Summer Lovin’

I’ve been out of school for a few weeks now, and I am reminded how hard it is to be a stay-at-home mom.

In any case, I’ve enjoyed getting to see my kids grow and interact with one another and the people around them.  Days are full with a routine that I’ve come to enjoy:

When I wake up, I can smell the coffee wafting upstairs.  This lets me know that Derek is already awake, and he pushed the button.  I roll out of bed, throw on some leggings with a skirt to keep a few secrets from all my friends.  By now, Bubbles is barking, anticipating his walk.

I struggle into my tennis shoes, reminding myself that 1) I need to stretch 2) I need to lose weight.  I hurry outside to cajole the pup into sitting through his excitement.  I clip on my fanny-pack full of baggies for poop (How low has mankind stooped to pick up canine poop?), money for tortillas, and doggie treats.  I begin my audiobook and fitness tracker, and Bubbles and I set out.

If you’re like me and you struggle with exercising, you should download an audiobook.  It’s amazing to WANT to exercise so that I can find out what happens next in my book.  Nerd alert?  Currently I am listening to The Zookeeper’s Wife.  That’s because I couldn’t find a good young adult novel quick enough the other day.  It’s nice to pretend I am grown-up for a change.

Bubbles and I trot along the street, following the shade when we’ve left the house too late.  I remind myself that I need to leave earlier tomorrow.  We say hello to dogs, runners, and domestic workers on their way to work.  We greet the guard at the school and wave to the groundskeepers who daily water and clean up the pristine lawn.

Finally, we turn back towards the tortilla shop, buy the beans and tortillas for breakfast and head back home.

Once home, Bubbles gets fed and watered.  A handful of dog food goes with me to chicken coop along with the scraps from the day before.  I collect eggs and turn to go back inside to begin breakfast for the day.

Our houseguests and friends enjoy a Mexican breakfast, as does my husband.  So breakfast consists of fresh salsa, tortillas, beans, and eggs.  Occasionally it includes bacon or hotdog sausages.  Sometimes we make migas–where old, cold tortillas are cut into pieces and fried with eggs and onions.  Afterwards, I clean up and we have a little study or sing a couple hymns before Victor heads off to work.

The girls and I do some chores or go shopping for groceries.  Then it is time for a nap.  Jojo and I nap, while Ale hangs out.  I can’t figure out why she isn’t tired like we are.

By the time we get up from our nap, it’s time to prepare Mexican lunch (2:00 p.m.).  Sometimes the girls and I will eat before our nap if the workers are heading out for visits in the area.  Victor pops in at some point and eats, or we take him lunch wherever he happens to be.

Cleaning…more dishes…more chores… and it is time for Mexican supper (8:00 p.m.).  On evenings that the workers are visiting for supper, we eat like Americans around 6:00 p.m. then we head out to walk or play with the dog.

The girls each have their little moments of hilarity.  Jojo is speaking more English now, in addition to the Spanish that rattles out all the time.  She asks for us to pray in English (Engish) when we sit down to eat or pray in the evening.  She says, “Coco-Mijo” in the place of con permiso or “excuse me” in Spanish.  She calls Ale, “my baby” and her daddy, “mi Victor.”  When Victor loses his patience with the dog or Ale, she will say, “Daddy, tu a babe!”  She means to say, “She’s a baby!”  She loves me to sing a song about Bubbles at night, followed by a song about herself.  She tells her sister what to do, and will mock her at every opportunity, “Mami, mira! mira!”  Look! look! she says–then makes a face as she copies her sis.

Ale has started to ask me questions like, “Mom, how does it feel to be a mom?” or “How does it feel to be a teacher?”  Today she told me, “Mom, I don’t know when I get big if I will be a mom or not–but what if I don’t know how to cook?”  We’ve been reading chapter books when Jojo is asleep, such as Junie B. Jones.  She’s growing to be such an amazing kid, which makes her little fits with her sister sting even more!   Last night, she was washing dishes, and her sis was climbing up beside her to play in the water.  Ale kept saying, “Mom, I don’t need Jojo’s help!”   She begs us for a cell phone (WHAT?!), and walks around with rectangles of plastic or paper pretending that she’s texting, taking selfies, and playing games.  She will even pass it to Jojo in the car to watch videos.  If there’s one thing I am proud of, it’s that: the moment where she says, “Be quiet, Mommy, I have to talk to Karen,” then proceeds to talk, in Spanish, to her neighborhood friend on a Jenga game piece that she decorated to look like an iPhone.

