The Antidotes

I'm kinda stuck at the moment. I'm seriously hungry. Like deep down in the pits of the tummy hungry. There is still no kitchen (at least no appliances) so I would have to fire up the grill, but the meats are all frozen. It just can't thaw fast enough for me at the moment. There are some ribs in the fridge, but I've been muching off of them since Sunday. My tastebuds for ribs are dead.  My aunt did send me home yesterday with a plate, but I'm trying my best to save it for dinner later on tonight.

Aside from the Snickerdoodle and the few conactors that are here today, I'm  home by my lonesome. It's been great to have the parental units gone for a week on their vacation. They need the break and so do I from them. It's moments like these that I take full advantage of what being a single woman in a house is all about. Just the pure enjoyment of peace in the house without two other grown folks bumping heads with you.

Still I'm stuck. I can't leave the house, especially at this current moment. The Snickerdoodle has a case of the "runs." There's no fever and she is her normal self, but still her bowels are loose. I'm awaiting to hear back from her doc. Gotta stay close to the phone. More than likely it's probably all related to her still teething. Why do babies go through such a process when they teethed? In the meantime, I'm keeping her hydrated with the Pedialyte and watching what I feed her.  

Still I'm hungry. Papi is off from work by now. I was hoping I could get him to bring me lunch. Can't get a hold of him at the moment. Damn, it's his gym time. I could ask one of the contractors to get something for me when he goes to lunch, but they all are deep into their work. Cannot and will not disturb.

That dinner plate from my aunt sure sounds delicious right about now.

Salmon salad

A couple pieces of fried chicken...drumsticks

A good helping of collards.

Then what will I have for dinner?

I'll figure that out later. Right now ... I'm hungry.

Chow! (ciao!) 

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

My mom as two best friends. She has known them since they were all children. Both of them have two children. Ms. A as two sons, one who is my age and the other is two or three years older than me. Ms. G has two daughters. One is two years younger than me and the other is two years older than me. All four children of my mother's friends are close. Though I was brought into the fold when I was a child I never developed a firm friendship with any of them. Well Ms. A and her sons moved around a lot and as a kid I did spend some kind of time with Ms. G's daughters, mainly her eldest, "Shingy."

There's a big gap in life in which I never really got to know any of the others. Our mothers kept in touch but it was pretty much a phone call here and there or a visit here and there. It wasn't until we became adults and our moms grew older that I became reacquainted with them, in particular, Shingy. Though we don't talk often Shingy and I have been communicating, especially in the wake of me becoming a mom. She is the single mother to six year old daughter and is due in late August to have a son. Naturally I was delighted when she called me months ago to check in on me and the Snickerdoodle and to invite us to her baby shower that took place yesterday.

Pretty Cakes

Of course when I arrived the Snickerdoodle and a gift in hand, I immediately felt I was amongst family. After all, Ms. G's and Ms. A's families are really an extension to my immediate blood. The history with my family along with theirs carries back to a time when a community of people was tight knit. Everyone knew everybody, and everyone was "brother" or "sister."  Still being amongst extended family, though inviting, made me a bit on guard. I didn't realize it until later on when Ms. A said something.

Baby Bingo

At first arrival, the Snickerdoodle and I took a seat and I was served with a yummy (multi-colorful) sorbet dessert served in a plastic champagne "glass." Being that we were a bit late, shower games were already in progress. The Snickerdoodle got a lil fidgety. No problem. I figured her to be right on schedule with a snack. She took in some of my sorbet, but preferred her "Fruit Medley" in a jar. I fed her while playing a couple of games and even having her help me out with the Baby Bingo - even though she picked off the stickers in my boxes.

Then came time to eat. She picked off my plate for a minute or two, even though she was only playing with the pasta to my pasta salad and an extra plastic fork. Obviously she became bored with that and she started to whimper, whine and become restless.  Ms. A asked me was she always this fidgety. I told her that she was probably growing tired, since the night before she woke up at 3 am and wanted to have a pajama party and didn't fall back asleep until 7 am.

My child is a straight up party animal. *oye!*

She started to cry and I let her down. From there she began to walk around, starting with heading in the direction of the older children. It was HERE that my guards were up and I didn't know. I immediately got up to follow her. I wanted to make sure of...... well I don't know.

Sinckerdoodle Walking

Ms. A smiled at me and said "That's all she wanted to do, was walk around. Let her go. Let her walk around, we aren't gonna let anything happen to her."

Here is where I felt silly. Here I am amongst "family" knowing she is surrounded by good people and all I want to do is follow her around to make sure she didn't take a toy from one of the older kids or get in anyone's way.  I guess my mother instincts are trained to do that, always be on guard.

The thought hit me "OH MY GAWD! I'M BECOMING AN OVER PROTECTIVE PARENT!"

The Helper

That thought alone scared me and I stood back as I let my daughter do her thing. She actually became a "main attraction" as the photographer photographed her over and over. As Shingy and her boyfriend sat up front to open gifts, The Snickerdoodle walked right up to them and stayed there for a while, babbled/talked to them as if she was asking "Can I help?" and looked as if she was helping them open gifts. Shingy couldn't do anything but laugh and talk to her while she opened gifts. 

