(my son, the ham)


My son, in all his three-year-old glory, loves to be around other kids. He loves running, jumping, kicking balls--the usual--and gets so giddy when he sees other little people around. Although, he used to be THAT kid (borderline playground terror), he's turned out to be quite a nice little boy. But as he gets ready to enter preschool, I'm starting to get a little nervous about the habits he'll pick up from other kids.

One thing I've noticed is that my son is usually so eager to play with other kids, that he can be a little too over the top. Often times he follows other kids around the playground, gets really close to them (in a nice way), and can't seem to get the hint when they don't want to play with him. When we're on the playground, I often have to call to him and tell him that so-and-so doesn't want to be followed around. When kids shun his friendliness, his feelings are completely hurt, and he comes to me crushed and on the verge of tears. My heart can't help but ache a bit, and I'm quick to give him some mommy love.

As I hold my son and try to assure him that someone else will want to play, I sometimes wonder how I'll teach him to be a confident, respectful kid who won't be a follower and will not be devastated when kids are mean.

I posted my question on twitter, and got some sound advice from another mother:


Although I'm starting to have more and more conversations with my son (and I feel like he actually UNDERSTANDS what I'm telling him), it never occurred to me to have him address not only me, the adult, but the offending child as well. It's so simple right? But gearing up for preschool I was so worried about him being mistreated and allowing it to go on, or worse, reacting to it and then being blamed, that my first bit of advice to him was, "tell your teacher if someone's being mean, ok?" He usually nods his head and then runs off a whole list of people he'll tell (mommy, daddy, abuela, pawpaw), as if we'll all swoop down to his defense. While I'm happy he knows he can count on us, I'm more interested in teaching him how to deal with these sorts of situations on his own.

So how do you teach your kids to stick up for themselves respectfully? How can I prepare my munchkin for the newness of preschool, and protect him from picking up new bad habits?

I'd love to hear from the mamas (and the papas) on raising confident, respectful kids. Comment!

These past few days I've had the opportunity to circulate amongst some of the most powerful female bloggers in the nation. It has been a truly eye-opening experience for many reasons. Most of which have to do with my growth as a writer/blogger, and how I can become more focused and improve upon what I'm doing now, and others, dealt with just plain ol' life issues.

It's been almost a week since Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates was arrested outside of his home near Boston for disorderly conduct. Since then the media has been focusing on how, in "post-racial" America (gag), people are still dealing with the uncomfortable issues that surround race. President Obama added his two cents to the debate, acknowledging that Black & Latino men are racially profiled at higher rates by the police, and for that, he was accused of race bating by Conservative pundits. Normally, I would ignore their faulty analysis, but I'm starting to realize that SO many people have SO many opinions about race, that we might as well just put it all out in the open and talk about it.

The charade has ended. Let's not pretend that Americans are post racial. And to be honest, we will probably never get to the point where one's color, one's visible difference does not matter. Oh, we'd like to pretend we are THAT deep, that self-actualized, that progressive, but when it comes down to it, many of us still harbor some of the divisive stereotypes from the past.

Today I attended a BlogHer session on Marketing to Women of Color. The room was ethnically diverse and packed. I was psyched because I was amazed that so many non-colored girls were interested in US. Although sometimes I feel like black bloggers are marginalized to ONLY having a Black audience, I thought perhaps, this would open my eyes to something different. Then the conversations and questions became reruns of past conversations. The jist being: We want to be included too! Many women of color (WOC) bloggers shared that they sometimes felt disrespected by companies approaching them because they wanted to target a certain "urban" (read: black) audience in a certain way. While on the PR side, many lamented the difficulty of being an all-white firm, pitching to black/brown consumers. Although the conversation seemed honest and authentic, one thought kept running through my mind:

LEARN ME!

Learn what makes me tick. Read me. Study me. But not in an "oh, you're so exotic" kind of way. Learn my customs, my culture, how I live. Because, honestly, as a WOC that longs to be successful, I have no choice but to study you. So why not return the favor? If you're a company and your whole staff is white, you should probably investigate why you're whole staff is white, and not focus on how you'll be perceived as a white person pitching to a diverse crowd. Not that you have to go out and hire a token black/brown person, but in 2009, your company should already look like the world.

After the session, my suspicions that we weren't really past race were confirmed...with a tweet, no less.



It seems as though a blog that focuses on Moms of Color intimidates people. Why? I'm not sure. It's not that we, moms of color, don't deal with the same issues as all moms, because we do. I can only infer it's because of race, being that all other things--parenting issues, the products we buy for our kids, our children's development--remain equal.

It's sad that we've found new ways (and mediums) to segregate ourselves. The Henry Louis Gates issue has only pealed back the bandaid we've used to cover our race wounds. I would hope that, at some point, and through serious, honest conversations we will get past our differences and enjoy learning about each other. Maybe then we might reach the mystical, magical lands of post-racial America.


addendum:
Listen to Denene Millner, founder of MyBrownBaby discusses race, the web, and blogging while brown HERE
~~
Do you think the web is segregated?
How can we TRULY become a Post-Racial America? (or do we even want to?)
What do you wish others could truly learn about YOU (or your culture?)?

After a busy, busy weekend of hitting up Sea World & the circus, the munchkin and I are hitting the road again. A few weeks ago I mentioned taking a road trip, and it's finally here!