The girls play babies together, which is a nice change.  They have a cocina and a bathroom area in their play corner in the living room.  Jojo throws a fit at night or when we leave, demanding that she has her baby AND the baby blanket.  They play like one is the mama, one is the babysitter.

Victor’s dad is a little sick right now–we aren’t quite sure what’s going on.  One doctor said he has cirrhosis of the liver, and another said he has something wrong with his prostate.  Neither of these reports are good news, so understandably, the family is pretty worried.  The problem is, in order to practice medicine in these remote towns, you don’t always have to have a medical degree.  We want him to visit Tuxtla to see a real doctor, but we don’t know what the family is planning to do.  Victor’s been a bit preoccupied with worries about his dad, and is trying to work as much as he can to be able to send some money to Chiapas.

We still haven’t sent Victor’s waivers, so no news on the immigration front.  We are waiting for August when I receive another paycheck–and the retention money the school saves from my check each month to cover the cost of teachers who take off in the middle of a contract.  When that comes, we should be able to submit his waivers, so stay tuned!

Summer days are quickly passing–and one day I know I will look back on this time fondly.  IMG_5585

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An Immigration Update

I’ve avoided writing this post as I wait to figure out what is going on in this crazy world we live in. This morning I read the news while lying beside the girls, and one article stood out to me. A family, separated when the dad of three was deported. He wasn’t a drug dealer, a rapist, or whatever other ugly term is currently in fashion for describing undocumented immigrants. He was a dad of three, working in agriculture in the U.S. with nothing on his record in addition to his immigration status.

The article mentioned that while more immigrants were deported under the Obama administration, the biggest change is the increase in arrests of people who aren’t hardened criminals. It suggested that raising fear in people was the intent. Then it’d said something, about how children are in a constant state of anxiety. Parents are being advised to have “what if” plans drawn up giving legal rights to someone in the event of their deportation.

Families are being split up without getting a choice in the matter, but I have a choice.

I am going to stay in Mexico one more year while we wait on my husband’s papers. I am not going to move the girls away, just because that was our original plan. I will file the papers, and wait.

See, last week we found out that it is taking 15 months for approval on waivers that once took 4-6 months. This, apparently, is due to a shortage of staff in Customs and Immigration . If we file when we think we can, it means that we will be in the U.S. while Victor is here for around a year and a half. Ale would be nearly 7 and Jojo nearly 4. It isn’t worth it…

A friend reminded me of God’s timing a few days ago. And so, again I find myself in the place of realizing how hard I tried to make something happen in a time that it wasn’t meant to happen.

One more year in Mexico is all the difference between us paying for two households, us finding child care for Jojo, us stressing to find Victor a house to move into… now we will have one more year to work on Spanish, one more year to help out here in the meetings, one more year to work on getting ready for this big change that’s coming our way.

One year passes quickly, and who knows what gifts it has in store for us?!

You and Your Guns

Dear America,

Can we talk for a moment about your guns and your gun policies?  Yeah, I know… you can’t escape this attention right now.  I mean, it is everywhere.  That happens after a school shooting…  Scratch that.  Your shootings aren’t just happening in schools, are they?  They are happening at music concerts.  They are happening in churches.  They are happening at military bases.

I know what you’re thinking–and I’ve heard the arguments:  It’s kids and how they don’t have limits?  Yeah, except… remember in Las Vegas?  That terrorist wasn’t a kid.  Well, it has to be that people “need Jesus.”  Hang on a second… what about those church shootings?  The answer must be that more people need guns!  That’s got to be it!  Teachers and civilians with guns would be able to protect us from people with mental health issues who have guns.  Can we be real?  People with guns weren’t able to stop the shootings at the military bases…

When are we going to admit that we have a problem?  You know what they say? The first step is admitting that there is a problem.

It’s time to do something about this, America.  It isn’t a normal thing for citizens to head out and buy weapons to protect themselves.  It isn’t a normal thing to suggest that teachers should be able to take their guns to school to protect their students.  It isn’t a normal thing to suggest that snipers should be places on the roof of all school buildings.  It isn’t normal.  It scares me.  You and your guns scare me.

Get it together, America…
Sincerely,
A concerned citizen

 

El Otro Lado and My American Dream

My every waking moment (and many of my sleeping moments) are filled with thoughts about immigration. So here I am, lying beside my youngest, who for the first time in four nights is sleeping peacefully, and I am thinking of our big move.

