To Be A Child Again

To Be A Child Again

Wasn't it easier in your lunch box days?
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I always had this crazy idea that as I got older life would be better.

Yeah. Right.

If anything, as I get older, it gets harder with each passing day.

I constantly find myself wondering: "When did I grow up?" and, more importantly, "Why did I want to grow up so fast?"

Why did I think that broken hearts would be better than having a skinned up knee that only needed a band-aid to fix rather than time and tubs of Ben and Jerry's ice cream.

I'm no longer the naive child that I used to be (even though somedays I wish I was). I'd give anything for just one more moment spent in the bliss of childhood.

If I was a child again, I would beg my dad to check for the monsters underneath my bed before he tucked me in. It was my childhood innocence that let me think that those "monsters" were the worst that could be found in this world.

If I was a child again, I would be able to carelessly play outside for hours, enjoying every second until that dreaded moment when mom said that it was time to come inside. But instead, I now find myself working for hours a day and rarely playing.

If I was a child again, I would dread being told it was nap time because of the irrational fear that I would miss out on something. But now, I would give anything for a nap and a few moments of peace and quiet.

If I was a child again, I would cry tears over being told to go to bed when all I wanted was to stay up just a little bit later rather than over bills and broken-hearts.

If I was a child again, I would still have the childhood wonder that let me think that all people were good, that the world was full of endless opportunities, that life was fair, and that the most important man in the world wasn't a president but Santa Clause.

As I get older, I realize that I took for granted all the simplicity that goes along with being a child. Maybe it's because I'm afraid to grow up, to be completely on my own and to live my own life. If I could be the child that I was once was, just for one more day, I would take that chance in a heartbeat.

I'd go back to those days because I've realized that being an adult isn't all that I thought that it was cracked up to be.

Being an adult means realizing that life isn't fair and there isn't a lot that will go the way that you plan. It means you can't beg and plead to get what you want. It means you have to work for what you want and even then, sadly, you may not get it.

As an adult I've realized that the love and encouragement you receive from your family is the only thing is in world that you can be sure will always be there. As a child, you don't understand that the support you receive from them won't be given to you by everyone else you meet. You'll meet more people willing to break you down rather than build you up.

Being an adult also means facing the cold-hearted, "me-first" world. It means being forced to take on more responsibility (aka stress) than you ever knew existed and it means being pressured to meet all of the life milestones at the acceptable age like so many others around you are, even if you would rather not.

I don't know why I wished away my childhood or idealized being older because all I wish is for now is one more day of childhood.

So, until the day I'm finally my five-year old self again, I'll be the child I once was at heart. I'll carry around my kids lunch box, watch Disney movies regularly, and color outsides the lines in countless coloring books without anyone there to tell me that I can't. (On second thought, maybe being an adult isn't so bad after all).

Cover Image Credit: Pinterest

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I'm A Woman And You Can't Convince Me Breastfeeding In Public Is OK In 2019

Sorry, not sorry.

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Lately, I have seen so many people going off on social media about how people shouldn't be upset with mothers breastfeeding in public. You know what? I disagree.

There's a huge difference between being modest while breastfeeding and just being straight up careless, trashy and disrespectful to those around you. Why don't you try popping out a boob without a baby attached to it and see how long it takes for you to get arrested for public indecency? Strange how that works, right?

So many people talking about it bring up the point of how we shouldn't "sexualize" breastfeeding and seeing a woman's breasts while doing so. Actually, all of these people are missing the point. It's not sexual, it's just purely immodest and disrespectful.

If you see a girl in a shirt cut too low, you call her a slut. If you see a celebrity post a nude photo, you call them immodest and a terrible role model. What makes you think that pulling out a breast in the middle of public is different, regardless of what you're doing with it?

If I'm eating in a restaurant, I would be disgusted if the person at the table next to me had their bare feet out while they were eating. It's just not appropriate. Neither is pulling out your breast for the entire general public to see.

