Here’s a dilemma for you, your sibling is going to marry a drug addict...have I got your attention now?
Things aren’t like they once were in the old country. My sisters and I weren’t raised in the traditional fashion, not since we moved to America.
We were all born here in Missouri but have made several trips back to the homeland and my father was born there. So is my grandfather, on my mom’s side.
We weren’t raised to stand by while our men ate around the dinner table, waiting to serve them their next course. We also weren’t raised to a life of servitude to our men as was our previous generations. I’ve heard it actually still happens here where Mexicans & Latinos make up the majority in some communities.
The Matriarch of our family has been and continues to be my mother. My father is the main breadwinner and has the final say in all matters.
Most of the time they agree on everything, especially when it came to raising us. However, it’s fun to watch them go at each other from time to time about minuscule issues like what to eat for dinner.
My mom used to tell me stories about how my father was raised and how my Abuelita differed from my other grandmother in their dealings with we girls.
It used to keep us talking for hours. It still does, who am I kidding? My father takes it all in stride, like water off a duck’s back. He’s the pack rat in our family and never throws anything away. Our driveway looks like a used car lot, or better yet, a salvage yard for ancient cars!
They made it a point to give us all the things they never had growing up. My father had to get a job and pay the bills when he was only 12 years old in Mexico. My mother was sent away to live with her grandparents for 8 years and felt like an outcast to her siblings once she returned at age 14.
It’s been a tough road for our parents, especially raising three out of control “locas” who can’t imagine life in Mexico after all this spoiling going on in America!
Gracias Mama y Papa, te amo mucho!
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