Snob Mom.

Yesterday I was at a natural food store buying Cub some fresh produce. Lately I'm all about cooking my own baby food. It's such a pat on the back to whip out a jar of freshly cooked veggies that I've prepared! I saw another mom there with a boy a little older than Cub. I asked her advice on what foods to prepare since I'm a novice. She gave me some suggestions then mentioned a grain I had never heard of before. I asked her about it and she almost laughed in my face. She was floored that I had never heard of this special grain. She looked at me as if I had been serving Cub Cheetos all his life. I kindly smiled and reminded her I'm new to all of this "natural" stuff so she told me just to stick with what I know, the basics -- mushing up the regular veggies.

I saw another mom outside. I decided to ask her for her input too. She looked a little embarrassed and then confessed to always giving her baby store-bought jarred food. We both laughed with relief. She had never heard about that special grain either. I wish I remembered the name so I could tell you guys. Maybe then you could laugh at me too!

I've noticed a lot of other snobby behaviors amongst moms. And I know I've been one too.
We get snobby about what types of toys are bought -- are they imported? Natural wood? French?! The brands of clothes they wear, etc. What pre-schools we're considering, and the list goes on.

I've also seen the compartmentalizing of friendships amongst moms. I've been a friendship boxer myself. By this I mean specifying where and how certain friends fit into my life. Putting these friends into a "box". I used to always say "my church friends" to non-church friends. As if to devalue the importance and closeness of the friends I've gained at church vs. the friends I make in the "real world". Stupid. One time I was invited out to a park date with a "friend". She had other moms coming that I didn't know. When we got there, we were introduced as her "[blank]" friend. I don't want to bust this mama out, so I won't say which box she put us into. I remember my feelings being slightly hurt. Why did we have to be the "[blank]" friend? Why couldn't we just be her friend? It was almost as if she had to justify being friends with us. This was a rather snooty group of women. But we're no charity friend either!

I'm not sure why we do this. I suppose we all just want to fit in. And being a snob makes us feel better about ourselves. Ew.

At the end of the day, if our kid doesn't get into the top daycare, pre-school, prep school, wear only x-brand and play with french toys, they won't be lesser human beings. Perhaps they'll even be COOLER human beings. Ha!

The Capacity to Love

I've always wanted more than one child.
I wasn't an only child and I love the dynamic that siblings bring to a family.

I still want more than one child, God willing.
Yet staring down at Cub at times makes me wonder if it's really possible to love another child as deeply as I love him. Intellectually, I know it's possible. Yet in my heart it seems so foreign and strange.

I understand mothers love every child differently, not more or less. But it's still mind-blowing to me.

I took a yoga class last night. Our instructor started off the class by talking about "fierce determination". How we must approach these poses with fierce determination, in honor of all we've lost, specifically pertaining to 9-11. But she also spoke about love and the fierce determination we must have in order to love harder, and push beyond our limits, like a seemingly impossible yoga position achieved over time.

I suppose that's what happens every time we add another child to the mix. Our hearts stretch and expand, twist and turn, and make room for more love. Maybe we need a yoga pose called Loving Mother. Imagine how advanced that pose would be!

Parents magazine recently had an interesting article about spacing your children. The pros and cons of age differences, waiting vs. knocking out one by one, etc. I found it pretty interesting. Check it out here.

The Evolution of Friendship

I have friends. Quite a few actually. Some are married. Some are not. Some have children. Some don't. Some are super successful in their careers. Some are super successful in their personal lives. Some are very encouraging. Some just make me laugh. Some truly inspire me. Some make me mad. But each have their own place in my life. For whichever season we're in.

A lot of times I find myself "mothering" some of my friends. The part of me that is genuinely concerned about them is real. But when I take a really good look at this habit, often times it's a little laced with judgment and even more humbling... jealousy.

I spoke with an old friend last night. She wanted to address a few of my "mothering" comments made to her last time we were together. I couldn't argue with her. She was right. I was being too nosy and judgmental about her relationships. When I took a step back to see where I was coming from, I realized, even though it had been apparent deep down, that I was envious of her freedom. She is single and very successful in her career. She has hopped on planes around the world on romantic excursions. She's a NYer!! A jet-setter. So much cooler! And yet I remember the time when she used to think the same of me.

I realized I envy her freedom not because I'm living some demure life of bondage. Quite the opposite in fact. I'm LOVING life right now. My life as a mother is new and exciting, fulfilling and enlightening! I cherish every wonderful moment I get with Cub. The new heights I'm reaching in my marriage. The creativity overflowing in me. And many other great occurrences peaking at this time in my life. So why would I be envious? Because there are parts of the old me that I'm still hoarding away. The me that could get up and go at any given moment. The me that could spend some ridiculous amount of money on a PURSE that nothing fits in. The me that could book a ticket to some exotic place just because I felt like it and could. The me that had very little responsibility and a whole lot of SELF.