The shower seemed to have ended too soon for the Snickerdoodle. In the end she was wound up and ready to party some more. Then again I think that was just left over adrenaline. She barely had a nap and was still a bit wide eyed from her solo pajama party. By the time we made it home she crashed.....for the night.

I thought back to my immediate reaction at the shower when she started walking around. I realized that my body is just programmed this way now. I definitely have a motherboard implanted in my system. I'm actually amazed by it. It lets me know further how fearful I am for her.  Gosh, being a mommy is so complex, easy, hard, emotional, stressful, wonderful and more.  I need to learn to get a grip more often when around family.

I want to be protective of her, but not over. I'm a first account witness to what over protectiveness can do to a child. Not that I don't appreciate the fact that my mother was (still is) over roective of me. I would rather have this than a mother that didn't love me at all. Still, it was annoying and a bit of a hinderance as I tried to advance in life. I seriously don't want this for my daughter.

Yet I have to wonder... can I really help it?    

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Colorful

Call me a bit off, weird or quirky, but I love filling a glass with ice, ginger ale or a citrus drink and placing a fruit popsicle (Edy's Fruit Bar) upside inside. Somehow when I have this concoction going my body instantly chills and I relax.  

Tonight as I currently have a glass...ok plastic cup... filled with such I'm sitting back and letting my thoughts fly. As usual I don't know where to begin in spewing my thoughts, so everything feels like a ramble or a run-on sentence in my head.

However, tonight I'm stuck on better halves.

I've been reading a few blogs and came across a couple in which the blogger talks about missing their other or better half. Their half is away for whatever reason and in each case they have pondered on their existence without their half.  I can't help but wonder how I will fair over the weekend when Papi leaves for his family reunion. True, I'll miss him, but it won't be the end of the world. It's the Snickerdoodle that I can't bare to be away from for an extended amount of time.  I must say I did very well a few weeks ago when she spent the night with my aunt and grandmother. I only called to check on her once.  I knew she was in good hands.

Still, this whole thing about better halves has been coming to me ever since my cousin's funeral last week. My cousin and his wife were married for 62 years. What scares me a bit, when people who are that in love and in tuned to each other; when one goes away in death the other isn't far from behind. This was proof enough for me a few years back when my Uncle Gyden passed away. Uncle Gyden and his wife, Aunt Louise, had been married 50 plus years.  They loved, worshipped and did just about everything together. I will never forget the day of Uncle Gyden's funeral. At the end I had approached Aunt Louise wanting to give her a hug and let her know I was there.  Needless to say I was taken aback when I approached her.

All my years of knowing Aunt Louise, I had never seen her cry at a funeral. I remember very vividly, especially at my great-grandmother's funeral, she was the one to rally everyone together and tell them to forget their tears of sadness. If anything it was a day of celebration. She was one of the strong pillars of the family. Yet on that day of her husband's funeral her world seemed to have ended. When I approached her she was full of tears. Nothing would come out my mouth. I stood there with tears coming from my eyes as she kept repeating,

"I can't live without him. I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't live without him."

A few months later, Aunt Louise was gone.

I'm aways in utter amazement when I come across a couple that in tuned to eacher that their hearts are really one. It's even more amazing when you can actually FEEL the energy that a couple that in tune radiates with. I feel very blessed to be or have been in the presence of such couples, because it renews my faith in real, unconditional, deep down to the core, consuming, undying love.  I feel this way about my Snickerdoodle. I love waking up in the morning and seeing her face or feel her climb over me trying to wake me up.

"Get up Mommy!"

Though I don't want to spoil her to the point that she can't do without me, I'll admit sometimes it is hard. For the most part she is good at entertaining herself  if I have duties around the house to complete or if I leave her in the care of a family member she'll busy herself with whatever. When I return in her sight that's when she falls apart. She'll run, crawl or fast walk to get to me. If we aren't in arms reach she'll start to whimper or even cry while reaching for me. When I'm in her sight, she watches every move I make and now that she is walking good, she'll try to follow. 

Maybe I have spoiled her just a bit.

So many times I've replayed in my mind the events that has led up to her existence. Eventually I end up shedding a tear or two, because I realize that I am completely in love with her and I can't even begin to image my life without her.

When it comes to the type of love or intimacy that my daughter may not be able to provide me, I only hope that I am blessed to have such a person my life; for us to be on the same level and able to grow spiritually and emotionally together. Just as it is with my daughter, I want the divine given love; one that was chosen just for me.

Divinely favored.  

The new issue of Essence magazine features singer Usher and his recently born infant son. I've only skimmed through the article and glanced at the beautifully done photo shoot, but I teared up as I read lyrics to a song he wrote for his son, especially the ending lines.

"I ain't going nowhere
Even when I get on your nerves
Cause I'm your daddy

My prayer for you
Son I pray for you"

- Usher "Prayer for You"

I've been inspired to sit down and pen something down for my better half.  I haven't written anything for her since March, just before her first birthday.  I just feel the need to go deeper with and about my love for her. I'm afraid I may never be able to convey such depth of loves in a written passage.

