Baby Mama Drama...overrated.

Wikipedia defines BABY MAMA as the following: A baby mama (also baby-mama and baby-mother) is generally defined as a mother who is not married to her child's father, although the term often is used with other meanings as well.

After recently writing about the good and bad about fatherhood, I received numerous emails requesting my insight on Baby Mamas. When you think about Baby Mama Drama the first thing that pops into your head is the three-ring circus you see on Maury Povich or Jerry Springer with screaming people and paternity tests involving the baby’s dad, his brother, and his cousin. Yes, the media capitalizes off of it because society still has a fascination with other people’s misfortunes; viewers won’t change the channel because they want to find out of Tyrone is the father of little DeShawn and then in turn watch the Baby Mama fall to the floor or run out of the room when the results aren’t what she expected.

So, I thought long and hard about this subject because every situation is unique in it’s own and there is never one solution to end all issues with Baby Mamas. There are so many factors that play into Baby Mama Drama: the daddy, the mama, the girlfriend/current wife, the baby. But I decided to take the approach from my role as a life coach to many friends and offer a different view and give my advice to the girlfriend/current wife and the Baby Mama…

BABY MAMA..
First of all…kudos. Kudos to you for taking on the role of full-time parenthood. It’s one of the toughest jobs in the world. Hopefully you co-parent with your Baby Daddy to help make your world a little easier. And if you don’t, I’m sorry. Not all men step up to the plate like you’d hope. But I believe God never gives us more than we can handle and although every day can be a struggle, know that in your heart, you are raising a child that will always remember the sacrifices you’ve made when they grow up. I know it must be hard when you see a family together and you look down at your little one and feel as though you cheated him out of having the ‘perfect’ family by raising him in a single household. But you need to stop being so hard on yourself. Kids would rather have happy parents living apart than two who are together and completely miserable.

If you have a decent relationship with your Baby Daddy, that says A LOT about your character. It shows that you both have your child’s best interest at heart. You’re showing your child that you both respect each other, regardless of what drove you two apart and are BOTH on the same team when it comes to raising him/her.

Being Baby Mama doesn’t give you a hall pass to get involved in his love life whatsoever.
It is NONE of your business.
Part of having a decent relationship with Baby Daddy is also accepting the changes in his life when it comes to his new significant other. It’s a two way street. If you’ve moved on and are dating, more than likely, he is too. Should you at least know the person your child spends time around? Of course! Should you voice concerns? Of course! But that’s where it stops. He doesn’t owe you any explanation of their relationship. All that he owes you is the promise of care, guidance, respect and communication when it comes to your child. You should be able to trust his judgment when it comes to the child that you share together. And vice versa is true when it comes to your relationship. There is a reason you both aren’t together. Move on and use that energy towards making your relationship with each other more productive as well as your relationship with your new man.

Strive to become a better mother by becoming a better woman

Think about forming a cordial relationship with Baby Daddy’s girlfriend/wife. I’m not asking you to become best friends and hang out on the weekends. But go out of your way to show that you are a strong, confident, secure woman that doesn’t feel threatened by her. Make her feel that she’s important because she’s involved in your child’s life. Remember, she’s probably feeling just as threatened by you, as you are of her. And if Baby Daddy’s girlfriend/wife doesn’t budge…oh well! You know you’ve done your part and you move on knowing you’ve tried.

Do you find yourself taking things from the past and throwing them back in Baby Daddy’s face?
Stop it.
Stop it NOW.
It’s not solving anything and always makes the situation a lot worse. Refuse to go there. As much as you want to remind him of his shortcomings, stop yourself. I’m sure there’s a crapload of shortcomings he could throw your way, so think twice before you start hurling stones out of your little glass house. As long as you keep bringing up the past, you will never be able to move forward. You will continue to empower him by holding on to such intense negativity. Forgive him. Forgive yourself. Forgiveness is such a powerful thing. Life is short, get over it.

Your child is NOT a bargaining tool
Do not threaten your Baby Daddy by refusing to let him see his child when you’re upset with him regarding other issues. Again, think about what’s in your child’s best interest. Your child is not a weapon; as disappointed as you may be in Baby Daddy, do not get swept away by anger, rage and the desire to punish him.

You both brought life into this world
You both signed up for parenthood the minute you found out you were having a baby. For once…it is NOT about you. It’s about what is in the best interest of the child you share together. Put aside your differences and think about how every word, every action that emanates from your body is absorbed into the soul of your child. No one’s perfect. But strive every day to become a better parent…with all that you’ve got, choose to fully rise above the negativity. Its black or white, not a shade of grey, because when you love your child, there is no such thing as halfway.

Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of women out there that struggle to have that decent relationship with Baby Daddy, but it’s just near impossible because of circumstances beyond their control. But continue to move forward and refuse to let anyone steal your joy.

BABY DADDY GIRLFRIEND/WIFE…
I hate to say it, but you guys are always made out to be the bad guy. And it’s not very helpful when Baby Daddy tends to ignite the situation instead of offer solutions. But let me start by saying that when you got together with your man, you knew he had a child. And by becoming involved with him, this meant also being involved in the life of his child. This is not only an honor, but a huge responsibility. You know that along with the involvement with your man and his child comes Baby Mama in the package. And this is not always such an easy thing. So let me give you a little bit of insight into the role you play:

Congratulations on taking a step into the tough world of being #2.
Yeah..#2.
As long as you understand that his child will ALWAYS be his priority, you won’t enter this relationship with unrealistic expectations. I’m not saying this will be an easy task. It takes a secure woman to know who she is and where she stands and when to back off.

Being wifey/girlfriend doesn’t give you a hall pass to get directly involved in the raising of his child whatsoever.
Don’t give unsolicited advice and don’t try to put your two cents in. If there is an issue that affects you, discuss it with him. Your feelings are just as valid. For him, it can be hard to juggle such a sensitive situation.
Just be there.
Be there when he needs to vent.
Be there when he needs your shoulder.

As hard as it may be, do not bad mouth his Baby Mama, especially in front of their child.
It’s ugly, no one benefits from it and you just make yourself look like a bigger idiot. It’s a natural tendency to say things out of spite when it comes to the woman that used to have a life with your man, but go back to what your mama taught you, if you have nothing nice to say….

Keep in mind that Baby Mama has feelings and emotions like you
Remember that she actually loved your man at one time. It’s a hard pill to swallow when you think you’re going to marry your baby's daddy but end up a single parent… imagine the bitterness that can come when you’ve seen that he’s moved on. So, no need for jealousy on your part. It's his child who he loves, regardless of his relationship with the mother.When I said it was an “honor” to be involved in your man’s life with his child, I didn’t mean that lightly. You should be proud that he chose you; that he trusts you to share in the life of his child. And part of that honor is also the responsibility and acknowledgement of his eternal connection to his Baby Mama in some way, shape or form because of their child. As much as you wish she would disappear off the face of this earth, she's not going anywhere. So accept it. If you can’t, you need to cut your losses now and move on. Remember..it is not your job to get caught up in the “drama” .

Try and be her friend
Ok, you’re reading this and saying, “WTF?!” I know, I know…you’d rather have your toenails plucked off one by one than be her friend. But quite honestly, Baby Mama needs to be reassured that you aren’t trying to replace her. Acknowledge her bond between herself, the child, and your man. It can make all the difference knowing you took the time to recognize her relationship with them and reassure her that her child will still know who their mother is. Respect her role and be proud of yours.

Whether your Baby Mama or Baby Daddy’s girlfriend/wife, you need to continue to respect yourself and make sure to never lose sight of what’s important, and that is the welfare of the child involved.

Be open.
Be positive.
Be accepting.

You have the greatness to persevere, to forgive, to smile, to lift yourself and others up and to move on…

Be the one who makes the difference.

(this blog dedicated to llewelyn manzano…a nice baby daddy girlfriend)

Single Dads...

Alright, I know it’s so easy for come down on deadbeat dads. There are a ton of articles on absentee fathers and what they aren’t doing, what they should be doing and the effect on their children.


But how about the single dads that ARE stepping up to the plate?

Did you know that one-fifth of single parents today are single fathers -- more than 2 million of them.

I don’t think we do enough to acknowledge the good dads. We are so quick to focus on the negative when it comes to fatherhood and what the man isn’t doing and exploit that, but when it comes to the good that a man does for his child, no one really cares.

There are A LOT of good men out there that are single fathers that take care of business, as well as men that have stepped up to the plate to be a father to children that aren’t even biologically their own. And how about the men that have taken over as mom AND dad because mom wasn’t up to task?

I have many single dad friends that I respect because of the love and responsibility they have for their children. And yes, I’ll take the time to acknowledge them: Scott Taylor, Joey Rodriguez, Jack Gordon Mills, Marlon Derraco, Daryl Stamps, David Butler, Jeff Guadarrama, Jim Simunek, Brian Carbajal, Ramses King Taylor, Oliver Ware, Kevin Ratcliff, Landy Parce,and Deonne McBean.

