How to raise an Unselfish child in a Selfish world? – The Importance of Mercy

How to raise an Unselfish child in a Selfish world?

Part 1 – The Importance of Mercy

It’s S.E.A. season and I can’t tell you how many times I have to check myself and I wonder if I should push hard for the “good school mantra” or not. We all want our children to do and be their best but can we accept their best to be enough. I look at my child and I see every artistic talent that I have and more, (so much more) how can I deliberately put her in this academic box and then convince her to follow her talents later on.  

What do I say: “Just concentrate on S.E.A now and after we’ll change the rules and be different.”    

Didn’t it all work out for us, good school or not. Aren’t we living our life in spite of that drama; aren’t we running businesses, excelling in jobs and persevering. I am and I wished I started sooner.       

I worry that I am teaching my children to be too competitive, selfish at such an early stage in life, as she tries to fulfill my dreams, she’s becoming a little tyrant, maybe a miniature version of me. 

The Power of Mercy

What is Mercy? Compassion or forgiveness shown towards someone whom it is within one’s power to punish or harm. 


Each generation molds the next generation and yes, we continued where the last generation started, they transformed the dynamics of the world putting the nuclear family above the village and we perfect it.  

We paved the playgrounds because grass was too dirty, we say stay inside and watch TV so your expensive clothes won’t get dirty, we say don’t bother playing with the neighbors children, they’re not like us, watch your tablet instead.  

We tell them don’t feed stray animals because they’ll hang around and then we’ll have to feed them everyday.  

We interview their friends and say who’s good enough, who’s smart enough, who has enough. We strategically move them away from those type of friends we don’t like to those we do.  

We say don’t share your snacks, your lunch, don’t help them with their homework, don’t let them see your answers. We say, I didn’t buy school supplies for you to share with your friends. We tell them not to forgive their classmates, just stop talking to that child, we say. When was the last time we sent our children with something to share with the class for no reason at all. We teach them not to forgive, unkindness and selfishness. They don’t even know what charity means much less mercy. It’s just them and you in the world now and guess what one day they’ll realize you lied to them.  

You see children are genuinely merciful, they are born with mercy written in their very being until we push it out of them. Have you ever noticed how they play, they forgive and forget, they share, they cry for each other, it’s astounding and I wish I can tap into that innocence so easily again.   

I am selfish and it’s hard to push it down and re-train myself some days, because my reflex is bitch mode. It’s even harder to teach my child the things I know I should, when I’m fighting with myself to retain them. You see, mercy to me is sometimes akin to insanity, I admit it, I scream to the heavens, “You got to be kidding me, really!” at least once a month, and that’s a good month.  

Sometimes, I have to admit to her that I was wrong, that she should be kind, she should help in spite of any reservations I may have. She should follow her heart, and begin to hear the voice of God on her own.      

You see mercy is more that just kindness, forgiveness and charity, mercy comes from your soul not your head. Mercy says you’ve done me wrong, and I have the right to chastise you but I’ll forgive you and work with you to be a better person. Mercy is categorized as a noun but it’s really a powerful verb, you demonstrate mercy. These days I just say, “God of the universe help me to get this lesson of mercy without it killing me.” 

Some days i am convinced that my generation is too long gone, there is so much fear in us to help this world but we can stop and step back and give our children’s generation the opportunity to redeem us all.   

Teach your children mercy by showing them mercy, demonstrate by showing mercy to others.  If you want your children to understand divinity give them the gift of mercy.  

Mercy is fearless.

Mercy is freedom. 

Mercy is peace.






Empty Arms: For the Seemingly Barren Woman

Months ago, the dynamic and resourceful “Ezzy” – Esbeth Callendar-Braithwaite reached out to me saying, “I will like to self-publish my book, how do i go about doing it?”

Her book Empty Arms: for the Seemingly Barren Woman, a real life account of the life -straddling thought process of a Caribbean woman and her husband who wished to adopt a baby and comes away with seemingly ’empty arms’ was a bold topic. After reading the book i realized that this request wasn’t just about publishing, Ezzy opened her soul as she wrote, which in no doubt helped her to heal, and now she wanted other women to know that they were not alone.