You know, I feel like a stranger in our country. Sometimes people ask if I am from the US, and I always say, “Yes, but I am Mexican in my heart.” It’s true. This country has been good to me. Teaching here is a dream. Raising a family here is almost perfect. Mexico is IN me now…

But…

I know there are things that are good for us in el otro lado too. The other side has my family. It has the fellowship that I’ve craved spiritually for six years. In the other side, my husband can be paid for his labor. En el otro lado, our family will be able to set up a good life…

But…

On this side, my girls won’t have the same temptations I faced as a teen. On this side, our family isn’t judged harshly for being “mixed.” In Mexico, eating fresh is a normal part of life–even fast food is freshly prepared! In this side, I can work for schools that provide housing and private school education for my girls.

But…

You get the point, right? This is the hard part. We go back and forth between the good and bad of both of our countries. At the end of the day, I find myself chasing the ever familiar, yet ever-elusive American dream. It is easier for me to think of how much more money we will make in the U.S. It is easier to think of the home we can build, and the family we can raise. That’s easier than making a pro/con list in my mind with ever conscious thought.

I think of our family–nestled on the porch of Granny’s cabin, surrounded by the mating songs of crickets. I think of that sweet breeze blowing away any lingering sticky of the day’s humidity. I think of waking up early, making a coffee on my fancy new espresso machine, and sitting down to read my bible before the girls wake. I think of Saturday mornings, and tables full of biscuits and gravy. I think of summer evenings, the faint smell of cows and freshly cut grass, while listening to the ring of laughter as the girls play. I think of planting a garden, harvesting tomatoes, and making salsa on demand. I think of milking cows, laying hens, and daily chores. I think of hosting family dinners, and having sleepovers with cousins. I think of porch swings, barbecue grills, and magnolia trees. I think of convention and gospel meetings with the people that I grew up with. I think of crisp curtains and open windows–listening to the rain on a tin roof.

My American dream is what keeps me going. Just like all the other immigrants who’ve crossed that border before us–risking their lives and their freedom for a dream of something better for their families.

(I let myself be deceived right now–it’s way easier than noticing how the con side outweighs the pro side.)

I focus on my American dream…not just for me, but my family. And I hope that we find it waiting for us en el otro lado.

A Matter of Heart (The Immigration Version)

You guys should know that all my immigration news has led me down to a sad place.  Last week I felt like a heavy weight of worry and doubt was hanging over my heart.  When my inside is a mess, I make my outside very tidy!  I clean.  I organize.  I create order.

This is a pretty good method–and it tends to work well for me.  That’s what I did this weekend.  I tackled one bedroom (our summer bedroom that has the air conditioner and most of our clothes).  I did laundry, and then I sorted the laundry: clothes we can still wear went in the closet.  Clothes that are winter clothes went to a missionary here in Coahuila or to my friends with small children.  And I began my first box of things to move.  Right now it contains the girls’ baby blankets and our winter items that we bought in Chiapas during Christmas vacation.

I also made a conscious effort to settle myself spiritually.  Saturday morning I worked through this question: What is different between my life now and my life six years ago?  Six years ago, I had no problem leaving it all in God’s hands and trusting his guidance.  What I realized is that I am not taking the time to read and pray like I used to.  When I wake up, I am usually followed by a couple munchkins, and then my day gets busy.  I have to make an effort to read and pray!

I am recommitting my purpose to trusting God.  There is no way any of us will make it the next year (month? week? day?) without trusting God.  I KNOW he has good things planned for us.  I KNOW there is a reason he is bringing us back to East Tennessee.  I KNOW that without trust I will continue to feel sad and hopeless.

I believe in his plan…although I don’t know what it is.  Until it all comes to light, I will continue to make a daily effort to communicate with my heavenly father.  We heard recently that our time of prayer can’t just be us talking, talking, talking.  There has to be time for us to listen to what God has to say.

Are you there, God? It’s me, Jania.  I am listening…

P.S. The literary reference came naturally…

11 “…For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. 14 I will be found by you,” declares the Lord…  (Jeremiah 29)

Good Times Are Coming

It’s easy to get discouraged and depressed right now. I feel a bit in limbo, and that’s not a great feeling at all!

The future is so unknown. To be fair, the future is always unknown–but we don’t admit that to ourselves. We plan our lives with comfort, scheduling vacations, parties, and general business as if those days are really guaranteed.

