Graduation

This post is sponsored by Disney Story. To find out more about this brand-new story-creation app – and how it puts the power of storytelling in your hands - click here. 

   

Last Thursday I graduated...finally!

As I sat and listened to the opening remarks of my college graduation, I had to fight back tears as the Dean talked about overcoming all the obstacles and hardships in order to get to this moment.

These last five years of graduate school have not been easy. I have been discouraged and encouraged to quit. And I have wanted to quit more times than I can count. I have wondered whether or not it's been worth it. I am now wondering what will be next. I have no idea.

Over the last five years, I've been amazed by my son's progress after he was diagnosed with autism. My husband retired after twenty years at FedEx and started a new job. I lost a baby. I have started this blog. I have sued the Department of Education. I became a writer. It has been a roller coaster ride of the lowest lows and the highest highs. 

As I sat front row at my graduation ceremony and saw the camaraderie of the other - much younger - students as they marched on stage and others cheered as their names were called, I felt envious. I was surrounded by mostly undergraduate students, students in their early twenties, students with no children, no real responsibilities other than just being a student. Young men and women who had their whole lives ahead of them. Young college graduates who were free to pursue their careers - to find themselves.

Twenty years ago I graduated from high school clueless about who I was or what I wanted. With every failure, obstacle and hardship I learned a little more about myself. I discovered what I wanted to do. 

There is no need to envy the younger graduates. They are moving on, in search of themselves, to discover their purpose - to find or forge their own path. 

I have spent the last twenty years forging my path - walking, running, kicking, crawling and clawing my way through. I am moving on, with my degree in hand and there is no need to search. I am already on the path I'm supposed to be on. I just need to keep moving forward. 

A new journey awaits.        

This post is sponsored by Disney Story. To find out more about this brand-new story-creation app – and how it puts the power of storytelling in your hands - click here. 

The Day I Ran Away From Home

I have been under a lot of stress lately. Feeling like I am being pulled in a million directions. Struggling to catch up and feeling like I'm always falling short.

Last week I submitted my thesis - five years worth of my best writing and it was like this weight was lifted off of my shoulders.

But there was still mounds of laundry to get done. Stacks of unopened mail. Paperwork to fill out. And everywhere I looked there was something that needed to get done. So much stuff that I let pile up for so long.

Then the pressure of writing and deadlines. Writing for Babble & Parents are second and third jobs for me. So between working outside the home, writing at night, writing my thesis, taking care of The Boy it was only a matter of time before I snapped.

Well I snapped last Saturday. Big time. (The Husband and I may have gotten into a little tiff.) And I just needed to get out. Because sometimes you just need to get away from your husband and your kid and your home. Sometimes you just need to say: F--k doing laundry and dishes and groceries and responsibility. 

As I was getting dressed The Boy asked, "Where are you going Mommy?" (I know!! Such an appropriate WH-question!!) 

"Out." I said.

"You're going to the supermarket." The Boy said. It sounded more like demand. 

"No. I am not going to the supermarket. I am just going out."

I kissed him goodbye and walked out the door.

I took the train downtown and had an amazing day with my best girlfriends. We had sangria and burgers and wine and nutella panini's. (What can I say, we have pretty sophisticated taste.) I took a picture with Captain Cragen (swoon). And I treated myself to a mani/pedi.

I needed that day. All moms deserve a day to run away from home. 

When I returned hours later, The Husband told me that when I walked out the door The Boy said, "Mommy's going to Texas."

Apparently, the only places The Boy thinks I go is to the supermarket and Texas.  I don't always have to run to the supermarket for solace and I don't have to go as far as Texas (nor do I want to) but sometimes a happy compromise and a day away from it all is good for the mom soul.               

So Now What?

I am home from my very last night of class. Last week I turned in my thesis.


I. Am. Done. Finally. After five years of graduate school. It's over.


All that's left is my graduation.


People keep asking me how it feels, if I'm excited. And I smile or shrug my shoulders. But I honestly? It feels anti-climatic.


"I don't think it really means anything," I told my therapist. (Yes - I've been seeing a therapist, that's for another PYHO post)


"Are you depressed?" she asked.


I could only nod because admitting to my depression is something I not ready to say out loud. 


I don't know what it means. I'm trying to be excited about it but the finality of it scares me.


The Now What has been looming for the last few months. And now it's here. 