Ms. (In) Dependent
By Mahoganie
March 2008
Washington, DC

Ms. (In) Dependent
Decided to get up this morning and walk
With her destination unknown
Off she went
Cruising a narrow corridor
Exploring
A tapestry of clothing
A mountain range of dressers
Dusty peaks of exquisite smells
I watched from afar as she grabbed a leg of the old night stand
Balance and Confidence gained within
She looked back as if to say
"Don't fret. I got this!"
She passed a hill of old drop socks
Navigating her way through a maze of Donald Pliner, Ferragamo and Naturalizer boxes
Finally reaching a resting place
Grandma's bed
I couldn't help but to get a twinkle in my eye
My pride
For she is like me
In search of some kind of destiny
Child like Mother
Mother like child
for so long I was a melody
In search of the perfect lyric
God must have bionic hearing
Out of the ash of love confused with lust
he delivered my song
My better half
A life lyric helping to create the ultimate love song
I am her
She is me
My Aries wild child
To my calm Aquarian breeze. 
Energy astound
"When you get blue, I feel it too."
Child like mother
Mother like child
Same (In) dependence
Feeding off a source in order to grow to be free
Wanting to explore the world
Even at an age so mild.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

I feel compelled to expand on my thoughts from yesterday. My mind has been racing, especially since I received an encouraging email from my friend "WOE" earlier today.

This morning I pretty much knew the deal. I would be spending the day again with my grandmother and aunt. However, once again my hyperness was on full blast when I woke up to discover that the water had been temporarily been shut off. As I mentioned yesterday, my bedroom and the computer room/office was completely gone by the time I left out and they were starting on the kitchen and dinning room. Well only parts of the kitchen and dinning room had remained when I returned home last night. This morning the water was shut off for the safe removal of the kitchen sink.

Though I was partially packed for today, I still had to make an erratic mad dash to locate the Snickerdoodle's and I bath it seems, along with clothes for today, her comb and brush, my under clothes and a few other things. We made it out in one piece arriving at my grandmother's a little after 11 am. Upon arriving, I was so all over the place that I really almost had some kind of meltdown. I just knew one thing coming into the house; I have to fix the Snickerdoodle's (late) breakfast. Once I accomplished this the next mission was to bathe her. I did this but not before taking care of a little cleaning.

Even though my grandmother keeps a clean house, sometimes it is understandable. She's in her 70's and she is tired. She is caring for her husband who is in a post stroke phase. My little cousin lives here as well and can be a hand full and though my aunt is grown and lives here as well, sometimes she can slip in the household chores as well. So I managed to spruce up a few things, but probably more so out of me feeling comfortable than anything else. I even had to get on my lil cuz a few times for just leaving trash behind. He's going on 9, I'm sure it is about time to get him into regular chores.

Based on what I wrote yesterday, my feelings of fear come from a place that has been picking at me for a while now. Even though I will be transitioning into the current master bedroom once the renovations are complete, I've been feeling lost; as if I don't know where I belong or fit in anymore. Home hasn't been feeling like home lately. I'm sure it's all because of the construction, but who would have "thunk" that a place that is most familiar to you can become foreign. I know where I placed my everyday personal items. They are in my reach. However, where are the plates? Cups? paper towels? Pens? Paper? The house phone?  

Since the main bathroom has been redone I've been marveling at it's beauty. Even though once everything is complete it will be my personal bathroom, it doesn't feel like mine. My mother still controls that domain from telling everyone how to place the bath towel and shower curtain and even moving my things - that belong in the bathroom - either around or completely out. To my mother's credit I know what this is about. Before the bathroom make over it was cluttered with things; mind you three grown people and a baby. My mother doesn't want to go back to that, so she has taken it upon herself to be the keeper of this room. Still, sometimes it's overboard superficial.  

Over and over my parents are telling me this was a needed investment and that eventually when they are gone the house will be mine and the Snickerdoodle's. This right here has been picking at me the most. I still want to move out and truly own a home of my own. I want my OWN house. Often times I wonder if they would have gone through this had not became a mother. I even wonder if they expect me to stay home forever and raise my child under their roof.

The other night I Iay awake almost scared to death as I thought about how everything is truly for the better, but wondered what the future holds for me and the Snickerdoodle. Should I really be wrapped up in wondering about having a place of my own or is this house my blessing in disguise? Technically I am a homeowner from the other property, but even that isn't something that I went out and choose. It came to me via my mother.  

Coming to my grandmother's house hasn't felt much like home neither. There's no corner, room or spot I can claim as I use to do as a kid at her old house. Her old house felt like home. Since her marriage to her current husband, this house is more about him, even though my grandmother and aunt have their things here.

Getting back to this morning...I was almost ready to call it quits with everything until I opened my inbox and saw this message from WOE standing alone; "Willing Obedience."

VERSE:"If you are willing and obedient, you will eat the best from the land" (Isaiah 1:19).

