tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30159265676638960582024-03-14T12:09:45.527-04:00Stories Of A Happy MomStories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.comBlogger1352125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-65541314753272506692023-12-31T18:48:00.009-05:002023-12-31T18:59:25.927-05:002023 Wrap-up<p> It's hard to believe that the last time I posted on this blog was back in April. I remember sitting down to write that last post about our visit to the <a href="http://www.storiesofahappymom.com/2023/04/auschwitz-birkenau-life-changing.html" target="_blank">concentration camp</a> like it was yesterday. </p><p>Turns out that visit basically defined the rest of my 2023 and it shaped me differently in terms of my priorities and even my feelings about life and living in general. </p><p>It seems fitting now to wrap up another great year with some thoughts about it. </p><p>These thoughts may or may not resonate with some people, but as I always say, I write for myself and that's purpose enough. I also wanted to do a wrap-up post because life is worth documenting. </p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><i><b>2023 was a GREAT year</b>.</i> We got to travel as a family and visited several new places that sparked many unknown interests for me. Iggy and I also got the chance to travel as a couple a few times and that's always refreshing, so I am very grateful for that one-on-one time. I also grew a lot as a person, as a wife, as a mother, as a friend...</li></ul><span> Among our traveling adventures this year:</span><br /><p></p><p>- Spain in January (Madrid, Barcelona, Avila). All places in Spain are beautiful (it's one of my favorite countries!) but I particularly enjoyed our visit to Barcelona with Oliver since the last time we had been was when I found out we were expecting a baby boy so this trip was very symbolic for us, and also our day trip to Avila, where Gaby's confirmation saint was born. Faith is very important to me so it was great to experience that visit with Gaby. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiUU8kzix_-K_vllVQaXM-msrqoWKSwbU9bjd6-RakbzKswYGSiy8PlXjhhHq1_YNkSJMLjNG8s72SDM8awfAChnLHo34MgSVpkdWZdKWdxZsl0vUnQlf_LPFXAk_oJgZo9TNjvj1qTs06uQzzGyQdY6rdJ0X7fEjIHwvAuYTXR8Dstb359l47imuH820/s3164/IMG_9180.HEIC" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3164" data-original-width="2285" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiUU8kzix_-K_vllVQaXM-msrqoWKSwbU9bjd6-RakbzKswYGSiy8PlXjhhHq1_YNkSJMLjNG8s72SDM8awfAChnLHo34MgSVpkdWZdKWdxZsl0vUnQlf_LPFXAk_oJgZo9TNjvj1qTs06uQzzGyQdY6rdJ0X7fEjIHwvAuYTXR8Dstb359l47imuH820/w289-h400/IMG_9180.HEIC" width="289" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWqAJL3w1FAMRFDW1oMM9jX8NkgSqayWzx0pABenGInxBgf5WdVDiY19uIuVmox0QvWHEkL_Msh2t1QBs0iuBO3gBYryVBb1JyVgzCPZRFZc7fL1FNsbTcHIPml0WEi6MKxzgIWL_ovJBoZORPyd2I0lh5U292Fl3UUir6_ZQryO9YLnZyjLs2rejFw4Y/s4032/IMG_9471.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWqAJL3w1FAMRFDW1oMM9jX8NkgSqayWzx0pABenGInxBgf5WdVDiY19uIuVmox0QvWHEkL_Msh2t1QBs0iuBO3gBYryVBb1JyVgzCPZRFZc7fL1FNsbTcHIPml0WEi6MKxzgIWL_ovJBoZORPyd2I0lh5U292Fl3UUir6_ZQryO9YLnZyjLs2rejFw4Y/w300-h400/IMG_9471.heic" width="300" /></a></p><p>- Poland in April (Warsaw & Krakow). I will admit that if my best friend of almost 30 years wasn't from Poland, visiting it would have never been on my radar, but I will also admit that it's one of my favorite places in the world, and traveling with a "local" makes it even better. This time we also got to see our family from Finland who flew in to visit us there. How amazing! Memories for a lifetime!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj130C0DMP8Q5i9jT1mZUiM6LRT-MNiqClcZakV5lxopZaWi9ecVZd52l33qg3VXbelq_rRzdiYYegw_OuotrdQYFbQW9qY8XoLFUPKliC3LwvuG0wGXBm3Rt4PT2GBRvejhJCHElfGX8UVvEXbKS6Yna22KAeG_uRg698_-XC0M6dUFrvQnJknktz2ZvU/s1824/9232c45f-605c-4e07-b685-1a059bca0280.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1368" data-original-width="1824" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj130C0DMP8Q5i9jT1mZUiM6LRT-MNiqClcZakV5lxopZaWi9ecVZd52l33qg3VXbelq_rRzdiYYegw_OuotrdQYFbQW9qY8XoLFUPKliC3LwvuG0wGXBm3Rt4PT2GBRvejhJCHElfGX8UVvEXbKS6Yna22KAeG_uRg698_-XC0M6dUFrvQnJknktz2ZvU/w400-h300/9232c45f-605c-4e07-b685-1a059bca0280.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDlEr-TTWMLvbPBonTaMHIM-S9e-vNyWrIIT6kmLyqGk55vngVFjGS-X9SVW3mg2bZ3GwFkYnOwXqz1ZK9f89TOygZjq5S3Foh0RfO15fU9z-0kbPP1CZAChSWLzKgP5ql_C9c5iR9FKN3OrgUb0UPLFd9hw1z4xflZcS4BYgESoJaB1zAixXnf5nSgA/s4032/IMG_2756.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDlEr-TTWMLvbPBonTaMHIM-S9e-vNyWrIIT6kmLyqGk55vngVFjGS-X9SVW3mg2bZ3GwFkYnOwXqz1ZK9f89TOygZjq5S3Foh0RfO15fU9z-0kbPP1CZAChSWLzKgP5ql_C9c5iR9FKN3OrgUb0UPLFd9hw1z4xflZcS4BYgESoJaB1zAixXnf5nSgA/w400-h300/IMG_2756.heic" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- Iggy and I were able to "escape" a couple of times; once to Peru and Chile in May and then again to Seattle and Vancouver in October. It was great to recharge and spend time as a couple. Those were definitely trips to remember. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO6bl0bO4d-5M8z5vdrsKde0thjE428tkkq8yWx9RIR0H2Nt8wXVKe-PioSaNkb0bn-nkVFuGFuoHIAflTKXPl96kvsZl1Vaf9l0Bn-dI7F50ySH22aFhOCJwcKm1543G4DNN0x94Ib2zyGzN9TXtoUH37TsvsedBYmVqL1kFeUTCQU1FaaB-ZUI_aJa0/s3748/IMG_4063.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3748" height="323" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO6bl0bO4d-5M8z5vdrsKde0thjE428tkkq8yWx9RIR0H2Nt8wXVKe-PioSaNkb0bn-nkVFuGFuoHIAflTKXPl96kvsZl1Vaf9l0Bn-dI7F50ySH22aFhOCJwcKm1543G4DNN0x94Ib2zyGzN9TXtoUH37TsvsedBYmVqL1kFeUTCQU1FaaB-ZUI_aJa0/w400-h323/IMG_4063.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIfpKfIflrn11gdcC5BFWnZLYLjse0vFl72zaTP3lFRpHCqximahH-AirO7Iy-CEbavIxqM6Iim-Oy15kW8b14fuWAW61dEK_pVzJXMoJnl72LnHSQXbSy4FubXZBs-ndhUCTCzqORZdKzS_zAE1J67J_2sNAJdTAtqG635q-U5W4nGotMREtA7i8cUl0/s4032/IMG_1107.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIfpKfIflrn11gdcC5BFWnZLYLjse0vFl72zaTP3lFRpHCqximahH-AirO7Iy-CEbavIxqM6Iim-Oy15kW8b14fuWAW61dEK_pVzJXMoJnl72LnHSQXbSy4FubXZBs-ndhUCTCzqORZdKzS_zAE1J67J_2sNAJdTAtqG635q-U5W4nGotMREtA7i8cUl0/w300-h400/IMG_1107.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBpDFr3Chc2hcOe1kS51lFMhVZ0J7SdQkWt69PUoco2y_OIEhvb0x56Wb0Yg4iVJ9GdWc65XZnZx9lm3nHht4otpEgLMhk4K6Kd8u5GnU4kAUr5248tOTZSKfi5I8w-n97eTPJxZC5FnFdKnRGsUuGZqshZJ6EZ40ye3tTjkROM2FtAgr4Ef48JwXx6Yw/s2000/d77c5cd7-a5f7-45be-9afd-93159be8db67.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBpDFr3Chc2hcOe1kS51lFMhVZ0J7SdQkWt69PUoco2y_OIEhvb0x56Wb0Yg4iVJ9GdWc65XZnZx9lm3nHht4otpEgLMhk4K6Kd8u5GnU4kAUr5248tOTZSKfi5I8w-n97eTPJxZC5FnFdKnRGsUuGZqshZJ6EZ40ye3tTjkROM2FtAgr4Ef48JwXx6Yw/w300-h400/d77c5cd7-a5f7-45be-9afd-93159be8db67.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We also traveled to Boston as a family, visited Utah and Arizona in the summer, went on a Disney Cruise for Oliver's birthday and also went to Orlando a few times to take advantage of our Disney annual passes (that never gets old for us!). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Every trip, every place we visited, and every person we came across was a blessing and a learning experience. Thank you, God, for that! This year I also resolved to complete my "Fifty by 50" journey as I plan to visit all 50 states by the time I turn 50! I'm currently at 32 (not all happened this year) and look forward to checking off a few more in the upcoming year!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitCRmLxtV9bqmPVlcMWF7MaHsjL_khBMcJ4cg92alznFB2MA4nxvFyMR4TxUaqAdcuEfbSt4ARZ614H4VXAIOuMzHPkEK9PSYkhLaVMA8KJthM98x9O4vveaeX-OZaLFzkvjmDllCkqD2TrVBkk97KoYEb14q_ubxUSU1m3JLU-uxGU9y7YMHiiaLKMro/s4032/IMG_0588.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitCRmLxtV9bqmPVlcMWF7MaHsjL_khBMcJ4cg92alznFB2MA4nxvFyMR4TxUaqAdcuEfbSt4ARZ614H4VXAIOuMzHPkEK9PSYkhLaVMA8KJthM98x9O4vveaeX-OZaLFzkvjmDllCkqD2TrVBkk97KoYEb14q_ubxUSU1m3JLU-uxGU9y7YMHiiaLKMro/w400-h300/IMG_0588.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><b><i>Personal growth</i></b> was the theme of the year. I wrote a post about "<a href="http://www.storiesofahappymom.com/2023/03/living-with-intention.html" target="_blank">Living with Intention</a>" back in March and that is EXACTLY what I did. I invested in our marriage, spent my time doing things I truly enjoy, and made every effort to make a difference. Also, it was refreshing to cut off negative/toxic people from my life, to say "no" when I felt that was the right answer, and to stand for my beliefs even when it made some people "uncomfortable".</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHrz5NftK9paiQ_2Ge0IsOfOabJgDMn6BafVz2N0M_D6ZwR_3Lk8in3MiFdn1kdlqMc44OkSYLXpI_6ypzDonL0hSrl-l8GfDfV-y6Mt2pXFad33bCibaW0fQ4pMzHtVIClNS92MgeQCxg9y2DQjdv20TX9Scv-5Exa_8o49Z1LmFiNCFbYCfh-GaHNjU/s4032/IMG_1779.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHrz5NftK9paiQ_2Ge0IsOfOabJgDMn6BafVz2N0M_D6ZwR_3Lk8in3MiFdn1kdlqMc44OkSYLXpI_6ypzDonL0hSrl-l8GfDfV-y6Mt2pXFad33bCibaW0fQ4pMzHtVIClNS92MgeQCxg9y2DQjdv20TX9Scv-5Exa_8o49Z1LmFiNCFbYCfh-GaHNjU/w400-h300/IMG_1779.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><b><i>Faith</i></b>: this year more than ever, I made my Catholic faith a priority. I actively sought out activities that aligned with my faith and enrolled in a 4-year long Spiritual Accompaniment course, which I hope to complete in the allotted time. I improved my prayer routine, attended weekly mass more often, and made every effort to make my faith "contagious". What a joy it is to feel like I'm fulfilling a purpose that God set out for me. This year I intend to continue down this path and I am confident that it will bring me even more joy, a joy that I hope to share with everyone around me. </li></ul><div style="text-align: left;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I have TWO kids in high school! Although it may sound silly, this one hit me really hard! I was terrified of Gaby starting high school; somehow I saw her as too "fragile" or maybe just "unprepared" in general, but as it often happens with kids, she impressed me and proved me totally wrong. Pretty quickly she was navigating the high school waters bravely and proudly and my stress levels went down a notch. This is also the first year Oliver is alone in his school so I was feeling all the feelings. </li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUX5ENm17MYAV5t9zVc_XKi_Et6qih0TiqCNDu7IVhaLwTn49BnI94teAXXWlScam4yRxYEyoBSJrzVkYl6MxRB3PFV6CZhm9LLi3B1ksNzYp4tBL5SxMztGUCzJRMXV39qqMAmzZBY7C1Te6UL0QJhSsyUPCuvG5aPrfecQiwAxKogwF0jn24fwrlIY4/s4032/IMG_9256.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUX5ENm17MYAV5t9zVc_XKi_Et6qih0TiqCNDu7IVhaLwTn49BnI94teAXXWlScam4yRxYEyoBSJrzVkYl6MxRB3PFV6CZhm9LLi3B1ksNzYp4tBL5SxMztGUCzJRMXV39qqMAmzZBY7C1Te6UL0QJhSsyUPCuvG5aPrfecQiwAxKogwF0jn24fwrlIY4/w300-h400/IMG_9256.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXoX7hcb0brs0UhJtWrW4VDtAa3Nqj9wryKdKzn6Dktj_iQ1wD4zS1ed4VkmMagSG17FU4JhYT9Qux5PGip9-zpdlbO1Owrisb5JXgHsdsV41_rKy_9Ea_WVKI4IhFuzFYTSEX7YpgCRLq52BJKz2g8IT6W0bzKmi36xGdqISVtuBKEY9R-grds93SS50/s3420/IMG_9259.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3420" data-original-width="2250" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXoX7hcb0brs0UhJtWrW4VDtAa3Nqj9wryKdKzn6Dktj_iQ1wD4zS1ed4VkmMagSG17FU4JhYT9Qux5PGip9-zpdlbO1Owrisb5JXgHsdsV41_rKy_9Ea_WVKI4IhFuzFYTSEX7YpgCRLq52BJKz2g8IT6W0bzKmi36xGdqISVtuBKEY9R-grds93SS50/w264-h400/IMG_9259.jpg" width="264" /></a></div><div><br /></div></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><ul><li style="text-align: left;">I have a daughter who drives... and has a boyfriend! Seeing my kids grow up has never made me "sad" but I would be lying if I said there aren't "omg, when did they get so big?" moments and these two were definitely that! Olivia started driving alone in September, and this December marked a year since she started dating her boyfriend Sam. The driving has been good but stressful, and Sam has been great! I love seeing her handle her life so maturely and graciously and I can only thank God for the work He has done in her and for continuing to guide me in being the best mother I can be. I love you, Olivia and I am so proud of you!</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbcd5K59pOQW-jYZverRZQyoIdsZ1yMx_jkzIInTs4OGdqdi3DQVxG-S5uNvXYxI5gd-Cf-UGCPV0mzMh_Ku-lU3b0FmBgjiz7UK0xvpCEe3cv24wSfqQhJoV-9FsBa1Up5ezKrL9lJ1kNDLafFJqep1CCv0qoLfuTlfjv08RtuJERF_bo2zYDixArDgM/s3200/IMG_8219.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="2304" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbcd5K59pOQW-jYZverRZQyoIdsZ1yMx_jkzIInTs4OGdqdi3DQVxG-S5uNvXYxI5gd-Cf-UGCPV0mzMh_Ku-lU3b0FmBgjiz7UK0xvpCEe3cv24wSfqQhJoV-9FsBa1Up5ezKrL9lJ1kNDLafFJqep1CCv0qoLfuTlfjv08RtuJERF_bo2zYDixArDgM/w288-h400/IMG_8219.jpg" width="288" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMemFyRnXYxUfiPF5pToSQy2zIbPWLAMkKdEoxdljj8WPe2BL0GOjb2zZyXCNXAs-lerOsdxODcS6TP7B18Wc7-QOgkXYT0L7XZxqJss29Lc7Mp3uwTJOiNSLmtmJXAvbnraDE5BeXVbXCuPihkvsriTgEbMHjlKQTJn9lUCsgS8JKEKYw04GNtkHgfyw/s4032/IMG_2371.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMemFyRnXYxUfiPF5pToSQy2zIbPWLAMkKdEoxdljj8WPe2BL0GOjb2zZyXCNXAs-lerOsdxODcS6TP7B18Wc7-QOgkXYT0L7XZxqJss29Lc7Mp3uwTJOiNSLmtmJXAvbnraDE5BeXVbXCuPihkvsriTgEbMHjlKQTJn9lUCsgS8JKEKYw04GNtkHgfyw/w300-h400/IMG_2371.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeHhjnY3Ke8kcSZOaBs3Glrl-my6l3i2V1gVFFbsUm4eB8ENOkoWqXm9Ln9hNdUN4H0M66cC2WnWsftGb3o4tNSrVdOUY1u3MM8ndaU22CcaUATbBF8zwdY_IJMFksZAm3EeE8u39YrF9QmJtBM5pqsmFxK5hiVvB1_hK10sDGACFAB1QOI_z0eEPZGPs/s2000/d77c5cd7-a5f7-45be-9afd-93159be8db67.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></a><ul><li style="text-align: left;">Family and friends are everything! I don't have many friends...I know A LOT of people but very few I can call "friends". I am forever grateful for the amazing family that God gifted me and all the friends that enrich my life on a daily basis. This year we were blessed with my aunt Laurita moving back to the USA temporarily (we hope it's forever), for all the time we spent together as a family and for all the deep conversations I had with the ones I call friends. In the new year, I plan to continue to nurture my close relationships and reconnect with those who are missing in my life. These are pictures of *some* of those special people in my life <3</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKWFvxEz3cHULXrksR_GQteBdfOEQtuHhJC3P9_8Sseaol0vAyTb4o8MWa-Pj9Ek8Ly_pWcjZPH-5P1c8H8s2vg4ww5FhKYE5MoQMmIn7zbQCgMz-N3kluvQCmbPtxyqTbf0oii-Fg00JcKEtLuPL3lhpm0mhu6RWnO7qc01AAGF1l2v53XINNpThaHyc/s4032/IMG_2402.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKWFvxEz3cHULXrksR_GQteBdfOEQtuHhJC3P9_8Sseaol0vAyTb4o8MWa-Pj9Ek8Ly_pWcjZPH-5P1c8H8s2vg4ww5FhKYE5MoQMmIn7zbQCgMz-N3kluvQCmbPtxyqTbf0oii-Fg00JcKEtLuPL3lhpm0mhu6RWnO7qc01AAGF1l2v53XINNpThaHyc/w300-h400/IMG_2402.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh49bcZJhw7sMA2SXCpt6j02KtGPjop4438G-h1Hw-M7f9oq1c_xubkRBxcV0JgkE2yUvLEWV6rgeNKddzptTsn2aKnvd-s79DNJCSOJmPY0OUPgMkwnoaC5062ylZs7djbCgGZexyEr8t7tyaAInUI9xydYn8PHpQc7Ao44VssgAk6r5jtw4yeQ6l0wQ/s2095/IMG_5034.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2095" data-original-width="1284" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh49bcZJhw7sMA2SXCpt6j02KtGPjop4438G-h1Hw-M7f9oq1c_xubkRBxcV0JgkE2yUvLEWV6rgeNKddzptTsn2aKnvd-s79DNJCSOJmPY0OUPgMkwnoaC5062ylZs7djbCgGZexyEr8t7tyaAInUI9xydYn8PHpQc7Ao44VssgAk6r5jtw4yeQ6l0wQ/w245-h400/IMG_5034.jpg" width="245" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEN83sPO4da6uwcDUX_ukpalKYwG4C8mA44nVchETiDXko2K1hMw8TGyaAE4Lz7YSMIdatdNYAzz5CpDR0IdPnhyphenhyphenGkdzq_-SiOnam7yWhxIATgfbLc0ck5QZa1H6az1i7kM9Qm42OSRguENke3QnGZqHIO0m57QmgfrfuCd83-JH6OQV9TpWUxD8CTBiE/s4032/IMG_5051.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEN83sPO4da6uwcDUX_ukpalKYwG4C8mA44nVchETiDXko2K1hMw8TGyaAE4Lz7YSMIdatdNYAzz5CpDR0IdPnhyphenhyphenGkdzq_-SiOnam7yWhxIATgfbLc0ck5QZa1H6az1i7kM9Qm42OSRguENke3QnGZqHIO0m57QmgfrfuCd83-JH6OQV9TpWUxD8CTBiE/w400-h300/IMG_5051.jpg" width="400" /></a> <br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD7cfFRmpSAPWG6kvE-qJ0hqLm7Os8_msHhaNXNrdptEVJUDG9ncCTrSKhQlJEefSvqfWA9KsjrbBM-4HgvKd7nOztn3zmG0pBnRvjdAk1tOE5KRoiLT28YLcyUYYn7wx0cDpvTxpt0O8cmXRGoNwdg8wriofVag5EMvViPA6rVbkRgid-5DpctV7lJVM/s4032/IMG_5350.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD7cfFRmpSAPWG6kvE-qJ0hqLm7Os8_msHhaNXNrdptEVJUDG9ncCTrSKhQlJEefSvqfWA9KsjrbBM-4HgvKd7nOztn3zmG0pBnRvjdAk1tOE5KRoiLT28YLcyUYYn7wx0cDpvTxpt0O8cmXRGoNwdg8wriofVag5EMvViPA6rVbkRgid-5DpctV7lJVM/w400-h300/IMG_5350.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxXRkEZLqVLpe4YhkqGGP27HkTmut4HZm9GkTHYHXfDDkvw3SU35MPLaIMZF59EMbmQ_jFdn3X9gN1hCW4jPlSQuwnXtsd_xU9FK-YcnCp2Qn25Dd4R_A6WN8j-U1tXXDwiu-oa5Fe8Tnbi3Fvx86EN2RKQ6N7YpL7PWB3paxCWKQJRe1H1VpXUiSBUZ0/s4032/IMG_5367.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxXRkEZLqVLpe4YhkqGGP27HkTmut4HZm9GkTHYHXfDDkvw3SU35MPLaIMZF59EMbmQ_jFdn3X9gN1hCW4jPlSQuwnXtsd_xU9FK-YcnCp2Qn25Dd4R_A6WN8j-U1tXXDwiu-oa5Fe8Tnbi3Fvx86EN2RKQ6N7YpL7PWB3paxCWKQJRe1H1VpXUiSBUZ0/w300-h400/IMG_5367.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBIUffAqdOrO4_4ia05dr6XklG0E_lXPbv1vUeGFYzN5ZuBwMXhBqjch5vyW4FyKQ3cYVNLOkFuboPHU_OyijnUQx8yCChfwe9ytyGgLsCQu7xXfBfA-KgVfSSX8q_IORw1k3VLV1DcDOuaNDkx2yKUEBpFmizRsWt6oPAYpJJv_sAcOHRxFNQOPLvNPA/s1770/Screenshot%202023-12-31%20at%206.28.30%E2%80%AFPM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1226" data-original-width="1770" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBIUffAqdOrO4_4ia05dr6XklG0E_lXPbv1vUeGFYzN5ZuBwMXhBqjch5vyW4FyKQ3cYVNLOkFuboPHU_OyijnUQx8yCChfwe9ytyGgLsCQu7xXfBfA-KgVfSSX8q_IORw1k3VLV1DcDOuaNDkx2yKUEBpFmizRsWt6oPAYpJJv_sAcOHRxFNQOPLvNPA/w400-h278/Screenshot%202023-12-31%20at%206.28.30%E2%80%AFPM.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><ul><li style="text-align: left;">Health is a gift we should never take for granted! Iggy had minor surgery to remove a head lipoma in October and even though it wasn't a big deal, he did have to be put under and I was terrified. So many thoughts went through my mind and I broke down several times. My mom also had a few health scares and so did my dad. I am thankful for my faith getting me through the dark days and I pray that God continues to bless us with healthy lives. I'm also thankful for Iggy's positive outlook no matter what. I love you so much!</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ7VBcyRsXtW98WKsDU3jditcehmOUm3dTWLZz0WinCsDjf6sp0TKJwrGXzGj7PcEw0O7gU_M7ToMoYrvrLAUGtj4CmTpBR1-GO-h1GSwN5RtFw_APPxcplIF3XTBHb9hhfUy3UXfs47h7yItYlOAmFFqRibKI5_dil-FfauTILxwHKvOcszkPUiqzCUU/s4032/IMG_2119.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ7VBcyRsXtW98WKsDU3jditcehmOUm3dTWLZz0WinCsDjf6sp0TKJwrGXzGj7PcEw0O7gU_M7ToMoYrvrLAUGtj4CmTpBR1-GO-h1GSwN5RtFw_APPxcplIF3XTBHb9hhfUy3UXfs47h7yItYlOAmFFqRibKI5_dil-FfauTILxwHKvOcszkPUiqzCUU/w400-h300/IMG_2119.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And last but not least, I will talk about my "resolutions". I've never been a fan of limiting myself to resolutions but a very dear person I know gave me a "shortcut" idea that I liked and I will follow that.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So as per her suggestion, I will stick to thinking of:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>One thing I'm going to PAUSE. </li><li>One thing I'm going to START.</li><li>One thing I'm going to STOP.</li></ol><div><br /></div><div>What are your resolutions? How was your year? </div><div><br /></div><div>Happy New Year, everyone! </div></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeHhjnY3Ke8kcSZOaBs3Glrl-my6l3i2V1gVFFbsUm4eB8ENOkoWqXm9Ln9hNdUN4H0M66cC2WnWsftGb3o4tNSrVdOUY1u3MM8ndaU22CcaUATbBF8zwdY_IJMFksZAm3EeE8u39YrF9QmJtBM5pqsmFxK5hiVvB1_hK10sDGACFAB1QOI_z0eEPZGPs/s2000/d77c5cd7-a5f7-45be-9afd-93159be8db67.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div><p></p>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-28291659792018724762023-04-24T22:56:00.001-04:002023-04-24T23:07:43.646-04:00Auschwitz-Birkenau: A life changing experience (Part 2)<p> *This is Part 2 of the story of my experience at Auschwitz-Birkenau, the biggest Nazi concentration camp in Germany-occupied Poland. Part 1 can be found <a href="http://www.storiesofahappymom.com/2023/04/auschwitz-birkenau-life-changing.html">HERE</a>*</p><p>As I mentioned in <a href="http://www.storiesofahappymom.com/2023/04/auschwitz-birkenau-life-changing.html">Part 1</a>, our visit to Auschwitz-Birkenau was incredibly life-changing. It is worth mentioning that only the girls and I visited the memorial since it isn't recommended for people under 14 years of age so to allow us the opportunity to visit the camp, Iggy stayed with Oliver in Krakow while we took the day trip to Oświęcim. I wanted to get that out of the way since many people asked if I had taken my little one on the tour.</p><p>The following are some others of the areas/things that stood out to me the most (this list is probably harsher than the one on my first post, so please be warned):</p><p>- <u>The Barracks</u>: </p><p>Barracks were primitive wooden structures with large wooden shelves for bunk beds; the camp originally belonged to the Polish military before the country was occupied in the early 1940s and the place was converted into a concentration camp (as a matter of fact, most initial prisoners were not Jews but rather Poles, Catholics, and Gypsies). The original wooden structures were then adapted into brick buildings and some of the single-story ones, were transformed into two stories in order to house the most prisoners. There were 36 bunks per barrack; 5 to 6 prisoners were packed on a shelf to fit over 500 prisoners per barracks; the living conditions were totally inhumane in those infamous buildings. In the brick blocks, prisoners slept on straw-strewn mats, and paper mattresses stuffed with so-called “wood wool” were placed on the beds or bunks in the wooden barracks. The Auschwitz-Birkenau complex is a somber sight; the thought of all those victims being tortured day in and day out is very haunting and even though I know a lot about Holocaust history (I'm an avid WWII reader), seeing it in person brought all those things I have read through the years to a different dimension. When touring the barracks, visitors are able to see the shelves used as bunk beds as well as the type of mattresses that people laid on and some other aspects of the living conditions at the camp. Touring the premises and hearing the harrowing stories made all my problems seem so small, it's a sorrowful feeling too complex to put into words. I will never complain about cold showers, bad weather or being slightly hungry, or not getting a full night's sleep. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWyyi0RAsqmIwVDT9ymhH11xe-v3ZF8jrO-9-_YVBgi409uT5let7J9n6QAAmArs-cBay7Z1l0R5xj3sgADYK7qg4vkZG8aBaKt8BS4t_pk7eleSeuxTNspyrnGjuzsGFAkTkfU55Zlzv51ktw4phfdF-7JMlaxWviSxCWG-1qial-Vn4aEBa72hwK/s4032/IMG_1235.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWyyi0RAsqmIwVDT9ymhH11xe-v3ZF8jrO-9-_YVBgi409uT5let7J9n6QAAmArs-cBay7Z1l0R5xj3sgADYK7qg4vkZG8aBaKt8BS4t_pk7eleSeuxTNspyrnGjuzsGFAkTkfU55Zlzv51ktw4phfdF-7JMlaxWviSxCWG-1qial-Vn4aEBa72hwK/s320/IMG_1235.HEIC" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwma2_FygDbo5-OZUbziSDLEtyPEzKO_LsZ9hKVtqg2OmM6q798_22KGtcaPboMlJvxKCgsii9Jxj8B4olQP0dLCxU0EGpOHUg9lCFZX0NtkyE7VrERuIMTstM9Q_YaV0FYChXxR4oNJFl2I8gRyLApcJjJ6f4pUpzXKmDe9VN2tYjWg4SWX0RrcZH/s4032/IMG_2834.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwma2_FygDbo5-OZUbziSDLEtyPEzKO_LsZ9hKVtqg2OmM6q798_22KGtcaPboMlJvxKCgsii9Jxj8B4olQP0dLCxU0EGpOHUg9lCFZX0NtkyE7VrERuIMTstM9Q_YaV0FYChXxR4oNJFl2I8gRyLApcJjJ6f4pUpzXKmDe9VN2tYjWg4SWX0RrcZH/s320/IMG_2834.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUIQgjZ82k1kREbOPq8jk3ts0aJX7S3yVzr1WguXeMbOeKkyZ0wsbIZ6Jho6wUVCFz-JFCiVoilyeBF9I_OMCMS66IcIxczehX7sybjCaN7Qp1QMieHs77Ur-Gn-NIVJXy_SY5K26oBza5m6n_0JzHkP2u-hqORGvbgouSQTGWqCQ-0WdaUWBeAPp/s4032/IMG_2828.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUIQgjZ82k1kREbOPq8jk3ts0aJX7S3yVzr1WguXeMbOeKkyZ0wsbIZ6Jho6wUVCFz-JFCiVoilyeBF9I_OMCMS66IcIxczehX7sybjCaN7Qp1QMieHs77Ur-Gn-NIVJXy_SY5K26oBza5m6n_0JzHkP2u-hqORGvbgouSQTGWqCQ-0WdaUWBeAPp/s320/IMG_2828.HEIC" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtQZOwcrxsO-EcxLsUwrguRQ3zWFnKmH2Kp3z4kVg9OFZBvkzilE5Ik6WSesRQXCM7DiRfRH_eGDg6MjxL68y-BBx_pG_9FK91HL6KB7f5zlt6f9zlWY2Nl3QjiX3CJ1O7p6IOQGUhCkUQCT87PC8JLD_Fa1zBG3IgWgtwsm_0vl4-64TXVJJvs7WR/s4032/IMG_2829.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtQZOwcrxsO-EcxLsUwrguRQ3zWFnKmH2Kp3z4kVg9OFZBvkzilE5Ik6WSesRQXCM7DiRfRH_eGDg6MjxL68y-BBx_pG_9FK91HL6KB7f5zlt6f9zlWY2Nl3QjiX3CJ1O7p6IOQGUhCkUQCT87PC8JLD_Fa1zBG3IgWgtwsm_0vl4-64TXVJJvs7WR/s320/IMG_2829.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Gh7HrFCfYxmifeLm6EAg_6dOX8x7D_jJW_P1iZ8rPf6iL1eMUUQr9q4zrxOg21VkhPCjy23_eeFBtJcgUynnRK5FvCn9Z7b1NL6eIw-csjXy0-0dIH2sMjIOIfRJB-B9M_U-qYKBtpUPWzJbeW5dvadflAKwgDv9OPqnSrSupm_5uG32PTLlFcFT/s4032/IMG_2860.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Gh7HrFCfYxmifeLm6EAg_6dOX8x7D_jJW_P1iZ8rPf6iL1eMUUQr9q4zrxOg21VkhPCjy23_eeFBtJcgUynnRK5FvCn9Z7b1NL6eIw-csjXy0-0dIH2sMjIOIfRJB-B9M_U-qYKBtpUPWzJbeW5dvadflAKwgDv9OPqnSrSupm_5uG32PTLlFcFT/s320/IMG_2860.HEIC" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-inUna5i1POu6QMCmsyzIooP6UJWGuXHFEX1NNfHPooEJETFPGHbu-3wZzY8655LZ9Z-JdnJWGwHIAc4z8Ksi8kBpGGtwX4FoVZxJjnE1QzQeM1o5NFKPNcdz8lEvQ1aUW7UlmLU1kou79VgcIbh6Rlk94IhvLBnifc9MBDSRTthmAo-JO_P7sWFd/s4032/IMG_2830.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-inUna5i1POu6QMCmsyzIooP6UJWGuXHFEX1NNfHPooEJETFPGHbu-3wZzY8655LZ9Z-JdnJWGwHIAc4z8Ksi8kBpGGtwX4FoVZxJjnE1QzQeM1o5NFKPNcdz8lEvQ1aUW7UlmLU1kou79VgcIbh6Rlk94IhvLBnifc9MBDSRTthmAo-JO_P7sWFd/s320/IMG_2830.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">- </span><u style="text-align: left;">The Train Wagons and Railroad Tracks</u><span style="text-align: left;">:</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Most of the prisoners in the camps were brought there under false premises; as I mentioned before, they were often told they would be "relocated" to Eastern Europe without any details. The prisoners were generally not told their specific destination and many even thought their lives would improve, even buying their own train tickets to get to their new location. There is a train wagon on display at Birkenau right next to the infamous tracks where the "<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Selection_(Holocaust)">selection</a>" happened. During the tour, visitors walk towards where the gas chambers were located to mimic the walk prisoners made on the way to their death. Walking never felt so heavy and I had never experienced so many emotions at the same time. The thought of all those victims' fates being in the hands of heartless degenerates made me absolutely sick. Our guide did an incredible job at describing the "<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Selection_(Holocaust)">selection</a>" process in an empathic and easy-to-understand manner and I can honestly say that I had never experienced so much sadness over hearing about something I already heard about a million times before. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl2ifCUQf2sE0ZJdrX3KxExMIv5m2ZmCVSSIjaRPLcrmekczcu04SNPKXDsm9TSN_OxL3E_YiKfpGsSE4t1hBYYiuqF2B-aGsmAuAI9FXmzqaGQCndnX-yTbPWBt2_PskVK6SgDInBRwUsD2hrZdrDhnpyvLpmwnDuPJ8-CEsUeLYvrB6FhD6xWiW5/s4032/IMG_2770.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl2ifCUQf2sE0ZJdrX3KxExMIv5m2ZmCVSSIjaRPLcrmekczcu04SNPKXDsm9TSN_OxL3E_YiKfpGsSE4t1hBYYiuqF2B-aGsmAuAI9FXmzqaGQCndnX-yTbPWBt2_PskVK6SgDInBRwUsD2hrZdrDhnpyvLpmwnDuPJ8-CEsUeLYvrB6FhD6xWiW5/w400-h300/IMG_2770.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRcwEwvUE380oAmUWbNOCYQt_KWWqSXkY-aWKDr6p7oDOOUEqHIqjooxsqkmpyGLV7dA622A7ZdoKgg1e9Lz22K6OQ8T9bxwsVDwC0MBrBYud4cbBveKr-PkwtsjDglhm-9cpzp6CqdJKJ3ULLzolJw57wjZ0KlvZA6FnjSonnvCfKPqr-ZnJ5L01b/s4032/IMG_2851.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRcwEwvUE380oAmUWbNOCYQt_KWWqSXkY-aWKDr6p7oDOOUEqHIqjooxsqkmpyGLV7dA622A7ZdoKgg1e9Lz22K6OQ8T9bxwsVDwC0MBrBYud4cbBveKr-PkwtsjDglhm-9cpzp6CqdJKJ3ULLzolJw57wjZ0KlvZA6FnjSonnvCfKPqr-ZnJ5L01b/w300-h400/IMG_2851.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- <u>The Faces of Auschwitz</u>:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial holds a collection of 38,916 registration photographs taken between February 1941 and January 1945. The preserved photos, 31,969 of men and 6,947 of women constitute only a fraction of a vast Nazi photo archive destroyed during the camp evacuation in January 1945. These photos can be seen in one of the rooms and each one is very haunting. They show the faces of sad people who were clearly suffering at the hands of pure evil. Each photo has a name, prisoner number, and two dates: the date of "deportation" to the camp and the date of death. Most of the dates aren't even a month apart, which means that some of these people did not survive long at the camp. The way the faces are captured is riveting and this was one of the few exhibits that I did not want to leave. I somehow felt these people were talking to me; I experienced a strange connection to some of the faces and names, and for a moment I could feel their pain by just staring at their photographs. What a sad, sad, sad thing to see. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVF4A5UhnL4363GS6xhioaBOD_rcmkAJ5wlpavWykO5WrNB4-wvNfijvvue9BSEYhYyDB77avg-7DsCAbQlp3JwgnkIoN44bYrvfgYV95MVPAK35MgNcY9N2nF5B6V2zfn_vpKUNl2p00iyMoqUYfvJ-IWnGfFJ3y9aAk9o5JIeNKxIkZNSceQcgrQ/s4032/IMG_2831.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVF4A5UhnL4363GS6xhioaBOD_rcmkAJ5wlpavWykO5WrNB4-wvNfijvvue9BSEYhYyDB77avg-7DsCAbQlp3JwgnkIoN44bYrvfgYV95MVPAK35MgNcY9N2nF5B6V2zfn_vpKUNl2p00iyMoqUYfvJ-IWnGfFJ3y9aAk9o5JIeNKxIkZNSceQcgrQ/w300-h400/IMG_2831.HEIC" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzG1KkaDYC138JGuC8rFZcT_tJt0530Tdm79pQbUdcc4VKDkZrfb9iqNKu5i6NbHmfAkrN8HMRXzCI0ezB2gV_D1NKfhkRlZDOwi8fOJqTY0lb52d2iH4ZsYd7-Fes9ZIDohx5WgGyWIuZSuIAtatR8oAkCj9-0Mj9T_iUOmILiVL8Gcf2ZUta49W6/s4032/IMG_2832.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzG1KkaDYC138JGuC8rFZcT_tJt0530Tdm79pQbUdcc4VKDkZrfb9iqNKu5i6NbHmfAkrN8HMRXzCI0ezB2gV_D1NKfhkRlZDOwi8fOJqTY0lb52d2iH4ZsYd7-Fes9ZIDohx5WgGyWIuZSuIAtatR8oAkCj9-0Mj9T_iUOmILiVL8Gcf2ZUta49W6/w300-h400/IMG_2832.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-<u>The Wired Fences</u>:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Barbed wire fences were one of the means of controlling prisoners at Auschwitz and the whole camp is surrounded by the remnants of those fences. During our tour, our guide told us about the many prisoners that would jump to their death by electrocuting themselves on the fences. The desperation was such that they would willingly run into the double fences and meet their ultimate fate. Most fenced areas also have lookout towers where the Nazis would monitor all the prisoners at all times and especially during "roll call", which often took over 20 hours in whatever inclement weather. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNDu-JXyYCep4O6cC3nWbGfYiR4r7QS3s0iP8kiXdgj2HdeK9BtQEkGer5H27V1n-IBnjqifPejmhvcKdIa7zkwdfHOTd14v9R8QitYXU6Thq_at37wXamvq_eeSCp8giO2PANLXRdbaOW7_wzZJPPOVpjEWhhuiCYnQCu9WfxpNoUFFBbgAyc5HP/s4032/IMG_2838.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNDu-JXyYCep4O6cC3nWbGfYiR4r7QS3s0iP8kiXdgj2HdeK9BtQEkGer5H27V1n-IBnjqifPejmhvcKdIa7zkwdfHOTd14v9R8QitYXU6Thq_at37wXamvq_eeSCp8giO2PANLXRdbaOW7_wzZJPPOVpjEWhhuiCYnQCu9WfxpNoUFFBbgAyc5HP/w400-h300/IMG_2838.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjFDpggAEgfH1_WECRZc8w1rImh9OrAyuTEJlsyV4oZDjPiWcJi2Y2DSrkNzmPFzxVLpgTxMCGraq84eyD8Jq9kyGFupvF85kJA6n9HaZTlFSVTUyFsbfugfK8MWj2xL55jh2FfH9vqpiF3ZH2vxFVTLmLPreD7xCiF0BL61dNQRguztvt5dKbn_LJ/s4032/IMG_2846.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjFDpggAEgfH1_WECRZc8w1rImh9OrAyuTEJlsyV4oZDjPiWcJi2Y2DSrkNzmPFzxVLpgTxMCGraq84eyD8Jq9kyGFupvF85kJA6n9HaZTlFSVTUyFsbfugfK8MWj2xL55jh2FfH9vqpiF3ZH2vxFVTLmLPreD7xCiF0BL61dNQRguztvt5dKbn_LJ/w300-h400/IMG_2846.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4ozmWl3Ld12xBiIEFdiKsdwCfRlX5FME8rKgsf-ufX8PHifPIGmL8DKnfrLUa3bBSohSyjWMjRYT0mn2DYMSb__6x8WtpgFF2LcSO8E7ITddZ7tQJALLMSrGMkCCZCIxbw3J4arfF4ylFACPztsoNKT3P_4NtzsX7cwsO7PtThTMvGc2RHSuzIWz/s4032/IMG_2847.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4ozmWl3Ld12xBiIEFdiKsdwCfRlX5FME8rKgsf-ufX8PHifPIGmL8DKnfrLUa3bBSohSyjWMjRYT0mn2DYMSb__6x8WtpgFF2LcSO8E7ITddZ7tQJALLMSrGMkCCZCIxbw3J4arfF4ylFACPztsoNKT3P_4NtzsX7cwsO7PtThTMvGc2RHSuzIWz/w300-h400/IMG_2847.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- <u>Gas Chambers & Crematoriums</u>:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This part of the tour was extremely crude and raw; it was probably the second hardest for me (I haven't mentioned the worst) and for other people as well. As part of the guided visit, we walked inside one of the crematoriums (which people often call "ovens") where they murdered thousands of people. There was such an eerie feeling invading the moment and everyone in our group was visibly uncomfortable and very moved. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After the crematoriums, we walked into one of the gas chambers just outside of the camp. As many pictures and movies I have seen of what the gas chambers looked like, walking through one where thousands of people perished was an experience I will never forget. Walking through it, I was able to see how big they actually are and where the holes in the roof were to drop the<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zyklon_B"> Zyklon B</a>. It's hard to put into words the overwhelming grief and heartache I experienced during the time I stood inside that crematorium and next to the remains of the gas chambers. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We were told the biggest gas chambers were bombed by the retreating Nazis towards the end of the war in an effort to eliminate evidence of the mass murders that occurred at the camp. When I asked why these remains were untouched, our guide replied "Because they are a grave", referring to the fact that the piles of "ruble" contain many of the victims' remains which are considered sacred. She said this camp is the biggest "open grave" because even the ground visitors walk on is made up of human remains. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrHiLmZn61gv2M4V2FOll9NtKdeQ87sAlqRF3Prw0cqu8DdAcDlFsmaMaRl86kPqYx_Y1Sxng4bQPVgM86kYlf3rE4xMUfJd3GlIbaFDLNlN9j8F0oE4rNPrpBTOOPVX967BVt7GlTsstRXCB3G8xHKBtRWVnxEzm10wKVX7zZKHI5DLo-HgNJUhLi/s4032/IMG_2765.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrHiLmZn61gv2M4V2FOll9NtKdeQ87sAlqRF3Prw0cqu8DdAcDlFsmaMaRl86kPqYx_Y1Sxng4bQPVgM86kYlf3rE4xMUfJd3GlIbaFDLNlN9j8F0oE4rNPrpBTOOPVX967BVt7GlTsstRXCB3G8xHKBtRWVnxEzm10wKVX7zZKHI5DLo-HgNJUhLi/w400-h300/IMG_2765.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguibrFV3Pch9kDC-8sWcVla5SquOG0x-T3ZdjQ28m097HwZZ0876d5sRQjrPBcuzZHZYHLBZuPGwl_zoYzO7Q4_kNjNgs_F0I3G5q4Sk5vdN9ytKrZtCmD6yepu0vuOQYwvHztnRof7tK7OZC1TnO3Tw6JVy92eF4BwUU9EIUi9f_VjN_VxmpBthpp/s4032/IMG_2856.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguibrFV3Pch9kDC-8sWcVla5SquOG0x-T3ZdjQ28m097HwZZ0876d5sRQjrPBcuzZHZYHLBZuPGwl_zoYzO7Q4_kNjNgs_F0I3G5q4Sk5vdN9ytKrZtCmD6yepu0vuOQYwvHztnRof7tK7OZC1TnO3Tw6JVy92eF4BwUU9EIUi9f_VjN_VxmpBthpp/w400-h300/IMG_2856.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>- <u>The Room of Hair:</u><div><u><br /></u></div><div>This room was, WITHOUT a doubt, the HARDEST part for me; the most emotional and disgusting at the same time. The room was originally used as a storage space for the camp’s belongings, but after the war, it was discovered that the Nazis had been collecting the hair of prisoners as part of their grotesque experimentation and dehumanization efforts.</div><div>The prisoners of Auschwitz had their entire body cut and shaved when entering the camp, often told that it was done for hygienic purposes; for other victims, their heads were shaved after they were killed in the gas chamber. It turns out that some of the hair was found to have been used to create textiles, such as blankets and carpets, for the Nazi army and at times even to make the uniforms that the very same prisoners wore. </div><div>The room of hair houses large heaps equaling a total of 7 tons of human hair, that were found in bags after the camps were liberated. Walking through the darkly lit room, and seeing the piles of hair was something that simply took my breath away. Even decades after the Holocaust, these piles of hair remain there as a reminder of the atrocities that once plagued humanity and a memory of the millions of lives lost during one of the biggest tragedies in history. </div><div>For obvious reasons, I did not take any photos in this room; I was incredibly grief-stricken and the pain was too much to bear. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The last part of our tour took us around a memorial that features plaques in all the languages spoken by the victims of Auschwitz-Birkenau (19 total) with an inscription calling for reflection and mourning and most importantly a warning for humanity to never forget this happened. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWANW-Ya3GFjWP16J0plBoLtulYvDsAMnUij67yyJv391-IBKHff5gC_SMgJo0yFtJcMFRXPez4VxV5pibqnaJSchDi91-tt2BUX6CLzEzIF-ddbdz16D8_ggEd15T5cMMtPD_3XnaDR2c8cHm8P56-TrlGxl70IP-4p0_pJ66XXve73PgsN-ApceM/s4032/IMG_2854.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWANW-Ya3GFjWP16J0plBoLtulYvDsAMnUij67yyJv391-IBKHff5gC_SMgJo0yFtJcMFRXPez4VxV5pibqnaJSchDi91-tt2BUX6CLzEzIF-ddbdz16D8_ggEd15T5cMMtPD_3XnaDR2c8cHm8P56-TrlGxl70IP-4p0_pJ66XXve73PgsN-ApceM/w400-h300/IMG_2854.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It is extremely difficult to fully describe the profound impact this visit had on me. It's amazing to see how much a person can change by approaching these horrific stories with empathy and how much we can learn and grow even from the darkest things. There are many more stories and many more things to tell about this concentration camp but there will never be enough words to convey how much this experience touched my heart. Would I do it again? Probably not! But I am glad I did and it is a memory that I will cherish forever. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thank you for reading! Now let's keep on changing the world by thanking God for each blessing at a time and sharing the goodness with others!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Happy Blogging!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><br /></div>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-40688437849602625482023-04-22T12:44:00.005-04:002023-04-24T21:52:42.115-04:00Auschwitz-Birkenau: A life changing experience (Part 1)<p> I am pretty confident that when someone is planning a European vacation (or any kind of vacation), visiting a former Holocaust concentration camp is not at the top of the list. One may think that it can be very somber and even morbid to visit such places and my own husband stated at one point that he wasn't "too sure" about monetizing a place of tragedy. All those things can be valid reasons to stay away from this type of "tourism" but I am here to tell you that putting those reasons aside is something to consider. </p><p>Our visit to the Auschwitz-Birkenau camp was an absolutely life-changing experience, one that I will treasure forever and will intentionally use to become a better person, to ensure that a tragedy of such proportions and its consequences are never forgotten, and most importantly to be ever aware of the number of blessings that I receive on a daily basis, even the smallest things like a cup of water or a chair to sit on, that often go unnoticed.</p><p>Let's start by talking about how to get to the <a href="https://www.auschwitz.org/en/">Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial and Museum.</a> The camp is located about 45 miles from Krakow, one of the largest cities in Poland. It is easy to reach by car or train and the trip there is about an hour long. We took a train at the Krakow Central Station and paid 30 PLN per person (about $7) for the round trip (Krakow-Oświęcim-Krakow); the train is very comfortable and the traveling experience was very smooth.</p><p> Once there, we walked for 20 minutes to the concentration camp. There isn't really much to see in this town or on that walk so you can always opt for a quick taxi/Uber ride to the memorial instead, which takes about 4 minutes and costs less than $8.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDGsSKXL2Bb6WCYubXGSH_VkfqhG0QP-uM1gh0JxzxG64GXA4JOrcBDVrgr9FBSXGclDaJhn9GGH54CUZvf2OhZcRdHZ7STnGe3I9kvfQc7s4hLtyHK3E3kiaE89B5cfJI8kkX8VZ0Ib-Kc62bbBVV-wImsOQhSwgXMcFCF1DfW8UAyA1SXURSeoHd/s4032/IMG_2783.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDGsSKXL2Bb6WCYubXGSH_VkfqhG0QP-uM1gh0JxzxG64GXA4JOrcBDVrgr9FBSXGclDaJhn9GGH54CUZvf2OhZcRdHZ7STnGe3I9kvfQc7s4hLtyHK3E3kiaE89B5cfJI8kkX8VZ0Ib-Kc62bbBVV-wImsOQhSwgXMcFCF1DfW8UAyA1SXURSeoHd/w400-h300/IMG_2783.heic" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Ym7-xQbmdCdm2yrg36b1Cm9GHqrjgTbA-oZZx3YYdBoKq_RW0uMXWMpnYX7YhpSyCdfp5Y5yZmlgojfMkgORnZHnw4VDTQ0SrfpevW1NI5Csxakpoge2ikwmkf_7OCzpDsK7aKTkPLiVxDucRlPX5ff1G65PYoTkLWXGmg0t-pOmR4oMqyq2-AdQ/s4032/IMG_2784.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Ym7-xQbmdCdm2yrg36b1Cm9GHqrjgTbA-oZZx3YYdBoKq_RW0uMXWMpnYX7YhpSyCdfp5Y5yZmlgojfMkgORnZHnw4VDTQ0SrfpevW1NI5Csxakpoge2ikwmkf_7OCzpDsK7aKTkPLiVxDucRlPX5ff1G65PYoTkLWXGmg0t-pOmR4oMqyq2-AdQ/w400-h300/IMG_2784.heic" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>Tickets must be reserved ahead of time and they cost 90 PLN per person (about $21). The place can only be visited with a guide and the tour is offered in several languages (Polish, Italian, Spanish, Russian, English, German, and French). Visitors are allowed to enter up to 30 minutes before the scheduled reservation, which allows time to go through security checks, claim your set of headphones, and watch an introductory movie about the story of Auschwitz-Birkenau. Our guide (Beata) was very punctual, friendly, and incredibly knowledgeable; she also stated during our visit that some of her family members had survived the concentration camp so her narration was very relatable and heartfelt. </p><p>The following are some of the areas/things that stood out to me the most:</p><p>- <u>The Main Gate</u>: </p><p><b>Arbeit macht frei</b> is a German phrase meaning "Work sets you free" or "Work makes one free". This phrase could be found at the entrance of Auschwitz and other Nazi concentration camps. It seemed to suggest that there was a way out, when in reality, entering the concentration camp was a death sentence for most. </p><p>Walking through that gate moved me in ways that are hard to describe. As soon as I saw the iconic gate, I choked up and couldn't hold back the tears; the thought of millions of innocent people of all ages having walked through that very same gate with their fate unbeknownst to them is probably one of the saddest things that has crossed my mind. And this was only the beginnig of the tour...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGw1X_ocdNQTf97mdVYd7uFkg6N-i_ItmM0PefKOpwthiWsCNN0GZenp3uvVznQxFaCJ64I-zk78XizdVq9A6TSWnai4pGb51xKW7LD8EGZALb7AebL0KzP001YPAGgPinFVx10NgytG3fM8VkddMAQKOvEPZZ4UnHPXOmXQ2ZvLN1tgdg5WMcAc8w/s4032/IMG_2799.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGw1X_ocdNQTf97mdVYd7uFkg6N-i_ItmM0PefKOpwthiWsCNN0GZenp3uvVznQxFaCJ64I-zk78XizdVq9A6TSWnai4pGb51xKW7LD8EGZALb7AebL0KzP001YPAGgPinFVx10NgytG3fM8VkddMAQKOvEPZZ4UnHPXOmXQ2ZvLN1tgdg5WMcAc8w/w300-h400/IMG_2799.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p>- <u>The "Shoe Room"</u>: </p><p>Among the many exhibitions found at the memorial, there is a special room called the Shoe Room, where visitors can see a huge pile of the victims' shoes behind a glass pane. It is estimated that over 100K pairs of shoes of all sizes are kept in that room. This room had a profound impact on the three of us and it was incredible to see how even normal everyday items like shoes can trigger such deep emotions of grief and even anger. Seeing the details on some of those shoes brought the tragey of the Holocaust to another level for me. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgahCZ6yg1RbAX8oNsMf1ccNrlzKCTnbcZaaS5JvBLVd0sJAWUeaqqIAaNVBiKuL35_jMNGva5PrYmI7LohmmrnR-KLf93VnWhyidmkXXJTp5GwtZ8Jz_PyPMiXM4grNpdgo38ncFSMa9estniutHJH8GG5psJpa-El2SOMmW9FwPkqKH3j2ArGzfzs/s4032/IMG_2738.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgahCZ6yg1RbAX8oNsMf1ccNrlzKCTnbcZaaS5JvBLVd0sJAWUeaqqIAaNVBiKuL35_jMNGva5PrYmI7LohmmrnR-KLf93VnWhyidmkXXJTp5GwtZ8Jz_PyPMiXM4grNpdgo38ncFSMa9estniutHJH8GG5psJpa-El2SOMmW9FwPkqKH3j2ArGzfzs/w400-h300/IMG_2738.