I was thankful me and this old friend had the conversation we had because it forced me to do some mental housecleaning. And reflect on my friendships in general. How they've changed throughout the course of life. Like a river pouring into and out of the Caspian Sea.

They changed when I was single and running wild. They changed when I got married and started taking life and my Spirit self more seriously. They changed when I got pregnant with Cub. And they've changed with Cub's arrival. Sometimes these changes have been really hard. And other times really refreshing. But I'm so thankful my friendships continue to evolve. Whether into something far greater or when they have to take a bow and part ways.

But most of all, I'm grateful that they've changed me.

Friends Shouldn't Let Friends' Toddlers Spill The Beans

From my friend's three-year-old daughter, while watching me change Cub's diaper:

"Like one time, I couldn't get my poopy out, so, so my mommy had to stick her finger up my booty to get it out. Then it all, like, came out."

Classic.

Ego Punkd

I'm a punk. Really, I am. Tonight I left the gym with my tail between my legs. Actually, more like dipping and dodging the people that were in the class I was supposed to be in. Let me explain...

So I got this free trial gym offer at a really high end gym. I'm totally psyched about it. I haven't been a gym rat in YEARS. And it's encouraging being around other sweaty, out of breath people. But this is one of those gyms you feel like you have to shower BEFORE going to, like cleaning up your home before the housekeeper comes to clean. It has a bit of that "scene" to it. (On a side note, I saw Dr. Phil working out there a few days ago. Like most celebs, he's much shorter in person. Go figure. I almost stopped him for some quick advice. But I was late for a class. ;-)

Anyway, I'm really digging the place and I've been trying to take advantage of all the classes while this trial membership lasts. So tonight I decided to try out a funkercise class. You know, one of those funk, hip-hopish classes. Don't ask me why. Well, the obvious answer is it would be fun, right? But who was I kidding? Did I really expect to keep up? Uh, yeah. I mean, this is a gym class, not some pro dance class at Broadway Dance NYC.

So I strut my little self right into the class. Quickly surveying the room. Making sure I wouldn't be the only one embarrassing myself through these dance moves. And afterall, I am half-black, which makes me an easy target for onlookers. Everyone wants to see if the black chick can keep up. Like we're supposed to be born with super-power rhythm. I guess it might be true for most of us, but hey, I only have half the rhythm! After sizing up my classmates, I felt pretty confident. They all looked like normal, everyday people. Not too in shape, not too out of shape, not too anything. Just right. There were even a few women in there who had to be knocking on 50, 60 and 100! I kid you not. Oh, I can definitely keep up with Granny, I thought. Uh, think again.

Then the music starts. Great bass pumping beats. I giggled to myself. This is going to be a blast!!

Until the choreography started.

Everybody in the classroom busted out in these MTV video moves. And there I stood like the geek at the high school dance stumbling over my feet. I tried to play it off for a little bit. But it only got worse. I then found myself watching GRANNY!! I was trying to follow after HER moves!! But I couldn't even keep up with her! As soon as the instructor turned his back to change the song, I was out of there!! I ran out of that classroom so fast, I could have beat Usain Bolt!

I decided to hide in the cardio area until the class was over. But either way, I'd eventually have to pass the classroom, running the risk of bumping into someone from the class. I couldn't bear to hear them laugh, haha, you're the half-black chick with no rhythm!!

So I spied on the class. Yes, I hid in the corner and spied. Watching all the everyday people, dancing like Janet and J-Lo. Once I saw them packing up to leave, I did another Usain Bolt to the locker room. Where I bumped into Granny. She really must have been at least a foot shorter than me and I'm only 5'3". Our eyes locked. Shame all over me.

Next time I'm sticking with Yoga.

Knock Me Up!

Will somebody please knock me up?!

No, seriously. Just kidding.

I've always had bad PMS. Since I was a teenager I've struggled with that fierce beast within that rears her ugly head around the same time each month. Somehow it seems to have gotten worse with age. You'd think it would have mellowed out by now. But I feel crazier the older I get. Or maybe I just am crazier?

Contrary to most women I've spoken to, I was much more even keeled during pregnancy. I was more patient, calm, peaceful and generally more pleasant to be around. While my pregnant girlfriends were driving their husbands to Timbuktu, my husband was probably admittedly enjoying me more during pregnancy! One of his buddies joked that he should just keep me knocked up. That'd be great if we lived on an Amish farm.

So here I am trapped in this loony house, waiting for the hormones to subside. Wishing I were pregnant again. Not literally. But wishing I felt as calm and peaceful as the pregnant me. Instead of this crazy, tired, emotional roller-coaster me.