Nobody asked you to put a blanket over your kid's head to feed them. Nobody asked you to go feed them in a dirty bathroom. But you don't need to basically be topless to feed your kid. Growing up, I watched my mom feed my younger siblings in public. She never shied away from it, but the way she did it was always tasteful and never drew attention. She would cover herself up while doing it. She would make sure that nothing inappropriate could be seen. She was lowkey about it.

Mindblowing, right? Wait, you can actually breastfeed in public and not have to show everyone what you're doing? What a revolutionary idea!

There is nothing wrong with feeding your baby. It's something you need to do, it's a part of life. But there is definitely something wrong with thinking it's fine to expose yourself to the entire world while doing it. Nobody wants to see it. Nobody cares if you're feeding your kid. Nobody cares if you're trying to make some sort of weird "feminist" statement by showing them your boobs.

Cover up. Be modest. Be mindful. Be respectful. Don't want to see my boobs? Good, I don't want to see yours either. Hard to believe, I know.

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For Camille, With Love

To my godmother, my second mom, my rooted confidence, my support

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views

First grade, March. It was my first birthday without my mom. You through a huge party for me, a sleepover with friends from school. It included dress up games and making pizza and Disney trivia. You, along with help from my grandma, threw me the best birthday party a 7-year-old could possibly want.

During elementary school, I carpooled with you and a few of the neighborhood kids. I was always the last one to be dropped off, sometimes you would sneak a donut for me. Living next door to you was a blessing. You helped me with everything. In second grade, you helped me rehearse lines for history day so I could get extra credit. In 4th grade, you helped me build my California mission.

You and your sister came out to my 6th grade "graduation". You bought me balloons and made me feel as if moving onto middle school was the coolest thing in the entire world.

While you moved away from next door, you were a constant in my life. Going to Ruby's Diner for my birthday, seeing movies at the Irvine Spectrum and just hanging out, I saw you all the time. During these times, you told me about all of the silly things you did with my mom and dad, how my mom was your best friend. I couldn't have had a greater godmother.

In middle school, you pushed me to do my best and to enroll in honors. You helped me through puberty and the awkward stages of being a woman.

Every single time I saw you, it would light up my entire day, my week. You were more than my godmother, you were my second mom. You understood things that my grandma didn't.

When you married John, you included me in your wedding. I still have that picture of you, Jessica, Aaron and myself on my wall at college. I was so happy for you.

Freshmen year of high school, you told me to do my best. I did my best because of you. When my grandma passed away that year, your shoulder was the one I wanted to cry on.

You were there when I needed to escape home. You understood me when I thought no one would. You helped me learn to drive, letting me drive all the way from San Clemente to Orange.

When I was applying to colleges, you encouraged me to spread my wings and fly. You told me I should explore, get out of California. I wanted to study in London, you told me to do it. That's why, when I study abroad this Spring in London, I will do it for you.

When I had gotten into UWT, you told me to go there. I did and here I am, succeeding and living my best in Tacoma. I do it for you, because of you.

When I graduated high school and I was able to deliver a speech during our baccalaureate, you cheered me on. You recorded it for me, so I could show people who weren't able to make it to the ceremony. You were one of the few people able to come to my actual graduation. You helped me celebrate the accomplishments and awards from my hard work.

When your cancer came back, I was so worried. I was afraid for you, I was afraid of what I would do without the support you had always given me. When I was in Rome, I went to the Vatican and had gotten a Cross with a purple gem in the middle blessed by the Pope to help you with your treatments. It was something from me and a little bit of my mom in the necklace, the gem.

Now, sitting so far from you away at college just like you wanted me to. I miss you. I wish I was there to say goodbye.

I'll travel the world for you, write lots of stories and books for you, I will live life to the fullest for you.

You are another angel taken too early in life. Please say hello to my parents and grandma in Heaven for me.

Lots of love,

Haiden

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