This book of faith, this labour of love, whatever you called it, was more than just words.

Self publishing is a complicated, crazy yet fulfilling road so i outlined everything and still she wasn’t deterred, so i jumped in. If she wanted to do it, then it would get done.

Initially, i worked on formatting and cover design, Esbeth already had a pretty good idea of what she wanted, from the type of image on the cover down to the fonts and colors so it was really about just listening to her vision and delivering it. By the end of the following month she had artwork in hand. It took a few more months for her to get everything lined up and soon enough she was emailing me asking me to send artwork to printers.

The book is already on kindle and is now part of Caribbean Book’s catalog – Check it out!Empty Arms

I congratulate Ezzy for her dedication, and look forward to seeing the book in print very soon.


“I will decide, who i will become.” and





The Art of White Roses (A Book Review)

This book jumps off the page at you. It’s colorful, nearly real life depictions of that village and city stays with you. Wow!

The setting is old Cuba before Fidel Castro gets into power, the government is shady, the rebels have heighten their activities and university students from the village are disappearing and being found suspiciously dead or never to be heard from again.

The leading family is a mixture of personalities, Pinquino is the son who hates school while Adela hopes that school will bring her a better life. The grandfather listens to the news constantly while his children cope with their marriage and family who tethers on the edge of involvement. The parents especially the father, grapple with their life decisions which eventually has a irreconcilably affect on their existence.

The darkness of family relationships is exposed in this small group as the story looks openly at adultery, prostitution, crooked policing, murder and rape as they try to stay together and alive despite the betrayal of their own and the increasingly dangerous environment around them.

The book is rich with hope which envelopes its darkness and leads the reader on a journey of new beginnings.

The art of roses

I received this book through Caribbean Books Foundation R2R initiative.

The Art of White Roses is the 2017 Winner Burt Award for Caribbean Young Adult Literature
It is 1957, in a quiet Havana suburb. Adela Santiago is thirteen and lives in a small blue house with her family. But something is amiss. Students on her street are disappearing, her parents’ marriage seems to be disintegrating and a cousin is caught up in a bombing at a luxury hotel. Welcome to the revolution. Welcome to Cuba.
Publisher: Papillote Press

Do you have a great novel, creative non-fiction, or graphic novel for youth ages 12 to 18?

The CODE Burt Award for Caribbean Young Adult Literature 2019 submissions is now open.

The NGC Bocas Lit Fest is now accepting submissions for consideration to the 2019 CODE Burt Award for Caribbean Young Adult Literature. You can be the next winner.



The Magic Cave Series

Samantha, Alan and Mark go on a magical, mythical adventure in an awe-inspiring cave. Each trip leads to different worlds and opens clues to their past. They meet mythical creatures and there is a new fairy-tale world created by Aarti Gosine’s. Get all three books and read one after the next.

These books are precious and every Caribbean youngster will love them. They are full of folklore, fantasy and adventure.

The books are well paced for children in this age group. The one thing I like about the books is that the children work with the adults.

It’s a great coming of age adventure.

What Successful Women Leaders do best?

What Women Leaders do best?

When a woman says to me she’s made it and all she really did was blend in with all the men around her, I shudder. #YesAllWomen need leaders who will carry the voice of women to the top and effect policy changes in favor of equality. Don’t just put on those high heels every day and keep our focus on the glass ceiling, because somebody said you need to break it to prove our worth.

These are my top five to what successful female leaders do best.


When you are hired it’s a mutual agreement between you and your employer. You are not agreeing to be someone’s slave; you work so the company can grow. You work hand in hand towards a mutual goal. Many times women with bad bosses say; “well what am I going to do, I need a job.” If you stay and endure because of a salary, you have just nipped your leadership potential in the bud. Women Leaders move on from bad bosses because they know their worth. This is a trait of key movers and shakers, being able to identify when a situation isn’t worth it. We can all tell when the boss we are paired with isn’t an enabler. These women move on strategically and diplomatically but the key is they move on quickly. Moving on from a bad boss is essential whether you are a man or a woman. You can’t grow and hone leadership skills if you are suppressed.


