Family

There’s always a moment for every single mother that she envisions the family she could have had, or should have had. And, with raging hormones and a new baby, it’s easy to convince yourself that it will, or should, work. It may be bullshit. Be careful.

I left for a reason. I left because I wasn’t happy. I was miserable. And, I can have all the feels, but I can’t let them drive me back into something I left for A REASON.

This is a new version of normal. I’m not going to get the mommy, daddy, two kids, two dogs, and a white picket fence. My package is different, ever evolving, and unique.

I’m still grappling with being a mom of two. The last addition I need to my basket of shenanigans is a relationship I don’t feel confident about.

When I found out I was pregnant with my oldest son, Blaise, I was engaged to his father. Almost immediately, I called off the engagement. Even young and naive, I knew I could only handle one major life event. I stepped away from the relationship to focus on my pregnancy. At the end, I realized the relationship was toxic, and I’d made the right decision. I mourned the loss of my son’s family. I was devastated, but always confident in my choice.

With my baby, I’d left his father months before I got pregnant. We were talking, trying again even, when I ended up pregnant. It’s been a lot to process. This wasn’t the story I’d written for myself, but my baby boy is as perfect as his older brother. And, he was meant to be. Selfish behaviors, know-it-all attitudes, and a refusal to be considerate kept his dad and I apart. They will keep us apart, forever. But, we have to figure out the parenting part, come hell AND high waters.

I don’t want to build a faux family for the sake of avoiding the stereotypes. I also don’t want to romanticize a relationship that will never truly happen.

Family comes in a variety of forms, and we have to be confident in the family we are creating, even when it’s unorthodox.

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Newborn and giving up.

6/22 I’m writing this with my newborn son on my shoulder. It’s been one week, two hours, and seventeen minutes of me being a mom of two. He’s perfect, and I’m faking normalcy.

7/27 My baby is now 6 weeks and 1 day. We’re side by side in the backseat of a car. We took a mini vacation to Memphis. It was challenging. It was an adventure. We’re in the last hour of the drive, he’s tired of the car seat, he wonders why I’m not taking him out of it, and I’m typing this with one hand while I hold his pacifier with the other.

But, he’s absolutely perfect. He’s happy and curious most of the time, but he screams his head off when he’s hungry. And, he expects his pacifier to be available 100% of the time. Doesn’t matter if he wants it. He wants it to be available. We have 6 pacifiers. He’s training me well. Again, I’m holding his pacifier in his mouth this moment.

I’m madly in love. I’m mother to 2 beautiful boys, 13 years apart, and almost identical twins. My heart is full. I can barely contain my happiness, even during 3A feedings and poop filled diapers. Life is good. I’m very blessed.

I can’t seem to wrap my mind around what’s happened in the last year. The break up. The pregnancy. The baby. Nothing was part of the plan. I give up.

And, I don’t give up in a negative way. I give up making decisions regarding love. I give up being sure of anything. Because my happiest moments were being single and open to whatever happened. I was free.

Right now, I don’t want to be a wife, or a fiancé, or a girlfriend. I just want to have a few dates, eventually. I just want a handful of compliments and a few conversations a week. It’s easy, and it lacks decisions.

Black Panther

I took my parents to the movies last night. It was the first time we had all been to the movies since The Color Purple, in 1986.

And, that’s such a cool memory for me…however vague it is. I sat, and slept, on my dad’s lap watching The Color Purple, at Joy Cinema, 32 years ago.

Last night, you would’ve thought I financed a major event. I was beaming all night. How cool it was to take my parents to the movies! We saw BlackPanther, and they loved it!

This is the best movie experience of my life…tied with The Color Purple.

#WakandaForever

New Year

I notoriously say, I don’t make resolutions, I make decisions.

Some things never change. And this year, I’m making the decision to take care of myself. Like really take care of myself. I’m putting myself at the top of my priority list. And, I’m focusing on the things that make me truly and genuinely happy.

1. I love being Blaise’s mom. Love. But, motherhood is hard. It’s so incredibly hard. And, I pray over my role as a mother every single day. I just want to give motherhood more of my time. I want to be present for my son more. I want to realign MY priorities.

2. I want to be healthier. I started to figure out this healthier lifestyle stuff last year. I started moving in the right direction, but I struggled making a full commitment. I wanted to have it both ways, and that’s not realistic. I’m taking care of MY health and MY body.

3. I have some major plans, and my finances need adjustments to ensure that’s all possible. Major adjustments. Like a reintroduction to what it means to save. So, I’m reading and researching everything I can find to educate myself. I’m budgeting. I’m figuring it out. I’m taking control of MY finances.

Ultimately, I want to take ownership of my life. I want to be a more committed and confident mother. I want to balance my finances. I want to take control of my health. I want to be happy, for real.

I want 2018 to have ALL the follow up that these other years intended.

Easy enough, right?

You don’t have to be a princess to become a queen. 


I was never anyone’s princess. 

My dad wasn’t the type of dad to have a princess. He didn’t subscribe to all that daddy/daughter type stuff. He was a hard working provider. There weren’t a lot of lovey dovey moments, but no one missed any meals, not one need was ever forgotten, and most of what I wanted I had two of. I’ve always been loved. 

My parents weren’t the madly in love type. They were upper middle class folks that worked for everything they had. They sacrificed and pushed themselves to achieve what they wanted until they didn’t have to. There isn’t a lot of time for date nights and romantic occurrences when you’re building an empire. 

My mom is tough. She was raised by single women. No matter what my dad brought to the table she was conditioned to be able to provide for herself and me. She lived that rule. Warriors, raised to be warriors, don’t raise princesses. They raise warriors. 