Today, the munchkin, my mama, my little bro, and I are driving up the California Coast. I've planned a couple of things to see along the way: The Monterey Bay Aquarium, Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, Golden Gate Park, and The California Academy of Sciences. But I'm sure, like most road trips, we will fit in a few detours. I'm planning on driving the scenic route, snapping a few pictures with my new camera, and sharing them with y'all.

I (probably) won't be posting this week, but if you're curious about how it's going, follow my twitter updates for pictures & the lowdown about the trip. When I return, I'm going to share my review of Farai Chideya's new novel, Kiss the Sky, as well as some of the things I've been writing this summer.


Be blessed y'all & enjoy the week!




What are you reading this summer?
Do you guys have anything planned this week?
Are you hitting the road this summer, or enjoying a staycation?

Today my son and I were enjoying the freedom of our summer break and decided to walk to the bookstore. Since I’m trying to get the munchkin ready for preschool, I choose to use our walk as a teachable moment about colors. As we passed some flowers growing in someone’s yard, I asked him to name the colors.

“Purple mom! Das purple!”
“Good, and that one?” I said pointing to a white flower.
“I dunno….”
“That one’s white,” I said.
“White,” he repeated.

Then he said something that caught me off guard.

“What’s her color?”

My son pointed to a fair-skinned Latina that passed us on the street, and I didn’t really know how to answer. “What’s her color mommy?” He asked again, a little annoyed I didn’t answer him the first time. Silence. I was silent. I mean, how do you break down race and ethnicity to a three year old?

“She’s wearing black…her shirt and pants are black,” I scrambled to answer him somehow.
“Oh,” he said and kept walking.

Our walk to the bookstore and our conversation made me think about the influence, or rather lack of influence, race and ethnicity have on little kids. They are not born knowing or recognizing any differences between themselves and others—we teach them that. They are not aware of any of the cultural connotations, prejudices, and stigmas attached to different ethnicities—that’s all us. So how do we talk to our kids about the diverse world in which we live in such a way that teaches them to appreciate everyone’s uniqueness?

Every since Obama was elected, people have been talking about “post-racial” America, an America that has finally shed its racial prejudice and has achieved a sense of colorblindness. Honestly, I don’t buy it. Sure, America has elected a Black man as the president, but that doesn’t mean we are over our history of systematic racial oppression. Just when we’re ready to say we’re “post-racial,” racism rears it’s ugly head in the form of Rush Limbaugh, or the elderly man shooting up the holocaust museum, or some other lurking presence forcing us to take a long look in the mirror and confront this country’s racially divisive past (hello hollow slavery apology). Despite all of our strides, we have not moved beyond race…and shouldn’t’ have to.

In order to live peacefully as a body politic, you do not have to pretend our differences do not exist. We do not have to blind ourselves to our cultural, racial, and ethnic markers that help make up who we are---we should celebrate them. Pretending something doesn’t exist, is still pretending.

When I think of the blood of my ancestors—the Africans brought here so long ago, my Native American great-grandmother, my Belizean grandmother, my southern mama—each of these things, have shaped me into the woman I am. To sweep that aside under the guise of colorblindness would be akin to suicide. It would mean I’d have to give up myself in order to fit in. And that’s not a choice I’m willing to make.

No, in order to truly ascend above our past, we don’t have to be post-racial, we need to be ourselves.

And be okay with that.




Parents, how do you talk to your kids about race?
Do you believe we are in a “post-racial” America?
Or is that even a good thing?

“Where's the munchkin?” She asked looking around for my son, who is usually attached to my leg, especially when in the company of people he doesn’t see a lot.

“He’s outside in the jumper,” I smiled and pointed toward the backyard.

“He's Baaaaaad!” she chuckled and walked off saying something about my son being cute.

I was taken aback. Her words stung my ears while I tried to brush aside her comment. Bad? My munchkin?

My son isn’t bad. He’s very active. At three he loves Thomas the train, Curious George, running, jumping, playing, his mommy, picking up rocks or bugs, kicking a ball, building sand castles, going to the park, any kind of truck, and eating strawberries…not in that order. He loves life, has a smile that can at once break and heal your heart, and he asks a million questions.

But bad?
Definitely not.

A few months ago I heard Geoffrey Canada, the founder of the Harlem Children’s Zone, on This American Life. He spoke about his program, which aims to end poverty in Harlem by educating kids from birth through college. His program boasts amazing results. Most of the students in his charter schools score at or above grade level and many have gone on to attend college. Although his programs are phenomenal, what blew my mind was the Baby College program. Baby College teaches parents, mostly poor and Black and Latino, to rethink how to parent. The program starts even before the baby is born. They discuss brain development, types of non-physical discipline, and having high expectations for your kids.

In the episode of This American Life, they discussed a study that tracked the dramatic differences between the number of encouraging words upper middle-class parents, and their poorer counterpoints, spoke to their children. The differences were stark. The well-off parents, on average, encouraged their children 500,000 times by the age of 3, and only discouraged them 80,000 times. Conversely, poorer children heard only 80,000 encouragements and 200,000 discouragements by the time they were toddlers. Which brings me back to the woman’s comments about my son.