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- <u>The Suitcases</u>:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Before they were taken to the concentration camps to die, many of the victims were told they would resettle in Eastern Europe and were advised to pack their most precious possesions into suitcases. The unsuspecting victims wrote their names on said suitcases which contained treasured items, believing that at some point they would be returned to them. Most of the contents of those suitcases were stolen by Nazi soldiers and sent back to Germany to be divided as war spoils; the victims never saw their treasures again. Now those ownerless suitcases are packed in piles in a room behind a glass pane and they serve as a reminder of lives lost. Another very moving exhibit that opened my eyes to the unsurmountable evil that humanity is capable of. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiilx-ODxX7wCV4CsO7JQHCOnsGGYKwNIbuTzvEW0MXcxGyEld5I7Sktl--ZRflI0lhjAJfexmpvS2n77i_KxPdLTyVDdZiXnjXS4HGQkH6_cLBnkGRGZXTGSm-bcYIiOVY8Y2-cL4Gpm8CLkoiQh8lZbbxyS_ZSap2CSgeppifJuvcz6H29r9oDKwY/s4032/IMG_2741.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiilx-ODxX7wCV4CsO7JQHCOnsGGYKwNIbuTzvEW0MXcxGyEld5I7Sktl--ZRflI0lhjAJfexmpvS2n77i_KxPdLTyVDdZiXnjXS4HGQkH6_cLBnkGRGZXTGSm-bcYIiOVY8Y2-cL4Gpm8CLkoiQh8lZbbxyS_ZSap2CSgeppifJuvcz6H29r9oDKwY/w400-h300/IMG_2741.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIE1ZlJkgYJWeosy7spmUKcEKc3YVgWLRw9GaDloda_PviAVEhv39hhoS1thq-2S9LH5OesbZOKgIH2lhVB9ksbU9Inqi8jeLiiaF8qFpers2y0e_AXmO-kgmjNCJ7YnLCZ2pMM4DeNrT_9G6U4T1Yk7WlMztgUjplDm6TepyRr6l7uhe7_Qn9qyut/s4032/IMG_2826.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIE1ZlJkgYJWeosy7spmUKcEKc3YVgWLRw9GaDloda_PviAVEhv39hhoS1thq-2S9LH5OesbZOKgIH2lhVB9ksbU9Inqi8jeLiiaF8qFpers2y0e_AXmO-kgmjNCJ7YnLCZ2pMM4DeNrT_9G6U4T1Yk7WlMztgUjplDm6TepyRr6l7uhe7_Qn9qyut/w300-h400/IMG_2826.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- <u>Glasses and Prosthetics</u>:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Heaps of eye glasses and prosthetics taken from Auschwitz victims can be found in another one of the main exhibits at the memorial. These harrowing imagery evokes the tragey which saw more than 1.2 million people perish at that site and it is such a sad thing to see. I took the time to observe some of these items and take in some details that gave life to my thoughts. I experienced a deep sense of sorrow and (strangely) a sense of guilt for so many innocent victims. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwDXjOW5R4XzRcmShNKaPDt9EmrrSiexL5BKu3PiJ5WyL43OtPJe9PjjWniZtb9Lc1Dv1fDB8kriS7xCpqAuAqF9DiLyPMHafXmUSbBu1X_3F0uAvvh114m-7g9kl4o4yYycLXmP85OfPeUaz1Uc-MkM8U5abjdINby32GFVZDkBk_3jPQuDWUSlqr/s4032/IMG_2729.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwDXjOW5R4XzRcmShNKaPDt9EmrrSiexL5BKu3PiJ5WyL43OtPJe9PjjWniZtb9Lc1Dv1fDB8kriS7xCpqAuAqF9DiLyPMHafXmUSbBu1X_3F0uAvvh114m-7g9kl4o4yYycLXmP85OfPeUaz1Uc-MkM8U5abjdINby32GFVZDkBk_3jPQuDWUSlqr/w400-h300/IMG_2729.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCvdj-z057jxZbouYUsytm-vJK7zL8JCRMHruUpnxRJ-oLKaHzu6WE5qPqzrfXu-Qe7d8hrTvtRhBN39LmNH9kM-8WLaDE7VRZ-q9LRhvMZCi_oF_a9hOl5KlpplKWkRfI3hOsdMBysyjSOy14KGnTWiIhZu7BzxHplS2ix_zQ5pcZIq5VDTjVbfdF/s4032/IMG_2731.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCvdj-z057jxZbouYUsytm-vJK7zL8JCRMHruUpnxRJ-oLKaHzu6WE5qPqzrfXu-Qe7d8hrTvtRhBN39LmNH9kM-8WLaDE7VRZ-q9LRhvMZCi_oF_a9hOl5KlpplKWkRfI3hOsdMBysyjSOy14KGnTWiIhZu7BzxHplS2ix_zQ5pcZIq5VDTjVbfdF/w400-h300/IMG_2731.heic" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- <u>The Death Wall</u>:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Between Block 10 and Block 11 stands the old "Death Wall" (reconstructed after the war) where thousands of prisoners were lined up for execution by firing squad. Prisoners were killed by SS men with a shot to the base of the skull from a small‑bore weapon. After the execution, the corpses were taken to the crematorium. The wall is made of a soft material to avoid richochet from the fired bullets. It is estimated that thousands of prisoners were executed in cold blood agains that wall. It is now a memorial of incredibly somber proportions and it is one of the spots where I broke down during our visit. This is a place of prayer, mourning and deep self-reflection. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBwUTBgr2M5YRb7BuMmzix3mCPQ7_Al2vjFDmydNpnJwMWFOsJ2OBduaoDWquV751pLOLGstUn8qsXodMTOS5Me1tCWHqrroSnd2YFRhmVd-dottHakVSrAY436zWfNSOUQHP9a-AarDJAKzkEWZz9jMTmrqs9zq3V1w-VRyW9sh4qulhStVHXSqM0/s4032/IMG_2753.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBwUTBgr2M5YRb7BuMmzix3mCPQ7_Al2vjFDmydNpnJwMWFOsJ2OBduaoDWquV751pLOLGstUn8qsXodMTOS5Me1tCWHqrroSnd2YFRhmVd-dottHakVSrAY436zWfNSOUQHP9a-AarDJAKzkEWZz9jMTmrqs9zq3V1w-VRyW9sh4qulhStVHXSqM0/w300-h400/IMG_2753.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It has been 10 days since our visit to Auschwitz-Birkenau and the truth is that I am still processing everything I saw and everything I lived while on the grounds. The visit changed me in ways that I'm still trying to figure out. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In the interest of not making this blog post unbearably long, I will divide the story in two parts (more if necessary). I hope sharing this experience can incite some reflection amongst my readers and friends so that we can all collectively change our way of thinking, our way of thanking and eventually become better people overall. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">To be continued...</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-14584025833278774702023-03-01T21:51:00.001-05:002023-03-01T21:59:14.028-05:00Living with intention<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's crazy to think that it's already March 2023 and the last time I sat down to blog was 5 months ago. I promise it's not for lack of ideas but rather lack of time; life has a way of "getting in the way" of this leisurely stuff that I enjoy so much and I probably haven't made the best effort to carve out the time to do it either. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But the other day Oliver (of all people) asked me if he could read my blog and proceeded to "demand" that I tell more stories so he could practice his reading. Funny, I know, but also cute because he seems genuinely interested in what his mom has to say, so I will oblige...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Ever since 2023 started (and probably way before that), I have set out to <b>LIVE WITH INTENTION</b>, which basically means living a better-balanced life, full of meaning and purpose. It means choosing activities that are engaging and worthwhile and especially activities that would make me a better person. I got tired of wasting so much time on mindless activities and being on auto-pilot; at some point I felt like I was "done" with the lack of self-awareness and with making unconscious choices, from the things I said to the things I ate, to the people I befriended, and so on. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But "Living with Intention" also means saying "no" to things and to people. It means putting yourself first in situations where others used to be first. It means rejecting ideas and plans that don't add positivity to your life, it means changing, it means growing. And growth can be painful, growth can be tedious, and it can be isolating because it forces you to leave behind old habits, comfort zones, and even friendships.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">In late November last year we took a family trip to Portugal and I found myself immersed in the peaceful landscapes that country has to offer It was a trip with no set itinerary and no expectations, but more of a wanderlust vibe, where no one was waiting, no on was rushing, we were just there! Surprisingly enough, the relaxed nature of that trip opened my eyes to my own flaws, my own intention-less attitude at times, my lack of intensity and purpose and I realized living with intention matters and that's how I always want to live, enjoying the little things and being PRESENT. (I will blog about this amazing trip soon)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Some of the things I must do to LIVE WITH INTENTION and the questions I ask myself are as follows:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><ul><li style="text-align: left;"><b><u>Choose activities that matter</u></b>: How am I spending my time? Am I keeping my beliefs, values and priorities in check? Are the activities I do serving a positive purpose in my life? What's most important to me? What do I want out of life?</li><li style="text-align: left;"><u style="font-weight: bold;">Work toward betterment</u>: Am I on a path of self-improvement and personal growth? What can I do to be a better person? Personal growth requires intention, work and understanding. Am I asking God to hold my hand when I'm weak? Am I praying enough? Am I prioritizing myself in difficult situations?</li><li style="text-align: left;"><u style="font-weight: bold;">Enjoy the moment</u>: This is a big one for me, especially because I am a mom and have a tendency to "rush" through things, often missing the little moments because... stuff! I have been making an intentional effort, for example, at taking less photos and experiecing more moments instead. Being more mindful of the present moments has helped me increase my self-awareness, build stronger relationships and decrease stress and worry. This requires A LOT of effort, but I am willing to keep working on this because I don't want to regret not enjoying the little things. </li><li style="text-align: left;"><u style="font-weight: bold;">Strive for balance</u>: Am I working toward balance and overall wellness? Am I caring for all areas of my life the same? Am I spending too much time on some things and too little on others? Taking the time to get re-centered has been the main goal for me this year. I have put "time limits" on some of my phone apps, distanced myself from social media and consciously decided to share less of my life on the internet. It does the soul good to keep some things private!</li><li style="text-align: left;"><u style="font-weight: bold;">Make a difference</u>: Am I doing enough for others? Am I giving back to the community? Am I being sensitive to others' needs? Am I using my God-given talents to make the world a better place? Helpful actions toward others is always beneficial to one's mental wellbeing. There is something magical about helping others and giving of my time to make a difference but I always question whether I'm doing enough or I'm doing too much and that goes back to finding that balance I know I need. </li></ul><div style="text-align: left;">These and many other things are part of my "goals" and self-reflection this year. I know that living<span style="text-align: center;"> with intention can lead to have more passion, more focus and more attention to our actions, which can enrich the experience and our life in general. That's who I want to be! How about you?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">These are some photos from that Portugal trip I mentioned. These are snippets of the "little things" I enjoyed BIG when doing things with intention. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg84cdc6f_AMkcm2ey4GffggX06nZJTvMf04hjFzxolVPCdfVpttPYOj7K20XYMhWqaO7npPtyC-ZVXn8-7UvJ1_PNjf1pdgel21t-YG13-P05LqJbFjS0zxU-5rQ9Se5kxXw46Z9uihcp5F32SpAZG3KKBPgKyovbvgkIHN4digOAgzldk_NpBAXwE/s4032/IMG_5917.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg84cdc6f_AMkcm2ey4GffggX06nZJTvMf04hjFzxolVPCdfVpttPYOj7K20XYMhWqaO7npPtyC-ZVXn8-7UvJ1_PNjf1pdgel21t-YG13-P05LqJbFjS0zxU-5rQ9Se5kxXw46Z9uihcp5F32SpAZG3KKBPgKyovbvgkIHN4digOAgzldk_NpBAXwE/w300-h400/IMG_5917.HEIC" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8-6A3NKP9pfuBBjq3S-THdDQiZySouj6mu8VyJe_MdTl7f7fLpmlx2wFoFTM5yEwHfgNxsHSA5kMPAwJXu_MXEPTtuPox8ZKpUBap_7ZW3vs8e-tef1UHcatWtqFvfjRGuveWTAKif2KzzLD5fItVbzAtdVzd2_hiiCUePYa8iMr75zKzbsS7v98W/s4032/IMG_5430.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8-6A3NKP9pfuBBjq3S-THdDQiZySouj6mu8VyJe_MdTl7f7fLpmlx2wFoFTM5yEwHfgNxsHSA5kMPAwJXu_MXEPTtuPox8ZKpUBap_7ZW3vs8e-tef1UHcatWtqFvfjRGuveWTAKif2KzzLD5fItVbzAtdVzd2_hiiCUePYa8iMr75zKzbsS7v98W/w300-h400/IMG_5430.heic" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJibafJFntAta6inTzRqRxCmP5UVNqmGoyaGVpeb7u0QTaIetGKgnu3hocpcexVN97VXFTv_zeBxkqdbE0wqD2L1voDG4vg1VsrbB-HCWjBAAt9LvCBj3dGIa3e3X5AexZouW7axFrP1v8jdWwGe-gW7aAb-sYMUHkOTC4nWJccszdAWDaek_2XVkn/s4032/IMG_5651.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJibafJFntAta6inTzRqRxCmP5UVNqmGoyaGVpeb7u0QTaIetGKgnu3hocpcexVN97VXFTv_zeBxkqdbE0wqD2L1voDG4vg1VsrbB-HCWjBAAt9LvCBj3dGIa3e3X5AexZouW7axFrP1v8jdWwGe-gW7aAb-sYMUHkOTC4nWJccszdAWDaek_2XVkn/w400-h300/IMG_5651.heic" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkzfmslFfZQkr3QngYT0OUcwHkkOZUiTqHV70tDHFq7q5ccrY4pPHE_i6nPI8rGxh4ojRJft5KYQnPjFvzYFCPjpMbzTZNO6deYPFLui1i6lZIPPF0Oz2dCW81KcRJFl9wGkcXAf96KAeHgAhLvy9sw_rsYeQ5yE0u7MjHqqeme_cfAt3jsXEoKdH_/s4032/IMG_5504_jpg.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkzfmslFfZQkr3QngYT0OUcwHkkOZUiTqHV70tDHFq7q5ccrY4pPHE_i6nPI8rGxh4ojRJft5KYQnPjFvzYFCPjpMbzTZNO6deYPFLui1i6lZIPPF0Oz2dCW81KcRJFl9wGkcXAf96KAeHgAhLvy9sw_rsYeQ5yE0u7MjHqqeme_cfAt3jsXEoKdH_/w300-h400/IMG_5504_jpg.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-13350401037364304602022-10-02T18:45:00.003-04:002022-10-02T18:56:12.869-04:00Oliver is 7!<p> My little buddy turned 7 last week and I couldn't let his birthday pass without a nod on my blog. Even though I no longer write as often as I'd like, Oliver turning another year is definitely worth a post. <br /></p><p>Oliver is, without a doubt, an amazing son and a precious gift from God. Ever since he came into our lives, we have had nothing but wonderful things to say about him. He is such a gentle soul, so loving and affectionate, always giving so much of himself to make others happy. At the ripe age of 7, Oliver understands the power of a hug or a kind word and he is always looking for ways to make our day. </p><p>He loves Math and even though he's just in first grade, he already does multiplication and even some division; he will be a math wiz in due time and I could not be prouder. He is also a great reader although he insists reading is not his forte. He enjoys drawing, watching TV, cracking jokes, playing baseball, and spending time with his friends. </p><p>Oliver is going through a hard-core Hot Wheels stage and probably has more cars and tracks than we can count. He spends hours on end arranging his car collection, doing car races, and towing his cars around, such a boy! He also loves Ryan's World toys and spends a lot of time trying to convince me that all those toys are SO educational...ha!</p><p>For his birthday this year, Oliver requested an "all boy" birthday party, so we invited all of his guy friends to play bowling and had a celebration there; they all had such a blast. After his bowling party, we invited our close family to cut a second cake at home; Oliver was thrilled to have everyone together to celebrate him; he really does love to be surrounded by loved ones and that's what makes him such a family boy; I love that about him!</p><p>To top off his celebration, I brought cupcakes to school the day after his birthday and all of first grade sang "Happy Birthday" to him at lunchtime, it was so cute. He's so lucky to be loved by so many people and we are absolutely blessed to have a son like him. <br /></p><p>I pray that Oliver is always as happy as he is now, that God gives him a long and healthy life and that we get to enjoy watching him grow up and share his joy with the world. </p><p>Happy Birthday, buddy! We loved you endlessly! </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIuxX5T9Mm0YM2OeyST3z7etbGpli3Ew57iLVGoLm1OzAApSpfFXpQPENK7e6wTO0Z2-keazRLD8XYas_GtRN6Xy0XjqphOTbvtRw81BEhklrXBgYyPYibK51MvudKeNF_qykQCoq10xSrAm9m_ufwCJ8r6Nq-oGwLGH7klXHmLnozBnrVlOvRHD2V/s4032/IMG_2688.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIuxX5T9Mm0YM2OeyST3z7etbGpli3Ew57iLVGoLm1OzAApSpfFXpQPENK7e6wTO0Z2-keazRLD8XYas_GtRN6Xy0XjqphOTbvtRw81BEhklrXBgYyPYibK51MvudKeNF_qykQCoq10xSrAm9m_ufwCJ8r6Nq-oGwLGH7klXHmLnozBnrVlOvRHD2V/w300-h400/IMG_2688.heic" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUezN2t-O9ftRVoMKujSghQL-Mf2NC4HuXy8uQNtS3E-yY-ZuEiShIOTAqwiluAxOqQTNaKJe4tAJJe5ta6SPFhNePtBxRhgNr7_GTk47SBnHSU0-86PZCSMV6XbsGnd14n63IMCQpgR7N3e2FyttkKP9sqM7OMwB3H2RCGbPWn4KRjVLZ2Uwl4XTd/s1800/B788A158-13CF-46CE-AC6A-607B7ACCDAA5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUezN2t-O9ftRVoMKujSghQL-Mf2NC4HuXy8uQNtS3E-yY-ZuEiShIOTAqwiluAxOqQTNaKJe4tAJJe5ta6SPFhNePtBxRhgNr7_GTk47SBnHSU0-86PZCSMV6XbsGnd14n63IMCQpgR7N3e2FyttkKP9sqM7OMwB3H2RCGbPWn4KRjVLZ2Uwl4XTd/w320-h400/B788A158-13CF-46CE-AC6A-607B7ACCDAA5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpvzSuE04iZo_MPh-rEtHVkvBqlQh9Y1vqtZFB2HO9vfKjL36eE6Y8eMM9kLBID7NxoXjia9JOCFqffFvctq2KSNNlW7ask1d_wHfGSKvaUqOwP1dKX3csDakOwdlVG895lfG4I7J5dMY-BttOYxAbZHRBHGJK3dFoJpRWx-2qsM66YRHHaw7G8mOt/s4032/IMG_2775.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpvzSuE04iZo_MPh-rEtHVkvBqlQh9Y1vqtZFB2HO9vfKjL36eE6Y8eMM9kLBID7NxoXjia9JOCFqffFvctq2KSNNlW7ask1d_wHfGSKvaUqOwP1dKX3csDakOwdlVG895lfG4I7J5dMY-BttOYxAbZHRBHGJK3dFoJpRWx-2qsM66YRHHaw7G8mOt/w300-h400/IMG_2775.heic" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-86081643939323039812022-07-20T13:18:00.008-04:002022-07-20T13:24:42.403-04:0013 & 15<p>It's always bittersweet to watch your kids grow up; one day they are tiny babies that need you for everything and then you blink and they are their own person with opinions pretending they don't need you for anything. But such is life...and to me, that's what parenting is all about, trusting that whatever you teach your kids throughout their developing years, will be enough for them to get through what life will throw their way. </p><p>The idea of having two teenagers at home was always scary to me; when I became a mom 15 years ago, I dreaded the teenage years and felt intimidated by the sole thought of it. But as time goes on and as my girls grow older, I realize that there is much to learn in this stage of life, and as scary as it may sound (and it still does!), it's a time to be cherished and enjoyed. </p><p>In honor of their recent birthdays, I will dedicate a few words to each of my girls. </p><p><u style="font-weight: bold;">Gaby:</u> she turned 13 on July 16th! There is much to be said about Gaby; she is probably the sweetest out of my 3 children and also the one with the most walls around her. She expresses her love and cares for others in a very particular way; she's affectionate on her own terms and definitely likes to have her own space but she also craves hugs and attention. </p><p>Gaby has very specific interests; she loves history and is a fan of the English monarchy (Queen Elizabeth is her "bestie"), she knows all the details of the Marvel universe, loves singing, enjoys art (specifically painting), and almost always has a dissenting view when it comes to controversial subjects. She is humble and giving and is never afraid to sacrifice herself for others. She is observant and even though I wouldn't call her "talkative", she does have strong opinions and isn't afraid to put them out there and she isn't easily persuaded. She doesn't like being in the spotlight and rarely smiles in pictures. </p><p>Gaby is a lover of cats, Disney, books, fantasy movies, comfy clothes, Converse shoes, Chick-fil-A, cold pizza, Greek mythology, Stranger Things and many other things that make her unique. I am so thankful to have a daughter like Gaby and I pray daily for her health, happiness and success in everything she does! I love you, Gaby! I can't believe you're a teenager! </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRyGGGGnUq03Ht24qbBiUQGL1K0eaaBxGPcZX2VsFFr3g3bYASzgiz5V9hrNV5T3T01OSHEpLHzztk6VXTIydHpdpLOWoYQTELIZU9i2WEXieS_tTfPCmlBK2zMAaUFJUj9X6gCev4W1JBJrVrpVzJqwzJehW09bjUfVvA4K-vtywShhVNIsWTDzwZ/s4032/IMG_0257.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRyGGGGnUq03Ht24qbBiUQGL1K0eaaBxGPcZX2VsFFr3g3bYASzgiz5V9hrNV5T3T01OSHEpLHzztk6VXTIydHpdpLOWoYQTELIZU9i2WEXieS_tTfPCmlBK2zMAaUFJUj9X6gCev4W1JBJrVrpVzJqwzJehW09bjUfVvA4K-vtywShhVNIsWTDzwZ/w300-h400/IMG_0257.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u style="font-weight: bold;">Olivia:</u> she turned 15 on July 17th! I'm never short of things to say about Olivia; she's quite the daughter and definitely gives me a run for my money (both figuratively and literally)...gosh does this girl love to shop! Olivia is definitely a "crowd pleaser", a social butterfly, and the most adventurous out of my 3 children! She isn't proactively affectionate but I know she does love hugs and cuddles, even though we have to beg her for it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She loves to be around people and is always making plans with friends and acquaintances; she loves sleeping but also can't sit still, a girl after her own mother!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Olivia enjoys traveling around the world and her destination bucket list is probably longer than mine; she knows about the lives of more celebrities than she cares to admit and loves to stalk people on social media. As opposed to Gaby, Olivia loves talking and is usually the life of the party (she's not bothered by it, either!).<br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Olivia is a lover of Harry Styles, fashion, music, make-up, manis and pedis, Indian food, Stranger Things, random memes, taking photos, and coming up with the next catchy caption for Instagram. She's also famous among her friends for being the best photo editor, a hobby she enjoys very much (Lightroom is her best friend!). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am also thankful to have a daughter like Olivia; she has taught me so many things and I continue to pray for her health, happiness, and success!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I love you, Olivia. Keep giving me headaches!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOXxtTzhOP2bjPAFOZ18eDqIaxQJRjaM6kbrZz05FZIEEDNYDuUh40b4DFaxLefWBE_z8gIjx7VWZelLwR7p1L3GoZRgn5WuMkMYFFZOvUQLcM4nVLamoXoI7t2DVDAGYKH-9jpieIWisHRATsCawGfNGvYwSCeCc5PZEZrXnPtAO9d9-4PG4uFUWS/s4032/IMG_3675.