Mama May I writes

Mom of twins

More money = What & Who ever you want in life?

Recently I volunteer to help one of the GED schools in California and noticed how people who struggle with money respect that person with fat pockets. Money seems to make the world go round, and everyone wants as much of it as possible. Everyone desires to be successful and have the finer things in life.

More money = What & Who ever you want in life.

People like Bill Gates and Donald Trump make you believe anything’s possible. These extraordinary men have built empires over time through their continuous hard work. Penny by penny they built their bank accounts. You better believe it didn’t happen overnight. No success happens overnight, because it takes time. In that time you have to build penny by penny, brick by brick until you have something you can be proud to call yours.

No Step Is Too Small

Everyday hustling takes a true soldier. There are many days that don’t go right. Work might cause you to come home with a headache. Whatever the case may be it’s hard to always make the best out of your days. Every day that goes by you cannot get it back, so you must do all you can in the small time frame you have.


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Missing days

I miss the days when Kinley was tiny and new born, with his lack of movements and noises other than whines and cries from being hungry and dirty. Those were the days…

And now, as I look at him making his way across the bedroom floor the best way he can? I miss them even more. When I could get out of bed and surround him by pillows and check on him every so often, knowing he was safe. When he slept 90% of the day away, and the little time he was awake was sporadic and involved nursing.

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A sea of blue

I’m surrounded by a sea of blue. Everywhere I turn to look, blue looks back at me.

Blue sparkles  when they giggle and laugh. Blue darkens when they cry. Blue shines at me through the blackness of the bedrooms.

I am hazel to their blue. An outsider, but still, I am one of them. He writes songs about it. She points out our difference in the mirror. They love my hazel and get lost in it, just like I get lost in their blue.

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Please stop pointing out the obvious

I hate when people tell me how small my children are. Oh really? I have never noticed.

And they always do it in “that” voice. You know the one I’m talking about. Yes, you do. The slightly high-pitched, sing-songy voice. “Is he really six months? Ooh…he’s so sma-all. How much does he weigh?”

None of your damn business.

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A letter to my children

My darling little ones,

Every time I look at you, you impress me with new knowledge, new skills. I see you teach yourself how to play, and watch as you attempt to sit up and crawl; climb and balance. My daredevils.

As this year comes to an end, I can only think of what the next year will bring us. Many more adventures for our family, many more good times than we have had in recent times, many more silent wishes I keep in my heart.

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Pooped with poop

Quite frankly, I’m a person who can roll with whatever punches come my way. Something comes up and there is a change of plans? I can do that. Having to be creative financially or during gift giving season? I’m on it. I can handle it with ease and grace.



When it comes to my sleep.

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So beautiful

As I soap up my hands and run the shampoo through Caitlin’s hair, I often find myself thinking back to when she was an infant. A tiny baby, no more than a few weeks old, laying peacefully on the mesh bath supporter. I can see myself, my feet inside the tub, my jeans rolled up, washing her gently. My baby girl. I can see Chris standing, leaning against the doorway, watching us both. He starts to tell me a story, a story he was told at work by a client after it was announced his baby girl had been born.

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The one in which my panic starts to rise because I only have 3 and 7 months before birthdays

I am ready for this massacre of a holiday season to end.

For reals, ‘yo.

I am running out of space for the mass quantities of gifts my children are receiving from my family. I am actually contemplating getting rid of a desk we don’t use to make room for everything. They are getting a (rather large) indoor/outdoor slide for crying out loud. That doesn’t include the table and chair set the girl is getting, or the freaking tea set or gazillion dolls. Or the TWO musical creeper tables and Lil’ Zoomers huge thing a-ma-bobber my little He-Man is getting.

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What do cashiers say…

cashier“Hiiiiii,” the young cashier drawls. She has short, bleach-blonde hair, bright blue eyes and the shadow to match. The only thing taking away from all of the brightness around her eye area is the siren-red red lipstick she’s wearing. There’s a noticeable line running across her jaw line that divides foundation from real skin.

I stop piling my groceries on the conveyor belt to smile at her. “Hi,” I say back. “How are you?”

But she’s not listening to me. She’s got one of my Uncle Ben’s Bistro Express packets in her hands and she’s peering down at it. I watch her, sort of arrange my food on the belt a bit so as not to make it completely obvious, but I’m thinking what’s up with the rice, girl? It’s kind of creepy, how interested she is in my rice.

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What to do for my birthday party

When I turned one my mom roasted a chicken for my birthday. She roasted two the next year and three the year after that. By the time we got to four she was roasting Cornish game hens.


She drew the line at five.

Back in the day I had a stuffed dog named Doobie and thought a family of ants lived in my throat and would crawl out and dance on my face when I was sleeping.

When I was nine I found out my stepmother was having a baby and I got pink plastic glasses. I loved them. I was ten when my first brother was born; twelve when my second brother came. I will never forget how proud I was to say I was a sister; I thought they were the most beautiful, amazing things in the entire world.

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