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Confessions of a Ninja Mom
Confessions of a Ninja Mom
Confessions of a Ninja Mom
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Confessions of a Ninja Mom

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Being a ninja mom means you love your family, and you are able to raise your kids the way God intended them to be. You are a ninja mom. I am a ninja mom. Together we ARE a powerful force! Join the ninja mom movement.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMay 25, 2015
ISBN9781633570351
Confessions of a Ninja Mom
Author

Anna M. Aquino

Anna M. Aquino is a child of God, wife, ninja mom of two, writer, guest minister and motivational speaker. She is the author of many books. She is based out of Central Ohio. Check out her website at www.annamaquino.com. You can reach her at anna@annamaquino.com .

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    Confessions of a Ninja Mom - Anna M. Aquino

    Mantra

    I am a Ninja Mom,

    When it’s 3:00 a.m., and I have vomit in my hair, I want to sob, but I hear the baby crying.

    I am a Ninja Mom,

    When I am in a meeting and I realize that the only writing instrument I have in my possession is a purple crayon.

    I am a Ninja Mom,

    When I finally got that important phone call and find myself running away to be

    with one of my kids throwing a fit about string cheese.

    I am a Ninja Mom,

    When I head out to a critical meeting

    and look down to see that my daughter peed on me.

    I am a Ninja Mom,

    When I look into the dryer and find Cheerio’s, Barbie shoes, and mismatched ill-fitting socks.

    I am a Ninja Mom.

    God gave me these children. They ARE gifts from above. I will never be perfect, but

    I will PROTECT them with love.

    ––––––––

    Introduction

    I came about becoming a mom and a housewife wearily. My emotions were similar to one being picked up kicking, screaming, and being dragged by the hair into the woods. It’s not that I didn’t want children. I did one day. I willingly got married to the man of my dreams, but I had other goals in my life than just being a wife and a mother. I had a world to conquer. When we found out that my oldest daughter was on her way, we’d only been married for a few months. We were living with my parents, and we’re trying to figure out where on the planet we needed to move. We weren’t sure we had health insurance. Let’s just say she was not in our plans, but God’s. Choosing to stay at home was the furthest thing from my mind. I am not the next Betty Crocker or Suzy Homemaker. My cooking is edible, my cleaning laughable, and even the idea of sitting at a desk all day seemed claustrophobic to me.

    When the decision was made for me to stay at home for the time being, I think I cried off and on for a good four years. It was for a whole list of decisions that the choice was made. It wasn’t my choice, but it was the choice that was best for my family. I felt as if my hopes and my dreams were slipping through my fingers like sand in an hourglass. I struggled to find my footing. My family didn’t need me crying every day and living my life miserably. I needed to find myself in the midst of the circumstances that I never chose or didn’t like. I needed to learn to see the good in a situation that wasn’t easy. I needed to find the affirmation in me to be okay with where I was in life despite the negative stigma I felt society put on me as a stay-at-home mother. I needed to be okay with me.

    In the years since I became a mom, something in me shifted. Don’t get me wrong. My cooking is still often just above edible, and my cleaning and organization abilities are still laughable. I’ve branched out more professionally, and things for me have started to happen in other arenas.

    I had a business partnership turn very sour some time ago. I don’t need to rehash all the details. However, when the person realized that his ways were being exposed, he responded to me with something that he meant as a personal attack. He said to me, You’re just a housewife, and the inference was that it was all I was ever going to be.

    I laughed at how that seemed to come full circle. For once in my years as being a wife, mother, and housewife—though the words that man said to  me  stung—I  wasn’t  ashamed  of what he said. Okay, I would rather be ‘just’ a housewife than ever compromise my integrity. I realized that something had changed. I realized how badly the world can view the role of a mother. I realized that I no longer shared that same worldview. Not long after this confrontation, a friend jokingly started calling me a ninja. That is how the ninja mom got started.

    My family, my morals, my children had become more important to me than any idea of success that I might have held one day. I have learned that success isn’t just about money or the image the world has tried to give the population. Success is doing and being what you were created to be. Sometimes life happens in seasons, and just because you may not be where you want to be in the moment, you could be exactly where you need to be. Success for me in this season of my life was building a legacy. I realize now that as hard as I fought this initially, God had given me a precious gift. I have become a ninja mom. I have learned to be a fierce protector and guardian for my family. I have learned to not shrink back at this title. I AM A NINJA MOM. That’s me. We all have the power and ability to be ninja moms, too.

    To all of you ninja moms out there: don’t let the world tell you there is something wrong with you. Being a ninja mom isn’t being just a stay-at-homer. It’s making choices that are best for your family. There are a lot of working moms that are ninja moms too. It’s being your family’s cheerleader, role model, executive, doctor, and pastor. Being a ninja mom means you love your family, and you are able to raise those kids the way God intended them to be. Affirming you’re a ninja mom means you’re okay with the role God has given you, and you do it with excellence. So join me in my declaration: You are a ninja mom. I am a ninja mom. And together we ARE a powerful force.

    ––––––––

    day 1

    Psalms 92:1–3: It is good to give thanks to the Lord, to sing praises to your name, O Most High; to declare your steadfast love in the morning, and your faithfulness by night, to the music of the lute and the harp, to the melody of the lyre.

    ––––––––

    It’s 5:00 a.m. I’d spent the whole night up and down with the baby while my husband’s snored to the beat of the rhythm of the grandfather clock in the corner. She finally dozes off. I felt her head sink into the crook of my arm, and all I wanted to do is sleep. Sleep is such a blessed state. No one asks me for anything, and no one’s complaining because the towels are still wet. I began to walk her to the crib. Trying not to wake her or my husband, I open the door. (At this moment, we lived in a one-bedroom apartment and the crib was beside the bed.) I tripped over my toolbox and stubbed my toe. The baby woke up and begins to whimper.

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