I have spent the last five years in graduate school. Fifteen years struggling to obtain my B.A. It's been twenty years of studying, writing, registering and reading. Nearly twenty years trying to juggle work and school and in these last eight raising family. I've moved and gotten married, had a baby, had that baby diagnosed with autism, got pregnant again and suffered an overwhelming loss. I have started this blog and become a writer.


And still. I don't know what it means. I wonder what was the point? And has it been worth it. I've said all along that this degree was for me but I think deep down I wanted it to be more. And right now, it feels like it means nothing.


I will never have to register for another class or fight with the bursar or wait for a grade. I will never have to write another paper or leave work early to make it to class on time. I will never need to sacrifice a weekend to read I don't want to read. And I will never have to write a short story or essay ever again. I should be feeling a sense of freedom.


Instead I feel this overwhelming sense of emptiness. Because now what? Now what do I do with this time? What do I do with this degree, this piece of paper that has no value in my world? Being a student has been a part of my identity that without it - I feel lost.
I started this blog as a class assignment. I was going through a difficult time, mourning a loss and  frustrated with the Turning 5 process. I didn't know what I was doing, I didn't over think things - I just wrote. 


I've loved and appreciated every opportunity that has come with this blog but these last few months, I have been struggling with it. Struggling to keep up. My confidence in my writing has been shaken and I'm constantly questioning every post I publish. Is it good enough? Will people 'like' it, share it or leave a comment? Stressing over my Google page rank, SEO, analytics and Alexa score and social media reach. 


I'm questioning whether I can or should continue. I'm wondering what's the point, if my writing means anything? And is it worth the pressure?


So now what? I don't know. 


I'm giving myself till September to figure it out. 
 

10 Things I'm Going To Do Now That I'm Done with Graduate School

Today I handed in my thesis. And that means I am unofficially done. I graduate on May 30th. (YAY!!!!)

Me (posing as proof of) handing in my thesis: smiling, sleep deprived, hair a hot mess.

Dust. I hope no one comes over and looks up my ceiling fans because it's pretty bad. 

Work on my apt to-do list. There are so many unfinished projects around the apartment. So many things I want to do. Closets that need to be cleaned out and cabinets that need organizing. It's going to keep me busy. 

Set up my home office. I'm tired of writing sitting on the sofa. I don't have much space but I need a little desk and a chair. The Unknown Mami gave me a great idea! 

Get back to writing fiction. I'm good at it. I want to get better. 

Continue editing/polishing 2 short stories and start submitting for publication. I wrote three short stories I'm proud of. I want them published somewhere. I need to get my hustle on. 

Sleep. I need it. 

Enjoy my family & friends. I've missed them, especially these last few months. 

Get a manicure and pedicure. It's needed in the worst way.

Go back to the gym. It's also needed in the worst way.

Start my non-profit and work on building My Dream School. The Bronx needs it.

Breaking Out and Leaning In (my 500th blog post)

I haven't read Sheryl Sandberg's book, Lean In: Women, Work, and the Will to Lead, yet but over the last few weeks - I've read several articles in response to Lean In. I've read so many inspiring Lean In stories.  And it's made me reflect on my own life and this journey I've been on.

Nearly twenty years ago, I graduated high school, uncertain of what I wanted to do. So many of my friends seemed to have this plan. I didn't have a clue. 

I registered for classes at the local community college but after a year, I decided it wasn't for me. And I quit to work full-time in a department store. 

I floated from job to job over the next few years - often working two to three jobs at a time.

I returned to school because I was bored and needed something to fill the time. I struggled through most of my classes - especially math and science. I took classes in history, philosophy, business and psychology.  The only classes that interested me were courses in literature, creative writing or journalism.

After seven years working in retail and restaurants, I decided it was time to 'grow up' and get a regular 9-5 job in an office. I had no office experience. I had practically no computer skills. I hadn't taken a typing test since junior year with Mrs. Becker (and even then, I did horribly). And when I went to interview with recruiters - they were brutally honest. "You have no experience. No one will hire you." They all urged me to interview for retail positions.  

I was only twenty-five years old and I felt as if I were being shoved into this box of who I was to be. Even though, I was unemployed - I refused all retail interviews. I had never had any problems getting a job I wanted. I knew someone would eventually hire me.