They are empowering men. They are men that are role models not only to their sons, but to their daughters as well. They are men that still respect their “babies mamas” regardless of the situation that broke them up in the first place. They are men that will go without so that their children will have what they need. Not only are these men there physically, emotionally, spiritually, financially…but they actively participate in their children’s’ lives -- finger paints, bike rides, playing tag in the park, throwing the football around and reading bedtime stories. And as their children grow they’ll be there to witness: their first date… prom… graduation..marriage….

Being a father… being a dad... isn’t a privilege, it’s an honor. You only get to do this gig once in this lifetime.

And~

That same little hand you held from the minute they entered this world...

will be the same one you hold when you leave it….

It’s never too late to be a good dad.

Make today count…

An Open Letter to My Cousin's Father...

An Open Letter to My Cousin’s Father:

Wait, let me retract that…An Open Letter to My Cousin’s Sperm Donor:

I used to like you. I really did. You married my aunt, who I considered my sister, because of the close proximity of our age. We had a special bond. Everything that she felt, I felt. Every sorrow, every joy that she experienced..I experienced. Every milestone in each of our lives was celebrated immediately with each other over the phone. And when she found out she was pregnant, she was nervous…but excited to bring this beautiful being made by you two into this world. I shared in this joyous news and you seemed to be equally excited…at the time.

When your son finally entered this world, everything changed. My aunt’s life no longer revolved around you. You were no longer #1. You were no longer catered to. You were no longer the center of attention. You couldn’t handle that. And although she still struggled to make you feel important and loved, it was never enough. You started to withdraw…you started to lie…and your needs became more important than your family. Even when you were around, you were still absent.

When you weren’t up to the task of being a husband and father, did it feel good to walk out the door and not look back? Did it feel good to charge up all the credit cards with purchases for your skanky girlfriend before you left? Did you just never feel good enough because your wife was an intelligent, college-educated woman? It’s funny though,your son didn’t seem to notice when you left. I guess you had to drop to your level and mess with the barely-getting-G.E.D. skank that you must’ve picked up at the local carnival…and then end up marrying her at a local Texas Chuck E. Cheese-like entertainment center before the ink on your divorce was dry.

You’ve always been one for timing, right?

You fought so hard for visitation and custody for your child during your divorce. You were such a great actor. You wanted people to think that you were doing the “right” thing; that you were looking out for your child’s best interest...but it was all a show; Academy Award worthy. In the beginning, you picked him up like clockwork (that was part of the script, right?) and then slowly but surely, the visits became far and less between. You always had an excuse for not showing up. (I hope you put “excuse-maker/liar” on your resume when you lost your job and used my aunt as a reference, she’d totally vouch for you). But my aunt knew you too well. She never told my cousin about your scheduled visits to pick him up because she knew better. She knew that you wouldn’t show. And the last thing she wanted to do was break his heart.

You know what you don’t realize? You don’t realize how much my aunt does to save face when it comes to your child. I know it’s hard for her not to call you a fucking asshole and to tell your son that you’re a loser. You know what she does? She makes excuses for you in order to save him from a world of hurt if he knew the truth. When it comes to your whereabouts, she does her best to conjure up some undeserving excuse for your absence. She knows you think he’s an inconvenience. You’d rather spend time with your step-daughter than with your own flesh and blood. You let your carnival wife dictate every move in your life which in turn affects your son. You go for months not seeing him, not calling him and then wonder why he looks at you with the warmth he would a total stranger. And when it comes to special occasions, you’re predictable. You got him the same thing for his birthday this year as you did last year..nothing. You're always asking for your child support to be cut down so that you can support your trailer park lifestyle. And even though you barely pay enough, my aunt makes it work. She sacrifices so that your son has whatever his heart desires. But, YOU are the one that’s supposed to be his hero and set the example. YOU were the one that was to provide for the family and keep him safe. That's what daddy's do. They’re supposed to be there through the good times and the bad times.

Not only did you lose your way...you lost a good woman.

But good riddance for her. God is going to bring her a MAN that steps up to the plate and treats her like a queen. This MAN will love your child and put his needs first. Your son will have a father that plays ball with him, takes him to the movies, helps him with his homework, takes him camping, plays in the park, or just sits with him and holds him. Who knows? She just might have that going on already.