Women leaders are comfortable having a family and a private cause without worrying about how it will affect work. These women don’t shy away from work-life balance and they don’t ask permission. They broach the topic confidently and are comfortable stating their situation and are usually quick to offer a trade-off that is in the employer’s favor when they need time off. They usually take leading roles in social clubs, charity groups or other associations. They are comfortable spreading themselves but there is no doubt they will still be the best at work in spite of the other areas they commit to.


Getting to the top is not something that they see as someone else’s responsibility. They do the work and they expect to move to the next step. These women work hard and go beyond what is expected not so much to impress but because it is something innate to their character.


Confidence is the key to Leadership. If you are not willing to say you are aiming for your boss’s job, you will never get it. Maybe you should be buying company shares so one day your boss will be working for you. Women Leaders are not afraid to think big and act bigger. They have a firm belief in self; it’s really not anyone’s business to cheer you on every day, all the time. There comes a point when you either have what it takes or you don’t. Women Leaders see no difference between having their cake and eating it.


Yes, I dared say the “F” word which seemed to be ranking foul these days. Many times I see women holding back the core of what makes them unique leaders because they don’t want to seem weak in public.  There are so many situations we don’t let our weapons of tears fall out for, we don’t let on that we feel something is a travesty of mind-blowing dimension because we will be called “too dramatic.” Sometimes, we need to bring this to the boardroom, to those high powered meetings so other people wouldn’t be so quick to brush important issues under the table. Let your emotions show, the world needs emotions now more than ever before.

We need a world where leadership is not gender specific but goal specific and woman are free to be the leaders they want to be. Until then we will keep climbing indefinitely because we haven’t changed the rules of the game into something we are interested in playing.

The world needs Women Leaders whose only concern with the glass ceiling is to recycle it. #YesAllWomen

Marsha Gomes-Mckie



The TV Wife

The TV Wife


It’s about midnight and I overslept.

My daughter cradles next to me and I smile as I brush a curl from her face. It was not my intention to share my bed with my daughter, who has a room of her own across the corridor. Nevertheless, she’s seems so happy sleeping with me maybe he’s right, we’ll give her the time she needs to adjust. She needs me.

I long for his touch and ease out of the bed. I move a pillow close to her, she grips it and I hold my breath. “Please don’t wake up,” I whisper, “I need your father now.” She understands and cuddles the pillow and steadies her breathing.

I am off, feet barely touching the ground as I reach the living room and I jump on him. He’s dosing on a mattress in front of the television. I don’t care what he’s watching because I know he’s naked under that towel waiting for me. He laughs as I strip. I’m so hungry for his sweetness and I can barely wait to taste his manhood inside me. The television is turned off as we moan and listen for small cries but she doesn’t get up. Tomorrow is work but I don’t care, he’s so beautiful, I will feast on him until I’m done and I come in an amazing radiance and fall back to earth with a thud.

We lie quietly in each other’s arms and I listen to his heart beat but it doesn’t last. He eases out from under my grip and head to the bathroom. I do the same. I watch the bedroom, she’s sleeping soundly and I go to him again and rest my head on his chest. I want more than sex, I need a hug. Hold me my heart yearns let me lie with you, be more, gave me more.

“Let’s go to bed, there’s more than enough room,” I say.

“You know, I can’t,” he answered. “That bed is too soft for my back; you should go back to her.”

“I’ll stay here then,” I say with a sweet smile.

The television flips back on.

“You know I can’t sleep with the television on,” I groaned, “just a little while longer…”

He’s flipping through the channels and raises the volume. All I get is a dull stare. “Go back to her,” he moans.

My pride cannot ask again and my body shakes as I’m ignored. I move to get up and he pulls me in and kisses my lips. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he grins.

I stare at him; confused and annoyed, I walk away. The corridor seems longer now that I’m walking back and I hold my tears in as I climb into bed and move my face into the pillow. “Move over,” a voice says crossly a minute later.