I’ve never been a princess. I’ve never aspired to be a princess. I don’t understand it. 

I understand work. I know how to push myself. I know how to be reliable, strong, and consistent. I know how to get stuff done. This is queendom. 

I’ve always preferred a crown over a tiara, anyway. 

#QUEENDOM 

PICTURE

We are still figuring it out. 

How are we gonna survive in each other’s lives? How will we appreciate each other? How will we both win?

It’s more than just casual. We are figuring it out. 

My struggle is that just because I got a lot of things I didn’t know I wanted, doesn’t mean I have to ignore all the things that were important to me that I didn’t get. 

I have this man who supplies me with incredible attention. He’s considerate. He’s kind. He’s totally engaged in the success of our relationship. 

But, we still struggle with communication. We’re still figuring it out. I shut down when things are rough. I’m currently shut down. And, I know it isn’t productive. I know it breeds confusion. But, I don’t want to create chaos with a highly emotional response. 

This is a relationship. It’s all highly emotional, right?

He’s stuck trying to figure me out. He’s deciphering my mixed signals. I’m deciding if this is the other shoe. Should I just cut and run? Sheesh. We can be so exhausting. 

His struggle is probably that he was totally single before me, my kid, and our dog busted into his life. He isn’t used to being this considerate of this many extra people. He’s figuring out how to live amongst us. How to love me? How to befriend my son? How to win over the dog? How to not get lost in the madness he didn’t realize he was signing up for. 

“Ok get ya kids, but then they got their friends. I pulled up in the Benz. They all got up in.” – Kanye West

And, I knew what I wanted. I had a mental list. There are so many boxes left unchecked that weren’t as important as I’d thought. But, there are some serious boxes that must get checked for me to be happy…for us all to function. 

The honeymoon is over, and we are still going. We’re still working. We are still figuring this shit out. I didn’t run away. And, I didn’t run back to the past. I think this guy might be the one. 

Side note: I had to change the title of this. I wrote on it for weeks, and I couldn’t get the message right. Then I changed directions. It organically told the story I was trying to tell when I stopped beating my head against a brick wall. 

I haven’t been spontaneous since 2004. 

I am not spontaneous. Seriously, I’m not. I don’t absolutely hate surprises or spontaneity. They just don’t really fit in my life, and haven’t since 2004. Because I found out I was pregnant in January of 2005, and it’s been downhill since. 

I’m a mom, a daughter, a sister, all while having a full-time job, a business, this blog, and social and community responsibilities. I am busy. I feel like I say that all the time. 

I am juggling a lot of balls. As many as many others, I know. But, I’m just talking about me. 

So if we make plans, there’s a lot I have to do behind the scenes of that “yes”. I have to make sure my son is taken care of. I have to coordinate with someone else’s schedule, ask them nicely, and hope they say yes with no strings attached. I have to make sure he has everything he needs for that timeframe and any other timeframe it may impact. (If it’s a school night, did he get his homework done, have dinner, get his bath, brush his teeth, take his medicine, feed his fish, put everything away, get his schoolwork and backpack ready for the next day, pick out his clothes, pack his lunch, get his snack, say prayers, and get to bed at a reasonable hour. It’s not the responsibility of the person who agreed to help me to do ALL of that. He’s my son.) 

Can I leave after he goes to bed? When you’ve showcased yourself as single to your child his entire life, leaving him to spend a few hours “with some stranger” can be difficult to process…right before bedtime. 

I need to coordinate my work schedule. For me to have a late dinner and movie with you, I need to ensure I’m not going to be the closer at my retail job and miss any time with my son that evening. I need to go home and wrangle stuff, get things for both of us done, and ensure that I’m ready to see you. Plus I want to go ahead and have my shower, to keep from disrupting the house when I make it in. And because work attire and date attire are different, I have to put a lot of work into looking like I put in little effort. 

If I have to leave town for you or with you, I need to do all that times 1000.  Is my son staying with one of my parents or going to his dad’s for the weekend? Is my work schedule covered? Have I made any commitments to my friends, family, or social contacts that need to be changed? Is there anything I’m forgetting? Wait…who’s going to feed the fish?

There’s no room for spontaneity in this phase of my life. 

There’s also no room for missed plans or shitty excuses. If we make plans, and I do all of those things, you flaking in the 11th hour is unacceptable. It’s also inexcusable unless you’ve had some emergency situation or work thing that couldn’t be altered. 

And, it’s disrespectful. Because if my only responsibility in life was to sit still and wait for your attention, that’s funny to even type, it’s only courteous to follow through with what you have agreed too. It’s basic. It’s one of the things we were taught in grade school, at church, and at home. Honor your commitments. Respect other people’s time. Be a man or woman of your word. Integrity. Respect. Grown folks shit! 

Because, we are grown people. We know how to interact and engage with one another. We know how to do what’s right. Especially…ESPECIALLY, when you want to date me, sleep with me, and possibly give me your last name some day. 

And if you happen to screw this up, human nature and shit happens, apologize. Just apologize. Sincerely, apologize. Tell me the minute you know, try to lessen the impact, fix what you can, and apologize. Acknowledge the gazillion things I had to do to make myself available to you, the other people who were involved, and my hurt feelings. Own that you just messed up. Stand up like a grown up and accept responsibility, and NEVER let it happen again. 

I know emergency situations arise. I know, and this is separate from that. If you have an emergency or work thing out of left field, I get it. And if I get upset, I’m unreasonable. I would owe the apology. But only for the unforeseen, not the oops I forgot. 

I hope this provides some clarity to the man I went left on, the man I should have gone left on, and anyone else who’s immature shit isn’t recent enough to recognize.