Keep Calm and Juggle On

         First things first. I have been a Negative Nelly lately. My once positive outlook, and sunny smile has been replaced with what resembles something more along the lines of Grumpy Cat. I have been struggling, in every way. Financially, spiritually, mentally, physically, emotionally. But, let's be honest. It isn't that my problems are bigger than ever, it isn't that they are more grave, or different than in times past. It's me. It's my reaction to all of my problems. It's my inability to find balance; my desire to put a little somethin' somethin' in a little bit of everything. And, it's stressing me...err, "I'm" stressing me. My hair is literally falling out. I'm gaining back most of the weight I worked so hard to lose a couple of years ago. My psoriasis is red, painful, flared and raging more than it's ever been for as long as I've had it. My Crohn's disease is actin' a fool! And, I feel like I'm drowning! I have that old feeling again. As if I'm running in place. No matter how hard or fast I run, I'm getting nowhere. It's like a nightmare, where something in the darkness, some sort of beast or wild animal, is coming after you, and you know it's coming. You try to run, to get away, but you are stuck, running in place. Terror overtakes you. And, then you wake up, with a lump in your throat, sweating, paralyzed with fear. Only, this is all happening to me while I'm wide awake. And the beast in the darkness is myself. I've always been my own worst enemy, a self-saboteur. 

        I work 42-50 hours a week. I go to school full-time in the evenings. I'm a mother of two, and a wife, and the only wage earner in our home. I live in Juarez, and cross to El Paso to work and school everyday. I also am not healthy. None of that is new. I have lived like this for more than seven years. But, lately, I am exhausted. Work is, well, work. And school is work too. And these two things combined mean I am rarely home. And the guilt that comes with being gone from home 14-16 hours a day is overwhelming. Guilt about not spending enough time with my children; my son Christian is age 12, and my daughter, Mackenzie, is age 7. Guilt about not spending enough time with my husband, who is awesome, by the way. Guilt about not spending enough time with our two dogs and our cat. Guilt about not cooking dinner for my family daily, guilt about not doing the laundry, not ironing their clothes, not cleaning the toilets, not making up the bed, not sweeping and mopping, not dusting, not cleaning the patios, not watering my plant, not doing the dishes, not cleaning and organizing the closets, not making sure the kids eat fruits and veggies, and brush their teeth, and do their homework, and use good manners, and say their prayers. Ruben has had to pick up, where I left off.

        Ruben, God love his soul, has evolved and changed into this amazing father and husband. He is strict, yet nurturing. He is responsible and hard working. He is sober, and has been for several months now, and conscious of what his family needs. He loves the Lord, and it's reflected in his children. He has come so far, in such a short period of time. He keeps this house running like a well-oiled machine. He has his routine down pat. He keeps me sane. Ruben and I have traded him working in a maquila (factory) for $50.00 U.S.dollars a week, and paying strangers to watch our children, for me working in El Paso, making 6 times that a week, and him staying home with our children, taking them, walking them actually, to their schools here in Juarez, within our pretty little gated community. I made the decision to go to school to try to better my career, to increase my salary, get a better job, and eventually, work from home. And, then, start Ruben's business. That is all still the 5-year plan. But, for now, I struggle to juggle. Lately, unexpected bills and expenses just seem to keep popping up, and I've missed a few days of work from illness. That just puts us farther behind, and it feels like we are living beyond our means, leading us to contemplate moving to a much cheaper home in a different area. It's just something up on the table. It would enable me to perhaps afford some much needed health insurance. 

        But, there is always a light at the end of the tunnel, there is always hope. God teaches me that I don't have to do it all myself, that I don't have to be perfect at everything I do, that I don't have to carry  it all on my shoulders. He will carry it for me. He will provide me with strength when I am weak. Rest when I am weary. Joy when I am sad. Comfort when I am sick. I just simply have to let go, and let God. That's the tricky part. Control freak that I am. But God knows me well. 