THOUGHTS: God wants you to have the best in life. He wants to give you the good of the land. God tells us in His Word how to activate His promises in our lives. Notice this verse doesn't say that just obedience will cause you to eat the good of the land, it says we have to be willing and obedient. God isn't just concerned with our actions. He's looking at the motives of our hearts. 

Immediately I wanted to cry. I know I'm not lost or out of place. I just feel this way because of everything that has been going on. I never knew that construction to a house would open such floodgates. As far as being willing and obedient, I'm sure haven't been giving 100%. I have been consumed with some selfish thinking, but of course at the time
I don't see it as that. I see it as more of me looking out for my life. As with any woman who is born with a strong independent spirit... you do what you have to in order to survive. That spirit seems to become increasingly strong since motherhood kicked in. Yet I still butt heads with another spirit.

There's a reason why all of these emotions are hitting me. Someone's trying to get my attention. This time.. I don't think it's the Snickerdoodle's.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Stiff by Natalie Dee 7032008

My mother never lied. Having a kid does change your body.

I'm inching closer to 30. It doesn't "snap back" like it use to. Trust, I still have the curves and the strut to match, but it takes me a bit longer to get it together when going out or even getting out of bed.

Though I still feel young and spunky, my mornings and sometimes late nights may suggest otherwise. I really haven't been sleeping well at all. I'm so like my mother or at least how she use to be. I don't function well until late evening into the night. When normal mammal species have sense enough to knock off to bed no later than 11, I'm up as if it is broad daylight. I'm starting to sense the Snickerdoodle is picking up this habit as well. I TRY to keep her on her sleep schedule; basically in bed no later than 9 pm.

What bugs me, I go to bed late and wake up early as if I do have a normal 9 to 5 to rush to. Granted, some days are chock full of errands, motherly things, a couple of writing projects to start or complete and lets not forget whatever duties I have to contribute to these renovations; i.e. more packing and bubble wrapping.  Still why do I not like not to sleep or can't sleep?

So here it is, almost fifteen minutes after four in the afternoon. I'm dragging. My feet are aching from standing on non supportive shoes while packing up the rest of the kitchen. My back aches from lack of sleep or sleeping wrong. My side muscles even ache a bit!  I'm yawning, cause I didn't get to spend the required 8 hours in "La La Land."  I've had no bath today, so I'm covered in 1970's and 80's dust. My hair is a mess and right now I don't seem to be getting any help from my folks. Mom is out running errands and my dad is on a retired-dad-union-break, which roughly translates to having a cold beer or two while watching that horrid Cleopatra movie on cable with Elizabeth Taylor.

Sorry, can't get down with Liz Taylor playing an Egyptian Queen, a woman of color.

My cousins are asking if the Snickerdoodle and I will make a recital in which another little cousin is performing in. I highly doubt it. I just want to be in my corner of the world for a while. Only the Snickerdoodle is invited.

I lost another cousin a couple of days ago. I keep wanting to call my cousin "J" to see how he is holding up amidst the lost of his grandfather. Hopefully, I'll get around to it tonight. Damn why did this have to happen so close to the family reunion - which is in another month or two.

Right now I long to be with Nisha as she traveled back to her native New Orleans. She went back home to participate in and enjoy the Essence Music Festival. This will be the first year that she has ever gone to a concert during the festival. Even more lucky, she's going to the show in which Jill Scott will be performing - lucky chica.

I haven't been in New Orleans since pre-Katrina; once in 1992 and again in 2002 or 2003? The city never struck me as a must-come-and-stay place, even though there is a certain charm to it. I am curious to see how much progress is being made since Katrina. I still shudder at some thoughts about the whole event.

It's getting close to five and near the time I should be making the Snickerdoodle's dinner.

I need to take her on more play dates as well. Just this past Monday, we spent time with my cousin T and her niece and nephew. T and I took the kids to a nearby park. While the other kids went up and down the slides, the Snickerdoodle held her "court" on the swings. She didn't want to get off. I spent the whole time pushing the Snickerdoodle and watching her giggle herself silly.

On another note, my mother showed me the few pictures from her conference she attended last week. Needless to say, my work I did with her social organization's chapter and the group of 6th grade boys was on display. More reviews. I can't wait to join up with this project again for next year. Maybe I should think about joining this group and stop being a shadow or ghost.... aka consultant of some sort.

I'm seriously dragging today.

Noooooooooo. Not another email.

I am expecting at least one email concerning an article I pitched. I was told it's usually a four week turn around for a response. This has only been like the third week.  

Hoe hum.  

In a way I'll be glad when the computer and internet is disconnected until the phone lines are moved. I've been too wired lately; literally and figuratively.  I'm starving to get get back to basics.

Just me, some paper and a pen.

hoe hum

On a seriously real random note.... I think I've developed a small crush on Keith Olbermann. I REALLY need to stop watching MSNBC.

WOW.. Olbermann is an Aquarius... no wonder. 

*big smile* 

This Water Barer is ....out.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

That Girl?

As I listen to my Hooverphonic station that I've created at Pandora, I can't help but feel a lil sly and coaxed into an admission state of mind. Mellow, hypnotic and electric sounds from "Hoover," Goldfrapp, Dot Allison, Massive Attack and others of this genre seem to make my mind trip and my other persona seems to come through - a persona I thought I had ditched or maybe just forgot about.

