How to teach your kids to be proud of their heritage
By kamalia harris | February 14, 2020 11:19:16I had my first two sons when I was in my 20s, so I was a bit of a pioneer in that regard.
My father had two daughters when I became a mother, so he too was a pioneer when it came to that respect.
I was lucky enough to have three daughters myself, and I’m pretty proud of them all.
But when it comes to children, I am not so fortunate.
When I was pregnant with my third, my sons came along at about the same time.
My eldest, who is now 19, was born with a rare chromosomal disorder called trisomy 18.
He is now the only child born with the disorder, and has had to live with the consequences of it since birth.
I am still very proud of my boys and proud of the legacy they left behind for me.
But I was very proud to be able to have my first daughter and her husband, so my kids are my heritage too.
I learned that the importance of family is so much bigger than the size of the family.
The more you have, the more you feel connected to your family.
It was so exciting for me when I learned that.
I knew that when I had a child, I would be the one to bring him into the world.
As I grew older, my family expanded, so that I could have a better understanding of what I was creating for my family and myself.
I learned to love my kids and the children of my family more than I had ever loved before.
When I was about 20, I met a man from my hometown, which is in Israel.
He was my husband and I had three children with him.
He and I became friends.
We had our first child together in 2007.
I knew he would be happy to have children with me, so when he and I decided to have a second child together, I knew I wanted to have it with my husband.
That’s when things started getting a bit complicated.
I asked my husband to marry me, but he declined, and we were still on the fence.
We decided to wait.
After a year, my husband said he wanted to get married, but when I told him I was not ready, he said I would never accept it.
When we got married in the early spring of 2008, I was expecting to have another child.
I felt happy and fulfilled that he would give me the gift of a second chance.
But then he began to act strange, and he started to act like he was on drugs.
We called it his bipolar disorder, or schizophrenia.
I felt so bad for him, and for all the kids who would have to grow up with him and my illness, and the stress that he put on his family.
So I took a stand.
I told him, “You’re my husband, and you’ve given me my life back, and now I’m going to do what I have to do to make sure that you’re happy.”
I gave him his new birth certificate and we moved into his new home.
I started seeing the psychiatrist.
I asked him to see me when he was feeling better.
He did, and then he said, “We need to talk.”
So we did.
He told me he was having nightmares.
He felt like he had schizophrenia and that he had a hard time sleeping, and that I needed to do something to help him sleep.
I told them about my depression, about how I had been depressed since my first pregnancy, and how it had taken me to the point where I couldn’t sleep at night.
He said he had tried to kill himself a couple of times, but to no avail.
He then told me about how he had been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, an anxiety disorder.
He said he was getting very anxious, and was not getting enough sleep, and wanted to take a medication.
I said that he could try it, and told him it would be okay if he did, because I could see it would help.
So he took a pill, and his body calmed down, and by the next morning, he was doing better.
And then, in March of 2009, I started to get sick.
He became very sick too.
I went to see him, because we were having a baby.
He began to talk about how upset he was and that it would never be good to have kids.
He had a bad reaction to the medication and didn’t want to go.
He didn’t like it, but I couldn´t stop him.
I started telling him, You are going to be a mom now, and it´s not good.
He had no choice but to do it.
He took the pill and went to sleep.
It took a few days before he got up and did it again.
When he got back to work, I asked if he was OK, and to tell him that he was not