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOXxtTzhOP2bjPAFOZ18eDqIaxQJRjaM6kbrZz05FZIEEDNYDuUh40b4DFaxLefWBE_z8gIjx7VWZelLwR7p1L3GoZRgn5WuMkMYFFZOvUQLcM4nVLamoXoI7t2DVDAGYKH-9jpieIWisHRATsCawGfNGvYwSCeCc5PZEZrXnPtAO9d9-4PG4uFUWS/w300-h400/IMG_3675.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p></p>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-49535168117499520402022-07-14T00:15:00.000-04:002022-07-14T00:15:06.096-04:00Greece 2022: SantoriniThe third stop on our trip was Santorini, the most visited island in Greece and one that had been on my bucket list for a while. For some odd reason, I always had this dream of visiting this beautiful spot, famous for the pictures of the blue domes and unforgettable sunsets; so when planning our trip to Greece, Santorini was definitely a top choice.<div>After spending a few days in <a href="http://www.storiesofahappymom.com/2022/07/greece-2022-mykonos.html" target="_blank">Mykonos</a>, I will admit that my expectations of Santorini were lowered; I was not sure what to expect and I certainly wasn't confident that a few nice photo spots would be enough for Santorini to capture my heart. </div><div>I will start off by saying that in comparison to Mykonos, Santorini is a much calmer destination; it is known to the world as the "romance" island, great for lovers and honeymooners. </div><div>We arrived in Santorini by ferry boat, which was very smooth and very similar to our experience when traveling to Mykonos. I had already arranged our transportation to the hotel (strongly encouraged!) so we had one less headache to deal with. </div><div>We stayed in an area called <a href="https://www.santorini-view.com/perissa/" target="_blank">Perissa</a>, which is a village towards the south of the island. It is quite a bit far from Fira and Oia (the most famous spots in Santorini) but easily accessed via bus or private transport. Our hotel was called <a href="https://www.selladahotel-santorini.com/" target="_blank">Sellada Beach Hotel</a>, a boutique hotel located near <a href="https://www.kalimera-greece.eu/santorini-beaches/black-beach-santorini/" target="_blank">Black Beach</a>, a beautiful area very well suited for tourists looking to relax; I strongly recommend this area but it is important to note that it isn't as close to the capital (Fira) as some people would prefer (about 25 minutes south). </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_zYCAL-emGA0YlabBFkRL2JGs-Yun-kLL6MqkbUJlC3tnvdDUStLpyn4r6DtWBXNuMlE6dy9UZx6Y2NOUu9H1CCDk4VI48D6GAlXy2eRr_HhgcPa9rkyJyKf4ioa7-_ktdu--gwZfjq-lIBHdbNhWg9m2tbbhPwFkki7aD4LhgECDCdduY_yn6kr/s4032/IMG_2845.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_zYCAL-emGA0YlabBFkRL2JGs-Yun-kLL6MqkbUJlC3tnvdDUStLpyn4r6DtWBXNuMlE6dy9UZx6Y2NOUu9H1CCDk4VI48D6GAlXy2eRr_HhgcPa9rkyJyKf4ioa7-_ktdu--gwZfjq-lIBHdbNhWg9m2tbbhPwFkki7aD4LhgECDCdduY_yn6kr/s320/IMG_2845.HEIC" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYx4OBSwmTdtXoDRw3wQybUri4bWGBartz2m0OZBizOsroC5YDl11A76nn890AerUsWR_DSeCRkBkxatnRg2wwf8Qn8NTCeL-cvtWlU-YNjShcVtlKgSKPLV-kZcQHj4BqArIIqnYL5j9DnGm30wy6JN5fN2lfB8USIk3SIvORKBgWOJFAwS14jDCP/s4032/IMG_2867.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYx4OBSwmTdtXoDRw3wQybUri4bWGBartz2m0OZBizOsroC5YDl11A76nn890AerUsWR_DSeCRkBkxatnRg2wwf8Qn8NTCeL-cvtWlU-YNjShcVtlKgSKPLV-kZcQHj4BqArIIqnYL5j9DnGm30wy6JN5fN2lfB8USIk3SIvORKBgWOJFAwS14jDCP/s320/IMG_2867.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKZEqzKEduwvGf4oh2PJeLKo12Wufxk8ktAL2F_3BiSGmEAxaOlVqfINNp6LasFHL-i_5XieUX-xHzlFUaxwBJFOSDKG_ZwnT5j4p_G_vfK6giFzARmEvBPQGI_qQ7bbncf3hWHtKlalEknw3Tjf1gcRRvJSLZQed9bVAKPTEYjVnqQSD_jkAuMxB9/s4032/IMG_2875.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKZEqzKEduwvGf4oh2PJeLKo12Wufxk8ktAL2F_3BiSGmEAxaOlVqfINNp6LasFHL-i_5XieUX-xHzlFUaxwBJFOSDKG_ZwnT5j4p_G_vfK6giFzARmEvBPQGI_qQ7bbncf3hWHtKlalEknw3Tjf1gcRRvJSLZQed9bVAKPTEYjVnqQSD_jkAuMxB9/s320/IMG_2875.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Some of my observations about Santorini:</div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>It is a volcanic island so the beaches aren't the best: if you're after a beach vacation, this is NOT the island to visit; expect to see black/red sand and rocks, and cold water.</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGMalj989s5yqs_U4rG7QsDvBPg4MBllhu9EYldpvyu_pgI4JVI5PTaa2rg8l3cadIt358pnOZCOPHeozgglqq9n02rkFe9d0SuG3NYzbtLknStMXIC7x7rtHLrl2b1c1VQ9NbZpatyraECuyK0s5t7IH301N6yAbR3CCPvjRugF5pTflM3XN8MILa/s4032/IMG_2847.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGMalj989s5yqs_U4rG7QsDvBPg4MBllhu9EYldpvyu_pgI4JVI5PTaa2rg8l3cadIt358pnOZCOPHeozgglqq9n02rkFe9d0SuG3NYzbtLknStMXIC7x7rtHLrl2b1c1VQ9NbZpatyraECuyK0s5t7IH301N6yAbR3CCPvjRugF5pTflM3XN8MILa/w400-h300/IMG_2847.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Transportation is tricky: the island is very spread out but the main areas are very dense. Fira is the capital of the island and where the central bus terminal is located. Buses to the capital run on a very loose schedule so plan ahead. Renting a car is always an option but the roads are very rough, there aren't any traffic lights on the whole island and drivers are nuts!</li><li>The blue domes are far: the famous blue domes aren't in the capital but in Oia, an area towards the north of the island. Getting to Oia requires a 25-minute drive through some of the scariest roads, very close to steep cliffs and narrow paths. </li><li>Oia is a great place to watch the sunset but it is VERY crowded. It seems like everyone who goes to Santorini is after the same picture and while the drive to Oia is totally worth it, you must be prepared for crazy crowds around the part of the island, especially when the sun sets. </li><li>Santorini is less expensive than Mykonos, people are kinder and more fond of tourists and the pace is definitely more relaxed but be aware of CRAZY bus drivers. I was almost run over by a bus driver who basically ignored I was on the street and clipped the back of my shoe with the giant bus tire (a scary moment for sure!)</li></ul><div>Santorini definitely did not disappoint; it is a beautiful place with breathtaking sights and an incredible vibe. I still think it would be enough to see it as a cruise stop instead of an overnight stay, but I found it way more inviting than Mykonos. We spent 2 nights on the island and it was plenty of time to explore and enjoy everything it has to offer. There are incredible catamaran tours that take you around the whole island and are totally worth the time and the cost. </div></div><div>We left Santorini by plane and even though the airport is very small, it is easy to access and very organized; I liked it much better than the seaport. </div><div><br /></div><div>My recommendations for anyone thinking of visiting Santorini:</div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Schedule your airport/port transfer ahead of time: arriving in Santorini can be overwhelming so it's always best to have a transport plan to avoid the stress of feeling "lost".</li><li>Familiarize yourself with the bus routes and schedule: if you choose to move around by city bus, it is important to keep in mind that schedules aren't followed strictly and buses are scarce on weekends. </li><li>Wear comfortable shoes: Santorini's streets are very steep and very uneven so comfortable walking shoes are a must. </li><li>Familiarize yourself with the map of the island: like I stated before, the tourist spots are much more spread out than in Mykonos and other places in Greece. Distances are longer and therefore it takes more time to get from one spot to the other. </li></ul><div>All in all, Santorini definitely met my expectations. It is an amazingly beautiful place and I will forever cherish the time spent there. I hope to go back one day with the rest of my gang. Thank you, Santorini for a wonderful time!</div></div><div><br /></div><div>Some of my favorite Santorini photos:</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsYfulPThwnmj0quGdLVZd9SXnc7eTzpJxZQLZaO9HIZk_JJ5TgCnSkAoOo15mbcCqwqYdUvF_ge1yAhJb8ChQmvTGoPywkkzHVeS609pD6XD1yWVWfo-8TSoFRi1Ae6dRZa2Uq5_1hWWvzleesvySIZLRgVWapqz6OIY3K53nSVB_HXUsqYOjN2iQ/s4032/IMG_2757.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsYfulPThwnmj0quGdLVZd9SXnc7eTzpJxZQLZaO9HIZk_JJ5TgCnSkAoOo15mbcCqwqYdUvF_ge1yAhJb8ChQmvTGoPywkkzHVeS609pD6XD1yWVWfo-8TSoFRi1Ae6dRZa2Uq5_1hWWvzleesvySIZLRgVWapqz6OIY3K53nSVB_HXUsqYOjN2iQ/w400-h300/IMG_2757.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIBElkfeLWbNoFTBzQElrMyqI3ACuQepOEPc2zSPvp7BkAnHO-ogvDBZnDIGdQNmqnm69It4nEC4QmAA02MZIlJbbLgc6-HzwqgfpWZfGYUegBEn_wd_4C7csHNEccI1P_qvrc0sdMZEf-bOmdVeNdMknxbZWaCHB_szF0ZCT-NTkQhclo7pIiZDUL/s4032/IMG_2766.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIBElkfeLWbNoFTBzQElrMyqI3ACuQepOEPc2zSPvp7BkAnHO-ogvDBZnDIGdQNmqnm69It4nEC4QmAA02MZIlJbbLgc6-HzwqgfpWZfGYUegBEn_wd_4C7csHNEccI1P_qvrc0sdMZEf-bOmdVeNdMknxbZWaCHB_szF0ZCT-NTkQhclo7pIiZDUL/s320/IMG_2766.HEIC" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir5skGPy5Wt_6gntVQ5BBirJyffe-rZxiMrN4-wutnR_qKMLWDG5ATDjb4oDcnviC3dY9AxYzQMcU40q3aEJonFxHgMp1ByMnOuXrS6ycg_bDLKe0P-N9mH6aPctS2kzuz2UTLgIcX_L3xBwAc14j9uYLqa1JyA0IEAiaXGJDsrmOIHcQLhJSfxkBH/s4032/IMG_2771.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir5skGPy5Wt_6gntVQ5BBirJyffe-rZxiMrN4-wutnR_qKMLWDG5ATDjb4oDcnviC3dY9AxYzQMcU40q3aEJonFxHgMp1ByMnOuXrS6ycg_bDLKe0P-N9mH6aPctS2kzuz2UTLgIcX_L3xBwAc14j9uYLqa1JyA0IEAiaXGJDsrmOIHcQLhJSfxkBH/s320/IMG_2771.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1XOgGw04YZ6Dflh8K6uj8PqAiyxLxW72H2uCSbzNl-NnWCgisWPOdg_6RKzaxRESM4tYqRstbiUrqRRt8M4loYXkJvomCNrHeOQnLq1OaKVidh9sF6NtKpL-KOAltDxsF0fU_k7KIs0bXO4VT25SSL_jwLJYJXRDoiYS3nrPAHSQurVH9HeDoZmzZ/s4032/IMG_2791.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1XOgGw04YZ6Dflh8K6uj8PqAiyxLxW72H2uCSbzNl-NnWCgisWPOdg_6RKzaxRESM4tYqRstbiUrqRRt8M4loYXkJvomCNrHeOQnLq1OaKVidh9sF6NtKpL-KOAltDxsF0fU_k7KIs0bXO4VT25SSL_jwLJYJXRDoiYS3nrPAHSQurVH9HeDoZmzZ/s320/IMG_2791.HEIC" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMg6nskAqaU2ObNUCROxWDvQbZBKGRgfJfb_W09IZqB8L0RhAxHTM1Wtjo5kRMqShOhODfPPfou4xjGmZpyrK2flF35LA5K817vPfzs3_IlUQJdtYu3n8QR_z_1mSGbzPUGTmVnns1z0flP8SA8BB_Yyo-C_H46FbUA8naR_SBaV6Ei2RLV1MzI1yD/s4032/IMG_2809.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkNMsVKKPyi7zfX70CQY5znA52Hspuw_zViTuxTzghe32gHNgyxGJOqjsk7mopB2z_BSCYLq3Z23a4qupyjmsxcUCXwoXZl4aX09yUP0LtCibEl1dWLXr3vCOS6ttx-enwF1kAm8X7IzmU1E1HSmSDNq11YfsZBIh2I9ZBLbK0skc2b-jXEBAJX8PK/s4032/IMG_3022.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkNMsVKKPyi7zfX70CQY5znA52Hspuw_zViTuxTzghe32gHNgyxGJOqjsk7mopB2z_BSCYLq3Z23a4qupyjmsxcUCXwoXZl4aX09yUP0LtCibEl1dWLXr3vCOS6ttx-enwF1kAm8X7IzmU1E1HSmSDNq11YfsZBIh2I9ZBLbK0skc2b-jXEBAJX8PK/w400-h300/IMG_3022.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-40127343252407321242022-07-11T19:06:00.006-04:002022-07-11T19:39:53.772-04:00Greece 2022: Mykonos<p>Our second destination (and first island) was Mykonos, certainly a "dreamy" destination and one of the most visited islands in Greece.</p><p>Out of the many Greek islands, Mykonos is known as the “party island” and it definitely lives up to its reputation; there are parties all day, every day in Mykonos so it’s a popular destination for younger, care-free crowds looking for adventure and excitement. </p><p>MYKONOS:</p><p>We traveled to Mykonos by ferry boat and I found the experience to be less glamorous than I imagined. We used <a href="https://www.seajets.com/en/?gclid=Cj0KCQjwlK-WBhDjARIsAO2sErTIXPisax-kv4eQIdKxEM2qopecAGw29WACnFMP7gZXwWAeMeQyKmAaArqKEALw_wcB" target="_blank">SeaJets</a> ferries and reservations were simple and inexpensive; the ferry boats were comfortable and well maintained but it was hard not to feel like "cattle" when boarding and leaving the boat with the number of people on that port. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTA3aklkzzeydIz_Ae3m3QSLTQoALi7Db9hTEjrw0Sv_jhL_dkSDyNNdnw2ieg6UYZg0YUklRWfEDfxDpjBDZ6imEVwJgwShRsJs33T195AIPLW8QsSKsB4zE-N0XojamEkVAJaXlZK3ZXCT_mftdy9m49t0-Gn5ivjO2rldxuExi0qBWbMnso5Nv/s3840/6386E1D2-CE4A-4119-BF59-B03941F9388C.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="3840" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTA3aklkzzeydIz_Ae3m3QSLTQoALi7Db9hTEjrw0Sv_jhL_dkSDyNNdnw2ieg6UYZg0YUklRWfEDfxDpjBDZ6imEVwJgwShRsJs33T195AIPLW8QsSKsB4zE-N0XojamEkVAJaXlZK3ZXCT_mftdy9m49t0-Gn5ivjO2rldxuExi0qBWbMnso5Nv/w400-h225/6386E1D2-CE4A-4119-BF59-B03941F9388C.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWYVwEr64BFb5Mjpt5Mw2JvRvPnqKeGYN6yJe4AalWLtExKZwCFVCFqXXYoaf73IiNrfhAFjraynKQOjL8XsIZQHcursoyVqWA_HeTrvBz4jnvTXplVASRpScYkO9uODWKtZqp4nmC8vnUB9ASDKA8N7Wck5rp72xMrqfJp-bgZZCPV_zM4vpFmfMm/s4032/IMG_2342.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWYVwEr64BFb5Mjpt5Mw2JvRvPnqKeGYN6yJe4AalWLtExKZwCFVCFqXXYoaf73IiNrfhAFjraynKQOjL8XsIZQHcursoyVqWA_HeTrvBz4jnvTXplVASRpScYkO9uODWKtZqp4nmC8vnUB9ASDKA8N7Wck5rp72xMrqfJp-bgZZCPV_zM4vpFmfMm/w240-h320/IMG_2342.HEIC" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmLg4RZSIw_9Q5jmcxvuyMqry__hhDSLuOvNBPOvATYaanwvZsg2fbjt7V9Sg2Ku4tFzqvoxc7Oy9Aq5adoC-kd9DlqfDK00lu837aGMBe8xewTrc-pViJwWp94mvtFqZh3tlvVXe-5jA0xpH0ttVEVYN2kyV7HYrIfzFlSUH4b4PFqyH1FQ2i6kbe/s4032/IMG_2343.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmLg4RZSIw_9Q5jmcxvuyMqry__hhDSLuOvNBPOvATYaanwvZsg2fbjt7V9Sg2Ku4tFzqvoxc7Oy9Aq5adoC-kd9DlqfDK00lu837aGMBe8xewTrc-pViJwWp94mvtFqZh3tlvVXe-5jA0xpH0ttVEVYN2kyV7HYrIfzFlSUH4b4PFqyH1FQ2i6kbe/w240-h320/IMG_2343.HEIC" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQD1Wy57qgN9PeTdUOewmrnNvDWjjfIxzLeOPX2KAPvpS46s4inAlEbeMlqDYrr4ip8z9lL3hWHWotak38z-Zm1GYEjVpWEtk19fAHk1pVNqQ6I5S8AWd3cDy2UVoLFY2gbYrz8plvBCsaV2rB6edrPK8qTdppeIx71bzOOXfXhI4PZ-AyraKSY5zt/s4032/IMG_2349.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQD1Wy57qgN9PeTdUOewmrnNvDWjjfIxzLeOPX2KAPvpS46s4inAlEbeMlqDYrr4ip8z9lL3hWHWotak38z-Zm1GYEjVpWEtk19fAHk1pVNqQ6I5S8AWd3cDy2UVoLFY2gbYrz8plvBCsaV2rB6edrPK8qTdppeIx71bzOOXfXhI4PZ-AyraKSY5zt/w240-h320/IMG_2349.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><p>Even though we had the hotel shuttle drive us from the port (the cost of the transport was 40 euros), the arrival to the island was very chaotic. There are tons of tourist-hungry taxi drivers harassing everyone as they get off the ferry boat and most of the people at the port looked very sketchy; I am not sure that I would ever travel to a Greek island by ferry boat again but I really can’t say anything negative about the journey per se, it just wasn’t what I am used to, I guess. </p><p>We stayed in an area called Paradise Beach at the <a href="https://www.tropicanahotelmykonos.com/">Tropicana Hotel</a> with easy access to the transport bus to the town but also far away from the busyness of the center. Mykonos’ beaches are on the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aegean_Sea" target="_blank">Aegean Sea</a>, they have mostly rough, pebbly sand and cold water so they aren’t the prettiest of beaches and I didn’t find them super attractive, especially after having visited some of the Caribbean beaches, which remain at the top of my list. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkoARsP1gCUFol3D8tvXHSCDc3KUp05deGoqBCrnNSg_ZSHxjeCwkF2XzOfVpnYqMdbdiO6SZqR0IODwjuG8pUS7SdyU9XBfNja-NiTcMMIpADw53JZBRbgU7SO1KFLgBJa36qcuSdO9u9WYDEfIViT7Bk6giZecDpd5Rc8BHqq_13IpS2fbSF7UIQ/s4032/IMG_2381.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkoARsP1gCUFol3D8tvXHSCDc3KUp05deGoqBCrnNSg_ZSHxjeCwkF2XzOfVpnYqMdbdiO6SZqR0IODwjuG8pUS7SdyU9XBfNja-NiTcMMIpADw53JZBRbgU7SO1KFLgBJa36qcuSdO9u9WYDEfIViT7Bk6giZecDpd5Rc8BHqq_13IpS2fbSF7UIQ/w300-h400/IMG_2381.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p>I did enjoy my time on the island and the scenery was certainly breathtaking, but it wasn’t my favorite destination. I found Mykonos rather boring and monotonous; not the most exciting place for me but definitely a good spot to relax and do nothing. </p><p>My <u><b>least</b></u> favorite things about Mykonos:</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>The roads: streets and roads in Mykonos are horrible, most are dirt roads with no traffic lights and aggressive drivers. Going up and down those hills is terrifying and even though I did not drive on the island (thank God!), the rides to and from the hotel were my least favorite part of our stay. </li><li>The bus drivers: it’s easy to move around in Mykonos by taking the city bus that transports the masses to Mykonos Town but those bus drivers are probably among the rudest people I’ve ever come across. They are clearly not fond of tourists (even though tourism is the island’s biggest money maker) and they treat everyone so poorly. Like I said, not very glamorous. </li><li>The beaches: sunsets at the beach are breathtaking but the beach itself isn’t all that; the sand is rough and the water is cold and most beaches are generally overcrowded and way too commercial. I did not enjoy the beach in Mykonos at all. </li><li>Things are generally expensive: in comparison to Athens, Mykonos is a very pricey destination. A cocktail at any bar costs about 20 euros and food and tourist attractions are mostly overpriced. Most places in Mykonos Town give out the “tourist trap” vibe and it can be very overwhelming for anyone who isn’t into that (like me!).</li></ul><p></p><p>My recommendations for anyone thinking of visiting Mykonos:</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Again, book your port/airport transfer ahead of time: transportation in Mykonos is a huge challenge; taxis are scarce (and expensive!). The roads are rough and it isn’t a place that is easy to navigate so having someone ready to drive you to the hotel is definitely a must. Most hotels offer airport transfers for a fee.</li><li>Be ready to spend money! Because Mykonos is one of the most expensive islands in Greece, you need to be ready to overpay for things; an umbrella at the beach can cost up to 60 euros, 20 euros for a cocktail, 10 euros for a crepe, etc. It isn’t cheap!</li><li>Be open to lots of downtime and relaxation: there isn’t much to do in Mykonos. Besides going to the town to eat, visit souvenir shops and watch the sunset, this island isn’t the most exciting from the touristic point of view. Yes there are parties, yes most hotels have dreamy pools and amenities that will help you relax but you won’t find much excitement on this island, generally speaking. </li><li>Consider renting a car: most people who go island hopping in Greece don’t plan on renting a car, but because transportation is so scarce in Mykonos, it doesn’t hurt to explore that option. Keep in mind that stick-shift cars are the most popular ones and you have to be a bit of a daredevil to drive on those roads!</li><li>Familiarize yourself with the bus stops and routes. Most people use the city bus to get around on the island and it is a fairly organized system with punctual timetables and comfortable buses. I found <a href="https://www.mykonosbeachesguide.com/transportation/mykonos-buses.html" target="_blank">this</a> site to be very useful when figuring out bus schedules. </li></ul><div>While I enjoyed our time in Mykonos, it was a "one and done" kind of place for me. It is a beautiful island and we did have a wonderful time, but it is probably best as a cruise stop rather than an overnight destination. We spent 3 nights in Mykonos and it was entirely too long; by the 2nd night I wanted to leave and find a more exciting adventure. Santorini was our next stop and I will review that one in my next post! Stay tuned!</div><div><br /></div><div>Some of my favorite photos from Mykonos:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbrIeOd2NMsKIeMsl5ozc1BqRaCUufzpziUk5Qn7DkOfvISjholV0_LSFaQMWkOclhQs31YMwBQ5P4aIul3D7UwUdRonPGdEUN3XFNo4V6wUcSjEJU1tV2FiTdv6Hi6EMqUr7D7jA7yaqUGA0Vv58bW62-TJVYFsUU8CI3rb-KV2hqTR2YElO8xTg3/s1024/9602cc48-e1c5-461b-98e1-118dcb867843.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbrIeOd2NMsKIeMsl5ozc1BqRaCUufzpziUk5Qn7DkOfvISjholV0_LSFaQMWkOclhQs31YMwBQ5P4aIul3D7UwUdRonPGdEUN3XFNo4V6wUcSjEJU1tV2FiTdv6Hi6EMqUr7D7jA7yaqUGA0Vv58bW62-TJVYFsUU8CI3rb-KV2hqTR2YElO8xTg3/s320/9602cc48-e1c5-461b-98e1-118dcb867843.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia5JRQTUnnV-t4u_6XZfHVDJgPNW8JuGJGbLuuK_bVWkHvwgy4RXKLEkilRE3f6QHg0txYlvqKE54M8TtIoQEXwbZCgfT4vJtiHruVA1Qfe5FnRtw1vaTtZu0cxGAfqi7mR9SFZGTRjAT6lZTazgyUddwXFsArJG3rUOLSm7nKY_bFQePnSutO4aVr/s1024/b25b0d11-1895-48db-92fd-0ca523c45a89.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia5JRQTUnnV-t4u_6XZfHVDJgPNW8JuGJGbLuuK_bVWkHvwgy4RXKLEkilRE3f6QHg0txYlvqKE54M8TtIoQEXwbZCgfT4vJtiHruVA1Qfe5FnRtw1vaTtZu0cxGAfqi7mR9SFZGTRjAT6lZTazgyUddwXFsArJG3rUOLSm7nKY_bFQePnSutO4aVr/s320/b25b0d11-1895-48db-92fd-0ca523c45a89.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9iXn-CZFI5V-DApxXoccNLGW8Un-xXn1Ex1A0Olyxms38_SADXE18qCcLWvrB9Nc1JLlE1NmPhcZeaiaL014WzsvhCLMBR0L9ZXXwMEHMoNGxhVKSBbl6BTEFUIezBhhZNT78vFg51KoIysjoNBerz5V2bRyRR3d8vNZJ_Y4mT8bp6rBzZYartikr/s1024/f7caa97c-6c82-43d0-9551-d9898892b5fa.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9iXn-CZFI5V-DApxXoccNLGW8Un-xXn1Ex1A0Olyxms38_SADXE18qCcLWvrB9Nc1JLlE1NmPhcZeaiaL014WzsvhCLMBR0L9ZXXwMEHMoNGxhVKSBbl6BTEFUIezBhhZNT78vFg51KoIysjoNBerz5V2bRyRR3d8vNZJ_Y4mT8bp6rBzZYartikr/s320/f7caa97c-6c82-43d0-9551-d9898892b5fa.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwWlSggqPG4JgzObirLPUeD-IDrtjn2WIjPJaO4ByE2Cc_Htz3PH9CTT8aHNVS40ffkkNeYD8WxHVfbMouFIUZkIVv5jpqgynDw2CE4xpriedrckkx8G0wfFf5DtEMUAObg6TtVnzweWZJst15ryr_We2wIIYIL5kjQodRb2rQ49qaNkfBJ8rOZlkj/s4032/IMG_2397.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jJnD64Fw9UOvNY-fLsav55ooe6eMpML14J0XkwJvwQMHXwEvJ_kfxsNzQAd6jreQJEDZo1l45bH8gy3kMnqsBgGsY2Vl-2ag8ucLSmJWniOnEsPooe5EoOoZGQXlLIAnh7M5eR3yz2Soc8EU1NxrgBS70zs9S7T6GoMgs14CxIXCOISgxovLt0vK/s320/IMG_2543.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXySu2PDtY2SxV-4zHG6mvS88TtDq6FyxPERIYCF81_DkpsagDRJeIsEYawgnz0yjRGO9j7QR2vM57R8T9KqezZYS_ZPq5WHcTni46OxIgJTYgCWyTKtDVt_dj_K4HP170D06Bz5pB2LHptACXfaU7xRzWqHTTf__D6uugyrn6ZskkH4NgZcAJjUum/s4032/IMG_2686_jpg.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXySu2PDtY2SxV-4zHG6mvS88TtDq6FyxPERIYCF81_DkpsagDRJeIsEYawgnz0yjRGO9j7QR2vM57R8T9KqezZYS_ZPq5WHcTni46OxIgJTYgCWyTKtDVt_dj_K4HP170D06Bz5pB2LHptACXfaU7xRzWqHTTf__D6uugyrn6ZskkH4NgZcAJjUum/s320/IMG_2686_jpg.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvFCblw8G86qciBg9J0eSvZDtO2UBWLf8BMa5YR_7cpTWwMegFRT8dRzM_Mdg32uqrOJTFkASn6aWtAVD3VO9CMOVGBVw491d_HhcPvisGIHxWJbvqR959PY8XJVOszwtqEggXVHpJL444EjglHuoxw87IqOINmC7kjNn553_hOoJSDNNr6tNI2E4B/s4032/IMG_2652.