“Go back to the TV,” I snap.

She jumps and I regret my outburst. He goes to her and holds her close and rocks her back to sleep. He’s a great father and a good man. I chide myself for being so selfish. The things some woman have to endure like smoking, drinking and violence was not my fate, he was just overly preoccupied with the television.

He kisses her gently as he puts her back in bed. I watch him as he moves towards me and kisses me softly once again. This time I kiss back. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he whispers and I nod in agreement and give a faint smile. He walks out of the door and I lay for the next hour watching our daughter and listening to the television. I ask myself over and over what will happen to my marriage when she grows up and out of my bed.


My daughter cradles next to me and I move her foot off of my stomach. She follows me around the bed, looking for the warmth. It’s getting to be uncomfortable sharing a bed with a little person who moves and kicks at random but she’s growing well and just started school. She well adjusted the teacher says and far happier than most children. That’s good to know, I guess she gets that from her father he is also far happier than most. He’s married but has his own room and sleeps in front of the television. She moves again and this time I get a hand in my face. I barricade her between three pillows and look for space on the bed to sleep where I wouldn’t wake her but could still dose off.

This master bedroom held so much promise when we first moved in. It was not my intention to share my bed with my daughter, who has a room of her own across the corridor. A room well suited for a child her age, I resolve to try to get her into her own bed once more, with or without her fathers’ help.

I hear footsteps in the corridor and hastily find a spot and close my eyes. My husband walks in and moved towards our daughter and kisses her goodnight. He frowns at the barricade and moves the pillows away. He’s watching me and I know it, but I don’t care, the whore is not on call tonight go screw your television.

In my haste, I’ve moved away from my daughter’s ear and he gets the opportunity to isolate me. He nibbles my ear and kisses my neck. “Come outside,” he whispered and turns me around. I pretend to awake from a deep sleep confused that he’s there and he smiles. Always oblivious to my resentment, could his world be so simple? TV, food, exercise, sex and he’s happy. He smiles as he walks away and I shrug, I should have never opened my eyes.

I walk to the bathroom and stay to long and then walk outside where he’s waiting. I no longer pounce on him with lustful intent; I wait for him to start. I sit quietly and pretend interest in the television. After a while he takes it off and hugs me. The sex is good I never really regret getting up but I leave as soon as we are done. “I’ll see you in the morning,” I say. My heart breaks every time I hear the TV turns back on as I walk away and morns at the thought of how life would have been if we had bonded. If I was able to hear his heart beat with mine all night and breathe with his rhythm. I kiss my daughters forehead as I climb back into bed. Sleep sweet child, I will hold on as long as I can.


My daughter cradles her pillow. She’s older now but she still doesn’t want to sleep in her own bed. I’m always stressed and I need to do something about this abhorrence festering in me. I feel like my life is there’s and they will both out live me. Why does being a good mother and wife mean losing me so completely? Look at my husband; he’s practically a bachelor still. He always out, walking, swimming, doing stuff in church and I have become the eternal, keeper of the child. Stueps.

I need to exercise more, to read more; I used to read so much. I wish I could fit into those jeans I brought last year. I don’t even invite friends over anymore. The mattress now resides in the living room and I don’t care to explain why. Life is passing by in this bubble and I morn for it. We don’t talk much at home anymore, just the necessary. We put up a good front when we go out though: the lady and the princess with that handsome man at their side. I am always surprised that even though we dress apart we usually color coordinate. It isn’t deliberate it more of a weird quirk, the universe’s wicked sense of humor saying that we belong when we don’t. We could win the award for the best family on the block, I am sure but when we get home where will we put the trophy? In my room, in my daughter’s room or in his room: there is no family room. Maybe there is no need because there is no family – an illusion of sorts for a woman who doesn’t know her worth.

I’m horny, really horny. I’ve tried cutting my husband off but he’s still in front of the television.  It’s so embarrassing to pick a fight with the TV and lose.