You know..it's really hard for me to hold back and not print your name so that everyone knows that you're a piece of shit. But..I'm not going to use my blog to waste space and acknowledge your name that your son will forever carry. Everyone that knows me..knows of you...and that's enough for me.

Just so you know, you’re really missing out on a wonderful person. Your son is so smart and loving. He has a smile that can light up a room and at nine years of age, has an infectious personality that can capture anyone's heart. You need to thank his mom. She's raising such an amazing boy that will someday change the world.

I hope that one day, when my cousin looks back at the pictures of you holding him as a baby, he knows, that at one time..

you loved him…

and that at one time…

you would conquer the world for him…

Smile Now, Cry Later~ My Relationship with my Bathroom Scale

There aren’t too many things in life that I have a love/hate relationship with. But my relationship with my bathroom scale probably ranks right up there with my love/hate relationship with my thighs. Since I started working out and losing weight I’ve become obsessed with my scale. Oh, it’s not one of those funny, ha-ha obsessions; it’s an unhealthy one.

I drag my $19.98 Wal-Mart digital scale out every morning I wake up. Of course, first I pee to make sure I get rid of any water weight. I carefully place the scale on my tile and slowly get on. If I don’t like the number I go through the whole rigmarole:
1. Take a dump. Nothing like cleaning the pipes, right? Rid myself of any unwanted waste and the chicken pita from the night before
2. Do a few jumping jacks
3. Scoot the scale onto a different floor tile and another and another
4. Log my weight in my handy-dandy journal that I keep in my vanity

Does it work?

Hell no! I usually end up weighing more than I did before I took a crap and did the jumping jacks!

It’s so frustrating. Maybe it was better when I didn’t care about my weight. I used to go to my annual gynecologist appointment and dread the whole weigh-in. I’d sit in the lobby with all the other women and think about that stupid medical scale. When the nurse would finally call my name after 2 ½ hours, she’d go through her whole spiel:

“Hi, Sandra. How are you today? If you wouldn’t mind hopping on this scale so that I can get your weight and then I’ll get your blood pressure…”

I place my purse on the chair next to the scale and proceed to take off my heels, my necklace, bracelets, earrings, watch, wipe off any excess blush, brush out any added hairspray and remove my nail polish that might interfere with my true weigh-in. If I could get butt-naked in the hallway, I would. I stand on the scale and tell the nurse:

“Umm, I am going to turn away while you take my weight. I do NOT want to hear you sigh. I do NOT want to hear the scraping of that big ass square weight slide across the metal that alerts me that you need to add more lbs to the scale. I do NOT want to hear your pen write the 3 digit numbers on my file. I do NOT want to know what my weight is. Just smile and return the metal square thing on the scale back to it’s original position when you’re done. And by the way, when was the last time the Department of Executive Administration Weights and Measures came by to conduct an inspection on this particular scale??”

A bit drastic? Not to me.

I sit down and she takes my blood pressure. She tells me that my blood pressure is a little high. NO KIDDING? After placing my fat ass on the scale, my blood pressure probably won’t go back to normal for at least a few hours.

So, as you can see…it’s been a turbulent relationship-me & my scale. I try and keep the healthy mind-set of ‘As long as I look and feel good, who cares what the numbers are’. Yet, there are those mornings that I want to take the scale and fling the damn thing out the window…

but then…

I’d have one less thing to complain about.

An Open Letter to My Vagina...

As most of you know by now, I'm pretty open when it comes to my body parts and all the primping and upkeep that I speak so freely about. But when I came across an article about 'Vaginal Trainers' in this month's Cosmopolitan, I thought it was a joke. Yes, there really are V.T.'s out there that will help get your vagina in tip top shape! It's not enough that we're forced to do Kegel's to keep those muscles in shape, but now we have weight sets? This article moved me to write an open letter. Yes, an open letter to my vagina....

Dear Vagina,

I hope you know how lucky you are that you have an owner that takes such good care of you. When I was young lass, I would jokingly refer to you as the 'front butt' or 'pee-pee' or if I wanted to go back to my ethnic roots, 'chocha' or 'pek-pek'. You weren't of much use to me back then, you were what you were.

Then puberty hit...

I didn't want you to grow hair. I think it was partly because I knew that it meant I was leaving my Barbies and cartoons behind and now entering the world of bras, boys and pads (ugh).

I resisted.. but you insisted. And you started to sprout hair every which way you could. The once lovely, pristine patch of skin was now overtaken by an ugly, wirey sparse rug of hair. I was scared to shave you because of all the horror stories about hair coming back 3x thicker. But as time passed, so did my wrath against womanhood.