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvFCblw8G86qciBg9J0eSvZDtO2UBWLf8BMa5YR_7cpTWwMegFRT8dRzM_Mdg32uqrOJTFkASn6aWtAVD3VO9CMOVGBVw491d_HhcPvisGIHxWJbvqR959PY8XJVOszwtqEggXVHpJL444EjglHuoxw87IqOINmC7kjNn553_hOoJSDNNr6tNI2E4B/s320/IMG_2652.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><p></p>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-21495462139091692292022-07-10T20:49:00.001-04:002022-07-10T20:55:18.650-04:00Greece 2022: Athens<p>Even though traveling is most often exciting, visiting a new country can be a daunting experience, especially when said country is so far away from home and so different from our own. </p><p>I love traveling, it is how I like to spend my money and my time and also how I feel I can learn the most; the premise of immersing myself in other cultures and meeting people from around the world always make my heart happy. </p><p>Recently, I had the opportunity of traveling to Greece; it was one of the countries on my destination bucket list, as well as Olivia’s, so it was the perfect spot for her celebratory “quinceañera” trip (for us Hispanics, girls turning 15 is a big deal!). I was happy to hear Olivia was opting for a trip instead of a big party and both the planning and execution of her dream trip were equally thrilling. </p><p>Greece is a great place to visit, it’s a diverse country with so much history, the perfect place to learn about the world’s past or to simply go and relax on a beach at one of its many dreamy islands. This time we chose to visit Athens, Mykonos, and Santorini, three of the most popular destinations in Greece. All places had their charm and we made the best memories in each of them. </p><p>I will recount some of my observations and recommendations for each of the places we visited in Greece. This post is focused on Athens, the first city we visited during this amazing trip.</p><p>ATHENS:</p><p>As Greece’s capital and largest city, Athens is definitely an attractive destination even though many people would argue that “it’s only worth 2-3 days” out of your visit to this amazing country. Considering I usually favor city vacations over beach ones, this was my favorite place in Greece. We stayed in the center of Athens a few minutes away from the Acropolis, the Parthenon, and the Ancient Agora. Just like most European cities, Athens is chaotic; it is fast-paced, busy, and very dense. It is generally a safe place but locals always warn tourists of pickpocketers and petty crime so it’s always worth keeping an eye out for these dangers. </p><p>My favorite things about Athens were:</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>The history: visiting the ancient sites was incredibly satisfying. The thought of walking around places that are thousands of years old is mind-blowing as was reading about the history of the city itself. Most of the ancient sites are carefully preserved and managed, which makes for a great immersive experience for anyone who visits. My favorites were the Acropolis and the Museum of Acropolis, which features an amazing view of the Parthenon. </li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs5SNy2CytD1W4Rfq_Jh-SkcIYTOQffcm01Sv9RHsNsWj8-lao_EALx7qSlwzd3DCcwJrRKOag_rxvrk_kZOLwg2GwT6XSh2_t-E4sGswUUQk9m3xYeguaffhX3TPSboQGBEdci3BTT65vrtuixwEsg6hxufkB20zzma3yrO-qsm9RJr4wULRZ2QGI/s4032/IMG_1906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs5SNy2CytD1W4Rfq_Jh-SkcIYTOQffcm01Sv9RHsNsWj8-lao_EALx7qSlwzd3DCcwJrRKOag_rxvrk_kZOLwg2GwT6XSh2_t-E4sGswUUQk9m3xYeguaffhX3TPSboQGBEdci3BTT65vrtuixwEsg6hxufkB20zzma3yrO-qsm9RJr4wULRZ2QGI/w400-h300/IMG_1906.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSBVpdxhGwl3Z1u8oEE0VDDuLWKCGhHI56ECZHOoMrwuER4rb-9secT628cT6l_aw-Ml1iPlrEas-NNWe4T_LFHWmQUS0va9_X4iToeOE0KIWvkzrPQvf6TKtBtiQYbY-L5doctU3fxGN82BjxPQ3p0HzEjSk5VmdzumfxjNUZ2w2bx-58IgVYa-4_/s4032/IMG_1946.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSBVpdxhGwl3Z1u8oEE0VDDuLWKCGhHI56ECZHOoMrwuER4rb-9secT628cT6l_aw-Ml1iPlrEas-NNWe4T_LFHWmQUS0va9_X4iToeOE0KIWvkzrPQvf6TKtBtiQYbY-L5doctU3fxGN82BjxPQ3p0HzEjSk5VmdzumfxjNUZ2w2bx-58IgVYa-4_/w400-h300/IMG_1946.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzblYWisiarw2g7DQzkZIQAGShEuNPYTjB0IFhbTKo5vFGbDdCQjNq4d5ZizrXYLa5_EbNsE7xewOZuBTz0GAkIfzfUYYX3lOupWnQyydW0EzZo6-vo226QRE2argAyxaxmnIUmX7RDV4-zo9XTc0lE8zbjgv0qswo1DUqwohq997_VMyjI6YckXyc/s4032/IMG_1990.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzblYWisiarw2g7DQzkZIQAGShEuNPYTjB0IFhbTKo5vFGbDdCQjNq4d5ZizrXYLa5_EbNsE7xewOZuBTz0GAkIfzfUYYX3lOupWnQyydW0EzZo6-vo226QRE2argAyxaxmnIUmX7RDV4-zo9XTc0lE8zbjgv0qswo1DUqwohq997_VMyjI6YckXyc/w400-h300/IMG_1990.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Things are generally inexpensive: food, souvenirs, transportation, and most things are generally inexpensive in the city. Tourist sites are reasonably priced and inviting, and attraction ticket costs averaged about 10 euros or less. </li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoDFfv8yZQ6xoU6KGo9EPHXnMztmJ-TE52vs24mgOGZcYdHq8-D8l944lHeyROfMM8B-isNr6OUJy0_PrsfTmnrNV2EO1sUo0tA-JSoK5TAb8HhN-J9Mt0fb6uTHqjx_4Nsk5VInTmR7lmahycdXkylBlKJM51ymuIzsEXM7pWhs0GhvcHJJ2IEdM7/s4032/IMG_2108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoDFfv8yZQ6xoU6KGo9EPHXnMztmJ-TE52vs24mgOGZcYdHq8-D8l944lHeyROfMM8B-isNr6OUJy0_PrsfTmnrNV2EO1sUo0tA-JSoK5TAb8HhN-J9Mt0fb6uTHqjx_4Nsk5VInTmR7lmahycdXkylBlKJM51ymuIzsEXM7pWhs0GhvcHJJ2IEdM7/w300-h400/IMG_2108.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY2Zy93_a-loqaMgpyC96M4S9NpEAnKJV1ytsHYTsCrIx2KWloj2htMUE67FCkDxo2sD9AS5y8HOoDrn965x7nAow_UrT04EWauVZ816R4tvlYU5j8RX6rrK_-amjXMycLlW00sMA2L_omrnNlH_JtAk8zWAnycC3SbYCs9wKkQYhPedKc49PbJYEv/s3840/9EF7F570-AFEF-4874-B284-8F2E59D3C376.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3840" data-original-width="2160" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY2Zy93_a-loqaMgpyC96M4S9NpEAnKJV1ytsHYTsCrIx2KWloj2htMUE67FCkDxo2sD9AS5y8HOoDrn965x7nAow_UrT04EWauVZ816R4tvlYU5j8RX6rrK_-amjXMycLlW00sMA2L_omrnNlH_JtAk8zWAnycC3SbYCs9wKkQYhPedKc49PbJYEv/w225-h400/9EF7F570-AFEF-4874-B284-8F2E59D3C376.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>The ease of navigation: moving around in the city is very easy; there are tons of tour buses (Hop On/Hop Off), taxis, and metro, and the streets are very walker friendly with great signaling and easy sidewalk access. We took the <a href="https://city-sightseeing.com/en/43/athens/3302/hop-on-hop-off-athens-piraeus">City Sightseeing</a> bus for a couple of days and were able to go around most of the city with the multiple routes offered by this bus (highly recommended); definitely a great way to see the city in a short amount of time. </li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXMf_kw3wpKCCMX4nquuMc5YNsYBUKi8uZhRYF_rkN7e4mR02dPoU05RfL2-9wf00UCA5dhr0p6Db4J3T2mo45SM72p3PBVD8Kb6JP0sNj2Qdr_CnZUjdpmUDXTDu9gMAio8S3oBhp9lsUtRbHAo0vgw7iuS1VJ9e_srS-rZgk7Cc6hlmh1t2V1Y_y/s4032/IMG_1892.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXMf_kw3wpKCCMX4nquuMc5YNsYBUKi8uZhRYF_rkN7e4mR02dPoU05RfL2-9wf00UCA5dhr0p6Db4J3T2mo45SM72p3PBVD8Kb6JP0sNj2Qdr_CnZUjdpmUDXTDu9gMAio8S3oBhp9lsUtRbHAo0vgw7iuS1VJ9e_srS-rZgk7Cc6hlmh1t2V1Y_y/w400-h300/IMG_1892.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p>My recommendations for anyone thinking of visiting Athens:</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Book your airport/port transfer in advance: the airport/port is fairly far from the city center so transportation to and from these spots can be very tricky. Don’t fall for the airport taxi trap, it is so much easier to have someone waiting for you at the airport instead of scrambling to find a ride and it is most likely cheaper too!</li><li>Have cash in hand: many places in Athens don’t accept credit cards so I recommend withdrawing some cash from an ATM before venturing out into the city. Avoid the airport ATM machines at all costs; their exchange rates are the least favorable and their fees are insane too. </li><li>Plan your days: even though it’s fairly easy to move around in Athens, some of the points of interest are very far apart so planning your days will help you use your time more wisely and see as many things as possible. I always use <a href="https://www.visitacity.com/" target="_blank">Visit-a-City</a> as a starting point to plan my days around the cities I visit for the first time. </li><li>Wear comfortable/safe shoes: I found myself tripping and slipping multiple times on the streets of Athens, especially when climbing up the stairs to the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Acropolis_of_Athens" target="_blank">Acropolis</a>. The streets are cobbled and very slippery and walks are usually very steep so I recommend wearing comfortable shoes that have a good grip; it can be very dangerous to walk the streets of Athens in shoes that aren’t appropriate. Remember, comfort over fashion!</li><li>3 days is more than enough: if you’re passing through Athens on your way to visit some of the Greek islands, 3 days is a good amount of time to get to know most of the city. You’ll get to visit all of Athen’s highlights in 3 days and will definitely get a taste of the Greek culture. Of course, if your interest lies in deepening your knowledge and understanding of Athens' ancient history, staying longer than 3 days is also great!</li></ul><p></p><div>Some of my favorite photos from Athens:</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqEM-8xiNND5NNWpumQYZ3aZwD_ngMPojL7C0-NCYsO0aOVeRnJDafJw5ShvoVlR0Oot1n54iUQjeQnD9OfliudNKWU3z4kRSJSCzkbBuE82uzWx6uIG7PvT0cLvMzimSaBEBDpUHVHVs6t548N8D7rFXzvLak4wNTlV491_6giRUVmfxvBFcAcdCd/s4032/IMG_1856.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqEM-8xiNND5NNWpumQYZ3aZwD_ngMPojL7C0-NCYsO0aOVeRnJDafJw5ShvoVlR0Oot1n54iUQjeQnD9OfliudNKWU3z4kRSJSCzkbBuE82uzWx6uIG7PvT0cLvMzimSaBEBDpUHVHVs6t548N8D7rFXzvLak4wNTlV491_6giRUVmfxvBFcAcdCd/w300-h400/IMG_1856.HEIC" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiddMbjzSvrbQhuMuLO35YGTmTZhHqXgpsmaQ8A7t_0mDSvZR1v7IkoTq43KeieRIx-LKQ_nzNBVc8K0jLn_ZVtqeYYw0-Dc5RkWG6Gs5djVI_rJ5b6W0oyvTZ8LXzck_vTKRe-Qk62zj9sh3v_vnPCflunDrC2e_NpjfbDCPZ-ghzOMcpSMk2UuSw-/s4032/IMG_1890.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiddMbjzSvrbQhuMuLO35YGTmTZhHqXgpsmaQ8A7t_0mDSvZR1v7IkoTq43KeieRIx-LKQ_nzNBVc8K0jLn_ZVtqeYYw0-Dc5RkWG6Gs5djVI_rJ5b6W0oyvTZ8LXzck_vTKRe-Qk62zj9sh3v_vnPCflunDrC2e_NpjfbDCPZ-ghzOMcpSMk2UuSw-/w300-h400/IMG_1890.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL7FYtArxrjOq1Ly4X8TBvg24uoHD1r10wIB9gLFyZ194LR3c1dDeBi5l175so_ZOJRZWYEaPS4uDgPTnoq8x8avIAux-HuRY3En-sQkzgOSFe0iC4tfQVCgv08dPs6rj-lOmJ0opZcIsqROdcQK__4Ua7iJgF0N9yLTyFH9dYYqQ0y7-Jha2FzNFY/s4032/IMG_1966.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL7FYtArxrjOq1Ly4X8TBvg24uoHD1r10wIB9gLFyZ194LR3c1dDeBi5l175so_ZOJRZWYEaPS4uDgPTnoq8x8avIAux-HuRY3En-sQkzgOSFe0iC4tfQVCgv08dPs6rj-lOmJ0opZcIsqROdcQK__4Ua7iJgF0N9yLTyFH9dYYqQ0y7-Jha2FzNFY/w400-h300/IMG_1966.HEIC" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCHHFzQKPpM379tBn6HeV2EqcN3A7hhDzDX7RQQyBBdpYDrT2xwBc1RPgU0b9khMj1uU9fJxgXGujcWKkomOjc3NqR4KRO9ZxRn2-q4em0OHIiruMCU3OeuzL6qCxqvcQWcGssxwuw6giTblM0DdZMBApykmQvMXTuD0rv3jjhYpVBCHanFZHJauxz/s4032/IMG_1921.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdk9eR20K5Uo9UebvNNJmAdGpIM4pnSr8LTGGwl8l2n2SqIULlGCmY62JXhScQw52dBhbCy4lIgbN-vndF7GSY0CfrpQfNBdK6TeYV70tA-EozB89WVBHctV0PsDCHKHXLCZic38rjimlQjDDtwq8w2E3UOCuphZpaGDAZvIOQgnUvg5LWaQSxCWoD/s4032/IMG_2177.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdk9eR20K5Uo9UebvNNJmAdGpIM4pnSr8LTGGwl8l2n2SqIULlGCmY62JXhScQw52dBhbCy4lIgbN-vndF7GSY0CfrpQfNBdK6TeYV70tA-EozB89WVBHctV0PsDCHKHXLCZic38rjimlQjDDtwq8w2E3UOCuphZpaGDAZvIOQgnUvg5LWaQSxCWoD/w300-h400/IMG_2177.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0rZpYdKRa0kdnWP-X9wTiqoWjk950tMEGnZvFb5i4uzFNc0wsigCSg_6kQvV0f4yHQaztfACP9dX5VGiagbulnAPl_p-0AIUwC5ikS8Heol7adW1VuIEg1cAmdlMHkCVyXz-afFR-LG7ruAW9i6SGFui0ZNjIdExddPfJ5ut4Wxc3pIdEph-8SfDn/s4032/IMG_2185.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0rZpYdKRa0kdnWP-X9wTiqoWjk950tMEGnZvFb5i4uzFNc0wsigCSg_6kQvV0f4yHQaztfACP9dX5VGiagbulnAPl_p-0AIUwC5ikS8Heol7adW1VuIEg1cAmdlMHkCVyXz-afFR-LG7ruAW9i6SGFui0ZNjIdExddPfJ5ut4Wxc3pIdEph-8SfDn/w300-h400/IMG_2185.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRKv_tKXV6dL1fo-OV8qNRQ0fzh2ICHSI2wJ-bjMdSnLWb6GpxKG9NJ0n1Gu2GJBboWDJZNDpVTB2KkD8nWy-cah-T8DBeUEZX2mMiSw_kG304Fo-NVGq4JB9R77jSzPGJbrBCsRc6jj38i87fXPs5yy6vKiKYsmurOAQxxxsL9_BDrmxL2yx6hEyF/s4032/IMG_2271.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRKv_tKXV6dL1fo-OV8qNRQ0fzh2ICHSI2wJ-bjMdSnLWb6GpxKG9NJ0n1Gu2GJBboWDJZNDpVTB2KkD8nWy-cah-T8DBeUEZX2mMiSw_kG304Fo-NVGq4JB9R77jSzPGJbrBCsRc6jj38i87fXPs5yy6vKiKYsmurOAQxxxsL9_BDrmxL2yx6hEyF/w300-h400/IMG_2271.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAlkEJqhH-ZSLbAZe9fk_9GaWRLnLsmDgDnnvgBeZp3iITqGLIH9S254De9YbBHpaFvRfwEYU0htOUNMUSNIluDVw2RN3weBPb_2lHywdzmRn3RojGa3BQ9YXjMztueOU0Asfcy_yx5Q6eKf_4H9SA52WXtzgfKYfQ-RSas4AFUp4hZA0voaIpI1Tt/s4032/IMG_2297.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAlkEJqhH-ZSLbAZe9fk_9GaWRLnLsmDgDnnvgBeZp3iITqGLIH9S254De9YbBHpaFvRfwEYU0htOUNMUSNIluDVw2RN3weBPb_2lHywdzmRn3RojGa3BQ9YXjMztueOU0Asfcy_yx5Q6eKf_4H9SA52WXtzgfKYfQ-RSas4AFUp4hZA0voaIpI1Tt/w400-h300/IMG_2297.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>I will review Mykonos and Santorini on my next post, but Athens was definitely a city to remember!</div>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-3297364123382355472022-02-08T14:29:00.007-05:002022-02-26T10:14:03.986-05:00Spain 2021 Recap (part 1)<p>Happy New Year! (LOL!). January came and went and the busyness of life got in the way so my first 2022 post is just happening! Better late than never, I guess! I hate when I can't find time to sit down and decompress my mind through written words although I am sure this isn't exclusively an "Adriana" problem. 🙈. And here I am...rambling once more!</p><p>Last year was busy! Most people were still reeling from 2020 and trying to figure out their "new normal"; I guess we were all collectively trying to come out of the funk that COVID brought on. I know it was definitely harder for some people but we tried to make the best of it. </p><p>In December, we went on our first international trip since the pandemic started. This time we chose to go to Spain for several reasons; first of all I was turning 40 (yay!), my mother in law happens to live in Madrid and Spain was one of the European countries with the less restrictive COVID measures.</p><p>I will recap some aspects of our trip for anyone interested in either knowing how it went or maybe even traveling to Spain in the near future. </p><p><u><b>Airports & COVID</b></u></p><p>We flew out of Miami (MIA) via Portugal and had a 2 hour layover in Lisbon. While Spain does not require a negative COVID test to enter, Portugal does even if you're just in transit. Both PCR and Antigen tests are accepted so we opted for a PCR, taken 3 days before our scheduled trip. Most countries are also requiring some sort of QR code that is done in an app and then shown to be scanned upon arrival. The checking of the COVID test was a joke, I could have shown a drawing by Oliver and it would have been the same as the negative test; the agent merely glanced at it (both in Miami and Lisbon). </p><p>Upon arriving at Spain, we showed our QR code previously generated; it was scanned and our entrance was approved. </p><p>I will be honest and say that I was expecting the airport experience to be a traumatizing thing, but it was incredibly smooth and just another thing to do. </p><p>I can't say the same about baggage claim, though! LOL</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgaTyrtASJRbh0SLj2QYDXIwvb8GsyEIKG4j6yRVdCsN2KO9MpgpRQcUmgXKUfKZzFJ4YlYBpbVNB5KIbekzNjK2jBEAZiSogNffgZ406p_jM4yN0jBeUx-kWjVX0iTfOayYdoZZ7BcScVSYT424oH9xyUvfj4MAp1Hl0M9b7RPD_bUyX3UokFHLvsQ=s4032" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgaTyrtASJRbh0SLj2QYDXIwvb8GsyEIKG4j6yRVdCsN2KO9MpgpRQcUmgXKUfKZzFJ4YlYBpbVNB5KIbekzNjK2jBEAZiSogNffgZ406p_jM4yN0jBeUx-kWjVX0iTfOayYdoZZ7BcScVSYT424oH9xyUvfj4MAp1Hl0M9b7RPD_bUyX3UokFHLvsQ=w210-h320" width="210" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgIwEFSILpqfRZs9yVme-6kjXrxr2pW-XZCcM1sS06TQwj9ZzvVOoh3McoI53600SurdSHV6oMwUMaruA2-HlCE0KCsgEyQUKmBFDSYxHfnO8s3ogSeWXbw6BD1BAzuN_8bZ-4ZG7G74fa_wj6Gh49gaxy1B1JfWgxh-BSVTssdvT8vBdgJCEccfbXU=s4032" style="clear: right; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgIwEFSILpqfRZs9yVme-6kjXrxr2pW-XZCcM1sS06TQwj9ZzvVOoh3McoI53600SurdSHV6oMwUMaruA2-HlCE0KCsgEyQUKmBFDSYxHfnO8s3ogSeWXbw6BD1BAzuN_8bZ-4ZG7G74fa_wj6Gh49gaxy1B1JfWgxh-BSVTssdvT8vBdgJCEccfbXU=s320" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><u>The flight(s)</u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For this trip we flew on TAP (a Portuguese airline); not only was it the cheaper option but also because it was the shortest out of the cheaper options! LOL. We had a layover in Lisbon both on our way to Spain and on our way back home. I'll be totally blunt; the mask enforcement on the plane was a joke! On such a long flight, I guess the flight attendants just don't have the patience (or the energy) to be policing every passenger. Half the passengers were asleep with a blanket over their face, a quarter of them were "actively" eating or drinking and the remaining quarter had a mask that was covering their mouth but not their nose. So yes, I think mandating masks on planes is ridiculous and it only adds stress to an already stressful situation. And nobody cares... not even the ones who pretend they do. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The kids were angels on the flight; none of them slept and all they did was watch movies. The layover was a pain because our connecting flight was late so the exhaustion was unreal. Thank God for priority lounges, though...such life savers!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><u>The jetlag</u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Jetlag is always a b**ch but this time it hit us extra hard. I don't know if it was the extra steps and precautions we needed to take for traveling in COVID times, the emotionally draining aspect of an overseas trip during Christmas, the flight delay, the change in weather or all of the above, but by the time we got to Madrid, we were beyond EXHAUSTED!!! Poor Oliver quickly regretted not sleeping during the flight and we literally had to drag him around the airport because he was passed out!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhp91YcmoS4rcNKQeM97J8ZGwLen7MGJRLpSlY9tfXbDEB01TmclZeYlDSZQw061eWJjYaf-h7dRgRChZC-8YOfYoBbJLpaCgv4PfQVknBuMJDM-YJJDFZ7qLsc92ZSNtdHn1QV-NZGA62Xz8dG1YLQzA-Gc3VLKYzcNX8cczz5-VvwXNMKomTGP4Ud=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhp91YcmoS4rcNKQeM97J8ZGwLen7MGJRLpSlY9tfXbDEB01TmclZeYlDSZQw061eWJjYaf-h7dRgRChZC-8YOfYoBbJLpaCgv4PfQVknBuMJDM-YJJDFZ7qLsc92ZSNtdHn1QV-NZGA62Xz8dG1YLQzA-Gc3VLKYzcNX8cczz5-VvwXNMKomTGP4Ud=s320" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><u>The reunion</u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Aside from it being my 40th birthday trip (I officially turned 40 while on the flight Spain), traveling to Spain also meant reuniting with my in-laws for the first time since COVID hit. Iggy really missed his mom and the kids definitely missed their grandparents. They came to get us at the airport and we were all a collective mush with all the crying (happy tears, of course!). It was so nice to be able to squeeze each other hard and share the love. Spending time with my in-laws made for an interesting trip; they hosted us and took us around and it felt so good. Of course there was bickering and the occasional disagreement, but it was overall an amazing thing to be together and share Christmas with them. I was particularly moved by seeing the connection between Iggy, his mom and the kids; so refreshing!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh-KOdoQsD3xXii8vOO_U94s8id44Smvcd2Jv1atfCkte3CVzYH8B8SEQo_FLI7jKyTVh4vsP355-4ydA9o_yMPuAKaz1jPdF-W0lEjNu-PxfkH9z9Cj4_5vmk2Wocwh1QpFg3NmjdVXkKfA4DYsgS0xBl0_EZ2wDS3Wl53Yj61t5Vc57ima4GgFBCC=s4032" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh-KOdoQsD3xXii8vOO_U94s8id44Smvcd2Jv1atfCkte3CVzYH8B8SEQo_FLI7jKyTVh4vsP355-4ydA9o_yMPuAKaz1jPdF-W0lEjNu-PxfkH9z9Cj4_5vmk2Wocwh1QpFg3NmjdVXkKfA4DYsgS0xBl0_EZ2wDS3Wl53Yj61t5Vc57ima4GgFBCC=s320" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhQ9wzFt2Z7sx8BgqI6heiFBKbWpIytCbdglCT3sFugRVDPVXHgRbZ11qABImyalpqtLIYkZAWc-7NTWAtDyK9bwJuK0LGhl-vIHEYbxK6BSlrVjM3HaZcrPOKTb069mAfRvLzYAvlsqM9nL1nswQ4R7nCJstksMqhGFLvp0Qo6aBIfIrQklCYCol7f=s4032" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhQ9wzFt2Z7sx8BgqI6heiFBKbWpIytCbdglCT3sFugRVDPVXHgRbZ11qABImyalpqtLIYkZAWc-7NTWAtDyK9bwJuK0LGhl-vIHEYbxK6BSlrVjM3HaZcrPOKTb069mAfRvLzYAvlsqM9nL1nswQ4R7nCJstksMqhGFLvp0Qo6aBIfIrQklCYCol7f=s320" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><u>My birthday celebration</u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Turning a year older while on a flight was definitely a first for me. I had been looking forward to this trip for months and I was naturally excited; but there was something about turning 40 away from my parents and sister that made me a bit sad. We've always celebrated milestone birthdays together so I will admit to feeling a little weird. Add the indescribable exhaustion to that and the combination can be lethal. My actual birthday is a blur, I was literally a zombie all day and even after the 4 hour nap I was able to take upon checking into the apartment, I probably only remember about half of what I did or said on the night of my birthday. My in-laws were excited to invite me to dinner so we went, but in hindsight, it would have probably been a better idea to call it a night and celebrate the next day. I am forever grateful to Iggy and all of my family and friends for making my day so special. My dear sister organized a surprise birthday party before we left so my birthday definitely didn't go unnoticed. Special year for sure!