I interviewed with a small private equity firm - I was in their office for almost four hours. I was certain, the job was mine. And I was shocked when they went with someone else. But I was lucky, that person didn't work out because a few weeks later - I was offered the receptionist position. 
    
I was going to school part-time at night and while my new job provided tuition reimbursement, they weren't very supportive of their receptionist going to school at night. Knowing I had another priority in my life was a threat. It meant I wanted something more than the cubicle I was sitting in. When I left a few years later, they were surprised it wasn't for another receptionist position.

My next corporate job was in the legal department of an investment firm. It was a true boys club - all the attorneys were white men, the one female attorney was ostracized and ridiculed. A secretary going to a city college was no threat - not to the attorneys anyway. The other secretaries - assumed my time with them was limited and so they didn't take me seriously either.

When I left that job, I was more hopeful than I had been in years. I took a job at a company where I thought I had real growth potential. I had just transferred to my fourth college and finally figured out what I wanted to do. 

I got married. Had a baby. And two weeks before I (finally) graduated with a BA in English, my son was diagnosed with autism.

Trying to find balance as a working mom going to school is hard enough - adding special needs to the mix adds a whole other layer of guilt.

It's been five years since my son was diagnosed with autism. And I've spent that time, being his advocate and his teacher. I've also been pursuing an MFA in Creative Writing. I have been in the same company for almost a decade and I've been an admin for more. 

This spring I will graduate and while I wish I could say - that I my degree will advance me in some way but I know that it will not. I will not be given a promotion and not even a pay raise. 

I have been told time and time again that I am 'over-qualified' for my current admin position but under qualified to do anything else. The only way I can "lean in" is if I quit and start over completely, which is really scary considering that I need to work, I need my salary and my benefits. Having a young special needs child - leaning in seems like a luxury I cannot afford. Not right now, at least.

Not every woman in the workplace can Lean In - that's just a reality we have to face. But that doesn't mean we cannot lead.

Two years ago, I started this blog as a class assignment. And it's really changed the way I've thought about myself, my job and my writing. I've learned to own it. I've learned to make peace with myself. I've learned that I cannot allow myself to be defined by my job. I've learned to pursue my dream in my own time - even if it means, taking one class at a time.  

I've learned that sometimes you have to break out in order to lean in. And just because I can't Lean In at work, that doesn't mean I can't Lean In another direction. 

I Wouldn't Call You Selfish. But I Wouldn't Say You Understand Either.

During my final semester as an undergrad student, I was sitting in my Greek Mythology class when a girl asked me for some of the answers on the 30 question study sheet the professor handed out the week before. She had the nerve to say, she didn't have time to answer them all.

Side note: During this time I was working full-time, applying to graduate and having The Boy evaluated for Early Intervention.

It had been the third time during the semester this girl had asked me for the answers to something. Which was annoying for many reasons but mainly because she had spent the first day of class bragging about how Greek Mythology was "her thing."

Now usually, I'm the nice girl in the class. Ready to share my notes or lend a pen. But this time I needed to put my foot down. And this is how our conversation went:

Needless to say, she never asked me for another answer for the remainder of the semester. I mean really - she compared babysitting to being a mom. A babysitter gets paid. A babysitter gets to go home at the end of her shift. A mom's shift never ends.

And last week I was in class and sitting between two women and the conversation turned to motherhood. Once again I'm the only one in the class with a young child.

And one woman said, "It's annoying when my mom friends tell me I don't know what it's like to be a mom just because I don't have kids."

The other woman said, "I know right! I mean, I can imagine. And I hate when they tell me that I live a selfish life."

While I said I wouldn't dare call any woman who didn't have kids "selfish," I politely agreed that you can never know what motherhood is like until you're actually a mom. 

I don't think they appreciated that but it's true. Imagining life as a mom and being a mom are two completely different things.

Because you can't possibly imagine waking up in the middle of the night, night after night to calm a crying kid. You can't imagine the amount of preparation it takes to run out for a quick trip to the market. Or having someone puking, peeing or pooping on you and just shrugging it off as no big deal. Or how quickly your heart stops when you think something has happened to your kid. 

And you can't imagine how good a hug can feel. Or how a smile can make your heart melt. Or the pride you feel when you see your kid do something for the first time. 

But it's so much more than that. Motherhood changes a woman. At least it changed me. Before The Boy, I occasionally imagined what motherhood would be like too. I had all these ideas about the kind of mom I would be and how I would raise my kid.