I knew the time had come to embrace you; because with you came boobies....yay!

I remember when you decided it was time for me to have my first period. I was turning 13 and you couldn't wait until I was at home or maybe in the shower. No..you waited until I was walking on the balance beam playing around behind the school with my friend, Cheryl Delz. She noticed the rust colored spot on my jeans and informed me of my impending doom.

"WHAT?! No! I can't start. I'm athletic, I'm skinny, I'm too young to start my period!! I probably held my pee in for too long!"

I was in denial.

But you remained adamant.

You insisted I move into the next stage in my life.

I know you hated being suffocated by the pillow-size pads that my mother insisted on buying me. And God forbid if I asked her about tampons. Tampons were for 'non-virgins' and I'd "rupture my hymen" if I tried sticking a tampon in you. Girls were dying all over the world from Toxic Shock Syndrome! (Mom had a way of being a little over dramatic). I hated going to the store to get the big, orange box of Freedom pads. There was no way to be discreet when you were at the grocery store. The big ass box took up half the shopping cart and I always prayed that I wouldn't run into any cute boys from school when we lugged around this box of pads with a graphic on the front of a woman in a flowing dress running on a beach; that cheesy picture will forever be imprinted in my brain.

The teen years came and gone. And as the years passed I became more comfortable with you. Sure, I know there were times when I was a teen when you felt you were ready to take that big step and leave the 'V-Squad' (Virgin Squad), but I held onto my morals and didn't let that happen too early. It wasn't easy. Oh boy..it wasn't easy...but I knew you were too precious to give away to just anyone. And when that time finally did come, I made sure the it was right and that you, along with my heart, would walk away unscathed. I know it wasn't all that it was made out to be...it was my first time..and yeah, I agree..it pretty much sucked.

I was so proud of you when the time to have babies came around. You refused to let me go to the operating room and have my gut cut open. You insisted that you were going to help me push these 10lb babies out naturally. I worried that you'd be stretched out forever...that you'd never go back to normal...that sex would be like throwing a hotdog down a hallway. But you again, you didn't dissapoint me. You regained your strength (and some muscle, I might add).

When I decided that I wanted to change you around a bit and chose to introduce you to Brazilian bikini waxing, I know you were nervous. But I could tell you were excited and impressed by the end results. You looked like a new 'you'. You had the option of the "Playboy"- clean cut and bald or the "Landing Strip" (aka as The Hitler)...and you looked glamourous either way. You could pull both looks off and I was rather impressed. You were red-carpet worthy.

As I've gotten older, I've also tried to keep you in shape. No,I haven't resorted to the vaginal weight set. But I do the Kegels when I'm at a redlight. I hope you've noticed how strong and more limber you've become. I think I see some definition forming!

The whole concept behind this letter to you, was one of gratitude. I also want you to know that I will always have your back. I will never let you down. I will never let you look like Chewbacca from Star Wars or subject you to any piercings. I will never, ever suffocate you with XXL pads again (Tampax Pearl tampons are the best, don't you think?) or ever wear cameltoe jeans to irritate you.

I hope you appreciate all the effort that I put into you to make you look snazzy and feel your best.

We only get one vagina in life...and I'm glad you're mine.

Self Nurturing~ The Art of Being Good to ME...

I recently attended a women's empowerment seminar and learned a lot about "Self Nurturing".

As a mother, this word was foreign to me. I really couldn't comprehend the actual nurturing of myself. I mean, really... my family came first and if there was a miniscule of time left, it didn't go to me. It went to other areas of life that needed tending to (i.e. baked goods for school, Girl Scout meetings, science projects). But for the last 8 months, I've been trying to carve out that "me" time...

Alice Domar, Ph.D. defined self-nurture as "caring for yourself and putting yourself amongst your own list of priorities." Right away, we automatically think about how selfish a behavior that would be. But...why is it selfish to want to be happy and to take care of yourself and your needs? Stress, right now, is the number one problem cited by American women, mostly because balancing work and family is so hard. And when we juggle them, we leave ourselves last which takes a huge toll on our mental and physical health.

Self Nuture. That's what I've started doing 8 months ago. I've dedicated time to myself to get back in shape, reconnect with close friends and just take that 'breather' that I need. I'm not a party animal on the weekends by any stretch of the imagination, but I've been carving out time, every couple of months to fly out to my hometown, San Diego to see my family and friends...solo. Even for just a couple of days, I truly appreciate that alone time. I think it's made me a better person with a more appreciative, more grateful view on life.

