Raising a Blue Moon

  My dearest girls,  We live in a world of appearances; we carefully curate which side of ourselves we want people to see on our social media accounts, edit the photos, and choose how to bend the truth to make it sound and look exactly as we want. As a result, many of us feel inadequate or unable to keep up with the all-smiles, always-winning people. But really, what do we know? And why should we care? We are afraid to fail or to portray anything other than success and control, even when things are never that easy, black-and-white, or just one thing. It is unreasonable and unnatural to think that thriving individuals have no self-doubt or face a few setbacks on their paths to success.  We all fail; every day we fail. We fail to meet our expectations, others' expectations, deadlines, presentations, tasks, jobs, etc. Failure is a constant and nothing to be ashamed of. Sometimes, we fail even when we put our hearts and souls into it; sometimes things don't work out the way w...

  My sweetest girls,   Yesterday was a hard and sad day. My great aunt Lolis passed away. It didn't hit me right away. I was having an out-of-body experience as my father was explaining over the phone that she had passed, and that she was tired and had wanted to die for a while now. I thought, "This is where you are supposed to cry, you should feel more upset, why aren't you more upset? What is wrong with you?" When I hung up the phone, you came to see me. You knew something was wrong, and when I tried to tell you, that is where my heart caught up with my body, and I started sobbing. I am sorry if I scared you. Amaia was curious. I don't think she remembers my aunt at all. She was too little; the interactions were so short —a couple of hours here and there. As the hours passed last night and I got talking to other family members, all the memories kept flooding into my mind; cherished moments of my aunt Lolis and my aunt Blanca, who passed away more than 20 years a...

My dear girls,  I grew up with strong, independent women and the men who loved them. I believed my opinion mattered and my voice was meant to be heard. Soon enough, I realized my family dynamics were rare. From the world, I was fed doubt and uncertainty. I started second-guessing myself as part of the routine; this never-enough feeling was planted deep inside me, this need to be small, to make myself useful, serving, willing, friendly and never challenging. I worked under the assumption that there was something wrong with all my feminine qualities, that compassion, empathy, and cooperation were weak attributes, that ambition has only one form, and that there is only one way to achieve professional growth. I was "too much," too articulated, too outspoken, too demanding, and too feminist.  My gender served as my own limit on what I could and should achieve. I created a dumbed-down, watered-down version of myself that was less threatening to the world I was living in, but ...

My dear girls,  I always knew I wanted to be a mother. However, the thought of having boys terrified me because I had zero experience dealing with them other than my husband. But I was actually looking forward to the idea of being a boy-mom. When they told us we were having a girl, we were so happy, a girl I could picture, girls I understand; princesses, unicorns and rainbows. After I had Julieta and being so far away from family, I started thinking about a sibling for her, someone to keep her company, someone she could play with and understand what she was going through. When we knew we were having another girl, I was over the moon excited; I could picture you growing up like my sister, and I did, and I couldn't think of anything better than that.  My sister was born when I was three and a half years old. I have blurry memories of her as a baby, but once she could walk, we were inseparable. She was the ying to my yang; we were part of the same and, at the same time, so differ...

My dearest girls,  Many people out there feel it is their right to tell others how to live, who to love, how to behave, and what box they belong to. You have the power to choose whether you want to be labelled or whether or not you belong in a box. Nobody has the right to tell people there is anything wrong with their choices or identity. I would encourage you to seek answers not only from people who are similar to you but also from those who are different, those courageous enough to stand their ground and own who they are, even if it goes against what society dictates.   I have always believed that you can teach yourself to love anyone if you take time to get to know them. There is always something beautiful and unique about any human being. Beauty can be made out of hopes, dreams and joy but also out of struggle and pain. In that sense, any person should be a beautiful canvas of experiences; the more you know, the more you understand, and you care, and the more you care...

  My dear girls,  In Spanish, we say "unas por otras," which is how we justify the tradeoff: we gain some and lose some. It has been almost 18 years since I came to Canada. I know, think, curse, and dream in English just as much as I do in Spanish. We alternate languages around the house and speak some Spanglish version that only you and Dad can understand. There have been many ups and downs, losses, and many treasures gained. My mind is settled; I no longer wish to live in Mexico; I like my life and this version of myself here. That doesn't mean I don't miss everything about it; I miss driving through a street that brings out childhood memories; I miss the people I left behind, the people who loved me, the people who raised me, the noise, feeling a deep sense of belonging. Still, I convince myself daily that this was the right decision for you and me.  News about Mexico hurt my heart; the government, the violence, the murders, the unpunished crimes against women, the...