And on that note, me and the beast are headed to bed. Good night, and good riddance!

Ready or Not

I hear people say a lot, when I'm ready, about things.

And I say it too.

We say, I'll step out of this dead end job, when I'm ready. I'll start living my life more devoted to God, when I'm ready. I'll start this new diet, when I'm ready. I'll be more honest about my situation, when I'm ready. I'll forgive this person, when I'm ready. I'll reach out to that person, when I'm ready. I'll stop being sad about xyz, when I'm ready. I'll shake this depression, when I'm ready. I'll confront my past, when I'm ready. I'll start healing from my emotional scars, when I'm ready. I'll stop smoking, when I'm ready. I'll give up this addiction, when I'm ready. I'll get pregnant, when I'm ready. I'll stay pregnant, when I'm ready. I'll have baby number 2, 3 or 4, when I'm ready.

But is there ever a RIGHT time? In some instances, yes.
But in most, no.

If we're honest with ourselves, there's always something getting in the way of us doing the right thing or preventing us from being ready.

Pregnancy and raising children freaks a lot of us out. It's like, WOA. That's why many of us go running in all different directions when it stumbles upon us... when we're not ready.

Although I think it's funny that I hear so many of my friends say, "All my life I tried not to get pregnant, now that I'm trying to get pregnant, I can't!" So what happens when we think we're ready for something, but that thing or scenario isn't ready for us?

I thank God Cub was born when I was not ready!
Sure we were "planning" on getting pregnant and starting to put everything into place. I'm not talking about logistics, etc. I'm talking about ME. The big fat self-centered me.
Sure, I believed I was ready. But the core of my being was not. And I'm STILL not...

Now, now, before you start thinking I'm doubting my ability to mother or spiraling into some deep, dark place, let be clarify. By not being ready, I mean I am relieved I don't have all the answers. That I'm still in a vulnerable enough place to be open to growth. See, if I was ever fully ready to be a mother, I would be perfect. Which we know is not possible.

Motherhood, just like marriage and any other strong relationship, acts as a mirror. It shows us a true reflection of our self. It's like a reflection of our self in High-Definition. We see every little flaw, freckle, mole, blemish, pore, glistening drop of sweat, and of course also the minute details that make us so unique and beautiful too!

In being a mom, I can no longer be stuck in the YOUTUBE. I can't make it always about ME. Even as much as I'd love for it to be! In reality, we should never be in the YOUTUBE, but I tend to crawl up there and get cozy way too often!

Someone once said motherhood is the greatest sacrifice a woman will ever make. Sounds great. I don't know if it is or not, but I do know that it's WAY up there. But I think more importantly, it all really boils down to LOVE. Love is the greatest sacrifice. Love is about putting someone else above yourself. Ouch. Self-denail is not fun. At least not for me! It's easy to do when I feel like it or feel ready to do it. But unfortunately, it's usually when most of us are right smack dab in the fire when love is needed the most. When it BURNS!

I am so grateful motherhood hasn't required that real burning from me yet. I've felt the heat here and there, but not the FIRE. But one day, I'm sure I will. If I don't, I'll never grow. At least not to my potential.

However, LIFE has required this of me. And trust me, there have been MANY times where I've yelled up at God about various scenarios, I'm not READY for this! Or, Hey! I wasn't READY for that!

And guess what he's yelled back at me?

Then GET ready!

Gee, thanks.

If you wait for perfect conditions, you will never get anything done. - Ecclesiastes 11:4

Typical.

Came across this very funny cartoon site: http://www.everydaypeoplecartoons.com/index.php

Thought this particular cartoon was perfect for the Back to School season...

A Note to the Twins

Dear Twins,

Next time you decide to jump ship and leave me hanging (literally), can you please give me warning? First it was the Milk Man, now it's you.

I understand you feel used. You've been raw, sore, sucked, pulled, tugged, bitten, inflated, deflated, pumped and lumped. It's been a lot in a very short period of time. I get it. But do you really have to abandon me all together? We weren't working with a lot to begin with, but we got by. We were cool.

Remember back in the day, it'd be you and me struttin' around like we were somethin'? I never just had you all out there like some women. I gave you some freedom, but you also had boundaries. I tried to frame you well without being too obvious. I even dressed you in fine linen and sorts. We had it pretty good, right?

Even when you first came out, I was so proud of you! We weren't the envy of all women, but you were mine. Petite, cute and mine. We were a good match. True buddies.

But now I might as well start boarding up the windows. It's an empty house here. A breast foreclosure.

So don't be mad if one day you happen to come by and see that you've been upgraded and replaced! Hey, it's fair game.

For now, I'll leave the light on and hope that you come back. Pleassssseee come back!

Got Stories?

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