This woman so easily brushed my son off as “bad” because he’s not always quiet, has his own mind, and likes to see what’s around him. I suppose, in her mind, he’s "bad" because I don’t beat him into stick-still submission. At three, my son shouldn’t be afraid of me, shouldn’t be afraid to learn about his environment, or move. His job isn’t to stick so closely by my side that he can’t do anything else. At three, he should be learning all that he can about the world around him so that he can grow into a well-rounded adult. I think many of us forget (or don’t know) that a child’s brain develops through exploration and being able to discover their world. Does that mean they’ll always explore quietly and in the ways that we’d want them to? No. But does that make it wrong? Definitely not.

Her comments also made me think of my students. I wonder, how many of their parents have continuously told them they were bad, or stupid, or crazy. I’m sure many of them have heard these words so many times it has become some sort of sub-conscious mantra. Today, I was in a parent conference, and my student’s mom threatened to “knock her teeth out” and “slap the shit out of her” on about four occasions. Clearly this mother believed heavily in “spare the rod, spoil the child,” but is it working? Is this little girl the best and brightest student I’ve encountered this year? No, she’s failing, and perhaps part of the reason lies in the messages she gets from home.

I know that I can’t control what others say about my son, but I can control how he is treated at home. Let’s face it, my son has enough strikes against him: he’s a young black manchild who’s father is incarcerated. My job, however, is to nurture him in such a way that he grows up strong and proud and loved.




How do you show your kids you love them?
Do your encouraging words outweigh your criticisms?

related:
*listen to the episode of This American Life mentioned in this post here.
*Find out more about The Harlem Children's Zone

The first time my son met his father was in jail.

Blistering cold out, I wrapped my almost two-month-old son in a baby-blue snowsuit, and a hand knitted blanket and walked to the train station. We took the E train in Queens, then transferred to a bus that would take us to Rikers Island.

When the bus crossed the bridge onto Rikers Island, I didn't know what to expect. Even though I was somewhat of an around-the-way girl and had cousins who had been in an out of the prison, I had never set foot in a jail. My experience with jail was only what I'd seen on Law & Order, and from the looks of the show, Rikers was like the ninth circle of hell.

When I got off the bus gripping my newborn son, I didn't know I'd have to go through three sets of metal detectors, leave everything I carried for the baby—except for a blanket—in a locker, remove my shoes, shake out my bra, and take off my socks just to spend an hour with my beloved and introduce him to his son. It was a humbling experience, and I never wanted to do it again, but it's been three years, and this is our life…for now.

Raising a child is an arduous task. Raising a child alone is even more daunting. Because his father is away, I am in the precarious situation of being a not-so-single, single mother. Although his father tries to father our son through visits, phone calls, and letters, he is not able to be with us on a day-to-day basis, which means it's up to me.

I never planned on being a single mother. When my beloved was locked up, we were a week away from ushering our son into the world. We had bought all of the necessities, celebrated with two baby showers, and were happily awaiting his arrival. One night, our lives changed in an instant, and I was thrust into the difficult role of being another single, black girl with a baby.

When my son was first born, I vowed that even though he was being raised in the absence of his father, he wouldn't want for anything. I have made it my mission to give my son every advantage, every opportunity, and every indulgence that is feasibly possible. And even though we now live 3000 miles away from his father, I have made a conscious effort to keep our family intact and make sure we see him as much as humanly (and financially) possible. Even at three, my son knows both his mommy and daddy love him fiercely, and he is happy.

Solo-parenting my son has been both rewarding and very lonely. When we venture out to the park or to the movies or anywhere and see complete families, a hint of sadness curls around my heart because I am reminded of what is lacking in our life. Although beloved and I are together, I am still the one parenting our son alone, making sure he doesn't feel as though he has missed out on anything just because mommy's raising him by herself.

Since becoming a parent, I've become acutely aware of how I'm viewed, and have gone out of the way to make it known I'm not the stereotypical single mom. Even though single parents are raising more children, there is still a huge stigma that looms above our heads. And for black women, it's even worse.

I am not your stereotypical single mom. I have both a Bachelor's and Masters degree, I'm a professional, and I make a decent living. I am not on welfare, I'm not out having multiple babies by multiple fathers. I am young, black, and gifted and a mom.

As my son grows older and becomes more aware of his father's absence, I know I will have to explain the situation and reiterate that he is loved truly, deeply, and completely by both of us. He will have questions, and I pray we will have the answers. But for now, I am enjoying having my son all to myself. I am blessed to experience all his funny faces, silly dance moves, and I loves yous and not feel selfish one bit.

First Lady Michelle Obama was recently honored by People Magazine as one of 2009's the most beautiful people. We all should have seen this one coming. The media has been in an absolute frenzy since the Obamas got to Washington, and the first lady has been mentioned by nearly every magazine and tabloid on the planet. What I enjoyed about her nod in this year's list, however, were her words. She states,

"I had a father and a brother who thought I was beautiful, and they made me feel that way every single day...I grew up with very strong male role models who thought I was smart and fast and funny, so I heard that a lot. I know that there are many young girls who don’t hear it."

I echo Mrs. Obama's sentiments. Although my family wasn't perfect, my parents made me feel as though I was smart enough and beautiful enough to conquer the world. Without Mrs. Obama's parents and my own, who knows what sorts of pressures we could have fallen victim to. Many of my peers did not make it to college. A few had babies before we even walked across the high school stage humming "Pomp and Circumstance," and even more still are just out there "hustling." Having someone in your corner that has your back is amazing. It's empowering, and it makes you think you can accomplish anything you want.