It's hard amidst all the chaos of our daily family routine to find restorative moments that can be squeezed into the schedule. But, I'm much more conscious about my life and find myself deep in thought about what will help me get through this time better, what my needs are, and what I can do for myself the next day. Even something short and very simple, like my drive home from work listening to my iPod, can help me regroup.

I get very emotional when I think about this "perfect person" that I've been struggling to be all my life: the perfect wife, the perfect mom, the perfect daughter, the perfect sister, the perfect friend. And it's still a struggle to give myself some compassion instead of pretending to be strong all the time. I stop myself during these moments and I think about what's worked in the past to make me feel better~ calling a friend, watching a funny movie... I think about what recharges me and brings out my strength. And when I think about it..it is my San Diego getaways that I do by myself. For a few days, I don't have to worry about anyone but myself. I don't have to bathe anyone, cook, clean or break up fights. I don't have to clean up dog poo or do laundry. For those few days, I can be irresponsible (to an extent). But most of all, I feel like I'm giving myself the gift of time, and I really enjoy it...and I'm blessed to have it.

The catch? The catch is that to find that time, and then take it, we need to believe we deserve it -- and the bottom line, it seems to me, is that we must. I was always the one saying, "I'll take some time after they get out of school.." or "When things slow down at work, I'll do that...." Postponing self-care until "life calms down" can mean a very long wait.

And life is too short.

I truly believe the words of Dr. Alice Domar, "From my experience, you are not the best mother, daughter, wife, sister or friend if you have depleted yourself. When you feel exhausted, resentment starts to build up, and your loved ones can sense it. . Taking "you" time is crucial and should be guilt free.."

In the end, it's not selfish to do what allows us to continue giving to others.

It's not selfish to treat ourselves with the same thoughtfulness we show those we love.

When I'm doing for myself, every cell of my being is fully alive...and nothing could make me give it up.

I owe to my family....

but most of all, to myself.

An Open Letter to All The After School Moms with Shitty Attitudes

"..You say High Maintenance like it's a bad thing..."




Dear After School Moms with the Shitty Attitudes:

Do I care about the way I look?
Yes.
Do I try and dress in things that flatter me?
Absolutely.
Do I love my shoe and purse collection?
Ab-so-freaking-loutely.
Do I give credit to other women when I see them "put together"?
Totally!

But you know what pisses me off? When I get looks from you After School Mothers that pick up your kids when I do. What "looks" you might ask?

Well...

Let me get up on my soapbox for a minute, because I really have to get this off my chest (and if I offend you, I'm sure you'll get over it)...

It never fails. I will always get the "look" from you After School Moms. You know the "look" that comes so easily to you~ the one-eye-brow-up...the full body scan from head to toe...the neck roll from side to side...the pursed lips...the non-smile...the avoidance of any eye contact.

You After School Moms fit a certain profile, too. You are the ones that are unkept, sloppy and wear your husband's sweatpants. You are the women who are 250+ lbs and wear your greasy hair in a ponytail. You are the women wearing the Wal-Mart flip-flops with dirty feet and pizza-stained Nascar t-shirts and waist purses. You are the women that volunteer for every freaking school function and then try and make the working moms feel bad when they can't make it to the class Play-doh party.

I cannot tell you how much effort I put into being social and nice just to break the ice with you women and I just can't make any headway. So then I choose to dissect your psyche...

Maybe you're unhappy with your life.
Maybe you feel that being healthy and clean is not a priority.
Maybe it's easier to be unfriendly.
Maybe you're upset because your baby daddy doesn't even acknowledge your presence
Maybe you feel threatened by a woman who can balance a family AND career and STILL take the time to look good.

But don't be mad at me because you've given up on yourself.

I think women, especially mothers, need to come together and be more supportive of one another. I don't think we take the time to acknowledge each other like we should or give compliments like we should.But we are so quick to be so judgmental and critical of one another.

And such is life...

I will continue to smile like I always do (even when you look away). I will continue to acknowledge your presence (even if I am invisible to you) and I will continue to wear my Christian Louboutin heels (even if you are flopping around in your Walmart flip flops with the Tweety Bird plastic character).

I will continue to be the woman my daughters look up to and respect and want to be like.

I am not claiming to be better than you, I'm just claiming to be me.

And I kinda feel bad for you, because you're really missing out on a pretty nice person....


Sincerely,
The Smiling Mom with the red-bottom shoes