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgBH-QnR4eG1lQuNiJNKouRFQ5XIoXp0_7vxGCOyBk3dDcJEEZEtTUZ3ex3zYo0dzATCI-YOD3IVO7x7gkGaoTp6wjFTOw0efTucU-b1tOvH2vFWGxCKH8aUfK4yfjEiO5_4hmAM_otvI3vgsxEdf4rnai6Dn_jNaSvs1EQ87Ed1bRPfyDlQUehm7iI=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgBH-QnR4eG1lQuNiJNKouRFQ5XIoXp0_7vxGCOyBk3dDcJEEZEtTUZ3ex3zYo0dzATCI-YOD3IVO7x7gkGaoTp6wjFTOw0efTucU-b1tOvH2vFWGxCKH8aUfK4yfjEiO5_4hmAM_otvI3vgsxEdf4rnai6Dn_jNaSvs1EQ87Ed1bRPfyDlQUehm7iI=s320" width="320" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqxNlENbOjRSPVROpL-yn1SxuhlmKYmAX3_CWcpF9K_a-X9Ogjvx0T33kLki2OhxbMj-8s3jY8EM-aN8qCvXzC8XKy4BaS721QqEIoCwzSxyRQ2Dx09VUhS_XDnHe7ux-M--r-446288cTxldtsjrd6HV5A-3LiyPNuT-RzciSD_20ZI9flvV-613u=s3520" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1986" data-original-width="3520" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqxNlENbOjRSPVROpL-yn1SxuhlmKYmAX3_CWcpF9K_a-X9Ogjvx0T33kLki2OhxbMj-8s3jY8EM-aN8qCvXzC8XKy4BaS721QqEIoCwzSxyRQ2Dx09VUhS_XDnHe7ux-M--r-446288cTxldtsjrd6HV5A-3LiyPNuT-RzciSD_20ZI9flvV-613u=s320" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The day after my birthday was the official "recovery" day. I can't remember ever being as exhausted as I was by the time I finally went to sleep. I can honestly say that December 23rd, 2021 was a complete "sleep" day. I woke up around 6pm local time, had dinner and went back to sleep... no regrets!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I will post more about Christmas and our wonderful time in Spain on my next installment. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Happy Blogging!</div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /></div><br /><br /> </div>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-57502870995988294592021-12-31T13:46:00.003-05:002022-02-26T10:16:03.241-05:00Memoirs of my life in the USA: Official Silver Anniversary<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEivDi0woWq39xwbg1yWYQ5BxgIPmLcx6MdOVmUOfREdHFh7Kwue_C59jdgN54jvPpg-cF-PiUW4VpRSn8dUc1MAJ0eKyW2hSsqHv0c4tfs7XvzlcENhO1D9PJEfKi3dwDb8wQWkEWLIMIln3NE0XVcgPLr6Bqh75-vnpc1JPa3qSkYUcUDeWVFxMWAU=s3592" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3592" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEivDi0woWq39xwbg1yWYQ5BxgIPmLcx6MdOVmUOfREdHFh7Kwue_C59jdgN54jvPpg-cF-PiUW4VpRSn8dUc1MAJ0eKyW2hSsqHv0c4tfs7XvzlcENhO1D9PJEfKi3dwDb8wQWkEWLIMIln3NE0XVcgPLr6Bqh75-vnpc1JPa3qSkYUcUDeWVFxMWAU=w400-h336" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I left off my <a href="http://www.storiesofahappymom.com/2021/12/memoirs-of-my-life-in-usa-time-to-be.html">last post</a> when a palm reader in NYC told me I would marry someone I hadn't met in exactly a year's time. That happened exactly as predicted and I met Iggy a month later (December 2004), got engaged the following April, and married him on November 18th, 2005 aka the happiest day of my life. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I could write a long post about how our lives have unfolded in the past 17 years but the truth is that FB has been a witness of that and there isn't much to add, so in this post, I will focus on the unmeasurable gratefulness that I feel today on my official 25th year in the USA. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I will make it short by saying I LOVE everything about this country, in the past 25 years I have been given amazing opportunities and a life full of blessings. I have met the most wonderful people and made life-long friends that have taught me the most valuable lessons. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I LOVE the American way, I love the comfort that this country has to offer, I love the richness of every state, I love the customs, I love the freedom that we enjoy, I love the diversity that is found in the USA. I love that this country greeted me with open arms when I was an immature teenager and that it has allowed me to create a path for myself as an adult. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I am grateful for my family and for the fact that my kids get to grow up here, this is the perfect place for us, the place where we proudly belong.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I am thankful for the decision my parents made 25 years ago and I am proud to be an American. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I thank God every day for the USA and today I celebrate 25 happy years in one of the most amazing countries in the world!</div><br /><p></p>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-56425330493188275612021-12-13T14:02:00.001-05:002022-02-26T10:16:17.164-05:00Memoirs of my life in the USA: Time to be an adult!<p><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I graduated college, it was time to “adult”! Once I had accepted the fact that the USA was my new home, it was time to hustle. A few visas later (and a lot of money in lawyer fees) I was already a permanent resident and was free to live my life as a quasi-American. My first job paid me a whooping $25K per year, not exactly what I had envisioned and I learned rather quickly that the lack of guidance in my pre-college years had led me to the wrong career. But I honestly didn’t have time to dwell on it and I really tried to make the best of it. I worked in the mental health field for a while and one day I got the weird itch to move out of my parents’ house and try my own luck. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">In a spur of the moment decision, I broke up with my boyfriend of 3 years, got a job in Tampa, rented an apartment, packed up all my stuff and left. When I look back on it, I think moving to Tampa was probably a crazy decision but at the time I felt right; it was something that was part of my process, something I needed to do. Even though most Hispanic families don’t see their children leave home until they get married, I was unknowingly raised as an American, with "American" thoughts and I was starting to realize that it just seemed “normal” to me that someone at 22 would leave home to live on their own. I often wonder how much longer I would have lived at home had we not come to the United States; I’m sure it would have been at least until marriage, maybe even beyond. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Emotionally speaking, my life in Tampa was a hot mess; I felt so lonely all the time and sadness always overtook whatever I was doing. My life was monotonous and the job I had was mediocre at best. Yes, I was working in corporate America, meeting new people and performing well, but this lonely, corporate-like life was not what I wanted for myself. And while I didn’t love it, the idea of feeling like a failure and going back to my parents’ house was even less appealing because I had already come out from under their wing and flying back to the nest didn’t exactly spell “success” so I stuck it out for a couple of months.</span></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiz8elhQppieUi3Hfwmnf-3egnUbie5WgDN7AX1TLEwWEp4PfaJCO2plkayVdHtSyfoqWOnYOtMh2GUQ_fUfE6aYWQmV-WUZ61MVsdEenwX_MnjwFrdj51g4LlHkyBx35ycWFF_iKPwRt6lh2Mmr16iDH-916NRGi-BC2ygOSG3iz2ylPzpu_seeQbK=s3967" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2887" data-original-width="3967" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiz8elhQppieUi3Hfwmnf-3egnUbie5WgDN7AX1TLEwWEp4PfaJCO2plkayVdHtSyfoqWOnYOtMh2GUQ_fUfE6aYWQmV-WUZ61MVsdEenwX_MnjwFrdj51g4LlHkyBx35ycWFF_iKPwRt6lh2Mmr16iDH-916NRGi-BC2ygOSG3iz2ylPzpu_seeQbK=w276-h201" width="276" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With my friend (and co-worker) Jen in 2004</td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi5bVqXY_VFq0CnBW2hNwvSBatgvSmMEXX4eN-sehnCuPiAC7PmG8UqNNhBgf2wQyuY083-UoKSHUm8BjwDwmxQZkXFJ6VJUtOLI2HYSnUSoZ4FGdifFka8iHRTCi7OSIlUJYEAXfMmiyGI0dEgIM2RmMNRzOLUgnuiwQ-cOjJ41IaQ3AoPe-Sbn-E9=s3024" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="2530" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi5bVqXY_VFq0CnBW2hNwvSBatgvSmMEXX4eN-sehnCuPiAC7PmG8UqNNhBgf2wQyuY083-UoKSHUm8BjwDwmxQZkXFJ6VJUtOLI2HYSnUSoZ4FGdifFka8iHRTCi7OSIlUJYEAXfMmiyGI0dEgIM2RmMNRzOLUgnuiwQ-cOjJ41IaQ3AoPe-Sbn-E9=w237-h281" width="237" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My friend Eva and I in Tampa</td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">By the 2nd month in Tampa, I was ready to throw in the towel; living alone was definitely not for me. I know it sounds extreme, but I literally used to cry myself to sleep 5 out of 7 days of the week; there was something about my “pretend” life dream that was making me borderline depressed. I view my time in Tampa as an out of body experience because now that I’m almost 40 I can’t really see myself living alone in another town. I made some good friends and experienced a lot of growth in my time away from home but in the end it just wasn’t enough to keep me where I was. I often wonder if I should have given the Tampa life a little more time, but if I had, I wouldn't be who I am today so I really have no regrets. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Arial;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhOevpRk81Wx2b29wAZ3SCSktC7yXajhL-WxeACT-J8U2FrS6hLamAmECxqkTK--adLn1DzgO-ZmuW9lAFD2ZCyYHwU1TpkQ4aeQWXjL2OpOYfKZetTRDFtfFq1In9_dbwJN-CYKgXTCtqHdNb-mkC5IiUjyWX33qgq4j1R5uDP5XdHFlXhNXvCG-Nr=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1806" data-original-width="2048" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhOevpRk81Wx2b29wAZ3SCSktC7yXajhL-WxeACT-J8U2FrS6hLamAmECxqkTK--adLn1DzgO-ZmuW9lAFD2ZCyYHwU1TpkQ4aeQWXjL2OpOYfKZetTRDFtfFq1In9_dbwJN-CYKgXTCtqHdNb-mkC5IiUjyWX33qgq4j1R5uDP5XdHFlXhNXvCG-Nr=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Tampa night with some friends</td></tr></tbody></table></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">And just like I had decided to move out of my parents’ home, I decided it was time to go back, time to swallow my pride and save myself from making even more mistakes and living in perpetual depression and agony. A couple of weeks before I made the choice to scrap the “I’m ready to live alone” idea, I was hospitalized for some sort of severe food poisoning and found myself lonely in a local hospital; no one to call, no shoulder to cry on, no one to help me pack my things in a patient bag; I missed my mom and dad, I missed my sister and my cats and everything that had to do with a warm and caring family and stable home life. That hospital stay was probably a turning point for me and I’m glad I followed my heart and decided to go back home.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">But before I moved back, I took a girls’ trip to NYC with my cousin Carolina and my good friend Eva. It was supposed to be a cathartic experience for me and it certainly was, the trip served as a time for me to reflect on regrets, changes, future decisions, growth, etc. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">As we were walking around NYC one day, a strange looking lady grabbed my hand and said she wanted to read my palm. Me, being the skeptic I am, quickly shook my hand away and said “no, no, no!” and she kept insisting that I let her tell me about my future. I kept brushing her off and she followed me around for a bit until I finally agreed to let her tell me ONE thing. She said it was something that had to be said because she had a strong feeling about it. It was November 18th, 2004 and her exact words were “in exactly ONE year from today, you will be marrying a man you haven’t met yet and he will make you very happy, continue to follow your heart”. Of course I thought she was crazy, I was 22 years old and I wouldn’t call myself a romantic; marriage was definitely not on my mind…</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Arial;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi_WtRz6lBvk5Gwf7J27vOfhNl6ioq2nfN_gTFRwNsMHawmds0oP2ScfitWfmsiDCffeTIxEUnSaXb-A2KO5l-4HGHbsuFr-pJ8d8_V1hkF_Sxjo5aJ-WqY7fXN3Oxc5k2SQupOsmAtTld-8UCiUD7pj-1NXvReWGbmf1H-drC2jPQYgI_cbCeAjM8T=s4015" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2884" data-original-width="4015" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi_WtRz6lBvk5Gwf7J27vOfhNl6ioq2nfN_gTFRwNsMHawmds0oP2ScfitWfmsiDCffeTIxEUnSaXb-A2KO5l-4HGHbsuFr-pJ8d8_V1hkF_Sxjo5aJ-WqY7fXN3Oxc5k2SQupOsmAtTld-8UCiUD7pj-1NXvReWGbmf1H-drC2jPQYgI_cbCeAjM8T=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a picture from our NYC trip in November 2004</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">(To be continued…)</span></span></p><p><br /></p>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-75785272658357599482021-12-03T13:25:00.004-05:002022-02-26T10:16:26.269-05:00Memoirs of my life in the USA: Moving on...<p>Losing my sister during my junior year of high school definitely put a damper on the experience. There I was, navigating life in a foreign country, in a brand new high school with a newly shattered family. While I did try for tragedy not to define who I was, seeing my parents (particularly my mom) go through such a terrible loss was definitely a challenge. I felt lost in high school; while other kids were starting to shop around for colleges, write exceptional essays and plan out their potential careers, I was trying to figure out how I was going to move forward with a broken heart and an uncertain legal status. I was a good student, a great one actually; grades were never an issue for me but I definitely did not find the support and guidance I needed to catapult me into a stellar college experience. My parents had no clue about what was required and they weren’t involved in the process; on top of that, my sister dying showed us that our immigration challenges were just starting, and having a non-resident visa not only meant that I wouldn’t be eligible for any scholarships I’d earned but also that my parents would have to pay top dollar at any college. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivI9Sy8KYZzUXf3_dS0dCqzFOtuGNIH3cpW9zDyGJYx-lXhC9p1PbsMjnc2B6kRHclbel4uypcSQLv8_-IVANtuKPjnNU-o5Z0Th8BN9msNexpY3AHuK6qohT9oV4EJrRrZUcMn3PMj3Y/s1140/Screenshot+2021-12-03+at+10.04.45+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1140" data-original-width="1046" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivI9Sy8KYZzUXf3_dS0dCqzFOtuGNIH3cpW9zDyGJYx-lXhC9p1PbsMjnc2B6kRHclbel4uypcSQLv8_-IVANtuKPjnNU-o5Z0Th8BN9msNexpY3AHuK6qohT9oV4EJrRrZUcMn3PMj3Y/s320/Screenshot+2021-12-03+at+10.04.45+AM.png" width="294" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My high school graduation</td></tr></tbody></table><p>And that’s exactly what happened, my grades afforded me any scholarship a highschooler could dream of (I was at the top 5% of my class, out of 1200+ students) but I could not take any of them because I was, well, a foreigner; one that didn’t qualify for the “perks” America had to offer, the very things my parents had moved here for, but such was life and we couldn't dwell on it. I ended up attending FIU and finished my Bachelor’s degree in Psychology in 2.5 years; I will be forever grateful for the financial sacrifices my parents made so I could graduate college. They paid upwards of $7K per semester and I can only hope I made them a little proud with my efforts because I know how difficult it was for them at the time. </p><p>Even though my college experience wasn’t what I once envisioned (I was a commuter student, never attended football games, or college parties, didn’t join a sorority, didn’t have a college sweetheart, and had very few friends) it was the experience I got and for that I am grateful. Would I have moved away from home had my situation been different? Would I have left Florida to settle elsewhere? Would I have chosen FIU had that not only been one of my few choices? I honestly don’t know but at the time I was happy to play the cards I had been dealt and I decided to make the best of it and I got a degree out of it, so it was definitely a win!</p><p>I learned a lot in my college years. I learned that dreams can change and our ability to adjust and make lemonade out of life’s lemons only improves if we really want. I learned that nobody could live life for me and even though settling might seem easier at times, sometimes the road less traveled is the one that brings the most happiness. My parents' dedication to us was once again proven and their resilience is truly admirable; their example is one of the best lessons life has given me. </p><p>I realize as I write, that this particular part of the story may sound a bit gloomy, but college was a really good time in my life; even though there was a lot to be sad about, I loved every minute of it. I grew so much as a person, I learned empathy, I made friends, I learned balance and prioritizing. It was during college that I had my first real relationship, my first conversations about conviction and so much more. And many people may argue that’s exactly what college is for but in my case, it was special because it was the time I came out of my shell and realized that I was here to stay, that the United States was my new home for real and it was time to love it as my own because it would be here that I would likely grow a family and pursue my dreams with them….and that I did!</p><p><br /></p><p>(To be continued)</p><p><br /></p>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-42202351986612079572021-11-29T18:55:00.003-05:002022-02-26T10:16:35.496-05:00Memoirs of my life in the USA: Things were looking up...until they weren't<p>This post is a continuation of my <a href="http://www.storiesofahappymom.com/2021/11/memoirs-of-my-life-in-usa-how-it-started.html" target="_blank">last one</a> (in case you're interested)</p><p>About 2 years into our new life, things were starting to look up. I had made some friends (some of which would become my lifelong best friends), my dad was already working in architecture, we had moved to a nicer area and were enrolled in a better school and I even had my first ever job, everything was definitely better.</p><p>Working as a teenager is not something I would have done had we stayed in Venezuela but I absolutely loved the fact that I could do it here; making my own money from the time I was 15 really taught me to be a hard worker and to value the effort that comes with it. I learned responsibility, work ethic, discipline, and many other skills that would prove useful in my adult life as well. I also bought my first car with my hard-earned money, so that was definitely a highlight of my first job!</p><p>See, coming to the United States was a CHOICE, there wasn’t a pressing financial or political reason to leave Venezuela at the time we did, we were just another family moving to a new country; I think my parents saw it more as a way for their children to grow up in a country with better opportunities all around, but the change did come at a price and I’d be lying if I said that even though things were better, it wasn’t a tough road. Choice aside, I am sure my sister Erika was a big motivator for that choice; she had been born in Texas in the late ’70s while my parents were in college and due to a case of medical malpractice, she ended up with mental retardation. Life in Venezuela wasn’t easy for her as a disabled person and I can imagine that it was very difficult for my parents to see her grow up in a place where there were no special considerations for anyone with her condition. In coming to the United States, my parents saw an opportunity for Erika to have a better life, to live in a place where she’d be treated humanely, somewhere she would be seen as a “handicapable” person and not some burden to society. And that is exactly what we found here; great special ed programs, incredible doctors, the right medications, the right approach. And because Erika was an American citizen all of the immigration paperwork would be made easier for the rest of the family, there was a clear path for us to become legal permanent residents and subsequent citizens once Erika turned 21; meanwhile, my dad held a professional visa (we were his dependents) while we waited for her to reach the age where she could petition the whole family. </p><p>But that day never came because Erika passed away unexpectedly on December 23rd, 1998, a month before her 21st birthday; our life was changing again, our family was crushed. Erika’s death is the single most shattering event we have gone through as a family; a part of us died with her and it took a long time for the devastation to set in and even longer for us to come out of it (not like it has ever been possible to feel completely normal again!). </p><p>With Erika’s passing came a lot of sadness, tears, setbacks, and a whole lot of reconfiguring of our plans and our lives in general. Our family was broken, our hearts were shattered and to add insult to injury, we had no place to go back to now because Venezuela was just starting its own nightmare with Hugo Chavez ascending to the presidency (if you know, you know!) and while I am sure my parents briefly considered the possibility of going back, the newly installed government quickly persuaded them to stay...and so we did.</p><p>I’d like to think that God used Erika for the very important purpose of bringing us here; it is no coincidence that her life inspired our move and the timing of her death cemented our stay. I am thankful every single day for having had the blessing of Erika in my life; there isn’t a day that I don’t think of her and I know everything that happened was part of the plan... and broken heart and all we needed to start over…</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8WscOWdDJ275eV6KLq82gR6SBsvRL16LdO7kvZDmFGoJHnHQR_GM2s8zisPKNMW2qo4BVuLmOqSliqFOD1j5pNqJidCLDSrat_2SS4FGy-wFX8QicA7LqkqCHlXK8TenCG33XClC1Wjw/s1242/IMG_4193.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="938" data-original-width="1242" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8WscOWdDJ275eV6KLq82gR6SBsvRL16LdO7kvZDmFGoJHnHQR_GM2s8zisPKNMW2qo4BVuLmOqSliqFOD1j5pNqJidCLDSrat_2SS4FGy-wFX8QicA7LqkqCHlXK8TenCG33XClC1Wjw/s320/IMG_4193.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAg3vy8gDGkL9aZU9N5zFLtDNmQHYEKGEsCFDOrd6C3H6poLSwClaMTDPna8jqxJgMbGqlIPKkFOrhtu6f7CjY-aNi_ZirYk6iRvrAMk4mqRACyLwEJEMRkKUJ-roCWUfAlBTU6syGoQ4/s2048/IMG_7646.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1874" data-original-width="2048" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAg3vy8gDGkL9aZU9N5zFLtDNmQHYEKGEsCFDOrd6C3H6poLSwClaMTDPna8jqxJgMbGqlIPKkFOrhtu6f7CjY-aNi_ZirYk6iRvrAMk4mqRACyLwEJEMRkKUJ-roCWUfAlBTU6syGoQ4/s320/IMG_7646.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHyg-T3WyKrDxOlAatvcxh722Uh4Hds3JRA2xJED2Ek_wQ1lLJrTX76EDqRgCN_wZs0bBRoJmsEyAeQ_oh1Uwzsop6TM3bSs5N_dhkLHHxo4Jn80y3eX-xeqhdyt6KPHECfTJWiDH62dI/s2048/IMG_6372.