Unfortunately, many kids do not have someone they can count on. I run a support group for kids at my school and today we were discussing resources (people) we could count on in a crisis situation. The kids in my group have a myriad of things going on in their lives. One girl feels completely alone, says her parents are "bad parents" and opts to keep to herself because she's depressed. Another just lost his grandfather, is angry at his own father because he hasn't seen him since he was two years old, gets into fights a lot, and cuts himself to deal with his pain/anger. Yet another is VERY angry with his father for leaving him for his stepmother and cries and lashes out in anger to compensate for his pain. Heavy. Although they deal with very different issues, the tie that binds each of their stories is that they do not have an advocate they feel comfortable with. Despite their problems and imperfections, I have learned that they are great kids, yet they don't have someone that has their back and tells them it's ok to dream and work to reach those dreams. It's sad, but if they are going to make it, they will need some help.

I've struggled all year not to get too attached to my students. This year, it has been easier to not let their issues become my issues, but this support group is another animal. I wasn't expecting the kids to come with issues so raw and deep, nor was I expecting them to be so willing to open themselves up and share their wounds. If we are going to raise more Shashas, Malias, and Michelles--we are going to have to step in the gaps for our kids.

What can we do to help? Mentor OUR children. Even if parents can't be there, if families are dysfunctional, even if you don't feel like it's your responsibility...it is. Who else can help our kids but us?



For more information on how you can get involved, check out The National CARES Mentoring Movement.

beloved's appeal was denied.

my life has been somewhat on hold for the better part of 3 years, waiting to find out what will come of this situation. now we know. we now know that we have 9 summers to prepare for his homecoming. and i now know that i can push play while we continue to wait.

i have been putting off a lot of things in beloved's absence. i have been so available to him, so willing to put my needs on hold to make sure we are able to see him regularly. flying out to see him is very expensive, but necessary. our son, now aware that beloved IS his dad, asks about him more and more. every time the phone rings he asks "is that daddy?" and he's even told me he wants to go to the airport, so we can see daddy. it causes me to smile, and at the same time feel a bit of sadness. but it's up to us, beloved and i, to make sure this little boy has everything, feels loved, and knows that, no matter what, we will be here for him.

these words are starting to feel a bit...defiant? no, i am not leaving beloved. quite the opposite. i am stepping out and becoming the woman that i need to be to carry this weight. to be the mother, the wife, that experiences and appreciates life, so that i can love even more fully.

i went to see a Realtor last week. this was another thing i have been putting it off in the hopes the appeal would come through. but i went to see her, and despite my doubts, it is possible for me to buy a home (i've even talked to the loan guy). so that is my focus right now. for now, we will stay put on the West coast. it's just easier. my family is here, i have a network of people i know i can call on to watch the munchkin, and my job is here. perhaps in a few years, as the munchkin grows older and needs to see his dad more often, we will head east. but for now, i am focusing on buying a home.

i am no longer putting our lives on pause. i am going to live for today, and plan for tomorrow. i will experience all that i can & love harder and more deeply.
~*~

today i am taking the munchkin to his gymnastics class, then i'm meeting up with my co-worker to see Danny Hoch's one-man show, Taking Over. i'm excited.

i hope y'all have a great day & weekend!

Ann Coulter makes me itch. Which is exactly why I try to avoid her pasty, sardonic expressions and severely offensive tone whenever humanly possible. But lately, it’s been hard to ignore her media blitz to promote her new book, which attempts to demonize single motherhood and the children they raise.

Ann Coulter’s bombastic rants are nothing new. In her latest flurry of appearances, she seems to be taking her ire out on all of the single mothers. In her book, Guilty: Liberal 'Victims' and Their Assault on
America, she argues that “[s]ingle motherhood is like a farm team for future criminals and social outcasts,” and claims that children of divorce are “future strippers.” She asserts the liberal media has championed single motherhood while actively working against the nuclear family.

Her assertion about single motherhood being the gateway to all social ills is extremely problematic. Although she sites some fuzzy statistics, she does not take into account the socio-economic conditions that ail a great deal of single parents. Raising a child is an expensive endeavor. And raising a child alone is
extremely arduous, requiring you to not only stand in the gaps, emotionally, for your child, but also provide financially. Becoming a single parent isn’t a
choice many take on purposefully, but according to Coulter’s logic, single mothers have become so by choice, aided by the “liberal media’s” attack on the nuclear family.

I’ve noticed something. Whenever white women begin to break away from social norms, somehow an assault on “the American family” has occurred. Black women have been raising children alone for years. Slavery (I know, we don’t like to talk about it) caused many of our foremothers to raise children in the absence of their father because he was sold away. The “nuclear” family was but a dream for enslaved African-Americans who struggled to piece together a family broken by systematic racism, and Black women were left to work and raise children solo, wishing it were possible to
have her partner’s assistance. But instead of dealing with the issue of single motherhood holistically, taking into account the historical plight of people of color, Coulter simplifies the issue to make her point.