It’s not that late and I curse the clock as I alternate between the moving numbers and the ceiling. The sound of torture echoes into the room as he puts on a movie. It’s a movie I like and if we were on better terms I may have been inclined to go outside and watch it with him. Eat popcorn maybe.

I walk to my closest, so many dresses unworn, so many pieces no longer fit. I wish I had places to where these dresses; to dance with a man who looks deep in my eyes and sing “Mere Cherie Amore.” I start to wonder about the men I didn’t choose, what were they up to? Were they men who slept with their wives or in front of the television? Maybe I could start over; maybe I could explain to the child why daddy doesn’t live here anymore. Maybe I could find myself again. It wasn’t a maybe I had to, soon she would be moving to her room and what would be my excuse then. He isn’t going to sleep with me and I’m not sleeping in front of the TV all night, every night so it was time to prepare for the inevitable.

I take the sexy skinny jeans out of the closet and hang it on the door. It’s time to fit back into this. It is time to prepare to move on. I can’t sleep; the determination to ask for a divorce keeps me awake. When the house quiets I venture out into the corridor, my feet barely touching the ground.  I take the remote and lower the TV which is my nightly routine but today I stand there and I stare at him as he sleeps. I love him, he ignites a fire in me but I can’t understand him. I move to wake him wishing to kiss him, needing his touch. My eyes fall on his phone, and I pick it up quietly and run through the calls and texts. He been calling his exes and everyone but me. I read the texts as he sleeps not caring if he awakes, nothing incriminating, and nothing to warrant my decision. No proof, nothing to strengthen my accord. I place the phone gently back in place but my mind is already changed, I don’t wake him. We are too different, we always were and we will both survive the split.


I’m home. I walk through the door and I spot them in the living room watching a kiddy show both perched on that mattress. I’ve started back writing, joined a group and fit perfectly into these skinny jeans which I wore to my writers meeting tonight. I stayed back a little later than needed. I no longer rush out the door to go to church with them as I usually do and I walked idly with the group and accepted compliments as we waited for transportation.

“Your husband normally picks you up?” One questioned as I kept walking with the group. “True,” I replied, “but some days it just feels good to be alone,” I grinned.

I am taking back my life; father and daughter can take care of themselves. I pass them with a smile and reach the delight of my room. I take a bath and look for a book to read until she’s ready to sleep. My life is so busy now and even though I’ve changed around her room to suit her age, she’s still not budging but I’m not making it a problem. By the time I tuck her in and say goodnight, the TV is off and he’s praying.

He’s been praying more these days, and I’ve been praying less. Is it because I already got my answer? I’m not sure but I still say, “I’ll see you in the morning.”


My daughter cradles her pillow as I look at her sleeping in her own bed. Nine years, I’m both relieved and lonely.  The first month my sex life improved and it seemed as if I worried all those years for nothing. He held me close and I began to believe once again but after a month I woke to an empty bed.

Now he doesn’t wait until I’m asleep it’s servicing then return to the TV wife, I don’t know how to leave. I endure.


She’s no longer in that room. She’s grown and off to college.

I have a new job now, one that takes me out of the country every month and I’ve met someone. It’s someone we both know, even though he’s younger he’s already divorced and I’m ready to ask for one so why not. The sex isn’t as good as my husband, actually it’s rather horrible. I always close my eyes and think of my husband so that I can reach an orgasm but he holds me close after and we sleep together in each other’s arms until the sunrise rises.

It’s what I wanted but not with him. This isn’t the one and I have to figure out how to end this delicately. I can’t be seen to be the one at fault, I say, I need a clean break first and then we can try again. He’s looks taken aback but he nods in agreement and leaves quietly.

It’s like I’ve gone from bad to worse, I have no plans of ever calling him again.

I can’t help but have sex with my husband when I get back home. He does it so well, he stays tonight all night and I wish he had gone back to the TV because I need to cry.

When I get up he was gone. Sunday morning run as usual with his group. He’ll be back before I know it. Something is different, the TV is in the bedroom, it isn’t plugged in and the remote is wrapped in gift paper with my name on it.