Nothing feels more uncomfortable than half-plans. “We will do this, but we don’t know the outcome…” Normally when we make plans, we do it with security–not taking too big of a risk. Risk is scary.

That’s what makes Victor’s paperwork so difficult. We don’t know how it will work. We don’t know when he will get to cross la frontera. There’s a lot of risk in us filing thousands of dollars worth of applications with no guarantee.

Here’s a fun fact for you: did you know it is possible to be approved on a visa, but still denied access to the United States? True story.

Last week was rough–one setback after another. Sometime late last week I though of something my husband said on the night we met. He said, “I believe that God sends us hard times because he is preparing us for the good times that are coming. And maybe we wouldn’t appreciate it if we didn’t have the hard time first.” A wise man, my husband.

So this is my comfort again:

Precious thought, my Father knoweth; In His love I rest,
For whate’er my Father doeth
Must be always best.

Well I know the Heart that planneth Naught but good for me;
Joy and sorrow interwoven–
Love in all I see.

It’s so easy to get discouraged, but I know that is why I have to keep pressing forward! The good things are never easy. And although I feel scared and nervous, I also try to keep my eyes forward. God has a plan for us, or this situation wouldn’t be the one we are facing. We just have to wait for it to be revealed.

Are You Kidding Me? (Immigrating Sucks)

“Are you kidding me?”  I literally just said this.  Today Victor went to go get his new passport so that we (I) can fill out his application for a visa to our wonderful country.  (Sarcasm intended…)

So, let me tell you a little something about the application for a visa:

You can’t just fill out an application for a visa like you might other applications.  I have filed in the past for the girls’ American papers (i.e. the report of birth abroad).  I have printed the other applications that Victor needs to be able to join us in the U.S.  That’s the key in many applications.  You can print them.  You can see what they require.  You can work on them, then return to them.

Not this lovely application.

First of all, you have to ask if you can even file the visa application.  I literally had to prove that Victor and I are married enough.  I spent the fall preparing that paperwork (asking for affidavits from friends who have spent time with us, making a photo timeline of our lives as one, compiling a PILE of papers that are requested by my country, etc.).  THEN, I scheduled an appointment in Monterrey to present my paperwork and file the i-130 (Petition for Alien Relative).  The man we met with (an agent from Homeland Security) was the best part of that visit.  He was a gentleman–and a very kind and helpful person.  I imagine that by the time people get to him, they need someone kind and helpful…

My process for this was much quicker than most applications, because I am filing from Mexico.  The application was approved and the case was sent directly to Juarez.  For many applicants in the U.S. they wait on this first step for MONTHS.  I received notice two weeks later that our petition was approved.

So, my friends… at this point, I began waiting.  Because even though our application was approved, I still needed the official letter in order to begin the application for the visa.  So I thought.

Nope.  Victor needed a new passport.  More waiting.

Today he got his passport, so I continued the application.  Another roadblock.

Let me tell you: you can’t even preview the application to see what you need online.  You receive access page by page.  So, I get to the page that asks for address.  Not just the address for where we live now.  Not just the address for the last five years.  No, they want all the addresses from the time Victor was 16.

16 YEARS OLD!!!!!!!!

How many people keep up with all of their addresses for 20 years?

Oh, and to make this application SO much fun: the website logged me out twice, and neither time would it save what I had added.  AND it won’t let me save the addresses that I have access to, then add the others later.

Guys, you need to know this: Our country does not make it easy for people to immigrate.  It doesn’t even make it easy for an American citizen to register their own children as Americans.

Do me a favor?  Stop saying, “It’s okay for people to come to the country, as long as they do it legally.”  Unless you have been through this process, you. have. no. idea.

I am ready to toss my teaching license down the shithole (a proper use for the word–as I am not referring to anyone’s country, but rather the commode that you shit in), and chill as an expat for the rest of our lives.

Thankfulness

My babies are upstairs asleep, with Victor snoozing alongside them.  We’re sleeping as close as we can get, because the nights have been chilly!  It’s been getting down into the 40’s–which is super cold in the desert when the days are still reaching into the upper 80’s / lower 90’s.

I’ve had an eventful Thanksgiving week:

  • We went for our first appointment in the paperwork process for Victor’s visa.  Ale heard me talking about working on Daddy’s “papers” last weekend, and she make him some.  There was a picture of us together (we have to prove we are married enough), and some writing.  She brought them to me proudly, as she had also recruited her sis to help.  I packed them with our real documents, and took them to the appointment.