In an attempt to further her thesis and to dig her right-wing heels into our President-Elect, Coulter argues that President Obama, as well as other prominent mixed-race African-Americans, have insulted their white single mothers by identifying with their African-American roots. She claims that by identifying with the ethnicity of their black fathers, they have “establish[ed] victimhood status in America,” which helped them become successful. Apparently Coulter needed to explain away the reasons that Obama, Halle Berry, and Alicia Keys, all raised by single mothers, did not fit into her assertion that children raised by single moms are ready for the state pen. She had to come up with something, seeing as the WASPy White House ceiling has been cracked and shattered for good. Once again Coulter doesn’t incorporate the historical significance of ethnic identity. She acts as if mixed raced African-Americans have never been identified as “black” (uh, one drop rule anyone?) and Obama et. al is doing so just to play up their disadvantaged plight.

It is easy to look at Ann Coulter and dismiss her as a self-obsessed, mad woman. I mean, that’s how I see her anyway. The problem with that, however, is that many
agree with her divisive views. Her books have climbed to the top of the New York Times Best Sellers list, and she has found a home on a myriad of conservative
media outlets. The trouble with Ann Coulter, as with any outlandish talking head, is their ability to get people to think like them. It is people like Coulter that carved American into parts, both “real” and “fake,” and attempted to pit the two against each other in a commercialized culture war.

Luckily for us, America has, in spite of itself, elected a man, the son of a single mother, who vows to unite us. I am hopeful that President Obama is the antidote to the divisive discourse that has been permeating our airwaves as of late.

so, i survived throwing my first kid birthday party! and now i know why the munchkin hadn't had one up until now: it's waaaaaaaaay too much work!

yesterday we hosted the munchkin's 3rd birthday party in the backyard of my grandma's house. perhaps it would have been less stressful had i put more time into planning the event, but i'm a procrastinator, so i only had about a week and a half to pull it all together. my goal was to create a fun, no-fuss, low-maintenance party, and i think i pulled it off, in spite of the tight timeline and mounting expenses.

the munckin is a HUGE Curious George fan, so that was our theme. i had a Curious George cake made, picked out some key character accents (hats, napkins, banner, etc), and just decorated the rest of the yard in George's colors (from the 99 cent store) to save money. it worked. the yard looked festive, and no one cared that the backyard wasn't draping in Curious George. as a matter of fact, i doubt they noticed.

i'm not the conventional party planner, so i nixed the games and just made sure the kids had something to do. we had a jumper, a cheap lawn bowling set (a previous gift), and i brought out the munckin's big wheel and soccer ball. the kids ran, played, got super dirty and enjoyed themselves. i couldn't find a pinata i liked, so i sent all the kids home with a FABULOUS grab bag full of candy and cheap toys (bubbles, play dough, and whistles).

all in all it wasn't as bad as i thought it would be. i definitely won't be throwing him a party every year, but we can do it every couple of years. the most important part was that he had a BALL! the whole entire time he only sat still to eat. he played HARD, jumped till his little legs got tired, and enjoyed playing with all the kids.

so my job was done, and today, i'm still recuperating LOL.

how was your weekend?

when i found out i was pregnant with the munchkin, beloved struggled with my decision to have him. we were both students, i had just lost my job (our main source of survival), and we weren't married. from the beginning i knew i wanted to usher this baby into the world. not really because i felt an instant connection, and not because i was brave beyond measure, but because my momma always raised me to keep my legs closed, and in the event i happened to get preggo, i'd woman-up and have the baby. and so i did. and this little boy has been an amazing addition to my life. quite honestly, had it not been for him i might not have fought so hard to keep my relationship with beloved together. i might have fallen apart when the shit hit the fan. but i didn't. knowing i had to keep it together, knowing i couldn't draw up into a ball and fall deeply into depression, has motivated me to be the best woman i can be for my son.

i'm sure my story isn't unique. i'm sure millions of other women have found themselves knocked up sooner than they thought, and had to change their course in order to be the best mommy they could be. sometimes i wonder what my life would be like if we'd just waited to have the munchkin. when i hear my friends talking about jetting off to the Bahamas or going to some club, i'm a bit jealous. but the question begs to be asked...am i happy? are you?

a recent Newsweek article took a look at a study that measured the happiness of people with and without children. it found that childless people are, according to the study, 7% happier than parents. the article states,

"Parents experience lower levels of emotional well-being, less frequent positive emotions and more frequent negative emotions than their childless peers," says Florida State University's Robin Simon, a sociology professor who's conducted several recent parenting studies, the most thorough of which came out in 2005 and looked at data gathered from 13,000 Americans by the National Survey of Families and Households. "In fact, no group of parents—married, single, step or even empty nest—reported significantly greater emotional well-being than people who never had children. It's such a counterintuitive finding because we have these cultural beliefs that children are the key to happiness and a healthy life, and they're not." (read the whole article here)

so what is it about parenting that makes us both immeasurably ecstatic, but yet less happy than our childless counterparts. i think a lot of us (parents) would reject this study on an emotional level because we feel as though it calls our parenting and the love for our kids into question. on the other hand, i am inclined to agree. although i love my son beyond measure, parenting requires an immense amount of self-sacrifice. i am forever having to put my needs and wants on the back burner for my son. am i resentful? no. do i sometimes wish i didn't have to always be last? hell yes.

in the old days, parents, specifically women, didn't voice their needs. all of their time, money, and emotion was thrown into their children. women slaved over hot stoves, cleaned-up the house, catered to her husband, and buried her own needs and dreams. today, our focus is slightly shifting. our society is more open to mothers pursuing goals and dreams, but somehow it still has to play second to making sure their children are taken care of. and i guess that makes sense. once you decide to have a child, you take on a whole new set of responsibilities. you are now responsible not only for you life, but for theirs. it makes sense to have to put your child's need ahead of your own, but damn if it doesn't suck sometime.

i know you can't always have it both ways, but why do we (women/parents) feel so guilty about putting ourselves first?

if study is correct and children are not the key to happiness, then what is?

i'm not sure, but i think the answer lies in loving yourself. if you do not love yourself and aren't happy with yourself and your decisions, then you will not be a good wife/mother/partner/friend. nothing good can come of a poisoned tree. and no amount of happiness can come to you if you do not take some time for yourself & just love you!