Now I have a really good imagination. And I was wrong about almost everything.

Wise Words of Buddha

Today is my last first day of graduate school. I've dreamed of this moment for the five years...maybe longer.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the past five years. All that I've lost. And all that I've gained. Life has not been easy. But whose life is?

I spend a lot of time worrying thinking about the what ifs of the future. What will happen when I am finally done with school? Will it have been worth it?

I cannot change the past. There's a part of me that doesn't really want to either. As for the future? No amount of dreaming could provide certainty.


And all the time I've spent dwelling in the past or dreaming of the future - I forgot about where I actually am. The present. 

This is the present.

And I'm not spending enough time in it. I'm not concentrating enough on it. I've realized some of the best moments of my life have slipped by unnoticed because I didn't concentrate enough in the present.

Today is the last day of my first day of graduate school. Today is going to be a good day. 

Never Give Up On A Dream... #DreamUp13

I transferred to The City College of New York as an undergraduate student in the spring of 2003. It was my third college transfer. I lost about half of my credits. I was 27 years old. I was in a committed relationship. And I was working full-time and going to school part-time at night. 

When it was time to register for the fall, I met with the advisor and expressed my concern about the limited course selection. Many of the classes I needed were during the day. 

The advisor gave me two options: quit school or quit work.

I walked out of the advisor's office feeling extremely discouraged. I asked for options and the advisor gave me two that really weren't.

So I transferred to another school: Lehman College. I lost more credits. And I was pushed farther away from my dream.

Many people in my life didn't understand why I was going to school. They would ask me about my plans after I graduated. Was I going to look for another job? Would I make more money? When I answered, "Probably not, my degree is just for me," - it was a hard concept for some people to accept.

By the fall of 2005, I was pregnant and some members of my family urged me to take time off. But I was so close to graduating that I didn't want to quit. I compromised and went to school Saturday mornings and took an online class. I took the spring semester off since I was home on maternity leave but by the following fall, I was back in school. It wasn't easy, trying to find balance between school, work and family. But I was determined. I thought of school as my 'me time.' 

In my final semester at Lehman, I was taking three classes and applying to graduate school while working full time and taking care of my family. It was also the time The Boy was being evaluated. 

The Boy was diagnosed with autism two weeks before my college graduation. And instead of celebrating that summer, I spent it researching autism, visiting specialized preschools and rearranging our lives to accommodate all the recommended services.

Family and friends suggested I put graduate school on hold to be there for Norrin. But I was determined to at least start. I knew that if I started, I could take a break and have the desire to finish. I knew that if I didn't start that fall, I would never go.

I returned to The City College of New York for my first semester as a graduate student in the fall of 2008. It was difficult. Sitting in class with students years younger than me with worries unlike mine. It was demanding, trying to be an advocate for my child and keep up with everything. And I felt guilty for wanting to be both mother and student. 

I took the next semester off because work and school and autism was too much. But I wasn't worried, I had already started and I knew I would return.

Ten years ago I was given two unrealistic choices: quit school or quit work. I believed in myself and created my own options. I learned to let go of time tables, I ignored what everyone else was doing. I pursued my dream while living my life.

I got married. I switched jobs. I attended 4 schools. I changed majors. I moved (twice). I had a baby; he was diagnosed with autism. I started a novel. Family members have died. The Husband retired and started a new career. I had a miscarriage. I started this blog. I've traveled. I sued my school district and fought for a better placement for my son. I have loved, lost, laughed and cried. I have wanted to give up  at every obstacle. But I kept going. 


In a few weeks, I will start my final semester at City College. I will prepare and submit my thesis - 125 pages of my writing. And in May 2013, I will march in cap and gown to Pomp and Circumstance. I will graduate (hopefully with honors) and be the first in my family to have a Masters degree.

Twenty years after my high school graduation, ten years after I was given the option to quit and five years after The Boy's autism diagnosis, I will have fulfilled the dream I didn't think was possible for someone like me. 

     

Tonight I am excited to participate in the Mamiverse Target Twitter Party #DreamUp13 

It has been proven by experts across all areas of study that sharing your personal goals with as many people as you can helps motivate you to make those same goals real.   

Invoking the support of everyone you know, and perhaps some you have yet to meet, builds a network of inspiration that will help you achieve your goals.  