I cry, to little to late. Did I even have the sanity to try this again? My heart wondered if I could find a way and I knew that we could.

I hear the car pull up and watch through the window. It was him he was parked outside the house waiting for my husband. I pulled back and peeped through the curtains. He was telling him. I could see my husband’s hand drop from the handshake as he stepped back and floored him. His face was in shock as he turned towards the house. The news pierced his heart; I could see it in his face and grew afraid. All those years in front of the blasted television and he was still surprised that his wife was unhappy with him, stunned that she had turned to his fool for comfort. He had an affair with the television, the running track and the ocean; always leaving to go to her.

I should have run, I should have hidden but I was tired. I didn’t even care to deny it. My entire life I thought too much and said to little.  I should have broken the TV into pieces years ago, hidden the remote, burnt the mattress but I waited until it was too much to take.

I stopped praying and endured what was not mine to endure. I used my daughter as an excuse and left no legacy of what a real relationship should look like. So I got back into bed, which is where I would have been when he returned and turned my back to the door.

When the door flung opened and he shouted, I said nothing.

When the TV crashed to the floor and he screamed, I didn’t move.

He packed his clothes and the car sped off an hour later and I lay quietly praying for my life.

He never came back.

I never brought another television.

There is nothing more to endure.

I have time to read my books.


This is a short story that I wrote this morning when I considered an alternate reality asking myself: What if I was this woman, how would things work out? or could it work out? Next week I’ll do another one. I hope.


Day Four #NanoWriMo

Day four of #NanoWriMo and I passed the 10,000 word mark. (Happy dance) My target is twice that of the allotted 50,000 so I might just be a little behind but the day is still young.

I am working on the second book of my paranormal romance and yes this one has vampires.


Arn and Luna control Moorland, she is the Queen of the Fairies and he is the Lycan Alpha, their love and their powers are legendary. However with four children they lock horns in private almost every day as they have two very different parenting styles; Arn practices tough love while in Luna’s world a royal is pampered. We follow their love, their rule and the coming of age of their eldest children, a twin Leon and Arnya.

Even though Arnya is being trained to be the crown princess of the Fairies her heart wants to be a wolf and with her brother’s help she infiltrates a male Alpha-in-training competition in disguise by pretending to be him. Leon isn’t interested in the duties of any of the kingdoms and disregards the laws of the land and befriends a human who is secretly watching over a hidden vampire den that is preparing to attack. Arn and Luna are faced with the hardest decision they will ever make. How do they choose their children when they are in breach of the very laws they have asked others to uphold.

Arn is willing to put the pack first, saying that the needs of the family and the needs of the pack are the same but Luna isn’t. It starts a series of events that not only test the strength of their love but ensues a battle for the survival of both their people and ushers in a new world order.

You can support authors all over the world (like me) by donating to #NanoWriMo.

Marsha Gomes-McKie


Cover Ghost    Small2


Book review – Thirty Scary Tales


I was apprehensive about reading this book because the truth is I usually don’t like to be scared beyond my wits. It stays in my sub-conscious for days and I feel eerie. Nevertheless I agreed to review.

This book was not scary and never once did I throw it and run in the next direction and I read it at night. It was eerie, ironic and spoke to complicated karma on so many levels that it kept me intrigued, sometimes disturbed and frowning but never without interest. Some of the characters hit home as I have a fear of strange animals in every form and I would not want to be in their shoes, ever. I felt sorry for a few of them and I felt like slapping some others. I longed for a happy ending when there wasn’t any and accepted the fate of other willingly.

It was a good read and I was happy I did read the entire book as one of the final stories became my favorite. I was surprised that after the last story I was a bit disappointed that I wasn’t scared out of my wits as per the title.

I would recommend this as a read this season and anytime you want something thrilling to read. I am positive everyone would identify with a different story because of their personal fears and that is really the lure of it.

My Debut Novel Lightning Fire: The Blue Moon’s Calling (Book 1) is out and available on Amazon and Smashwords.

cover.jpgI want to thank everyone who have purchased and reviewed.