Technorati Tags: parenting, happiness survey, motherhood

I'm leaving, on the next plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me, like you know I'll never go
Even though you know I will
I'm a travelling man
moving through places
space and time
got a lot of things I got to do
but God willing I'm coming back to you
~ Mos Def "Traveling Man" Remix

i'm leaving on a jet plane tonight to see beloved.

while i LOVE that i get to spend a few days with him, the hassle of traveling with a 2 year old tries my nerves. i have to pack so many things to keep him busy, clean, and fed. i have to make sure he keeps his feet off of the seat in front of him, and hope that he doesn't throw a tantrum and scream at the top of his lungs. basically, i have to make sure he's not THAT kid that everybody rolls their eyes at. not to mention my family constantly looks at me sideways when i say, "i'm going to my 2nd home." although they are supportive of our relationship, they still don't understand why i need to visit so much ("didn't you just go last month?" they ask). i look at my little one, and i ask them, how can i not?

beloved & the munchkin barely know each other. no matter how many trips we make, it doesn't make up for the months or weeks that they don't get to see each other. you know how kids are: they don't know what they don't see, and the last thing i want our son to do is look at beloved like a stranger. i know it probably won't really CLICK until he's a little older that 1)he has a REAL daddy that doesn't just live in pictures and 2) daddy is just away & will be home...soon(?). but i'm trying to do all that i can to reinforce their relationship now.

our visit is coming at the perfect time. not only am i off for spring break, but beloved is having some issues. since his sentencing in Nov. 2006, he's been in two mental health hospitals, and for the last few days (or a week, i'm not sure), he's been on "observation." i don't really know what that means considering they won't tell me anything over the phone (ugh!), but i know that something isn't right. he's been increasingly depressed and a little distant as of late. when we talk all he really says is that he misses me & really misses our son, but not much else. seeing him face-to-face and being able to hold his hand and show him that we are HERE, will (hopefully) go a long way to ease his nerves. i can't even begin to imagine what he goes through. the physical situation is enough to break most people, not to mention the psychological turmoil he puts himself through (feeling increasingly upset with himself for putting us through this). i can't imagine having so much alone time just to sit and think about what i should have done & how my life could have been different. that is a mind killer.

whenever you see articles or studies on the prison population, they deal mostly with the numbers, not the families behind those numbers. i wish someone would come along and put a face, a voice, a story with the facts. perhaps then we would not just say, "wow, that sucks" when we hear of the alarming numbers of people being locked up. maybe then we'll try to come up with solutions.

On a recent trip to the park, I was reminded of the staggering gaps in race and class when it comes to mothering. The park was full of moms—mostly white—with coolers chock full of snacks, toys, screaming, barefoot kids, and Benz SUVs. This world felt foreign to me and about as inviting as a new, awkward kid’s first day of school.

Of the many moms out that day, I was the only Black mother, or parent, for that matter. As I listened to a group of moms discuss plans for their next playgroup and Mom’s Night Out activity, I wondered, where are all the black moms and playgroups for people that look like me?

I hit the net searching for information. First I did searches for African-American moms, mothering, and working moms and playgroups. After punching in a myriad of search terms dealing with mothering, I came up empty handed. Most resources for African-American moms either dealt with stay at home moms, or poverty and African-American moms, none of which answered the questions I had in my head.

Despite the lack of internet resources, I know I’m not alone. My situation is hardly unique. I’m an educated, working mother, who is solo parenting a rambunctious two-year-old son. There are millions of women like me, yet no one seems give a damn. An article on the National Organization of Women website discussed the media’s virtual ousting of mothers of color. It states,

If you read major newspapers and news magazines or watch network news broadcasts, you may have the impression that all mothers are white, married, college-educated and have (or have abandoned) careers in high-profile professions such as law, medicine, broadcast news or finance.

And although they are poorly represented in media reporting on working mothers, African-American mothers have a higher rate of working outside the home than any other demographic. Married African-American mothers with children under 18 have higher rates of workforce participation than other married mothers (82 percent compared to 71 percent of white moms, 66 percent of Asian moms and 62 percent of Latina moms, according to the U.S. Census Bureau.

So where are the real representations of moms that live outside of what society deems as the norm? Are we left to fend for ourselves, and continue to feel like outsiders on playgrounds across America? Something has got to change.

We need a place, a resource where both working and stay at home moms (married or single) can come together and share, commune, and find answers together. I have to yet to find that place, so maybe I should stop looking, and create one.

1. not having to wake up at 5:45am: i am SO not a morning person, but have been forced to become one in order to earn a living. when i was in NYC i had to be at work at 7am, and would have to be up, out, and on the train before the sun even got up. it sucked getting up so early, but watching the sun break over the river almost made it worth it.