I have no name for her. Just that she is a bit flirty and perhaps more of a mystery than my normal self.  Maybe it was her that made me put on pair of jeans that hug my curves, a white tank, some heels and little make up yesterday. In recent days I've been a bit flirty with one of the construction workers working on the house. It wasn't intentional. It sorta just happened. It's harmless. After all, he started it.

He's a scruny fella with muscular arms. Cute in the face and barely can speak English. I can understand Spanish, but not fluent. I know when he sees me he calls me "Mami," and he has seen me at my worse phsyically; sweats, tank tops or tattered tees, no makeup and a a scrungy scarf around my hair. Yet he stares, flashes smiles and make little pleasant conversations - sometimes in English. Somes Spanish. Sometimes both - Spanglish.

Earlier yesterday, I called myself doing the girly thing of walking by just to get his attention. Subtle flirting or just plain tease? Unfortunately, he wasn't outside yesterday - he came by later. I caught the attention of the other Spanish speaking workers. They hammered and looked as I walked by. They drilled and looked as I walked by. They climbed the ladder and stopped as I walked by. I strutted pass them, dodging nails and discarded lumber and such. I reached my destination, the garbage can, and tossed the small bag of trash. As I walked back, one began singing.

Damn I wish I knew all that he was singing.

Hmmm Maybe I'll give this persona a name anyway.

Annie Mae?

Naaaaah. Georgia Brown(e) - I was told that was a possible name for me anyway. Named after my father. However, I think my mother had objections to it after thinking about Lena Horne's character of the same name in Cabin In The Sky - one of my favorite B&W movies.

Anyways - it's just harmless flirting.  As they say "I got something better at home." My own Papi and he speaks English. (smile) 

Speaking of things at home and mysterious ways, I have a (bad) habit.

I have a tendency to eat while standing up.  There's an old (southern?) saying that has floated around.

"You make the house look poor when you eat standing up."

If I had a dollar or just a nickle for everytime someone has told me this I'd be a rich woman.  I don't know where I picked up this habit from. It's gotten a bit worse now since I seem to be on the go. I barely leave out the house with anything on my stomach. When I do manage to get something in my system as I'm on my way out the door it's a quick sandwhich, a quick leftover warm up or some fruit and a cup of juice. When I do manage to eat dinner, I do sit (sometimes) to eat a plate. Even then I find myself rushing through it so I can tend to the Snickerdoodle.

All this barely not eating is taking a toll on me. Funny thing is, I've still managed to gain a few inches. Okay, that may be from the Oreos, the quick and grab on the go snack. If I didn't have digestive issue before baby, I'm sure I'm headed that way now. Eating and actually swallowing is like a priviledge.. a luxury to me. 

Eating standing up is just me in standby mode for.......whatever is bound to happen.

*gently closing laptop and letting the breeze hit me from the rooftop until I'm interrupted by the workers*

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Tadoodles for the Snickerdoodle

Of writers they (whomever they are)  say, once you find and claim a spot of your own you can successfully sit down and let your thoughts flow. Most of the time I find this to be true, but lately it seems that every corner or spot I claim it's cluttered with boxes of stuff or furniture that has been covered with heavy duty construction plastic. No sooner then I claim it, the whole family claims it as well as we are pushed to one corner to the next in the midst of the renovation. Normally I'm able to push pass such disturbances, especially when I can't contain my thoughts. I just let it spill. However, lately I've been letting the noise win. Perhaps it's the procrastinator in me or that small inner insecure voice whispering doubtful lines.

I gotta get rid of him...it...that doubtful voice.

The drilling, banging, sawing, Spanish conversations flying loud and fast, the Snickerdoodle discovering things, the parents needing me to do something, the electricity tripping on and off - overload, the telephone ringing, the thunder storms.....the need for quiet.

It's no wonder I end up with dull headaches by the end of the day.

Yeah I could pack up the laptop and take a breather at a coffee shop, but there is still the very active Snickerdoodle and the fact that both my folks are tied up some kind of the way during the day. So the little one would have to roll with me. She's a busy 1 year old. How come no one REALLY warned me about this stage?

Maybe I'm making up excuses. After all I haven't even asked if my parents could watch her for a few hours nor tried such.  I still managed to complete a few things I needed done via writing, including a pitch to a magazine.  I've been attempting to take another "gander" at my manuscript. This time I'm more determine to have it completed by the end of August. After some searching, I believe I have found a literary agent, but of course I have to complete the manuscript before any soliciting.

Not much else has been on my mind lately.

I'm excited about next Saturday as Papi and I are going to see Rahsaan Patterson and Kindred - The Family Soul at the Carter Barron. One thing I love about summers in DC since I was kid, concerts at the Carter Barron and at Fort Dupont Park. Sitting under the stars and listening to good music still feels like I'm part of a hidden gem or secret in the city. Though people come to these shows, still a LOT don't know about such. I sorta like it that way.