    Ale’s “Papers for Daddy”

  • Thanksgiving Day was my fifth Thanksgiving in Mexico (the first Thanksgiving, I flew home for a baby shower).  We hosted our fourth Thanksgiving–and this one was the easiest, by far!  The turkey was PERFECT.  The dressing was moist and tasted just like I remember.  The rolls rose in record time due to all the cooking going on, and Ale and I shared a couple while we waiting for the guest to arrive.
  • We celebrated a second Thanksgiving with the workers the following night.  We saved some turkey, but I also made potato salad, more rolls, and fresh gravy.  I had turkey broth bubbling away, so the house smelled like Thanksgiving all over again!  This was a treat–as I have always wanted to have the workers for Thanksgiving.  One of our workers is from Texas, so he also appreciates southern cooking and sweet tea.  That always makes my day.  We also enjoyed great conversation, a good study of the last chapter of Revelations, and the peace that comes on the feet of those that carry the gospel!
  • We have chili in the crock pot simmering overnight–as tomorrow we will have potluck after meeting.  This is traditionally what we do when the workers are in town.  It’s our way of everyone getting a little extra fellowship.  I offered to make tamales, but that idea was rejected.  Then I offered to make mole to go with the tamales that someone else is making.  That was also rejected.  When I offered to make chili, I had to follow it up with the explanation, “You know, the beans that I made before…”  haha! They love my “beans.”

I am looking forward to the rest of this year.  Victor and I will have a six years in Mexico anniversary, followed shortly there after with our actual six year anniversary.  I am still hoping that we will be able to make it to Chiapas during winter break to visit with the abuelitos and primos!  Ale is at the perfect age for a visit to see her family.  She speaks amazing Spanish, and loves to hear all about Chiapas.  She asks questions like, “Mom, do they have cars in Chiapas?”  Tonight I told her that when we go to Chiapas, it is kind of like camping.  That we will probably sleep together on the floor.  She was unfazed, and started talking about roasting marshmallows (we have never done this…) with her cousins over the campfire.

Jojo is talking quite a lot!  She loves to play a game where we say words and she repeats us.  Tonight we were naming all of the family members, and when we got to abuelito, she said “popo.”  Ale died laughing, “Mom! She said ‘popo.’  That means poop!”  Speaking of poop, Victor explains gross things to Jojo, by saying, “Ewww! poo-poo!”  This is so she won’t touch things that are icky on the street, but she has adopted it for anything gross.  She also waves to the toilet overtime it flushes, and says, “Bye-bye, poo-poo!”  This kid…  She brings me so much joy and so much stress all at the same time.  She loves her sis, and has begun to demand equal treatment, by saying, “Me too.”  Sometimes all she says is “too,” but she makes sure that you know what she means!

A selfie with my little booger…

Victor and I are trying to stay encouraged about his paperwork process.  Sometimes it is difficult, as the requirements are overwhelming, and the process rather costly.  Americans have no clue how difficult it is for honest, hard-working people to get permission to work in the U.S.  The people who easily get accepted are people with loads of money, and unfortunately, loads of money doesn’t always equal honest+hardworking.  It’s really an intimidating process, and even more so when you give it a go without a lawyer’s help.  I trust that my friends and family have us in their thoughts and prayers–and I also pray for “the peace of a perfect trust.”

This post has turned out to be more of an update than anything else… If you’re still reading, you must love us!  😉

A Few Monday Morning Thoughts

I woke up this morning to the news of another shooting in the United States: 50 dead and over 200 injured.  Then a friend on Facebook posted something about how the U.S. really IS helping Puerto Rico, and how you shouldn’t watch CNN.  When I arrived to school, it was to received the news of a fellow teacher who passed away last night after the most gallant fight with cancer.  He has a little girl Ale’s age, and another in fourth grade.

I can’t imagine.  I can’t imagine losing my husband.  I can’t imagine my children being without their papi.

I was thinking about Rafa last night.  I had heard last week that they had news of the cancer spreading.  He was also dealing with a lot of depression.  And last night, as I drifted to sleep, snuggled between my two perfect little bundles, I made a plan to send him some books.  Not books for him to read for his own pleasure, but books to read with his girls.  Because those little girls deserve sweet memories of being with their dad at the end of his life.