2. being able to watch the today show in its entirety: normally when i hear the Today Show theme music, i know i'm running late. everyday i need to be out of the house before 7am in order to drop the little man off at the sitter & get to work in time to make copies, write the agenda on the whiteboard, and listen to a little music before my students start pounding on my door. being on break allows me time to catch up on all the fashion mistakes, complicated recipes, and the weather reports in my neck of the woods.

3. spending time with my son: you are probably wondering why this is number 3 on the list. i could have easily made it #1, however, at some point, i want my son to take a nap because i can only watch so many episodes of Thomas & Friends, or read Hop on Pop, or play with the trains. i absolutely LOVE my son, but now i realize that i don't have to have him tied to my hip to be considered a good mom.

4. not having to change out of my PJs: i confess, i'm lazy...sometimes. i don't like to get dressed up to go into the world everyday. i like the softness and ease of my cotton basketball shorts, or ultra-soft capris. i'd rather be barefoot, in shorts, and a tank-top & lounging around my house than stuffed into a pair of slacks and uncomfortable shoes.

5. unlimited options: this is probably THE BEST thing about being a part-time stay at home mom. if i want to stay home all day & let the munchkin run around the house like a madman, cool. if i want to get us dressed and go to a museum, cool. if i want to walk to Borders and browse for books & let him run around in the kid's section, cool. every decision, every idea, every day trip is possible because i don't have to answer to anyone but myself (and bank of america). whatever we want to do, we can do because i'm the boss. the freedom of being able to plan, or not plan, your day according to YOUR needs is priceless.

when i'm working and my students are driving me crazy and it's march or april or november, i always try to keep my eye on the prize: break! although i can't afford to stay home full time, being able to have a few weeks or months off allows me to experience life on the other side of the mommy coin.

each time i'm off i cherish these days, love the freedom they offer, and long to have them again. hopefully one day my passion will allow me to sustain us financially, and i can officially make the switch from part-time to full-time stay at home mom. until then, i will enjoy my time off while it lasts.

(some of the books i have yet to read, but have owned for quite some time. i will try to get through these over break.)

it's finally here: a break, an extended siesta from the day to day work and struggles of teaching. i've been looking forward to this time since september (lol), and it's FINALLY here!

for the first time since i've ever had a break from anything, i don't have a ticket in hand to go visit beloved. i'm broke & the weather sucks. hopefully we will conjure up a visit before i have to return back to work (crossing fingers). but the lack of travel plans feels very weird and foreign to me. i halfway don't know what to do with myself right now.


(veggie lasagna with spiniach, mushrooms, red, yellow, and orange bell peppers, onions, and lots of cheese!)

yesterday, as i do lots of Sundays, i cooked. the stay at home mom in me likes to go on allrecipies.com to see what tasty things people are cooking up. yesterday i made a veggie lasagna & tricked my uber-picky two year old into eating more veggies than he's had in a long while. in an attempt to return to the healthy eating that i exhibited this past summer, i wanted to make something meatless, and although it had lots of cheese (yum!) it was all made of skim milk, and i used whole wheat pasta. it came out quite tasty. the little one ate ALL his and kept trying to dip his fork in my plate. mission accomplished.

one thing i will do with myself over the break is read & write. all the hype surrounding my one page a day goal evaporated. my child got sick, i got sick, and my ideas stopped flowing. i will pick up my story again and hopefully make up for the week i lost. i also picked up the new issue of Poets & Writers, and FINALLY was able to get my hands on Bodega Dreams. i'm excited to read it. will give you my review, not that it matters, when i'm done.

so, what are your plans for your winter break--no matter how long or short?
& what are you reading right now?
give a sista some recommendations.

bless.

sometimes I sit and wonder how my life ended up like THIS. this meaning a solo wife & mommy, trying desperately to hold it all together…on my own (sorta). I wonder what God is trying to teach me by going through all of this. sometimes I wonder why I wasn’t more dedicated to my writing when I was in the city of dreams. Why I let so many opportunities slip through my fingers. I wonder why I’m still not doing what my heart wants to do. I wonder will I ever be brave enough to just go for it.

I wonder and I wonder and I wonder some more.

When I’m alone with my thoughts I question how we get into the situations that are our lives. I try not to sit and feel sorry for myself, or wonder what could have been if I would have just turned left, and not right, because that’s useless. it’s all spilled milk and there’s no use in crying over it now, right?

When I get into a funk and start feeling all down for myself, usually, something or someone comes along and makes me smile. Lately, it has been my little one. He cracks me up with all of his 2-year-old bravado.

My baby is hilarious. He is starting to “read.” Every morning he runs to the car and starts calling out letters, while pointing to those on the back of the car (“E!” “A!”). Although he hasn’t quite matched up the right letter to the correct sound, it cracks me up. He is so happy to point & shout out letters, it makes me happy just to see him having so much fun. And that makes our commute just a bit more pleasant. I am no longer grumpy, or tired, or feeling down….

I am thankful

I am thankful to see the day break across the sky. Thankful I can pay for extra collect calls on holidays. Thankful for beloved’s sanity (and my own!). thankful for long weekends, and 44 hour rendezvous with my Mr., and cheesecake(!), and holding hands, and cooking dinner for my princes, and reading with my son, and everything I often overlook. I am thankful for the struggle and the lessons God is constantly teaching me, in spite of how much they sometimes hurt.