Establishing this Twitterverse base of personal life-coaches will enable you to ask them for advice when you need it, support when you crave it, and get them to cheerlead you into making 2013 a year of total success.

I would love for you to join in and share your dream. 

RSVP for Mamiverse Twitter Party here -https://www.facebook.com/events/183482375130417/

Hashtag: #DreamUp13

Prizes: Three $125 Target GiftCards will be given away

Hosts and cohosts to follow: @Mamiverse @LorraineCLadish @EileenCCampos @CosmoforLatinas @MamiverseBooks @MamiverseFood

Latina Bloggers React: We Need More Hispanic Authors and Books. Our Stories Matter.

In response to the New York Times article about the lack of Latino authors and books for children, Latina bloggers have launched the "Latinas for Latino Literature" campaign which works to identify the problems in today's publishing world that contribute to this lack of diversity.  In a series of posts we will not only share our personal experiences within the publishing industry, but provide ideas for changing the situation to benefit Latino readers and writers, as well as the industry itself as they tap into this growing demographic. To help the publishing houses and readers, we're providing our top picks of Latino/a writers - and we're not done. Look out for forthcoming Google hangouts, Twitter parties, and follow-up posts as this coordinated effort continues, working towards providing quality books for an emerging group of readers.

Reading the NYT's article made me think about so many things: my childhood, my own writing and the limited selections at bookstores. So a few of us Latina bloggers decided to make our voices heard. As writers, mothers and lovers of all literature we want publishers, marketers and booksellers to know that Latinos read, write and buy books. We want them to know that OUR STORIES MATTER. 

I grew up in a home filled with books. Not because my parents were big on reading but because my father worked in a book factory. We had every children's book imaginable. And while we didn't have a lot of money, seeing books on our shelves made me feel very rich. 

Growing up my favorite writers were Beverly Cleary and Judy Blume. I read book series like Nancy Drew, Sweet Valley High and the Baby Sitter's Club. I read all the time. Out of enjoyment, boredom, loneliness. I was that nerd girl whose nose was always in a book. I grew up reading about people I could not identify with and neighborhoods that didn't look anything like mine. 

I didn't realize I was missing something. And even though I grew up in a home filled with books not a single one was written by or about a Latino. I simply took for granted they did not exist. I assumed our lives were not worth reading or writing about. 

I will never forget the first time I read a book written by a Latino author. I was twenty years old. It was Esmeralda Santiago's When I was Puerto Rican and I read it in less than two days. It was empowering. I knew I needed to seek out other Latino authors (I say seek out because this was the age before Google). Esmeralda Santiago made me realize that our stories matter. And she inspired me to start writing.

At the time I discovered Esmeralda Santiago and Latino Literature, I was a failing college student. I didn't believe I was good at anything. I was working two jobs and I hated them both. And I didn't feel positive about my future. The next semester I  took an intro course in creative writing. I wrote my first short story and handed it in thinking it wasn't any good. On the day the professor returned our stories, I walked in twenty minutes late and as soon as I stepped in - the class started clapping. (For me!) The professor had been praising my work and called it the best submission she received. It was the first time any teacher had ever told me I was the best at anything. That was my academic turning point.    

Latino Literature opened a door for me that I didn't know existed.   

Now as a graduate student pursuing a Masters of Fine Arts in Creative Writing, I've met professors and editors who have told me that it will be more difficult for me to become a published writer simply because I'm Latina. While it's discouraging, I know I will not give up until my name is in print. I believe in my writing. And I know my words matter.    


When I was pregnant with The Boy, I knew I wanted him to love literature. I knew I wanted his children's books to be a reflection of our culture. I want my son to grow up knowing Latino writers exist and that our stories matter.   

But it is so disappointing to walk into a bookstore and not have a selection of books (children's or adult) written by Latino authors to choose from. I don't live in a small town. I live in New York City. And one shelf in a major New York City bookstore is not enough. In all honesty, it's not enough regardless of where you live.

When I think about all the kids in my life who think reading is boring - I know it's because they haven't read a book that spoke to them. I know the right book could make them realize that reading is exciting and that learning through literature can be fun. All it takes is one good book to change a life forever. I know because a book changed mine. 

What Latin@ author and/or "mainstream" author most influenced you and why?


What YOU can do to help?

• BUY - not borrow - books written by Latin@ authors. Money talks.
• If you enjoy a book written by a Latin@ author - post a review on Amazon or Barnes & Noble.     