One thing that has been ruffling my feathers lately is the growing trend of people claiming to be Washingtonians and are implants from another city. Even worse (to me) they make such a claim and have lived here less than ten years OR they really been living on the outskirts in the neighboring suburbs still claiming to be Washingtonians. I noticed that a lot as I've read through this month's issue of Washingtonian Magazine, DCist, Living Penn Quarters blog site and other so-called DC sites that happened to be founded and started by implants to the city.

It makes me wonder about people like me, true DC natives who were born, raised and are still here. We take pride in our city no matter what quadrant we're from, but where are we? How come we weren't bold or creative enough to have these sites about DC that the implants have?

Maybe I should seek to start one. Maybe I should raid DCist and other sites like it to let folks know.. you aren't writing about the REAL Washington.

I'm not sure when, why or how I ended up with so much love for my city. As ass backwards as the leaders in charge can be, there's still a lot of good and beauty to this city mixed with the distasteful and bad. Sometimes, I'm afraid that the implants may not get the whole picture.  No, I'm not a hater towards non-DC natives. I just hate how some act as if they have been here their whole lives and don't have a clue about the old DC vs. the new and ever changing DC.

Surely, this city isn't "Chocolate City" anymore.

I wonder if this is how a true New Yorker feels about the millions of implants in their city?

How many years should constitute you as a "native" of a place?

In other news, I've been contemplating about joining a social networking group for mothers of color. It's a national organization with a few chapters in DC. Though the organization as a whole focuses on the principle of sisterhood and community activism, each chapter is sort of tailored with its own added concepts to the circle of sisterhood. The particular chapter I've been mulling over intertwines an alternative motherhood lifestyle with the main principles of the organization. By alternative, I mean; breastfeeding over formula, home schooling over mainstream schooling, holistic healing over medication (drugs), organic and vegan diets over the carnivorous and/or unhealthy diet.

As Brandon often teases me about - the "SELAH" kind of life (Think Erykah Badu or afro-centricity)

I've been communicating with the president of the chapter via email. After reading through the introduction letter and some other materials it is made clear that while they do promote and advocate the alternative, it's not mandatory. I even had a chance to read over the blog the president has kept on the birth of her pre-mature son. It was very insightful to say the least.

I never knew such things as a milk bank or donating your breastmilk even existed.

Nevertheless, based on what I've read from her blog, I can see that the members of this chapter are very thoughtful and supportive. I feel like I need that in my life right now. Not that there is anything wrong with my personal circle. I just feel I need a little more support from people who are more like me at this stage in my life. However, I'm just not sure how open (if at all) to the idea of an alternative motherhood lifestyle I can be. I'll admit, I was a bit selfish with the decision about breastfeeding vs formula. At the time I was more concerned about me returning to a full time job. I couldn't see that with leaking boobs; pump or no pump.  

As for home school, I would rather have my child socialize and experience everything there is to in a classroom and a school setting. While I do deem education as highly important, I want her to participate in school activities and socialize with children her age as she develops and is able to problem solve life situations. I'm not knocking anyone who does homeschool their child(-ren). My sister is currently doing this and my nieces are beautiful and intelligent little women. I just don't think it's the right fit for what I want for my child.

Granted, the introduction letter did mention that the lifestyle isn't mandatory, I just worry about sticking out like a sore thumb at a meeting or potluck gathering. I'm the mom in heels that loves a good martini. I occassionally sport a curly 'fro, but lately a more straight look so I may not always come off as afro-centric as some of the other members. I'm not that much of a meat eater, but I will tear up some salmon, chicken and a good steak if you slide it my way. I do cook fresh foods, especially FRESH GREENS - I HATE the frozen or can stuff. I just can't do organic or sugar free chocolate. That's outright inhumane to me.  

I'm still considering giving the group a go. I do think it would be a refreshing change. I'm in need of one.

Still... we'll see.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

The day is done. I'm phsyically tired, but I'm emotionally charged. Mentally... I'm 90% there.

Divine messages have once again interjected into my life. Perhaps in the most usual form, but I believe I got the memo.

I finally finished Jennifer Weiner's Certain Girls late last night.  Again, my hats off to her for such an excellent work. I will admit it was in a bit of shock towards the end when she decided to write off a character. Honestly, I pretty much grieved last night with Cannie Shapiro, because like her, I too had grown accustom to the character that was killed off. The person was a permanent fixture in the fictional world of Cannie - so I thought.

Nevertheless, my revelation didn't come with the character's death as it served as an culminating event to the plot. It was more so Cannie's reclaiming herself in the aftermath of everything - her true purpose in life... her Divine purpose in life. What was it? Naturally it was to write. The calling was there ... been there... for Cannie to write something sincere from the heart. From her gut. Not out of anger as she did with the first novel that eventually caused her shame and made her hide under a  psuedo. Though she was good at it (apparently) and found her comfort zone in writing under another name, it wasn't the REAL Cannie.

The way Weiner summed up Cannie's fears on writing again or just writing a book in general hit home for me. It was all about protecting the ones she loves in the midst of her own madness (true or made up) and releasing in order to let go..or maybe just coast along in a comfort zone.  Yet deep within, because of whatever insecurities her real life's work or purpose in life was obscure of foggy.