The biggest difference I can see between having kids and when I didn’t have kids is the way I look at disaster.  I look at events happening and think, what if that were my daughter.  It makes me more empathetic and way more scared to judge others.

What if it were my daughters who lost their homes in a storm?

What if it were my daughters who didn’t have clean water to drink or enough to eat?

What if it were my daughters couldn’t go back to school for weeks?

What if it were my daughters adjusting to life without electricity?

What if my daughters went to a concert and never came home?

What if my daughters were in the wrong place at the wrong time?

More than anything, I see events like those I read today (mass shootings), and I think, “Why are we moving back to that?!”  I know that Mexico is in the U.S. News often, and in an ugly light.  But (usually) when there are events of mass killings here, they are connected to drug cartels.  You don’t often read about innocent people being plowed down by home-grown terrorists.

I read about the drug issues that are rampant in East Tennessee, and I get scared.  I get scared when I hear that schools are putting “over-dose kits” in each location within Knox County.  I get scared when I hear that cops are carrying over-dose medicine in Jeff County.  I get scared when I think of the number of people who carry guns.  I get scared when I think of my little girls growing up in that environment.

I know living in fear isn’t the way to go about life either.  Fear robs us of our peace–and the Lord knows that we need peace during these crazy times!!

I don’t even know how to end this post.  Perhaps with a plea that you pray for everyone suffering today.  Because the problems that you and I deal with on an everyday basis are small and rather insignificant when you compare them to the problems all around us.

Hear Me Roar

Saturday millions of women all over the world took to the streets in protest.  Friday, a great (tremendous, terrific) defiler of women was sworn in as the president of my country.

I sat in the school office Friday, and watched the speech that he gave.  And I cried.  I cried as he spoke about being a president for the people.  The secretary next to me turned around in surprise at my tearful expletive, “Are you crying, Jania!?”  I explained, yes… I am crying.  I am crying for my country.  For my family.  For my daughters.

See, Mexicans don’t understand how Americans are JUST feeling this way.  Politicians have been less-than-wonderful and undeserving of respect for years here in Mexico.    They have risen to power because of the money in their pockets, and the exchange of that money from hand to hand.  Politicians  have rallied in poor communities, bribing the people with promises of good roads and clean water, while literally PAYING for their votes.  Mexicans have snickered at the poor english spoken by their leader, and joked about the connections that he has to the cartel.

My Mexican colleagues don’t understand that I have never felt like this.  But at the same time, they understand how dangerous the world just became.  They understand what people all over the world can see: America just crept into the rat’s trap.  They understand what the rat doesn’t: that no matter how tasty the cheese might be, the chance of never tasting cheese again is just as sure.

Has America been embarrassed by our leaders before?  Sure.  Have they ever been this fearful?  This disgusted?  This disillusioned?  Not in my lifetime.

(No doubt some readers of this very blog post are disagreeing with me right now–and no doubt those readers are white middle-class citizens who have probably had access to fair pay and healthcare most of their lives.)

I didn’t vote for the former (and far superior) president in his first campaign.  But I attended his inauguration with thousands of others.  The air was electric with promise of change.  The metro was so full of people, that moving was like something from a cartoon.  Everyone was pressed together as one unit, shuffling their feet, and moving as possible onto the train and through the platforms.  Every inch of the lawns were full of people, and not just white people.

Say what you want about Obama, but he was the people’s president.  He made hard decisions that were made for the good of MANY, not just a few.  And that was evident that day eight years ago.

Which brings us to the protest of women all over the world: Has there ever been such a huge protest in reaction to a president taking office?  Has there?  Not in our country.

I wrote a post the day after the election in November, and since then I have seen many posts pleading to give Trump a chance.  But he hasn’t earned a chance yet.  And if anything, he has time after time shown how unworthy he is to be our commander-in-chief.  Unable to take responsibility, full of accusations and immature finger-pointing.  Even after his speech on Friday he shook hands with many standing behind him,  but skirted around the one who secured more votes from the people and her husband.

I watched with pride as a far more worthy politician held her head high,  pasted on a smile,  and continued to stand with pride.  Isn’t that what women have done for years?  She didn’t need to speak out in the protests, because the voices of many others rang out for her.  

And so here I am: a mother of two little girls, a sister of three strong women, a daughter of two respecters of human kind, and a teacher of the future.  I may not have marched in protest, but I am ready to defend our future.