Marsha “Life is in the Living and the Giving”

The battle against the little ones

Do I want my daughter to be the type of person who questions limitations, who goes against the crowd, who tries out new things and doesn’t take no for an answer? Do I want her to dance when everyone else is sitting and sing when everyone else is reading? Do I want her to use her imagination and think out of the box?  The answer is yes, but not always now when I am trying to finish a job for a client, or when I’m rushing out the door in the morning, not when the alarm hasn’t yet rung and I am getting my final bliss of sleep. However life seldom works that way.

I looked up at five o’clock this morning and heard a voice, far too loud for the morning quiet announcing that she wanted something to drink. It was not really a request but a bold statement of fact. So I stayed still, and surveyed the little one with what I hoped was becoming my dreaded my mummy eyes. She did not falter, she announced that I had a hole in my jersey which led to an investigation of where the hole went – the hole nonetheless was the result of same said little being a few weeks ago whose memory conveniently comes and goes. She then began an impromptu song about being the last hero which ended in a soprano shriek in decibels that I could not decipher. I remained calm, knowing full well that my will was being tested. I too thought about a drink and was momentarily comforted that there are some things I didn’t have to share just yet.

I received a series of kisses and then I heard a short quiet breath of impatience which ended in a loud resonating, “Mayed(sic) I have something to drink please? I replied, as calm as the morning air, ‘Of course,  and headed towards the kitchen. We chatted about her sleep and her day ahead and I reminded her that she didn’t have to shout for me to hear her. Even though her eyes didn’t seem convinced of the fact she replied. ‘Yes mummy’.

I smiled, knowing full well that we would have this conversation again tomorrow.

We often forget that our little ones see the world through us; they test us to judge how other people will react to them. It’s not always because they are being rude but because we are a safe sounding board. If she tells me a joke and I don’t laugh, she may not be brave enough to tell anyone else that joke. For them we are the box that they are trying to think out of, we are people who are sitting so they have the urge to stand. Our home, our jobs, our perimeters are not their destination, it’s their starting point to move forward; to find their own.

If we are lucky, they’ll leave and realize our grass was green, and they will decide that their version of green will encompass what was important to us as well.

If you want your child to be the type of person that questions limitation, that goes against the crowd, who tries out new things and doesn’t take no for an answer? You need to understand that one day he/she will tell you no, he/she will question your limitations. That day will come, if you grew then strong enough, wise enough and brave enough, all you have to be concerned about is your reaction when it happens.

I have indicated to my daughter that I wouldn’t move unless she asked properly for something. She usually gets juice n the morning, sometimes without asking, but she’s developing a personality, she’s testing me. I am her world right now so I am also her ‘guinea-pig’ (as they say); she finds great joy in trying to wear me out, to see if I would break my resolve. There is mischievousness in her spirit, which is very much like her father, who makes me smile. I see it; I understand it even though she may not. In keeping my resolve I am teaching her a lesson, in letting her develop her spirit without shouting or condemnation I am also teaching her a lesson.

I am not concerned with her antics; she is a child, just as I was.

I am concerned with my response.

I ask her opinion openly about many things and other things are rules, for safety and my sanity. We will not always be together so I want to set the trend but allow her to be herself comfortably so that when she is alone it becomes second nature.


It’s time to start

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I dreamt about a Duck with red boots, a frog who didn’t like to eat flies, a hungry caterpillar and a moose who liked to drink juice.

I dreamt about a butterfly, who told stories while sitting on a piece of old wood, of pink skies and mango colored rainbows.

A diamond shattered bracelet, a man who knew how to fix it. A moon so bright beside stars with red lights.

A soucouyant and a banyan tree, a mystery and a robbery.

I dreamt of dreaming and woke up laughing, it’s good to know that you are still there, waiting …

It’s been a while and i neglect to invite you to awake with me,

I promise to put pen to paper another day

Look at how the day has passed.

I’ll dream another dream of dreaming, please don’t think of leaving.

I know I neglect to invite you to come with me, but I promise to put pen to paper today.