As the holiday season approaches…what are you guys MOST thankful for this year?

Bless.

Black men are America's most likely crime victims. Even Latino men, who suffer high homicide rates, are much less likely than black men to be murdered. A black man is safer in prison today than living free in Los Angeles County.

*jaw drops*

THIS scares me.

According to the Los Angeles Time Homicide Report, a weekly tally of all the homicides in LA Country, young, black men are safer in prison than walking the streets of LA. I am shocked, appalled, and afraid, especially for my bothers & son.

where have i been?

i am an 80s baby. i grew up in the heart of South-Central LA in the 80s, lived through gang wars & colors, and I suppose, i figured everything had died down. nowadays, when my students come to me refusing to write in anything EXCEPT blue ink, spelling my name wrong ON PURPOSE because they refuse to put the "C and K" together, and claiming they are from "such and such set," I shake my head and can't understand. for some strange reason I thought gang bangin was dead, burried deep in our memories right next to Cube's jeri curl & Raiders jacket. But apparently it's still alive and well in the hearts and mind of our youths.

This year Six Hundred & Seven people have been murdered in Los Angeles County. 607. of those, 180 (or 17%) have been Black Males. An overwhelming majority of them (156) met their demise by the way of a gun.

I don't even know where we can begin to change this (suggestion?).

I'm sure these statistics aren't foreign to other major cities. where do we begin to pick of the pieces of our broken youth? In 2005-06 many news sources did several news reports on the state of Black men in America, but I have yet to read or hear anything about the brothas this year. Perhaps our men are out of style; overshadowed by celebrity gossip and political scandals. But the question remains...what can we do about it?

How do we begin saving ourselves, because it is OBVIOUS, no one else will do it for us. Where do we even begin?

Personally, I am starting with my son. My son has a living, breathing example of how bad decisions & choices can really cause setbacks in your life (his father). beloved and I talk, at length, about our hopes and dreams for our son and how no matter what, he will NOT make the same mistakes we've made.

my son will not be statistic
God Willing
we can keep him safe
long enough to succeed

UPDATE:
Since posting yesterday, the number has gone up to 620! this is damn ridiculous.

(attica correctional facility. this pic was taken with my phone. i wasn't sure if you are allowed to take pics of prisons, so i tried not to look so blatant & use my camera.)

and we're back. the little one and i are back from our week-long dance marathon with beloved. it was wonderful seeing him. he hasn't changed much in the nearly 2-months i've seen him, but it did look like his face has thinned a bit (but he still has the belly lol).

seeing him made me realize how MUCH i actually miss him. i know that sounds weird, but somehow i am able to sort of deal with the feelings of him not being here. don't get me wrong, i miss him dearly, but i've been able to cope, i suppose. but seeing him made me consider moving to cold-ass buffalo, even though when he first mentioned it i balked. i still doubt that we'd move upstate, but it has crossed my mind.

beloved is good though, tired of being there, but he is maintaining, which makes me feel a little more at ease. i'm also so worried, especially after we visit, that he will get extremely depressed, but he sounds good. while we were there i got a chance to meet the Imam, whom i bothered so many Saturday mornings to make sure beloved's name was on the program list. he seemed happy to meet us, and he was happy for beloved that we were there. everytime we visit, people seem SO surprised that we would go all that way. but i often ask them...what would YOU do? i love this man with the fullness of my heart, he loves me, we have a son...so it's imperative to keep our family together. i mean, what else is there to do?

*~*
work is starting soon, in a week to be exact. i am SO not ready to go back to work. i've been spoiled this whole summer. every time i'm off work--any job--i wish it could last longer. i wonder if that means i'm not passionate about what i do? or does it just mean i'd rather spend time watching my son grow up? i mean, i am the only documentarian to his growth. daddy can't be here, so it's up to me to record, and capture all of his important moments. who knows...i just wish summer lasted just a bit longer.

on our trip to see beloved, i got the chance to stop in New York City & Toronto. I liked Toronto a lot & wish i could have stayed a bit longer to see what it's all about. it's not especially far from beloved, so who knows...perhaps we can move there. i'd still get the big city feel, in a relatively safe place, with a diverse community (with lots of west indians). but i'd have to visit a lot more & really check the place out. for now...i will enjoy the pictures (and so will you!) lol. be blessed y'all.

Toronto

(i saw that while walking around and just HAD to take a picture. *lowers head* i'm guilty of txting & driving)


(CN Tower--the tallest building in the world--Day & Night)


(downtown T dot O)


NYC


(Times Square)


(posters of B'way plays...i STILL want to see Avenue Q)


(a lake at Central Park)

Niagra Falls

my son is determined
to break his arm

standing atop our
leather ottoman          proud
& grinning as if
he just conqured
        kilimanjaro

last week       he fell
and wailed until
salt caked his lashes
hysterical               he was
comforted with kisses
and coos

i ask my mother
how to keep him
off the furniture

"a boy" she says
"what do you expect?"

daredevil

17 months       training
     legs arms and toes
exploring every inch
of new
      world

fear lives not
in his heart
    mine surges
when i see him

brown legs jumpping
from tables or chairs
or jungle-gyms or stairs
straining to reach
                     everything

i wonder when
he will be tamed
reckless spirit lost
amid mommy's worring words