Multiracial Motherhood

3. I Feel Complete

This past weekend we celebrated several birthdays, as well as Easter, and I was exactly where I wanted to be. With my family. My priorities are as they should be. I don’t feel fragmented. I don’t feel torn between groups of people and traditions and cultures or languages. I’m casual in my love, not worried about what I say or how I’m perceived. I’m one of four generations, with decades of history that isn’t ignored or conveniently forgotten.

I feel complete.

And ultimately, isn’t that how all of us come to feel as though we’re doing okay? When our inner dissonance is controlled by a conscience effort to design a life our core is aligned with; when we stand in our own truth, without guilt or stress to be someone else?

I’m not perfect – so, so far from any semblance of it – but today, I’m doing okay.

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