        What I've learned, specifically, this week, is that I am capable. I am really good at juggling, as it turns out. Ruben's 40th Birthday party was on Saturday, and we were surrounded by friends and neighbors who love and support us in our struggles and juggles, and I realized how blessed we are to have them in our lives! I put that party together with minimum resources, a limited budget, and pressed for time. I also made a special cake for Ruben, in which I had no clue what I was doing! And it was awesome! I planned it during finals week at school, and a hectic week at work, when we had some of the highest call volumes ever! I pulled it off without a hitch, by the grace of God! And, I couldn't have done it without Team Hernandez! My family rocks! So, I think it was a turning point for me. I'm no longer going to worry or stress. I know God will get me through. Money comes and goes. I won't always be this sick; my diseases always have the possibility of remission. I can always kick my own butt and start working out again. I don't have to keep making straight A's in school, I don't have to feel guilty about everything I'm missing out on at home. I have such a great support system in place. My family is always there for me. And I just keep remembering that This is all temporary. And, this will all work out. It always does. God shows me so much favor, and mercy, and grace. So, until then, I juggle! It should come naturally. After all, I'm kind of a clown. Keep calm and juggle on, ya'll!

You Are What You Eat

If there is one cliche that is completely overused, it has to be, "You are what you eat." And, if it's true, well then, my friends, I am a gordita. Not just any gordita. I am mole dulce, frijoles con queso, rajas con queso, and winnie. For my American friends, let me explain what that is. Let's start with my favorite. Mole dulce is a mildly spicy, sweet sauce that is dark brown in color and has about a million ingredients in it, mostly known for its chocolate content. That's right. Chocolate. Not Hershey's chocolate per se, but chocolate none the less. And, to make it even more intriguing, it is always served over chicken. I do not know what I was doing with my life before mole dulce stepped into it. I can't believe I didn't invent it myself. I mean, let's be honest. If you cut me, I'd bleed chocolate. Well, chocolate and gravy. Gravy is to a Hillbilly, what salsa is to a Mexican. But, that is another blog.
Although I could talk about chocolate forever and a day, I realize I may need to move on before someone starts thinking I'm a chocolate addict or something. So, let me define what a gordita is. It is a small, flat disk, made from flour or corn (basically a thicker tortilla), that is split open so that it can be filled. It is usually around 4 inches or so in diameter, stuffed with refried beans, and then a filling of your choice. Those fillings vary from region to region, and depends on where you order your gordita. The place that we frequent here in Juarez has a wide range to choose from. Beans with cheese, mole dulce, pork skins in spicy green salsa (chicharron en salsa verde), or spicy red salsa, pork in red salsa (asado de puerco), hot dogs in a red salsa that isn't the least bit spicy (winnie), poblano peppers and onions with cheese (rajas con queso), thin, diced steak with tomato, onion, and spicy peppers (pulpa), among others. Those just happen to be our favorites.
The term "gordita" actually translates as "chubby." You can stop snickering now. I know I'm chubby. But what is funny about this word, is that it is interchangeable. My husband, two weeks before we were married, when we were with some of our Mexican-American friends, called me gordita. I was told by one of those female "friends" of ours at that time that the word means fat, and she clearly stated that he was calling me fat. She was Hispanic, and spoke perfect Spanish, so of course I trusted what she was telling me. I was mortified. I left him there at their house, I was so upset about it. Not because I wasn't fat, but because my future husband had the audacity to point it out to me so point blank. I did end up coming back to pick him up, but not until I drove around for a while trying to rationalize the situation. He tried explaining to me in his broken English that it was a term of endearment, not an insult. It wasn't until some research, and arguing, and asking other Mexican people we knew, that I came to find out that he wasn't pointing out or criticizing my body size, necessarily, he was appreciating my body. He was embracing my body type, shape, size, and actually enjoying that it belonged to him. "Mi gordita" is a term of affection, when used in the context he was using it in. I, unfortunately, failed to see that our female "friend" was just jealous, because, as it turns out, she actually wanted to be much more than just friends with my future husband. I didn't see that one coming, because I am not a jealous type person myself. I just assumed she would have been happy for us. Nope. I chalk that one up to Life Lesson number 4,337.
So, in conclusion, I guess I am what I eat. I am a gordita. But, I have made peace with that. At least, I am Ruben's gordita.