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Showing posts from 2016

Running Out Of Words

This blog has been sorely neglected. I feel like with all that is (or isn't) going on.. I just do not have much to say. What can I talk about? Sometimes I sit at the keyboard, blog template open, ready to start typing. Then the baby cries. Or my husband asks me something. Or I start pondering WTF am I doing with my life at 37.....

And then I lose all train of thought.

What can I talk about?
I can talk about being lonely yet not alone. How I do not have a network of friends close to me anymore because I am at a different point in my life :age, marital status, kids.... it's changed everything. My sorority sisters, the ones I am close with, a re busy. My best friends live out of state. It is tough.  Is there a new mommy group that isn't bourgie in Atlanta? That just likes to go out to eat at regular ass spots and walks in the park with strollers? Something like that...

I can talk about how I love my husband but we are disconnected. Just ships passing in the night because of sc…

All Falls Down: A Mom Of a Preemie Reflects

Last weekend, I was finally able to cash in on the spa gift certificate my husband gave me for Valentine's Day. Yes, I realize it is damn near Halloween.... but I've been quite busy with adjusting to a new baby and my job. And just trying to wrap my mind out around life.

We had an nice brunch at the Katz's -style deli here in Atlanta, laughing and talking like old times over bagles, lox  and "smear".... Old times plus a giggling little one who would coo and laugh. And had the waitresses wrapped around her finger. She is very well behaved in public and just likes to observe her new surroundings.

My massage was an hour and a half. In the time, my husband decided he'd take the baby for a little walk around the shopping center in her stroller and maybe pick up a few things from the market. As he did that, I settled into the comfy chair of the Spa. I was called back rather quickly and I received an amazing deep tissue massage and aromatherapy. It was heaven. And muc…

King Cotton: Musings On Our Second Anniversary

We've been married 2 years today.....

(Photo by Made you Look Photo, Atlanta)

The traditional second wedding anniversary gift is cotton.

For someone black, that may be a bit of a difficult gift to give

Cotton.

Something that black bodies toiled, sweated over, were beaten and bloodied over ... sold and auctioned and ripped from families over... financed universities..... all in the name of King Cotton. Black hands that picked in sweltering heat. Not measured for their humanity but by the pound. All while we wore burlap sacks and rags. This same cotton, sent up North to be made into pretty things for Missy and Massa.... to celebrate their weddings. And we couldn't celebrate ours.

Cotton.

Today cotton is grown here and elsewhere... sent to China, Bangladesh and etc to be made into all kinds of things. Even traditional wedding gifts. 2000 thread count sheets of Egyptian cotton. Cotton handkerchiefs that wipe tears.

King Cotton.

Often times tied in a noose around our necks as we hang a…

Thoughts on #AltonSterling and #PhilandoCastile: Black Lives Matter

The Black Panther Mom

You have "tiger" moms.

Stage Moms.

Hipster, Granola Moms

Helicopter parents.

Queen Bee  PTA B*TCH Moms.

I don't really have a desire to be any of those moms.


I've decided to create a new category for myself.
(Listen,.. I know Black Panther is a dude. But he's my fav LOL).

The Black Panther Mom
It's probably not what you think it is. And honestly, I am working on the definition myself. But I am clear about what it is not. It is not any of what I listed above. And it most certainly is rooted in cultural depth. We aren't talking HOTEP-ness Erykah Badu levels of Granola crunchy. Just a rootedness (thank you Toni Morrison)  in Diasporic appreciation.

A black panther mom is vigilant about protecting her young. She wants them to be strong, nurturing and independent but also kind, compassionate and considerate. She wants them to be appreciative of people who are different. And most of all, an appreciation of self, of culture and of the value of their lives in a soc…

The Root of Who I Am

Roots, the landmark 1977 miniseries based on the work of Alex Haley, was remade in a modern and edgy way via the Will Packer produced 4-night series which aired starting Memorial Day. Like most African-Americans, I hold Roots near and dear to my heart. I connected with the stories of Kunta, Kizzy and Chicken George..... and I was really skeptical that a remake was going to be good.

I was so wrong.
Not only was it gut-wrenching, it was well researched and visually stunning. The team of historians integrated and interwove elements of culture, music, food and art into not only the scenes involving the Mandinka, but were also careful to show the ways in which the Middle Passage didn't destroy our cultural ties. I was moved. Some things were hard to watch but so necessary. And I totally scoffed at the idea that some black people were "tired of all these slave movies". I never hear Jewish complain about the Holocaust movies... or Vets complain about war movies..... We can neve…

The (Unnecessarily Stupid) Gender Game

When I found out I was pregnant, I knew I didn't want to know the gender. I was adamant. So was my husband. We wanted to be surprised. For us, it was simple: I didn't want to pigeonhole my kid into a gender specific way of being from birth. Baby R would be a baby. Period. Knowing the sex isn't what concerned us most.  Because my pregnancy was so difficult, all I cared about was if the kid was going to be healthy. 
But we had no idea how folks were so obsessed with finding out. They didn't understand why we didn't care.  They wanted to know what names we picked out even though we told them we had names for both boys and girls (aka unisex names). Why wasn't the room going to be pink or blue? Why did I not want pink at all?(for the record, I hate pink!) They didn't wanna buy us gifts (even though we had a comprehensive registry that was gender neutral and full of good basic items) unless they knew the gender. It was frustrating. 
Look, a baby is a baby. Onsies a…

The Conjure Woman: A Lesson in Black Girl Magic

My friend from grad school asked a simple question:

"Seriously... How the hell did our mamas do it all?" 
I sat and pondered the question. I thought about it. As I typed, I thought of my own mother. 
I wrote back:
Sis.. I don't know. My mama has been gone from this earth 7 months. Even in her last days she sat in her wheelchair and cooked, baked cakes and such. When I was younger, she worked 3 jobs despite having lupus. The short answer: black women are superhuman and extraordinary. And here I am.. Working, a newlywed, trying to get a Phd and feel like I'm going to fall apart. I don't feel like I'm made from the same stuff My mama was. But somehow we get through it... We have to. We are deep down made from the same stuff. Just have to channel it... Conjure it.
Even after I wrote that response, I had to sit with it for a while. Conjure it?  Can I conjure it? Do I even believe what I wrote?

Months after my response... I am still waiting fro an answer. Here I am.. …

Sex and the Sippy Cup

 *vacuums this blog*

Hello you all! Howdy! How are ya?

I think when we last left off on this journey,way back in October 2015, I was talking about how happy I was but yet I wasn't willing to share EVERYTHING that could be attributed to this happiness. I know.. from a blogger's aspect this is probably death to a blog. But hell, as long as I own this domain name... it's going to be going. And evolving. (Even if I am not sharing everything)

Speaking of evolving... I can at least share this. This blog started as a way to express the trials and tribulations as a divorcee' trying to navigate single life in the Deep South's largest metropolis. Since then, I've dated..been hurt... loved again....gotten engaged... gotten married... bought a home... started a Phd program..passed my comprehensive exams... and now


I had a baby <3

(pictured: HubbyDude and GoGo having K-care time )
Yes, I had a child. It was the one thing I had doubts that I would ever do in my life. Not bec…