What I Would Have Loved To Read Growing Up:

• An Island Like You by Judith Ortiz Cofer
• When I Was Puerto Rican by Esmeralda Santiago
• The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros

What I Read To My Son: 

• Love To Mama: A Tribute to Mothers Edited by Pat Mora. Illustrated by Paula S. Barragan M.
• On This Beautiful Island Written and Illustrated by Edwin Fontanez
• Arroz con Leche: Popular Songs and Rhymes from Latin America Selected and Illustrated by Lulu Delecre

Just Because I'm Stressed Out, Doesn't Mean I Can't Have #FreshSkin

I can't believe next week is Thanksgiving. And in a few more weeks, I'll have finished another semester of graduate school. I have to register for the Spring semester and prepare my thesis. I still have a bunch of papers to write - I've kind of fallen behind on my school stuff. And then Christmas will be here soon too which means shopping and decorating...

I'm not going to lie. Writing all this down, thinking about all that needs to get done in the next few weeks sort of has me stressed out. 

And when I'm stressed out, I break out. (Because I forget about the little things like washing my face twice a day.) And when I break out - I don't feel my feel my best. Which is especially stressful because this is also the time of year when there are parties and gatherings and people want to take pictures and instantly upload them on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter.     And who wants to be photographed not looking or feeling their best? Certainly not me.

So I'm really excited about Neutrogena's Oil-Free Pink Grapefruit line of products.  

The Pink Grapefruit cream, gel and cleansers contain the patented MicroClear Technology that cuts through oil to speed the delivery of maximum-strength acne medicine, salicylic acid (2%) to the source of breakouts. And all the products are gentle enough for everyday use.
Neutrogena's Oil-Free Pink Grapefruit products leaves my face feeling fresh and clean and the citrus scent gives me that burst of energy I need - especially in the morning.

I condition myself to wash my face twice a day - right after brushing my teeth (in the morning and night). I'm already at the sink and it takes a few extra minutes. I think I'm worth the time. And I know I'll be Instagram ready.    

I cannot wait for the NEW! Neutrogena Oil-Free Cleansing Wipes Pink Grapefruit for Acne Prone-Skin (available January 2012). The wipes are great to keep in my desk drawer at work or in my bag. Because I am the kind of busy multi-tasking mom who will walk and wipe. 



This post is compensated and in collaboration with Neutrogena and Latina Bloggers Connect, all opinions are my own. 

If It Works For Madonna...

I have loved Madonna since I was a in the 4th grade.  I remember the day when I walked to Sam Goody to buy the Like a Virgin tape.  That's right kids, I said tape.  I played the title song over and over again having no clue what the words meant but belted it out at the top of my lungs.  

And since that day in I have seen Madonna evolve over and over again.  She is hailed as the Queen of Reinvention.  Because she's always reinvented herself at just the right times of her life.  I've admired her for it.  She is fearless and thinks nothing of reinventing her image when it suits her.  And with every change, she's become more successful, more refined, more powerful and more fabulous.

Some of my favorite Madonna looks through the years

Today is Fadra's last Sunday hosting the Stream of Conciousness Meme post and it's about reinvention.  I don't participate often but since it's her last one and I've always enjoyed writing them - I decided to link up one last time.  And the theme of reinvention works with what I am going through right now. 


I am trying to reinvent myself.  Well, my outer self.  


I am sitting on the sofa as I type this; my entire body is sore from exercising.  Today was the third day in a row that I've made the conscious decision to work out.  To get in shape.  To live healthier.  To hopefully, live longer.  


I have been struggling with my weight for the last two years.   And last June I wrote a post about The Weight of Autism.  Thinking that I was going to make the effort.  But since that post, I've gained more weight.  I know what it is - I've spent the last few years craving comfort from all the wrong places.


And while the comfort I crave feels so good in the moment.  I know, it's time for me to seek comfort elsewhere.  


Because every time I step on the scale, I cringe.  


Every time I have to squeeze into a pair of jeans that used to fit, I curse myself. 


Every time I have to look for a shirt that conceals my muffin top, I hate it.


Every time I put something on only to realize it no longer fits, I wonder - how could I let this happen?


In less than 3 months I will be one more year closer to 40.   And in the last few months I've had some serious wake up calls regarding health and the choices I've been making.  