This morning I arose with thoughts in my head on finishing my work/manuscript as I scrambled around prepping my daughter for her big day in church. She was dedicated today and for a time I felt as if I were going to cry. Actually I did most of my crying last night as I read through Joy's bat miztvah and her message and even made some comparisons of my own daughter's life. Like a bar/bat miztvah a dedication is very much indeed an important milestone. It's a process or MY commitment as a mother... a parent... to "offer" my child's life back to God. It's up to me to guide her through life and raise her in the light of God until she is old enough to say "Mother I want to fully commit to Him."

As I listened to my pastor's words today during the dedication and during the sermon (from which he preached on the widow in debt with her empty vessels and filled it with oil as Elisha instructed her to do and further told her to sell the oil in order to repay her debt - 2 Kings 4:1-11) the tears filled the corners of my eyes.  Today, I was not only being charged with the duty of motherhood, but also my purpose. my writing...my oil.

Are my vessels (of life) empty?

I probably still have some cleaning to do, which is something that I may need to serious sit down think and pray on.

If anyone who reads my blog doesn't hear from me in a while.. don't worry... more than likely... I'm behind closed doors working with my oil to fulfill something that I do feel is calling me.

I have a story to tell... somebody's needs to hear it.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Kimora and daughters fashion week 2008

1. Viewing Kimora Lee Simmons' reality show.

I cried.

Last night's (Sunday) episode was a part two to Kimora and her production team staging the Phat Fashions fashion show for New York's Annual Fashion Week. A segment of the show features Kimora giving her oldest daughter, Ming Lee, a pep talk about her hair. Ming Lee, 8,  was about to take part in a rite of passage that all little girls of color (or perhaps any girl) goes through at some point. In prepping for the fashion show, Ming Lee's hair was about to be "blown out" or straightened via the blow dryer. Kimora's pep talk was more of handing out "the law" in how to keep up with such a hair style, plus bumping up Ming Lee's chores around the house - to washing dishes.

After a kiss to seal the hair and chores deal, and Kimora's daughters asking her how old was she when her hair was blown out - to which Kimora responded "at the age of 13 when I was hitting the runways in Paris" - an emotional mommy began to break down and cry. Ironically, I was crying right along with Kimora as she (maybe with a little bit of dramatic overtones) talked through tears of how her babies are growing up before her eyes and it was all too much for her.

I thought about my own daughter. How she is a little over 13 months now. I look at her now and compare pictures I took of her last year when she was a few weeks old. She's definately older. She has her own personality.  She is starting her journey of becoming her own unique spirit.  I'm anxious, scared and happy at the same time to the different rites of passage she will go through - menstrual cycle, first bra, allowed to have boys call her, wearing stockings, wearing high heels, makeup and of course hair permed/straightened.

I was roughly 12 when my hair was processed. My mother was furious. At the time I didn't understand what the big deal was. I just knew I was tired of the hot comb. I had enough war wounds  (hot comb scars) behind my ears to plead my case. My grandmother agreed and "ordered" it done. Aunt P, who worked as a beautician at the time, commenced with the order. PCJ (as it was/is called) or Pressing Comb in a Jar did the trick. Funny thing is, all those years I spent with processed hair, I finally let the chemicals go. It's been eight or nine years as I've returned to my "au natural" roots (which do need some professional work here and there), and began a regime of washing my hair every two weeks and either letting it air dry into a bush or finding the patience of pressing my own hair with the hot comb - only to make it managable to comb and not bone straight.

However, back to Kimora.... 

It was at that moment of her "breakdown" that I truly gained respect for Kimora as a business woman but more importantly as a mother. Though she is demanding and a bit of a diva with her over the top ways, the love she has for her daughters is not for show for the Style Network cameras. It's real. In all that she does, she always makes it a point that no matter what, when her babies need her she is there.

I can only hope that I am doing just the same for my own daughter. I'm always careful to continue to let my passion for writing and all that I want to do drive me, but making sure it doesn't leave my daughter in the dust somewhere. Whatever I achieve in life I want it to be for us - God, my daughter and myself.

Certain Girls: A Novel

Jennifer Weiner

2. Reading Certain Girls

Since I began reading Jennier Weiner's latest novel, I've been happily entralled in Cannie Shapiro's world again AND her daughter, Joy. Ironically, I laugh when I read Joy's thoughts, because like any adolescent in this world what "tween" doesn't think their mother is a little "off." As I've been reading I have noticed that I see myself in both Cannie and Joy this time. Joy represents my "ugly" teen years, but she also represents something new in my life... yes my Snickerdoodle. Though Cannie is a little older than me in this book (she's in her 40's where as in Good In Bed she was right on the bullseye as my current age - late twenties) I still related to her on some level as she flashes back to her twenties to relive some horrid "single mom/writer" moments.

What's funny here.. in keeping with the theme of rite of passages...Joy is obviously about to go through one with her bat mitzvah on the horizon. However, as I keep reading it seems that her rite of passage is coming in another form as well..learning the real truth of how she came to be and beginning to understand her mother's intentions, ways, persona...etc.