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHyg-T3WyKrDxOlAatvcxh722Uh4Hds3JRA2xJED2Ek_wQ1lLJrTX76EDqRgCN_wZs0bBRoJmsEyAeQ_oh1Uwzsop6TM3bSs5N_dhkLHHxo4Jn80y3eX-xeqhdyt6KPHECfTJWiDH62dI/s320/IMG_6372.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>(To be continued)</p><div><br /></div>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-70487269757558931952021-11-24T09:35:00.008-05:002022-02-26T10:16:48.194-05:00Memoirs of my life in the USA: How it started<p>Let's start with some high school pictures...</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI1ncLikFC8Ic1tVW6ziTkCu5tDpGMhYtSARYkh1G5EeJKeR1nvH3xB_lA8fBhnwBMi5w7BrdQD8cgXVEepRq17xpaQGPdzbi9-OazLwzVbPAFxW2zsRkXNtQ9us0p7FwCSJ0MBkrhi-E/s602/1996.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="437" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI1ncLikFC8Ic1tVW6ziTkCu5tDpGMhYtSARYkh1G5EeJKeR1nvH3xB_lA8fBhnwBMi5w7BrdQD8cgXVEepRq17xpaQGPdzbi9-OazLwzVbPAFxW2zsRkXNtQ9us0p7FwCSJ0MBkrhi-E/w140-h193/1996.jpeg" width="140" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3IkU3qM2B4z7BMPw43W51bJkB3djvRCWj7ViLdI-6vfholrYvMMCqgIluadZwZjat-M6sF_HdVkmAn_S1EwGqxvnvZMUZVBS4ZUugQSx-VlfygcDGZT7OZf1IE1Rn9J-waa_ZrezZhn4/s600/1997.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="450" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3IkU3qM2B4z7BMPw43W51bJkB3djvRCWj7ViLdI-6vfholrYvMMCqgIluadZwZjat-M6sF_HdVkmAn_S1EwGqxvnvZMUZVBS4ZUugQSx-VlfygcDGZT7OZf1IE1Rn9J-waa_ZrezZhn4/w150-h200/1997.jpeg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8h8JEFFt4jHjigIx4q3LqpwUk0FVXl3NQ1Bk8E15_TklDOFdpFlYRTZU9dFLlZSWZdcbudPyzeAR4GmBC07fv85Ue1uBCWdY7Du17bG9pC6-Zju8M7GueRy-yADuySmaAezpDz5AbTG4/s600/1998.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="450" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8h8JEFFt4jHjigIx4q3LqpwUk0FVXl3NQ1Bk8E15_TklDOFdpFlYRTZU9dFLlZSWZdcbudPyzeAR4GmBC07fv85Ue1uBCWdY7Du17bG9pC6-Zju8M7GueRy-yADuySmaAezpDz5AbTG4/w138-h184/1998.jpeg" width="138" /></a></div></div></div><p>I was 14 years old when my mom propped an empty suitcase in front of me and said “whatever fits in here, that’s what you can take with you”...</p><p>Just a few months prior my parents had decided we were leaving Venezuela and permanently relocating to the United States, so while the suitcase scene didn’t shock me, it did feel like a turning point in my teenage mind...we were leaving.. I had been asked to pack...the move was real!</p><p>I saw my childhood home come apart when my mom decided that the easiest way to get ready for the move was to sell everything in the house and start anew. I remember very clearly when strangers would walk into our home and make offers on furniture, picture frames, kitchen appliances, even our Christmas tree ornaments were for sale. I spent the last few nights sleeping on the floor because my bed had been sold and celebrated my 15th birthday in an empty house blowing candles on a cake that sat on a kitchen stool, no bells or whistles, there was no time for a “quince” party, we were leaving the country within the next week!</p><p>On December 31st, 1996 we boarded a plane and said goodbye to our native country. I can still hear my sister Claudia sobbing at the airport and screaming “please don’t take me, I don’t want to leave!”, that moment will remain a jarring memory for me. It was the first day of our new lives and at the time it sounded odd that my parents had picked that day to move to a new country but 25 years later I can see why it was the perfect date; it meant closing a chapter and starting a new one along with ending a year and ringing in a new one, the meaning is deeper than I ever thought 25 years ago. </p><p>The first few months were rough as I navigated the American high school experience as a newly arrived international freshman. Leaving my all-girl Catholic school to be “dumped” in a less than desirable public American high school wasn’t my cup of tea and I felt really lost for most of that first year. I was no longer wearing a preppy uniform every day, there were no praying nuns with cheerful attitudes or people willing to be friendly just because that was the right thing to do. Instead, I was faced with unwelcoming mean kids that made fun of me for not speaking English and for not understanding their sexual jokes, teachers that were mostly disconnected from the students’ needs, and a high school campus that looked more like a jail than it did a school. I often wondered what I had done to deserve this and so badly wanted to go back to the bubble I had lived in for the past 15 years. </p><p>Things at home weren’t great either because we had gone from living a comfortable life in a big house to being crammed in a two-bedroom rental apartment. My dad was no longer Dean of Architecture in a prestigious university; he was now a pizza delivery driver trying to make ends meet and saving every penny so we could have a decent life as immigrants. My mom was no longer the always available stay-at-home mom, she was now another breadwinner and my sisters and I were spending more time alone than we ever had. Those first few months felt lonely and ominous, they brought so much anxiety and disruption to our perfect family but they also taught me the first lessons I learned in my new life as an immigrant, as the foreigner that I had become and the one I would always be. I learned that letting go of what was would be the only way to move forward, I learned that home is where your family is and that it is in difficult times that we truly understand the value of love, resilience, and sacrifice. </p><p>Our life in the United States was just getting started…(to be continued!)</p><div><br /></div>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-91209327221464044682021-11-18T14:02:00.000-05:002021-11-18T14:02:07.016-05:00Sweet 16!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIMiE_Sk2cJcUqOIIogLt-ESPLz6Vund7L30lgLHHmz9GElhkRVV7N64wXx2W82wsFmk6FgADKAGpwXlDD3KiymUnTni6chym_u1NJ54aqRdxYdr4RrSY-gcT6ym3q2grEAIQO4KzBJwU/s1795/28D4D67B-0D0E-44AD-90A1-147C7CDEF34C.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1795" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIMiE_Sk2cJcUqOIIogLt-ESPLz6Vund7L30lgLHHmz9GElhkRVV7N64wXx2W82wsFmk6FgADKAGpwXlDD3KiymUnTni6chym_u1NJ54aqRdxYdr4RrSY-gcT6ym3q2grEAIQO4KzBJwU/w321-h400/28D4D67B-0D0E-44AD-90A1-147C7CDEF34C.jpg" width="321" /></a></div>I love my husband unconditionally every day of the year but there is something about our anniversary that makes me sappy and overly giddy. <p></p><p> When I look at the life we have built in the past 16 years I can't help but think "gosh, how did I get so lucky!?". And the "luck" I think about isn't about feeling a mushy kind of love every day, or never arguing about anything, or traveling together, or having healthy kids, or being able to afford a comfortable life. My "luck" is about having that one special person next to me when things don't go right, it's about knowing that even on the worst days we share a kind of love that we both guard more than anything else we have, it's about arguing and always finding a way back to each other, it's about being confident that no matter what, we'll always trust each other enough to see through whatever obstacle is thrown at us. </p><p>I am "lucky" to love a partner who loves me back just as intensely, passionately, and unconditionally as I love him. We are lucky to have each other to go through good and bad times; to celebrate the happiness and share the sadness, someone to be vulnerable around, always knowing that there will be no judgment, and having no doubts that God put us together for a reason, being certain that we have a purpose as a couple, as a family.</p><p>That's what our anniversary means to me, a reminder that the love we share is bigger than ourselves and that our marriage will always be worth fighting for!</p><p>I love you forever, my Iggy. Thanks for making me the luckiest girl alive! </p><p>Happy sweet 16!<br /> </p>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-22121114424455773602021-09-28T10:58:00.000-04:002021-09-28T10:58:02.574-04:00He turned 6!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkJLpTnHnhXH9IeFrZL-u0eb0EPSD-bo7Png2oLvVLcvxS6ER0SrGIOm1Rsye3v6HbagmVE160ZeQx3IPIGEA8desKsShnY1xDaD32jUwLoJDjPixPrd_4e7GO1KwtwuVSiyR1lD8Tr04/s4032/IMG_2910.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkJLpTnHnhXH9IeFrZL-u0eb0EPSD-bo7Png2oLvVLcvxS6ER0SrGIOm1Rsye3v6HbagmVE160ZeQx3IPIGEA8desKsShnY1xDaD32jUwLoJDjPixPrd_4e7GO1KwtwuVSiyR1lD8Tr04/w300-h400/IMG_2910.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div>When I look at Oliver, it's hard to imagine my life without him. To think that he wasn't part of our plans makes me seriously doubt my planning abilities because he's certainly one of the best things that have happened to our family so I am glad God always has THE best plans for us and that He entrusted us with such a wonderful child. <p></p><p>Oliver is the sweetest little boy I ever did see; so caring and loving, always coming up with different ways to bring happiness to whoever he meets. He loves superheroes, Math, art, and all things dessert! He enjoys sports, particularly tennis, is learning to play the piano, and has gotten quite good at reading too!</p><p>He is currently loving Kindergarten and has made lots and lots of new friends. I love to see him thriving in school and I am so proud of him. He truly is a ray of sunshine in my life and I feel so blessed to be his mom. </p><p>Oliver celebrated his birthday this past Saturday with an Avengers-themed party; he invited all of his friends and had an absolute blast. At the end of the party, he said to me "thank you, mom, for the best party!" I could truly see the light in his eye. </p><p>I love Oliver's personality and I am always in awe of how mature he is. He is incredibly self-aware and communicates his needs so well; I can definitely see the effects of having two older sisters and growing up in a "go-go-go" kind of family. He enjoys the action but also loves relaxing at home. I love that he adjusts so easily to our crazy dynamics and I can always count on him to make me laugh or lift my spirits at any given point. What a special kid!</p><p>Thank you, everyone, for the wonderful birthday wishes for Oliver. We are truly grateful for the blessing of his life. </p><p>Happy 6th birthday, buddy! We love you so much!</p>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-87447182273567333412021-09-02T10:36:00.002-04:002022-02-26T10:17:17.040-05:00Does it ever get easier?<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwePsm1tpTlqO8Qnm1gx9n_Rw3-mQVfflF4LtqrKHk-NKO3exfSGAzoiDiPm8aNCBdbUdeuLWizAkJcvKolZt0Yq65Jxtv8kNr10XTvmMTYdgPHq3iwjuX9FZhoZGo5eIZJ8EUOopFzsw/s1106/iStock-1153386698.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="948" data-original-width="1106" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwePsm1tpTlqO8Qnm1gx9n_Rw3-mQVfflF4LtqrKHk-NKO3exfSGAzoiDiPm8aNCBdbUdeuLWizAkJcvKolZt0Yq65Jxtv8kNr10XTvmMTYdgPHq3iwjuX9FZhoZGo5eIZJ8EUOopFzsw/s320/iStock-1153386698.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>A few months back I wrote <a href="http://www.storiesofahappymom.com/2021/03/perpetual-sadness.html" target="_blank">this post</a> about a perpetual state of sadness in the world, a collective "downness" that most people have experienced in the past year and a half (consider yourself lucky if you haven't). <p></p><p>I, like many other people, have suffered the effects of the world shift that we have absolutely no control over. A pandemic, a tense political climate, and an overall hostile environment are some of the things that have touched our lives in recent times, and in my personal life, I have also struggled with my kids experiencing anxiety and some form of "sadness" that is hard to define. </p><p>But pandemic et. al aside, the world is just "different" now, and I am not referring to acceptable societal definitions of gender, family, norms, etc (that's a whole different topic); I am referring to the way in which we see ourselves and others. Somewhere along the way we all lost respect for humankind, we lost grip of the concept of common decency, we learned to be hateful, we embraced the possibility of running people over with our beliefs and minimizing what others think or ignoring what they have to say. I am having to teach my children basic values, things that at some point seemed obvious, I find myself having to say things like "a teacher shouldn't go through your backpack without your permission" or "you don't have to say yes if you don't agree", or "it's ok if you want to be super girly", or "it's ok to believe in God and say it proudly". When did this happen? When did the world become a place where people have to be afraid to stand up for themselves? </p><p>In an attempt to be more "accepting", we have become "blind". Blind to the fact that the world is a diverse place where people still have a mind of their own and it's ok if they don't go with the flow. As a conservative, I have often felt harassed because of my beliefs; I am often "boxed" by people who don't even know me. When I got the vaccine, I had someone ask "why would you get vaccinated? aren't you a Republican?"...what does that even mean?. On the flip side, I've also had people tell me "I'm disappointed in you for getting a vaccine, I thought you were smarter"...what does THAT even mean?</p><p>Do I really have to constantly defend who I am? Do I really have to explain why I think the way I do? Why do we live in such a judgy place and does it ever get easier? Why do the ones that preach "respect" are usually the least accepting?</p><p>The truth is, I am exhausted... I have a very hard time being the "happy mom". I'm tired of living in a world of passive-aggressiveness, a world where I have to measure my words even among "friends", a place where I have to always wonder if I'm offending anyone by simply being me. I'm tired of having to question people's true motives, of not knowing who to trust, of having to read into memes because people simply don't have the backbone to just be real!</p><p>And this has nothing to do with the pandemic, this is all on US and the constant need to outdo each other, the complacency with the idea of living in a "toxic" world and not taking responsibility for it. I know we can do better! I want a better tomorrow for my kids!</p><p>Does it ever get easier?</p>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-12925803005916920082021-07-17T10:45:00.001-04:002021-07-17T10:56:28.121-04:00Olivia is 14!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFZgJuL9aVHx4M49b8gwU3ZFrFpP2wg8hAt65GQmHqVMGY3aVxICctNPGu53DMA1mokaReqUp6s__3cSlNrieJalg_-74au2E7kj0zxm3CpYqDssE7RT3eL9t2DphVrcH3cKm8IEtbGZo/s4032/IMG_4634.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFZgJuL9aVHx4M49b8gwU3ZFrFpP2wg8hAt65GQmHqVMGY3aVxICctNPGu53DMA1mokaReqUp6s__3cSlNrieJalg_-74au2E7kj0zxm3CpYqDssE7RT3eL9t2DphVrcH3cKm8IEtbGZo/w300-h400/IMG_4634.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div>When I got pregnant with Gaby and realized my kids could potentially share a birthday, I didn't know how to feel. Granted, we had planned for them to be 2 years apart but we didn't think it was going to be that exact!<p></p><p>It turns out they didn't end up sharing a birthday but their birthdays are close enough for them to share the spotlight (although they hate it sometimes!)</p><p>Today Olivia turns 14 and even though she's probably going through the most difficult years a person can have (at least according to me), she is walking through them with grace and rocking the teenage stage like only Olivia can do. She has the best sense of humor and is a social butterfly; she enjoys meeting new people and always finds common ground with everyone to make friendships. </p><p>Olivia is a shopaholic and loves a good bargain; she is a lover of Starbucks and enjoys hanging out with her friends, always coming up with the next best hangout and begging me to drive her around town for her social commitments (slow your roll, girl!) She loves life and that makes me so happy!</p><p>But this past year, her busy social life did take away from her other responsibilities; she slacked a bit in school as she wrapped up 8th grade and lost her study habits which directly affected her once "straight A" report cards. I had to go as far as disconnecting her line because, like a typical modern teenager, her phone became a priority and blinded her for a while. There was pouting and complaining but she got over it and was able to get back on track. She also had her first boyfriend and first heartbreak but her poise and easy-going personality helped her through it and the experience was good for her.</p><p>Olivia is sweet, caring, loves to travel the world, and worries so much about everyone. She makes me so proud and I can never thank God enough for choosing me to be her mom. She makes me a better mother and a better person and I am so happy to live life with her. </p><p>On your 14th birthday, please know that I will love you forever and will always support you even when I think your ideas are crazy. Never stop loving life and always dance like no one is watching!</p><p>Happy birthday my sweet girl! </p>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-6603888812070899782021-07-16T10:39:00.000-04:002021-07-16T10:39:00.549-04:00Gaby is 12!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0i8hFq8L5YcjggIPH7imDHG6ZCZNc1O9rjLvK4p_2kwvuSoTqJPagjdKil3HS7xwl-1fEZGUQ3OhJA8WLdcOseZEaixk3PVoXfgwFz8ugDovdCtw11OV47fNT07VW6Uad5BfX-vaQwoc/s2048/IMG_8116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1398" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0i8hFq8L5YcjggIPH7imDHG6ZCZNc1O9rjLvK4p_2kwvuSoTqJPagjdKil3HS7xwl-1fEZGUQ3OhJA8WLdcOseZEaixk3PVoXfgwFz8ugDovdCtw11OV47fNT07VW6Uad5BfX-vaQwoc/w273-h400/IMG_8116.jpg" width="273" /></a></div>When I was growing up, I never thought of myself as the "maternal" kind; I didn't play "mom" with dolls, didn't think of what my kids' names would be or how many children (if any!) I would have. But here I am, 3 kids later, with the complete certainty that having children is the biggest blessing of my life so celebrating their birthdays is naturally one of my favorite things to do. <p></p><p>And today my "little" Gaby turns 12 so this is a big day for us! Gaby is definitely my most difficult child; she is stubborn (I wonder where she gets it from!?! LOL), hot-headed, irritable, and impulsive. But she's also sweet, inquisitive, kind, compassionate and so many other good things that would take me hours to list. I just love her so much!</p><p>This year has been a difficult one for Gaby; at age 12 she is constantly struggling to define herself and find her own space. She tends to gravitate towards solitary activities and has had many issues with sadness and lack of motivation. The isolation from the pandemic put a damper on her personality and she has been trying so hard to come out of the funk. I know she's getting there but I would be lying if I said it hasn't been a challenge. I know it hasn't been easy but I also trust her resilience so much and have seen so many positive changes lately. </p><p>Gaby is a very family-oriented girl, incredibly affectionate, an avid reader, very analytical, and such a great sister to both Olivia and Oliver. She is an organizer and loves to make plans to get her friends together. She is a cat and sugar lover, who loves cooking and painting. So many traits that make her who she is and make me such a proud mom!</p><p>Gaby, on your birthday I'd like you to know that my love for you has no end and that even when the road seems tough ahead, I will always be here to help you push through it so you come out stronger on the other side. You are a blessing to me and if I did nothing else right in my life, being your mom would be just enough! </p><p><br /></p><p>Happy Birthday my sweet girl!</p>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-62036001455101379942021-06-21T10:42:00.004-04:002022-02-26T10:17:31.602-05:00When anxiety catches up...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilKpr1XTxn2WmVb7zXTr_q9JZlALeQJS2q9sc8Orh-LLiF9wf08WUlLnL4t2jMJe80B8MVpWxKC7A9Ml_4HFvWQaXwVW9WA2bsbb6Q1VLRq6MP_zUCwZhuxYctD3DoFaz0jpeHOrSKweo/s722/anxiety.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="406" data-original-width="722" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilKpr1XTxn2WmVb7zXTr_q9JZlALeQJS2q9sc8Orh-LLiF9wf08WUlLnL4t2jMJe80B8MVpWxKC7A9Ml_4HFvWQaXwVW9WA2bsbb6Q1VLRq6MP_zUCwZhuxYctD3DoFaz0jpeHOrSKweo/w400-h225/anxiety.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I promise I don't purposely abandon my blog for 3 months at a time, but sometimes life happens and my days are overcome with more pressing matters, although writing about those "matters" probably would help more than I'd like to admit. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I have a way of dealing with things; I am blunt, I don't mope, I tend to focus on problem solutions rather than problem analysis. I don't get too attached, or offended, or sad about things. Some might call it "cold", others might call it "practical", either way, it's what works for me and I'm ok with that. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">But because no one is invulnerable to stress and anxiety, my pragmatism can only get me so far and I too have suffered the effects of the uncertainty of these times, particularly when it comes to my two daughters. I've always been wary of the teenage years; the challenges that come with this stage of life are nothing to laugh about, especially during an era when they have access to insurmountable amounts of information and misinformation; it's hard to convince your child of something when the whole world tells them otherwise; it's hard to expect them to behave a certain way only because that is what has worked for us; it's easy to assume that their personalities will develop according to their surroundings and hard when we are faced with the opposite of that. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">In the past few months, I've had to deal with teenage heartbreak (first boyfriend and subsequent break-up), isolation, panic attacks, anxiety, school neglect, a transition to high school, the realization that friends change and you can't possibly please everyone, therapy and much more; and even though these things haven't happened to ME, it definitely feels like I'm living them right along with my kids and that adds a whole new layer of complexity that I wasn't ready for. How could I truly understand all these things if it's not me they're happening to? and how could I truly help if I don't know what they really feel like? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">My teenage years were a "walk in the park"; even though I moved to another country at the ripe age of 15, the fact that there were no phones and no way to bombard kids with "crap" probably made it a lot easier. Influencers, political correctness, #empowher, and the constant and exhausting need to prove yourself to others were not a thing and the world was a much happier place (according to my perception anyway!). The amount of pressure modern kids have to deal with is no joke and that in turn translates into added pressure for us parents, it really is NO JOKE! </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Never in a million years did I think I'd have to fear my kid committing suicide because she was bullied online, or that I'd have to fight for my kids to have a "normal life", or that I'd have to convince them of things that at some point were so obvious, or the fact that therapy is probably a "necessary evil" if I want to come out alive on the other side. And even with all that, my kids have "easy" but it does come with a cost, and anxiety catches up because just when I think I've got it all figured out, in comes the next thing to worry about, the next threat, the next issue, the next pain...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I guess what I'm trying to say is that anxiety is REAL and sometimes I fail to voice it and wait for the triggers instead of finding a shoulder to cry on or calling on a friend for a venting session. I know I'm not alone...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Tips to handle anxiety?</span></p>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-17436532983142225552021-03-18T13:23:00.007-04:002021-03-18T15:45:41.269-04:00Hypocrisy: the loss of authenticity<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKvTizneaO8ViBxJ4WGyOg7mSLl8vl2Wuj7jenR-Lv8A8nC5rKhLC1FPCSf1uxeSIskaRLFsHbYpcKSwpP7n0Vt5dwlhzayReZYYRRFODmDQUKevV3j2s0qQp1nvXiaGEy_5ZdGEt_PZI/s1055/iStock-1218534443.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="994" data-original-width="1055" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKvTizneaO8ViBxJ4WGyOg7mSLl8vl2Wuj7jenR-Lv8A8nC5rKhLC1FPCSf1uxeSIskaRLFsHbYpcKSwpP7n0Vt5dwlhzayReZYYRRFODmDQUKevV3j2s0qQp1nvXiaGEy_5ZdGEt_PZI/s320/iStock-1218534443.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I remember when Facebook came out in the early 2000's; I used to "friend" everyone I remotely knew and for a while, it felt like a big happy friend reunion. I started reconnecting with old friends, getting to know new friends and feeling like I was part of everyone's daily life, it was literally the best invention anyone could come up with. And for a while IT WAS all sunshine and butterflies...until it wasn't anymore. Gosh how I miss the years of well-intended and genuine people!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But this post isn't about social media (I think I've already said my piece on that topic) but about how we have become hypocrites in the name of "political correctness". My grandma used to say "la educación tiene un dejo de hipocresía", which would translate into something like "manners and education have a touch of hypocrisy". I will admit to that phrase not fully synching in until modern times happened, but now I GET IT!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Everyone talks about diversity of everything, but no one mentions diversity of thought. It seems like such a foreign concept to some to not have to always agree with each other. We are all individuals, we naturally think differently and while I am sure we all feel more comfortable around people who think like us, isn't that really boring?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Are we really just tolerating each other? Are we <strike>quickly</strike> slowly losing our authenticity and becoming the biggest hypocrites? Are we playing a role?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In my case, people who know me well know I am "radical"; many of my opinions are black and white and I can come across as arrogant and self-righteous. People who know me well also know that I am passionate, understanding and compassionate. Despite my "radical" beliefs, I can appreciate diversity and I actually love a good debate. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But it does get tricky because there is a fine line between blunt honesty and cruelty. I used to be an "I don't care what people think" kind of person but with experience and maturity, I have come to realize that caring about what people think shows empathy, which is a necessary (and very useful) quality. We all need to be empathic, everyone could use a little kindness in their lives.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But then I think "how much should we care?" Are we willing to lose our authenticity for the sake of empathy? Am I a hypocrite too? Do I want to be one?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I know people from all walks of life, I have friends that cringe at the thought of me voting for Trump (and I did!), friends that think my pareting approach is totally off and friends that completely disagree with me on every possible relevant subject, but I'd like to think those friends love me for who I am and embrace diversity of thought (I know I do!). But some days I have my doubts!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have lost faith on the idea that "everyone has the best intentions"; we have become slaves to political correctness and in the process we have lost our authenticity and traded it for "social hypocrisy", a quality that our society promotes and has turned us all into single-layer individuals that no longer have the backbone to stand for something but can surely fall for anything so long as it avoids controversy and prevents disagreements. We have come to believe that thinking differently and not going with the flow is evil, that it somehow turns us into rivals. I hope we snap out of it soon!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So to end, I want to say THANK YOU to the real, authentic people in my life, to the friends who are willing to stay in my corner even when they think what I say makes no sense and they'd rather run and hide but decide to stay. Thank you to the ones that can tell judgement and concern apart, to the ones that value honesty and aren't afraid to challenge me when they deem it necessary, Thank you to the ones whose love and friendship don't depend on political views or feeling hurt by a differing opinion. Thank you to the ones that hold on to their authenticity and will never give into hypocrisy! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Happy Blogging! :)</div><br /><p></p><div><b><i>Edited to add that I've been saying this all along, as evidenced by <a href="http://www.storiesofahappymom.com/2019/01/if-you-want-to-give-it-you-gotta-be.html">THIS OLD POST</a> </i></b></div>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-39966720255089880562021-03-12T10:46:00.003-05:002021-03-12T11:18:58.404-05:00Perpetual Sadness<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufKOU_XzhpJee09mBK_RC0qZRALh4Bh1tHOIaxU3wU_n9gki_txBb4aMMtTDWzhNMENXXF8GY3PwVRuuuiSc9d2ZtstfQjg5ghBNZ1MjnlZODPEvzeK_UG7-8a77G198XNgNys-htVLQ/s688/sadness.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufKOU_XzhpJee09mBK_RC0qZRALh4Bh1tHOIaxU3wU_n9gki_txBb4aMMtTDWzhNMENXXF8GY3PwVRuuuiSc9d2ZtstfQjg5ghBNZ1MjnlZODPEvzeK_UG7-8a77G198XNgNys-htVLQ/s688/sadness.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufKOU_XzhpJee09mBK_RC0qZRALh4Bh1tHOIaxU3wU_n9gki_txBb4aMMtTDWzhNMENXXF8GY3PwVRuuuiSc9d2ZtstfQjg5ghBNZ1MjnlZODPEvzeK_UG7-8a77G198XNgNys-htVLQ/s688/sadness.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufKOU_XzhpJee09mBK_RC0qZRALh4Bh1tHOIaxU3wU_n9gki_txBb4aMMtTDWzhNMENXXF8GY3PwVRuuuiSc9d2ZtstfQjg5ghBNZ1MjnlZODPEvzeK_UG7-8a77G198XNgNys-htVLQ/s688/sadness.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufKOU_XzhpJee09mBK_RC0qZRALh4Bh1tHOIaxU3wU_n9gki_txBb4aMMtTDWzhNMENXXF8GY3PwVRuuuiSc9d2ZtstfQjg5ghBNZ1MjnlZODPEvzeK_UG7-8a77G198XNgNys-htVLQ/s688/sadness.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="546" data-original-width="688" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufKOU_XzhpJee09mBK_RC0qZRALh4Bh1tHOIaxU3wU_n9gki_txBb4aMMtTDWzhNMENXXF8GY3PwVRuuuiSc9d2ZtstfQjg5ghBNZ1MjnlZODPEvzeK_UG7-8a77G198XNgNys-htVLQ/w400-h318/sadness.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Disclaimer: This post is about a state of "Perpetual Sadness" in our world and not indicative of personal depression or other mental health issues. If you or someone you know is experiencing depression, please seek professional help.</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">There is something about coming to terms with raw emotions that tends to be intimidating. When I'm sad, all I want to do is sleep or be alone for a bit. </span></p></span><p></p><p>But facing struggles is part of life and I wholeheartedly believe that a good support system makes all the difference in the world. I often tell my friends and family how blessed I feel for having them in my life; how knowing that a comforting word is only a phone call away makes everything so much easier...some days that comfort is needed more than others.</p><p>I have a good life, a life filled with happy moments, amazing memories, an awesome family, and many things going for me (thank you, God!) but lately, there are times when I can't shake that feeling of perpetual sadness that often floods my days. I know sadness is a normal reaction to a loss, disappointment, problems, or other difficult situations and feeling sad from time to time is just another part of being human; but sometimes I feel like the world's current state is just so overwhelming. </p><p>I find myself crying randomly when I pick up my kids from school and see all those children in masks; I know it sounds silly but it just makes me so sad to see what things have turned into and I wonder when we'll be able to go back to some sort of "normal" (I know many people feel this way too). </p><p>I see people around me losing their common sense by the minute and our natural reaction is now to avoid physical contact or personal closeness; the very things that make our hearts beat faster, the things that make us feel loved and connected. I miss the normal and abundantly happy times that we were all so used to.</p><p>When I turn on the TV, all I see is a polarized world, a world in which feelings don't matter and the best opinion is the one that matches your own, even if it makes no sense at all. Outside of TV, I see people misconstruing intentions, trampling over moral values, imposing ideas without hearing the other side of stories, spewing insults to strangers, ignoring priorities, and simply not loving one another. </p><p>But whose fault is it? Is this the pandemic's fault? Is it the politicians' fault? or is it <b><u>US</u></b>?</p><p>We have become used to living in a world of perpetual sadness and I often ask myself how long is too long for sadness? How long is too long for hate? When will the world start focusing on what is good instead of what's bad or offensive?</p><p>Ironically enough, my blog's name is "Stories of a Happy Mom" and while I do still consider myself a "happy mom", I find happiness incompatible with the current state of affairs and that just makes me sad. I have lost faith in humanity, I have seen and heard things this past year that I never thought I'd see or hear. Sometimes nothing makes sense. </p><p>I find refuge in knowing that it's still very much possible to make a "u-turn", that one day we'll all wake up and say "but there's still so much good among us" and will simply act on it and move on from this worldly funk and perpetual sadness we've all become accustomed to. </p><p>I challenge every one of my readers to begin each day with a grateful heart, to make a choice to be happy and focus on the good. We can all be each other's light in the darkest times and share the joy in the brightest days!</p><p><br /></p><p>Happy Blogging!</p><p><br /></p>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-34303158648380463602021-01-11T13:45:00.001-05:002021-01-11T13:45:13.311-05:00Happy 2021!<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKf3Z1nwqxKk9Gd1vXuP4MKUxl1MzAdjfBt8ASERp-T6kLnUVFCqW4PEmhQbftBwyZwcoYJg-gXztCanrBOIRzcSjlOvyvKyiuWUBAmLyLvE1DHbU-nngoUdpwbogGhoeVfQp02ObmWKY/s1024/iStock-1294192230.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKf3Z1nwqxKk9Gd1vXuP4MKUxl1MzAdjfBt8ASERp-T6kLnUVFCqW4PEmhQbftBwyZwcoYJg-gXztCanrBOIRzcSjlOvyvKyiuWUBAmLyLvE1DHbU-nngoUdpwbogGhoeVfQp02ObmWKY/s320/iStock-1294192230.jpg" /></a></div>It's weird to be back to blogging after so long, only to wish everyone a "Happy New Year" in mid-January; but I guess it's better than not showing up at all and leaving my poor blog to die alone. <p></p><p>I won't write another post about how "bad" 2020 was or how "redemptive" 2021 will be, because the truth is that we all live different experiences and any given year is what we make of it. In all honesty, 2020 was a bit uninspiring as far as writing goes but life went on, and incredibly enough, a lot of good things happened for us.</p><p>As far as updates go, I can say that we've all managed to stay <b>healthy</b> in the middle of this devastating pandemic, the kids have been back to in-person school, Iggy and I have been working the whole time and we bought a house! (yay!)</p><p>Here's a recount of the 3 top things that 2020 brought for us and how we managed to turn them into a positive almost every time:</p><p>1. Anxiety: Between the lockdowns and the uncertainty, I know I am not alone when I say that my anxiety was through the roof for a good few months. Not knowing what was coming next, and being bombarded with bad news on a daily basis was hard but a lot of learning came from it. I was able to turn my anxiety into coping and my coping into spirituality and I can honestly say I'm a better person now when the pandemic started... and for that I'm thankful! I can now handle anxiety better and help others to do the same. Prayer was always a part of my life, but now it's definitely the center of it. "Nothing is impossible to God!"</p><p>2. Restrictions: Everyone who knows me is well aware that I love to travel, I also love shopping and hanging out with friends, so the restrictive nature of 2020 was rough for me. Not only were we confined to certain places and spaces, but we were also constantly missing the human interaction and seeing how the world crumbled around us. The restrictions, however, brought on more family "togetherness" and with that came better family relations and a mandatory prioritizing of life in general. If this pandemic taught me anything, it was the fact that all we need to be happy is each other and I am grateful that we were able to rediscover ourselves and nurture our family life. Board games, anyone?</p><p>3. Isolation: We are relational individuals, we are used to sharing our experiences with others and that is a big part of life, especially when you are a teenager and constantly crave interactions with other teenagers and like-minded people, so the isolation part of the pandemic was particularly damaging to both Olivia and Gaby. It was hard seeing the kids so alone and at times very sad; they were isolated and relying on technology to hold on to that little bit of contact they had with their friends and with that came an obsessive addiction to social media that wa verging on dangerous. So about two months ago, we made the decision to do away with phones for the girls and help them in refocusing their energy to do more "productive" activities and we have not looked back! Some of you might remember <a href="http://www.storiesofahappymom.com/2019/06/welp-that-was-terrible-decision.html" target="_blank">this post</a> from 2019 where I talked about my regrets for giving Olivia a phone at age 10. As time went on (and especially during this pandemic), I was able to take a closer look at the danger that comes with the access that a phone provides and I am 100% convinced that kids DO NOT NEED PHONES! So in a way, I am thankful to the pandemic for opening my eyes and helping me get the courage to disconnect the phones and restrict social media for the girls in a world where that seems so odd (I will write more about this in a future post- I call it the "reclaim my child's brain" movement). I must say that the girls now have even better relationships with their friends, as crazy as that sounds! ;)</p><p>Anyway, enough for a comeback post.. I promise I'll blog more this year and I hope everyone has a wonderful 2021, filled with great opportunities. I hope we all continue to be finders of the silver lining and bearers of smiles and good news. As tough as life gets, I am confident that humanity and love will always prevail! </p><p><i>I pray especially for anyone who has been affected by COVID whether it was losing a loved one, a job or having their life turned upside down.</i></p><p>Happy 2021! :)</p>Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3015926567663896058.post-86884751118737474272020-10-16T13:19:00.000-04:002020-10-16T13:19:09.687-04:00Sweet and Sour!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg8Jkwi7JS-zsZjpQBjPNq4SmFfq44gZzYGjyMgTb4no5-tb6EFO-5r3xrP2Db7Qgf21WpbucM1emlS7DYS9hd7_o46ECVwDgag46k-5w3_2gV7iBJ63c4zLR1b3y1qRMCm0Kcv4kEAxc/s1488/IMG_2448.PNG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><span style="text-align: left;"> I won't candy-coat it, raising children is HARD and getting them through the teenage years is twice as hard!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">I'm sure no mother likes to think of her child as "difficult" but sometimes these challenges are unavoidable and definitely undeniable. I have arrived at parenting adolescents..now what?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Olivia turned 13 this past summer and even though she has been an overall uncomplicated daughter and mostly sweet, I'm starting to see the sourness come out as she grows into her skin and develops her own sense of self. At the moment she's going through the "my parents have no clue" stage, where not only thinks she knows it all but also that she knows way more than either of her parents does. I know we all probably went through a similar stage and we turned out fine but I would be a fool to deny that in this process, being the parent is much harder than being the teen. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">The bickering usually starts when I offer a dissenting opinion on any given subject or when I dare to criticize one of her decisions, friends, actions, etc (but I'm the mom, right!?); what starts as a minor disagreement is quickly followed by a major eye roll, a loud "but mom!", and at times a door slam and walking away... man... it's tough! </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">I want to be clear that in no way I'm saying that Olivia is rude or disrespectful towards me but she does have her moments where clarity just isn't there and the teenage attitude gets the best of her. I can't stand it! I know teenagers are immature and this is all part of life but the ever-growing difficulty of our relationship frustrates me to no end. I always envisioned this great relationship with my teenager, where I could raise above and always be the adult, but sometimes I fail miserably and feel like such a loser!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="1231" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg8Jkwi7JS-zsZjpQBjPNq4SmFfq44gZzYGjyMgTb4no5-tb6EFO-5r3xrP2Db7Qgf21WpbucM1emlS7DYS9hd7_o46ECVwDgag46k-5w3_2gV7iBJ63c4zLR1b3y1qRMCm0Kcv4kEAxc/s320/IMG_2448.PNG" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When talking about modern parenting, it is important to acknowledge that today's parents face many challenges that didn't exist 20 or even 10 years ago; the increasing access to information, the decay of our society as a whole, the politics, the "influencers", technology, social media; I could go on and on but I think I've made my point. Many of these challenges are so new that as parents we are still developing ways in which to deal with them and teenagers are learning right along with us; it makes an already difficult situation even worse. I've always had a "beef" with app developers that create apps that aid children in lying to their parents and hiding stuff altogether. Apps such as Snapchat and Tik Tok seem to be made with an explicit intent to allow children to live ahead of their years and often force parents to unknowingly relinquish their authority and while one could argue that children and teenagers don't need a phone, the truth is that a phone isn't the only way for children to access these apps or get a hold of all the information (or should I could it disinformation?) that is always going around and many times constitutes indoctrination and brainwashing. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I know I'm not alone when I say that dealing with a teenager has turned out to be among the most unpleasant things I've gone through as a mother and at the risk of sounding dramatic or trivial, I really hope this stage is over soon because sometimes I feel so lost and defeated.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">How are you dealing with your teenager? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHpQp0cAZPqa9qiiMiX1PZ7iG6H2u1iVfQmUgJD6xyhuLLgbJlpAcg-QlviDKDPBj-zHzesq7x5te9fZZ6MNqItcCF2clY1B9SudWmNzLviHcER-CvedRuwATEWQzu9FdcUA2R31RZSY0/s1539/IMG_2450.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1539" data-original-width="1229" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHpQp0cAZPqa9qiiMiX1PZ7iG6H2u1iVfQmUgJD6xyhuLLgbJlpAcg-QlviDKDPBj-zHzesq7x5te9fZZ6MNqItcCF2clY1B9SudWmNzLviHcER-CvedRuwATEWQzu9FdcUA2R31RZSY0/s320/IMG_2450.PNG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><br />Stories of a Happy Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18405023387577997990noreply@blogger.com0