It's time to make changes.    


When I was in the 4th grade, I wanted to wear white lace gloves and black rubber bracelets because Madonna wore them.  


Decades later, I'm still taking lessons from the Madonna handbook.

I am Grateful...

Yesterday I was feeling a little bummed out.  All day I scrolled through my FB feed of my classmates posting about graduation.  


I should have walked with them.  I should have completed my MFA program.  I should have handed in my thesis. I should have completed my novel.  I should have...


Four years ago, I graduated from Lehman College.  Two weeks before I graduated, The Boy was diagnosed with Autistic Disorder and Global Developmental Delay.  

And you see, there he is looking me right in the eye.  I think he was proud of me that day.  I can't remember anything about my graduation ceremony other than that photo.  And how I felt having The Boy run up to me.


What I also remember about that day was not caring about the importance of what I had achieved.  After 15 years of working my way through school, after 4 transfers, after 9 jobs, after a marriage and pregnancy and The Boy's autism diagnosis - I graduated with honors.    And my thesis - received highest honors.   I should have been proud.  


But all I could think about was The Boy.    


So, when I started the MFA program at City College - I told myself that I was going to remember my ceremony.  I told myself that I would feel proud.  


"I should have graduated today," I told The Husband last night.


And in typical husband fashion, he said "Don't worry babe.  Think about all the things you have done." 


I was published on Parents.com


This blog was named on Babble's Top 30 Autism Blogs for Parents


I was invited to speak at Hispanicize.


I've been interviewed on the radio.  Twice.  


I went to The White House.  THE WHITE HOUSE!     


I may not have graduated yesterday but I have a lot to be proud of.  I was feeling bad about taking this last semester off but I've been productive.  And I am grateful for the opportunities that have come my way.  


I am grateful for The Husband who continues to put things in perspective for me.  I am grateful that he is supportive of everything I am doing. 


I am grateful for The Boy for giving me my voice.  For teaching me to imagine.  For allowing me to see beyond the diagnosis.  And most of all, for teaching me to dream, new dreams.
      


* I am linking up with Bella Vida by Letty today.  The theme is Gratitude.  

Red Tape Everywhere I Go

I spent most of my morning running back and forth.  Usually, my running back and forth has to do with The Boy.  Today - I was doing something for myself.  Trying to register for next semester.  I have only 4 classes left (including my thesis) and I'll have my MFA in Creative Writing.  I need to finish.  

But apparently...it wasn't that easy. 

I get to the English Department and it hits me.  I took the semester off -  I will need to re-admit.  Readmission involves paperwork - my favorite thing in the whole world.

And so I explain my situation to the powers that be in the English department.  I will need to fill out a form.  Take it to Admissions and then I can register.  

side note: I know, in this day and age, I still need to register in person.

I fill out my registration forms.  And then I walk across campus to the admissions office.  I thought I was slick - I had the form filled out.  But it wasn't that easy.  

I get to the admissions office - engage in friendly banter with the woman behind the counter.  And then she says that I need to get that form signed by the dean.  She tells me the office I need to go to.  The office is in the building that I just came from. 

I go back across campus - slightly annoyed - and find the office to have my form signed. 

The girl at that counter tells me I need to go to the 5th floor.  

I get to the 5th floor and sit down in the dean's office.  All ready to have my form signed and be on my way.

The Dean: When were you in school last?  

Me: December.  2011.

The Dean: (punches in my social) Uh...no.  The last time you were here was in 2003. 

side note: I am pretty sure I know the difference between 2003 and 2011.

After I assure The Dean that my last semester was in 2011 and tell her that I am a graduate student.  What do you think she said?

You guessed it!  Go to another office. 

Finally!  With the form signed, I go back across campus to the admissions office.  And now, there's a line.  (of course)  When I get to the counter, the girl tells me that I need to write a 25 - 50 statement why I was out for the semester. 

WTF?  

So I go over to bench and scribble out my sob story.  

I have a 6 year old son with autism.  I work full time.  I am tired.  And my son is having a difficult time transitioning to kindergarten and he needs me home.  (I wrote some other stuff but I can't write that here.)

And THEN I handed in my form.  And I should be able to register in the next 24 - 48 hours.

So what did I learn today?

There's bullshit and red tape everywhere.

But seeing this on the bulletin board at school made the tangle of red tape all worth it.  

YAY! That's ME :)