Part of Cannie's past deals with a book she wrote that was based on her life. However, she fictionalized it with a hyper/over sexed heroine as she told a tale of how she over came some of her issues with the men in her life; a father that didn't want her and a boyfriend that was a pile of....shit.  Not to mention a mother that eventually admitted that she was a lesbian. Naturally Joy ends up reading the book and at the moment is seeking answers, on her own, about her mom and dad's relationship and her existence.

When I initally started blogging (in 2002) and decided that what I wrote would eventually end up in a manuscript or book form, a lot of it did sound like a broken record. That was because it was during the time when I was in my depression and part of my solace or my comfort zone at the time was through sex.  As I began to put the pages together, I didn't like what I saw. Granted it was my truth. That shit hurt. Still, I always worried about who would eventually read my truth if in fact it did get as far as being published. Who would it help? Who would it hurt?

My manuscript has been changed so many times because

1) I'm never going to be happy with it until my brain can finally say "STOP!" That's just the writer perfectionist in me.

2) Though I did fictionalized it, those who are close to me will know it's about me. So what will my mother think, especially in some of the mother vs. daughter scenes?

3) Since becoming a mother, I now feel it's my duty to use it (or perhaps anything I write) as a tool to teach my daughter a (few) lessons in life.. for when she is older and is able to comprehend what I went through.

In reading about Cannie and Joy, it's also bringing up a couple of the same issues I had.. umm HAVE... with my mom.... the over protectiveness and the broken communication line. Where I am currently in the story I do feel as if the crap is about to hit the fan. I'm just anxious to read about it and see where the two Shapiro ladies will go from there.

Another rite of passage...being able to face your truths, the whole truths so help you God.  

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Forgive me "father" for I have sinned it has been several days, maybe weeks, since my last confession.

I've been on a slight mission ever since I purchased a dress a week or so ago. 

My mission...finding the perfect black patent leather clutch purse.

After my free oil change (thank you Mazda), I ended up at Target today and was very disappointed in their selection. Really... how hard can it be to find a nice black patent leather clutch bag without big silly bows? I know I'm a child of the 80s but DAMN!

COOOOOME OOOOOON!

I steered the cart away from that department, picked up a few items for the Snickerdoodle and landed in heaven. 

My eyes lit up when I saw the stationary/card section.

Greeting Card Whore

Okay, I don't know what it is about me and greeting cards or stationary exactly. I don't even know when this addiction started. I have a fetish for pretty paper thingys.  I literally have a collection of greeting cards that I have not given to anyone, because they are too pretty to give to just anyone.

Hey some people collect stamps.

Me....

I'm a pretty paper person.

I did manage to pick up a couple of Mother's Day cards that I will be giving to my mother and grandmother. I still have May birthday cards to pick up. oye! 

Eventually the cards I have in my collection will go to someone... well.. I'm not too sure about the card with the glamour high heel (as pictured above). I simply adore that one. So if anyone gets it, they better damn sure appreciate it.

Anywho....

Needless to say, I caved to my greeting card addiction right there in the middle of Target. To hell with the clutch purse...for now.

On to Barnes & Noble.

My original mission with B&N was to pick up the May issue of Allure Magazine (I actually got the last copy! Did everyone know this was the annual "naked" issue?) 

Again, I was in heaven.

1. I was in a freaking bookstore. I miss buying a book or two.

2. B&N has just about any pop culture and sub pop culture magazine you can think of.  I'm a straight up glossy, airbrush, feature writing, artistic photography, quirky article, inspirational and motivational, 1,000 word count..... WHORE!

Today's Picks from the Newsstand aka Barnes & Noble (4/29/08)

Along with Allure, I picked up two of my favs.

Black Book and Fader (oh I missed reading Fader!)

I also picked up the 2008 edition of Writer's Market! Oh how I NEED this as I scope out who to query for freelance projects and even further my search for a literary agent!

(Big Score for me!)

Also, I could not resist another Jennifer Weiner book.

Gnb cover

OK! Stop! Hold it! The last book by Weiner that I actually own, read and loved was her first, Good In Bed. I could relate to that book on so many levels - and probably even more so now. Ironically I thought about that book last night. I had the urge to re-read it, but my butt was too lazy to get out of bed to hunt for it in my maze of boxes and such thanks to renovation inconvenience. I never got around to reading In Her Shoes, which I'm mad at myself for - since I wanted to read the book before seeing the movie. I didn't bother picking up Little Earthquakes, because after reading the synopsis I wasn't interested. However, today I just couldn't refuse her latest, Certain Girls. The story picks up where Good in Bed left off. So yes... if you are a Jennifer Weiner reader... Cannie Shapiro is back!

With nothing much more to say I would like to be excused now from today's confession.  I'm eager to do some self assigned homework in drumming up some ideas, reading a chapter or two in The Purpose Driven Life and skim through my magazines while drinking some ice tea and wiggling my toes under my covers.

If there shall be a penance for my addictive ways let it be the Snickerdoodle refusing to sleep unless she curls up with me. I can handle that.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend