Wash Day

This day is an anathema for the Trio. Chairs get flipped over. They kick, cry and scream. I threatened to give up before they pity me and give in . . . a little. *smile* It's amazing that I get all three of their heads done at all. Of course I must end our dance of disaster with a proposal to cut their hair to which they all reply with a sound "no". Yeah, I didn't think so. *cue evil laughter* Now that they're older and their hair is longer, the shower method isn't as effective anymore. Shampoo gets everywhere. They try to run. I get soaked. Not to mention the strain on my back. It's quite a spectacle. So after watching countless of YouTube videos I picked up a method in which you lay the child down on the counter and wash their hair in the sink. The good Lord loves me. This works wonderfully for us.

LP
My son is very scalp sensitive. The water must be cool and not one drop of water can land on his beautiful face. Beautiful even as his face contorts rather oddly while he concentrates on not freaking out. He actually holds a towel over his face. His hair gets washed every 2-3 weeks. He has semi free form locs so there is no conditioner involved. I wash his hair with castile soap (my favorite is tea tree or peppermint). From time to time I deep clean his locs with apple cider vinegar and baking soda (works wonders). More so now that he's grown quite tolerant (for him...lol) to the entire process. He is very much a boy and his hair is rather course so lint, cat hair, sand, rice and everything else in the world looooves his hair. I serve eviction notices on the daily and wash day is get the hell out day. *smile* Lots of rinsing needed. When he's done I rub coconut oil all over his hair. The re-twist is completes with Indian Hemp and or castor oil. His hair loves castor oil. I braid his locs together since he doesn't care for pins. Most days I air dry. Now that he has outgrown his fear of the blow dryer, we employ that on other days. Either way when he's sure I'm done he takes the braids done and give his hair a good shake. Thanks me and moves on to the next step in his never ending journey.


P&C
Now my girls are exhausting. Their hair is a softer grade. This means nothing except that it stays neat for 4 days maximum. *sigh* Their hair loves lint more than their brother's hair (which is saying a lot). After I unbraid their hair, I check to see which twin I have because P needs the water to be lukewarm and C needs the water to be cool. Breeze on a sweltering day cool. Just enough oomph. You know? Like ooooomph but not too much or complaints will be lodged. *smile* I absolutely adore the Shea Moisture and Yes to Blueberries lines for shampoos and conditioners (take notes gift givers...lol). Their hair needs to be washed weekly. Like before the week is over but I work 12 hour shifts plus that overtime grind so weekly washes will do. Tuh. Their hair may be soft however it's extremely curly. Tight curls that curl into each other so detangle is a must. This is the tricky part. Too much manipulation and you'll lose the peaceful ambiance. Too little and when it's time to comb tears will flow like when a river greeting an ocean. It's a delicate balance to maintain. I detangle with maaad conditioner, B. Sorry, I had to. *smile* I use a LOT of conditioner to make this process as smooth and expeditious as possible. When that part is done, their entire head gets a good shea butter (God, I love Shea Butter) and coconut oil rub down. As I part and comb their hair a leave in conditioner is applied so as to get the curls to momentarily behave. Momentarily....for those familiar with black hair. *smile*

They all receive a 2 day notice when "Wash Day" is about to go down. Candles are lit (calming scents) and soft jazz or R&B is played to set the mood. You have to say that last part with Sebastian the crab's accent. You know? From The Little Mermaid. Come on...get with it. *smile* Facial kisses are granted. A peck on the nose, cheek, forehead, etc. The complimentary scalp massage is required just so I can hear LP say "Mooommmy, that feels good!". I don't know. It tickles me every time. What can I say? I'm in love. Anyway, DVD time is granted during the hair combing/twisting process. A much needed distraction....trust me. The woman who abhors television. At the completion of this ritual they admire their hair (sometimes each others) and thank me. Sometimes with puffy cry eyes but you know...whatever. I'm no hair stylist so I'm grateful for whatever commendations I can recieve. I then bend down like Tim Tebow at a game and thank God for making it through. Clean up the hair balls (they have to admire it first) and fly off to our next activity. We're like Diddy man....can't stop won't stop. Now take that, take that. Sorry, Hip Hop in 90s is basically the soundtrack to my life. Anyway below are the best hair shots I could get.  

Too Deep (poem)

When he tells me I'm too deep
My reply is...
Nigga, drown
Nigga jump in ... or flee
"This heart is not a home for cowards", 
the fearful or the weak
Who better to fall into and out of than me? 
Who inspires the emotions that make you feel weightless and free?
Who....nah forget it Nigga, just leave 
Because really,
what is he asking of me?
When he says Storm you're too deep
What would he like me to be?
Half filled? Half empty?
A desolate sea?
Tailor made to fit his mood?
A dial with options of 3
choices; 
Let's see.....comforting, happy and freak
What could be his definition of too much depth in me?
What is he using to measure; gallons, inches, square yards, cubic feet?
How far has he dived in before he acquired this belief?
His statement sparks so many questions, his mere presence causes grief
Nigga, leave
This here is a human being 
I'm not a business open to your suggestions 
on how to make it better 
I'm not vulnerable to your displeasure 
I am Storm 
I am weather 
You endure
Or run off and seek shelter
Your observation however well intended isn't needed or welcomed 
Mr. Originality, comments like this are not seldom
I am Storm
I'm supposed to be overwhelming...to most
When he says Storm you're too deep
I don't know what else to tell him
Don't know how to cease the onslaught of screaming and yelling 
Nigga, please leave
In these waters only skilled divers can breathe
In these waters Only skilled divers are recommended to even compete
When I extend an offer
You say yes ma'am....yes please
Anything that tastes like fear is a note to yourself to retreat
Don't bring that shit to me
I am a natural entity 
Like a heart beat 
You don't question why it pumps too hard or too weak
You just appreciate the mere fact that it breathes
When he says Storm you're too deep
My reply is no love, it is you who is too shallow for me
Nigga you can leave.....

Unconditional (Poem)

I might say that I want you forever
But that's only during brief moments of pleasure
My love is fickle
I tell you to leave then I miss you
I meant it but then I kiss you
Those lips . . .
I'm only craving your physical
You shirtless, ass bare in my living room
Orgasms that reach the realm of the spiritual
I mean so remarkable that angels dance in our visual
I meant forever in between you nipping me and me licking you
Beyond that is extreme...uncharted...unpredictable
I know what you mean
but honestly,
The request for forever makes me miserable
My love is unleashed
It's free, it's unconditional
Understand that you can leave
whenever this energy isn't healing you
No love lost
Just me revealing truth
For life is too short
To willingly be uncomfortable
I'll always be me
You'll always be you
And that determines how we see
Determines point of view
If something that you need
is something I can't do
Then I am merely a longing to be released
A portal to go through
And I'll respect whatever path
you feel you have to choose
Always within your grasp
If cravings start to loom
I will take you in my heart...into my soul and womb
But into my forever
Won't go past the room

Spoiled vs. Blessed

spoil verb (used with object), spoiled or spoilt, spoiling.

1. to damage severely or harm (something), especially with reference to its excellence, value, usefulness, etc.: The water stain spoiled the painting. Drought spoiled the corn crop.

2. to diminish or impair the quality of; affect detrimentally: Bad weather spoiled their vacation.

3. to impair, damage, or harm the character or nature of (someone) by unwise treatment, excessive indulgence, etc.: to spoil a child by pampering him.

bless verb (used with object), blessed or blest, blessing.

1. to consecrate or sanctify by a religious rite; make or pronounce holy.

2. to request of God the bestowal of divine favor on: Bless this house.

3. to bestow good of any kind upon: a nation blessed with peace.

4. to extol as holy; glorify: Bless the name of the Lord.

5. to protect or guard from evil (usually used as an interjection): Bless you! Bless your innocent little heart!

          At this point in my blog if you don't know how I feel about my children than the neurons in your brain are firing off much too slowly my dear. You might want to seek professional assistance for that. *smile* Seriously though, parenthood is a duty to be taken most conscientiously. Parents are literally raising the future generation. You cannot get more serious than potentially raising the mind that may one day cure cancer or spark the revolution that ends world hunger. Also, I have excellent examples as I come from a long line of women who served as phenomenal providers and care takers. Memories of my own childhood serve as a constant source of inspiration to improve the quality of my children's lives. As a black Caribbean woman, I owe it to my ancestors who could only dream of the opportunities I am able to award my children with now. In short, I know better so I do better. Let's not forget close friends and family that have passed and also serve a different kind of inspiration to live life honorably and to the fullest. Lately however, some people that are somewhat familiar to the way that I mother have expressed concern about me spoiling my children. This is not a new allegation. Simply responding to my crying infant has depicted me as a mother who spoils her child in the minds of many. When I ask for the definition of spoiled, many come up empty. In my humble opinion, the word spoiled has been misconstrued with the word blessed way too often. Nothing I do (definition of spoiled incoming) damages or harm the character or the nature of my children. It is my every intention to (definition for blessed incoming) protect and guard my children from evil. To request of God the bestowal of divine favor on them. To bestow good of any kind on them. This is something I can never apologize for. My son and I almost lost our lives for his entry into this world. And the pain and sacrifices my body had to endure to bring my daughters unto being safely still makes me shiver to this day. They are blessings and they are to be blessed. The reasons people find to say my children are spoiled are invalid. Those reasons don't apply to the definition of spoiled at all.
 I don't spank my children. Not completely against that type of disciplinary action however it has no place in my home. I was introduced to that type of violence as a child and it did nothing but confuse me and make me violent myself. This is my experience and as usual I can only speak for my experience. Never mind the historical aspect of slaves having to savagely beat their children so that the cruel owners wouldn't kill them for you know.....being children. I know (and have dated) adults that have trouble following simple directions so to be moved to violence by the action of a child seems ludicrous. Counterproductive even. There are so many other forms of discipline. They are blessed to have a patient and understanding mother. 
I buy toys for my children. Things that aide in developing their minds and motor skills. And yes, sometimes useless trinkets that only serve to make their eyes sparkle. I mean, I'm creative enough to make those educational too but really sometimes it's just because. There is no television in our home. We do have a DVD player and access to YouTube. Without a television to hypnotize them for hours on end, toys are kind of necessary. Just a healthy and safe way to guide their playtime. Things to engage their curiosity and imagination. If time allows we're in the park everyday. Nature has a therapeutic effect on our psyche. It's a drug you can't overdose on. Why not? *smile* They are blessed to be on the receiving end of such a stimulating environment. 
I do not unnecessarily force my children into uncomfortable situations or environments. God has been good to me. I have a knack for details and the good fortune of time to dedicate to them. I watch my children and anticipate their needs before they are able to articulate them to me. As a child I was apprehensive. I recall many situations that I was forced into in the name of tradition or societal pressure. As an adult I can laugh at some of the memories but as a child the anxiety was very real. It has shaped who I am as an adult. So if my child doesn't want to kiss an adult upon greeting (a popular Haitian tradition), they don't have to. If my child doesn't like birthday parties, guess what? They don't have to go. If my child wants to wear their hair in it's God given kinky Afro form, they can wear it out. Even in public. I know. I know. The horror....*smile* 
The end game here is healthy and happy people. Because they are also people, right? My check list is fairly simple. 

• Health is wealth
• Honor your family & roots
• Mommy cannot afford to raise fools (read, read & read again...lol)

That's it. Maybe I'll add more but for now we're good. For now we're happy and healthy. I work really hard for all that we have. And my goodness, the Trio are an incredible group of children. They don't live life on easy street at all. I am very blessed. I choose to pass those blessings down. Who better to than my own children?   

Jaded

So yesterday was a such a gorgeous day that I took the trio to the pool. Due to an inaccurate read of the chemical testing of the water, the kiddie pool was off limits. This placed a nice little damper on my day. Although there was a life guard on duty, the idea of watching over two, 2 year old girls and a 5 year old boy play in a large pool of water seemed daunting. They were so anguished by the elimination of the kiddie pool that I decided that we would try the big pool out. If only for a moment. Their squeals of joy led the way. There was only one other family there. Two older ladies (Caucasian...you will see why this is significant to your knowledge later in this tale) with a 9 year old little girl. The little girl warmed up to my son immediately. She was unbelievably sweet and patient with my rough and tumble son. I have yet to knock learning how to swim off of my bucket list, so I was extremely nervous in my approach to entertaining the trio in this vast stretch of water. None of them knew how to swim. LP had his life vest on (he loves that thing) yet still I recently indulged in an article on the statistics of dry drowning and this did not help my overprotective nature. So we struggled as they had to take turns with me on the deep side. C didn't mind. She was more than satisfied to play by her lonesome on the steps of the pool. My girl. LP and P 2.0 were more adventurous. They were trying to jump in the pool whenever they deemed me taking too long with the other (heart attack inducing might I add). It was quite a tango. Even with the little girl entertaining LP, our fun was restricted. The eldest of the 2 older ladies came over and introduced herself as the grandmother. She asked if she could take one of the girls off of my hand as she reached to play with P 2.0. P 2.0 held on to me tightly in protest which matched my mood to habitually say thanks but no thank you. C on the other hand reached for the lady with such enthusiasm I changed my mind about saying no. The grandmother's face lit up and the two began to play like they've known each other forever. She taught C how to kick her feet and other beginner swimming tricks. They played water games and their simultaneous laughter was infectious. We were all laughing in no time. I reveled in the ability to play with the other two in a much more engaging manner. We were having such a grand time. Soon the time came to leave. A lump formed in the back of my throat as feelings of gratitude overwhelmed me. I thanked her and said my goodbyes. As I left I felt embarrassed that the moment evoked such an emotional response in me. I reflected on the moment and what I was really feeling (self  reflection is a daily thing...lol) and my conclusion stunned me. It dawned on my that the kindness from the grandmother at the pool actually surprised me. I partake in a plethora of activities with the trio. We live for community outings. Sadly, we are usually the only brown faces at such events. My son and I have locs in our hair. The girls sport corn braids or a curly afro. Between LP's big spirit and the girls' identical faces, we stand out. In my personal experience the Caucasian mothers at these events tend to study us with apprehensive eyes. I have even had some shy their children away from mine (not an often occurrence but I take notes). I'm not blind to the society that I live in so I just smile broadly and carry on exploring with my three. But it has happened often enough for me to begin shying away from them. I hadn't notice. The grandmother at the pool kind of shocked me back into reality. It wasn't just that she helped me out by playing with my baby. In that moment it was just one mother helping another. I found it so rare to experience an act so free of ill motive that it moved me to tears. That simple concept of "they aren't all the same". Of course I know this intrinsically. I teach it all of the time. It's so easy to display behavior expressed to you without your awareness of even taking it on. I was jaded and this moment straightened me out. I was about to tell her no even though I needed an extra pair of hands because I judged her without even knowing her. I am so blessed and grateful for her compassionate gesture. And I had so much fun that I forgot to take a picture.....lol.  I'm still growing and learning and loving in this life. 

Bedtime Routine

     So my big boy is 5 and my little one's are 2 years of age. They are finally out of my bed, people. I repeat to the world. They are finally out of my bed. *smile* Truth be told, I love co-sleeping. Cuddle time is everything. Instinctively, it just feels better. If I could continue to do so comfortably (even the King bed got too small) I would. So, I've developed a bedtime routine that assists in the transition. And this has worked wonders. It has 3 parts. Are you ready?

Part I
     Story-time. I don't have to tell you how magical books are, right? How significant it is to read to your child and etc, right? You know all of this already, right? Good. So I have the trio pick a book out (Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown and Please Baby Please by Spike Lee & Tonya Lewis Lee are the favorites for now) and I read it to them. This is extremely important because my son has issues with phonological awareness. So this helps facilitate language learning. My son then takes the book from me and "reads" it back to us. He mostly describes the illustrations however I make sure to applaud him as he smiles so proudly when he finishes. Even if he didn't get a word right. That's my boo.

Part II
     Prayer time. My son is the oldest so he usually leads us in prayer. The girls take their turn to lead every now and then. Sometimes we do the sign of the cross. We're still working on bowing our heads in respect. I mean, I am still fine tuning my concept of "God" (don't tell my Catholic mother) so as long as he says a prayer I am satisfied. What's most important here is being thankful for another night with loved ones by our side. 

Part III
     Meditation circle. This is a little unique. I don't believe that their concept of prayer is grounding enough for them. Our meditation circle calms them in a way that prayer should yet doesn't because they lack comprehension. We sit in a circle and take long deep breathes. No set number. When I feel our collective energy in the room settle then I stop. I pick a random number to count up to and we count aloud together. At the completion of our collective counting, we give each other kisses and say I love you. 

     Then it's off to bed. A little lengthy yet effective in terms of embedding the idea of bed time in their little minds. P 2.0 still cries sometimes but I can hear her brother and sister try to help her settle. "It's okay. Stop crying. You have to sleep now." It's the cutest. Slumber doesn't find my eyes until they've fallen asleep so yes I'm up eavesdropping. I'm their mother and I can do that. Whatever. *smirk* Don't judge me....I know I'm corny.  

Letter to My Younger Self

What I Know Now: Letters to My Younger Self edited by Ellyn Spragins is quite an enlightening read. I loved it. My favorite letter is the one Lisa Scottoline penned. She has an amazing list of 10 things you need to know. So of course I have been inspired to create my own letter to my younger self. And it's to 5 year old me.

Hey Kid,
          You are different. There. You've been looking for concrete confirmation and so let me be the one to give it to you. It's hard to hide from anyone so you plan to be as minimally different as possible. This will work for awhile but it will not make you happy. Being different can be a beautiful thing. You know this. You feel this. But you will allow the world to tell you otherwise. Hold fast to that instinctive feeling in that wild heart of yours because you will need it to guide you. You are in a weird place in life right now. Daddy just died and you don't know how to feel or what any of it means. No one even said the word "died". Adults patted your head and gave you treats like you're were the family dog and so you acted like one. Good. Obedient. Docile. Going against your nature you asked no questions and tried your best to shrink as much as possible. You will start to live inside your mind because you lack trust for a world that doesn't even know how to relay a message properly. When it dawns on you that he actually died you will absorb it like you do most historical facts. With more intellectual interest than emotional trauma. You'll wonder what the big deal was. Truth will be synonymous with freedom to you.  This will ingrain in you a lifetime compulsion to inform yourself. This is why you will keep getting into trouble for reading your own books in the classroom while the teacher is teaching from hers. When they call on you to answer a question and you don't know the answer it's because you are busy finding the answers to your own questions. School will feel like a prison to you. But fear not. There is much joy to be found. And in a little while you will meet a little girl in that same school. She will come to love and accept you in a way that allows for you to put down your armor. You two will be best friends. School will still be a difficult social experimentation for you. Family members will tease you. Your mother will grow frustrated with your inability to be just like the other children. Peers will tolerate you so long as you don't step outside the box too much. But Tanya will be there will a bright smile and an open heart every step of the way. This will be a once in a lifetime opportunity, girl. You hit the lotto. Smile. Don't ever let work, distance or the weather get in the way of spending time with her. She is the only person in your life who recognizes God in you and encourages it to shine. It's okay to be yourself. It's okay to be yourself. It's okay to be yourself. Don't be embarrassed when your sister finds your songbook and laughs about it with your favorite cousin. Feel no shame when your tears flow at the sight of devastated rain forests and the other children look at you oddly. Reply to the question "what is wrong with you?" with "nothing" instead of "I don't know". You will be asked that question for the rest of your life. There is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with you. You will be very loved and by a lot of people. But few will encourage you to be yourself. Look for those people. Don't ignore or avoid the teachers take extra time out to help you master your craft. They won't all reject or tease you when they see how weird you really are. It's okay. Most will help you. I will leave you with this. Stop shrinking. God is speaking through you and you are literally telling him no. You are afraid of the spotlight. You abhor limitations and restrictions. This is a part of growing pains. These are roadblocks that you will have to encounter to propel you on a path that God and your spiritual ancestors have already determined for you. Stop contending with them for there are more pressing battles to be fought in this world. Hold on to this letter and read it everyday. You will not understand everything at once however it will make sense over time. 
                                    
  With all the loving and creative energy I could muster,
                                                                                                                                                                              Your Future Self 

P.S One of these days, you will wake up in the middle of the night and paint a face onto a wooden chair with some red nail polish. You will think that you are insane for waking up with such a sudden urge to paint that you risk receiving a terrible spanking and fallback into your bed in a fit of worry swearing to never paint again. Relax. Despite the trouble you get into that chair will be one of your most treasured childhood memories. You will laugh so hard at this one day. 

My Tongue is a Weapon (poem)

I don't mean to walk around armed
But I've run into so many people who have caused me harm
And I suppose it's partially charm
The way I fly into these beings, the allure is so strong
I shrivel up for them like raisin in the sun
I make myself appear smaller so that they think that they've won
But some people want more
They are out for your blood
And only when it goes that far
do I pull it out slow and long
My tongue
make words beat like a drum
Make them feel my fire
All the hurt, all the wrong
It unleashes my fury
My tongue
Be a blade
Meticulous; unworried
The way it behaves
My tongue
delivers hurt in a variety of ways
If pushed that far
it carves and it craves
retribution upon the soul of the source of the pain
And there is no apologizing for the things that I say
I meant every single word
Every verb
Every phrase
Satisfaction only felt
when destruction is made
I have been known to hurt myself
to see to it they pay
My tongue is not one to play
Toying with my emotions is a perilous game

Compromise

Guy: Can anyone live with Eartha Kit?

She: It’s not for me to decide. That’s for someone who decides to live with me to decide. Not for me.

Guy: But are you willing to compromise? Within a relationship

Compromise? What is compromising? Compromise for what? Compromising for what reason? To compromise? For what? To compromise? What is compromise?

Guy: If a man came into your life, wouldn't you want to compromise?

She: *raises eyebrows* *laughs* Stupid. *laughs again* A man comes into my life and I have to compromise? You must think about that one again. *throws her head back and laughs even more*A man comes into my life and you have to compromise? For what? For what? For what? A relationship is a relationship that has to be earned! Not to compromise for. And I love relationships, I think they’re fantastically wonderful, I think they’re great, I think there’s nothing in the world more beautiful than falling in love. But falling in love for the right reason, falling in love for the right purpose. Falling in love. Falling in love! When you fall in love, what is there to compromise about? 

Guy: Isn't love a union between two people? Or does Eartha, fall in love with herself?

She: I think if you want to think about it in terms of analyzing; yes. I fall in love with myself and I want someone to share it with me. I want someone to share me with me. 


My thoughts: I watch this interview about once a week...lol. I love her style and those words couldn't ring truer for me. I don't want to compromise. The love I have is enough to keep my soul-mate and I very happy. Whoever that is at the moment. His desires should be nothing for me to fulfill and vice versa. But you are reading the words of a girl who's soul is still stuck in another century so never mind me. *smile* 

Claim It

          The art of claiming something was lost to me for the longest. It was a term I would hear a lot about in church and from other people of various faith. To claim something meant to state ownership over a blessing that you were most certain that God and or the universe would send your way. It is more than cockiness or "swag". It's a way of putting so much energy into faith that you just know that whatever you are praying for will be delivered to you. I believed in God. I prayed and honored my ancestors. I found the good in every situation I was in however I never laid claim to anything. Day in and day out, I simply ate whatever was dished out on my plate. Systemic poverty, fleeting moments of joy, a lack of quality black men, etc. The community I was surrounded by aided me in confusing a drive for more with ingratitude. As a fatherless daughter to a Haitian immigrant mother my status in life was better off than many other people I knew and therefore I was blessed and needn't more than what life had already handed to me. My path in life could have been greatly enriched had I only made attempts to explore and desire more. You see, I was comfortable. Too comfortable. So comfortable that whenever my heart found the strength to show interest in something that would take me out of that comfort zone, my mind would find a million and one reasons why that interest was of little importance. Why comfort over growth served me more. And once again I had more than enough loved ones to assist me with this false notion. The heart, however, is a mysterious force of nature and most stubborn when denied the very things it beats for. With the birth of my son my heart grew stronger each day. Motherhood can be such an empowering journey. I mean, I became a beast. There was a quality of life that I was willing to deny myself yet when it came to my son the idea seemed ludicrous. Absolutely farcical. That little guy encouraged me more in 6 months than I have been encouraged in my entire life. Slowly these "interests" turned into productive conversations with the right people; which then led to research projects. This is where the art of claiming kicked in. Research can be overwhelming yet I can never walk into anything blindly. So I would see what I want, look at the price tag and then walk away; dejected. This was a tough habit to break. So I looked into people that inspired me. I read their stories (to this day biographies and autobiographies are my favorite genre) and studied their persona. I was always made aware of my weirdness. But I was a mother now and so my heart was so free my love was unapologetic. I read about and studied people who lit a fire in me. Harriet Tubman. Maya Angelou. Toni Morrison. Malcolm X. Frederick Douglass. Martin L. King. Jean Leopold Dominique. My mom. Kanye and his mother (the old Kanye, I swear). Tupac.  Toussaint L'ouverture. Justin Timberlake. Sister Soulja. Etc. And the one thing about my heroes that spoke to me was the ability to "claim it". To be able to approach a dream like a lion does a prey. To say that there is mine and I WILL have it. I am an obedient servant. God wouldn't place this feeling in my heart if I wasn't meant to have it. And so it is mine even though I am not in possession of it yet. And that my friend is all that I was missing to make the necessary changes that would create dramatic improvements in the lives of myself and my children. Martin L. King said it best with this quote. 

"Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase"

My analytical mind was working against me because I would not make a move without vision of the entire staircase. Faith and blessings are not pretty little equations that you can always make sense of. And so with my faith renewed, I spoke my blessings into existence. It's a wonder how I could feel like I was born to write yet find the power in words so late in life. There is so much power in the spoken word. I said I don't know how I'm going to do it however my son will have access to a better school system than this. He's going to have his own room. We will live in an area with less crime. Looks like we're going to be on our own so he will have a sibling (spoke that too much into existence...lol). And it didn't stop there. Even when people said that it was enough. My life was wonderful. I said I will have a job with a higher salary. Another room for my girls. A man with higher standards. Acceptance of my natural beauty. I will reject any consumption of flesh. And still I don't know much about "hows" however I claim these blessings because I believe in the law of attraction. How just saying the words will pour the energy behind my requests into the universe. So I will encourage you as well. Whatever your dreams are. Verbalize those vibrations. Let the universe hear you. Claim it! 

Roller Coaster Love Bandits

We are roller coaster love bandits
Ravenous for the next high...utterly famished
One minute falling deep into love
The next minute we're searching for a landing
I've had quite enough
Enough to know that we can't manage
That falling in and out of love
Should be a sign not a habit
And I apologize for the common sense that I was lacking
For all of the times that I left and then decided to come back in
All the promises we made to forget all that happened
Said this was our thing
Mistook your fury for passion
So desperate that for them straws baby I was grasping
You lit a fire in me
Past tense . . . now it's ashes
I hear your accusations
I'm a bastard
Sarcastic
But you don't see
That my retreat
Is a defense from hazards
Your words are flame tipped daggers
Aimed at my heart in un-intimidated passion
There is no Jasmine
Not even Aladdin
No magic carpet exists to fly me from this madness
Experience has taught me to temper my reaction
A display of restraint used to cover up the sadness
With a wound this deep, it's barely a bandage
Am I insensitive
Or are you misunderstanding?
I feel the anguish you feel. I just can't stand it
I say it's over to heal
Not to damage

1 Corinithians 15:33

          Life is a beautiful journey. For some there are many bends in the road and off beaten paths to take. I have also learned that this life is also a short one. And for those whom are in search of some omnipotent justification of it all, it's an unfair one. This, my friend, leaves little time and or tolerance for unnecessary reiteration provoked by people who have no intention other than to seek the dark beast that lies within you. They stroke it's belly and beg it come hither when it's purpose is aimed to serve neither them nor you. We hear it often. "Some people are just miserable." This, I can accept seeing as how it is the way of the world for people to have unequally yoked personalities. We can't all be the same. The problem I have been irritated enough to write about today is rooted in the concept of willful ignorance. Where someone chooses to pursue negative behavior despite their knowledge of the implications of that behavior. My issue lies with this trend of extending forgiveness (for lack of a better word) to someone who has wronged you under the impression that this person lacked the comprehension needed to have made a wiser decision. "They didn't know any better." And when I say forgiveness, I mean the act of allowing this particular person the privilege of remaining a part of your life. Forgive me if I come off bitter, however the amount of asshole encounters I have experienced lately has been utterly exhausting. We are all human beings therefore it is obvious when certain lines are crossed. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that a slap to the face of someone might cause that person pain. Or that to mention your participation in an adulterous situation may incite a hostile reaction. I am discovering more and more that people are assholes because of this erroneous idea that you must forgive someone despite the amount or severity of their trespasses against you. And the need to engage in this dialogue with adults about behavior that even a child can decipher to be disrespectful leaves a horrid taste in my mouth. It is never your job to raise an adult. People learn how to have sex and how to make money with little direction yet need major assistance with how to treat others with respect. I just cannot make sense of the idea. And so I won't. In sticky situations, my focus is always on the intention of a person. Their heart. Intention speaks of the soul of someone. When someone does something with the intention of hurting you there is no room in your life for them. When someone hurts you in the process of fulfilling their own selfish need, there is no room in your life for them. Not at that time at least. Hurt people, hurt people. I get that. Separation is needed for that person to re-evaluate the cost of your absence against their actions. Consequences are an essential part of life. You are doing a major disservice to someone if you continue a relationship with them despite their best efforts to bring negative energy into your life. It's nature. For every action, there is a re-action. Go out there and react people. It amazes me how many times I have had to wondered how a person could have come so far in life with the belief that certain behaviors are acceptable. "I mean really, am I the first person to stop speaking to you due to your mendacious tendencies???" *scratches head* I understand the easy route of just "moving on" however this type of acceptance is detrimental to everyone in the future. Do us all a favor and cut the negative people out of your life. 

Examples: 
Goodbye unfaithful boyfriend.
Goodbye disrespectful employer.
Goodbye untrustworthy best-friend.

One incident is enough make an ultimate decision to end a relationship. This includes family. Let us be reminded of 1 Corinithians 15:33. Bad company corrupts good character. And let no one tell you what is trivial to your emotions. You are allowed to feel however it is that you feel. It is your actions that you must manage.

Bet you their next relationship will result in a swift personality change. 

The Montessori Bedroom

          I am not so much into interior decoration as I am into a stimulating environment. I believe that every piece in my home should inspire myself and the children on a daily basis. My pockets have yet to catch up with my ideals however the beautiful thing about inspiration is that it can be done on a small or grand scale. Televisions aren't allowed in the bedroom. I love a centered bed. No flowers (functional plants are another story). Meditation corner(s). Art work. Photography. Air hockey tables rock. This can all be done up with an extreme or modest budget. Today I shall focus on my vision board (yes, I do vision boards) for the trio's bedrooms. The Montessori bedroom comes closest to the idea I aspire to when it comes to their rooms. For now, at least. *smile* So let's explore this concept. 

          The Montessori method is rooted in the idea that a child needs an environment that is developmentally prepared to spark the their sense learning as well as the freedom (limited) to engage with that environment on their on terms. Or at least that is how I interpret this theory. There is much material (not to mention millions of schools) on this subject so I won't tire you with details. Let's get into the room.

Fostering Independence:

          Think of your child's perspective. Think of shelves that they can reach so that they may learn to clean up after themselves a little easier. I plan on purchasing a child's coat rack simply because the trio love to throw their jackets on the floor after they come in from a long day of playing. In the future I will get them their own cubbies because the morning routine of boots and coats is something that I believe they should be doing on their own at this point in time. We'll see. They will be graduating from toy trunks the cube shelves as I have now learned that toys are easier to find that way. The toy trunks are a bit over stimulating for my son. He is the kind of child who knows exactly what toy he wants and where he wants it. And no, I do not know where he gets this from. *big smile* They already have a step stool and an easy to reach bookcase. A child size table with chairs.

The Bed:

          The bed goes on the floor. That's right. Preferably in the corner. At this point your child's room should be child proof, right? When your child awakes, they should be able to rise and explore at their own accord (think limited freedom). This also works with them learning how to put themselves to sleep. A crib or a play pen is much too restrictive. Besides whenever I view pictures of where children sleep on a global scale, it's almost always on the floor. I believe they're on to something.      

Decor:

          Simplicity is key here. So as not to overstimulate which I believe I am already guilty of. In the future I will add a kid's mirror. I love the idea of them getting to know their reflection and how their bodies move. I hate bare walls. I'm thinking two African American paintings per room. I definitely owe my son a picture of Bob Marley (a tribute to his Jamaican roots and dreadlocks). Brand new wall stickers. A mural and a nice neutral color would be nice however I must be realistic. Apartment living has it's limits. Giant teddy bears for the girls because I just like when something is resting on your bed after your adventure of a day.

          So far that is all. Just the tip of the iceberg I'm sure. Here are a couple of inspiring photos I was able to find on pintrest (God, I love pintrest).

My Children's Book Wish List

If it's scratched out, that means my babies already have it in their collection. 

Nothing but Trouble: The Story of Althea Gibson
by Sue Stauffachere and illustrated by Greg Couch

Aunt Clara Brown: Official Pioneer by Linda Lowery and illustrated by Janice Lee Porter
Clara

Celia Cruz, Queen of Salsa by Veronica Chambers and illustrated by Julie Maren

Coretta Scott
by Ntozake Shange and illustrated by Kadir Nelson

Harlem's Little Blackbird by Renee Watson and illustrated by Christian Robinson
Zora and Langston

Ida B. Wells: Let the Truth Be Told by Walter Dean Myers and illustrated by Bonnie Christensen
Josephine: The Dazzling Life of Josephine Baker  by Patricia Hruby Powell and illustrated by Christian Robinson

When Marian Sang: The True Recital of Marian Anderson by Pam Munoz Ryan and illustrated by Brian Selznick

Mary McLeod Bethune
by Eloise Greenfield and illustrated by Jerry Pinkney

Moses: When Harriet Tubman Led Her People to Freedom by Carole Boston Weatherford and illustrated by Kadir Nelson

Mumbet's Declaration of Independence  by Gretchen Woelfle and illustrated by Alix Delinois

Rosa by by Nikki Giovanni and illustrated by Bryan Collier 

Ruby Bridges Goes to School: My True Story by Ruby Bridges

Skit-Scat Raggedy Cat: Ella Fitzgerald by Roxane Orgill and illustrated by Sean Qualls

Sojourner Truth's Step-Stomp Stride
by Andrea Davis Pinkney and illustrated by Brian Pinkney

Talkin' About Bessie: The Story of Aviator Elizabeth Coleman by Nikki Grimes and illustrated by Earl B. Lewis

Wangari's Trees of Peace: A True Story from Africa
by Jeanette Winter

Wilma Unlimited: How Wilma Rudolph Became the World's Fastest Woman by Kathleen Krull and illustrated by David Diaz

Galimoto by Karen Lynn Williams and Catherine Stock

Boundless Grace by Mary Hoffman
The Gruffalo by Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler

Please, Baby, Please
by Spike Lee, Tonya Lewis Lee, Kadir Nelson (Illustrator)

I Like Myself! 
by Karen Beaumont 

Of Thee I Sing: A Letter To My Daughters 
by Barack Obama 

Mufaro's Beautiful Daughters: An African Tale 
by John Steptoe 


I Love My Hair! 

by Natasha Anastasia Tarpley 

Whose Toes are Those? 

by Jabari Asim 

Goldilocks and the Three Bears - Fairy Tale Classics 

by John Kurtz 

Please, Puppy, Please 

by Spike Lee 

I Am Sacajawea, I Am York: Our Journey West with Lewis and Clark 
by Claire Rudolf Murphy

The Colors of Us 

by Karen Katz 

Mirandy and Brother Wind 
by Patricia C. McKissack 

Judy Moody
by Megan McDonald

Not All Princesses Dress in Pink  
by Jane Yolen and Heidi E. Y. Stemple 

Madeline 
by Ludwig Bemelmans 

Imogene’s Last Stand 
by Candace Fleming and Illustrated by Nancy Carpenter 

Stand Tall, Molly Lou Melon
Written by Patty Lovell and Illustrated by David Catrow

The Princess Knight 
by Cornelia Funke and Illustrated by Kirsten Meyer

Matilda 
by Roald Dahl and Illustrated by Quentin Blake

 Rad American Women A-Z  
by Katie Schatz and Illustrated by Miriam Klein Stahl

Harriet The Spy 
by Louise Fitzhugh 

Grace For President
by Kelly S. DePucchio and Illustrated by LeUyen Pham

Miss Rumphius 
by Barbara Cooney 

The Paper Bag Princess 
by Robert Munsch and Illustrated by Michael Martchenko

Vision (Poem)

You're invisible 
Like intangibles; like wind
They only feel you when you rustle their leaves . . . tickle their limbs
You are merely comfort resting against their skin 
They don't see you at all
Just the greatness that you come with 
But I have special eyes 
They sense warmth in sunrise 
I don't need to physically feel
to know what in your heart lies 
You need not do a thing for me to admire 
Said I don't have to need your heat to see you have great fire 
I see you for you
And that's enough for my desire 
It should be enough for anyone
Who even seeks to inquire 
They don't see you at all
Just the results of you; triumph
Why then, do you allow them to have you?
When all they perceive is black and blue 
And by doing so look past you 
Stop performing for these assholes 
Their vision is limited 
And you are on another platform
Your job is to be 
Leave it to your God to transform 
Your invisibility to them will never be your fault 
You are enough
What they don't see is their loss

My Regrets

Regret:
verb:
feel sad, repentant, or disappointed over (something that has happened or been done, especially a loss or missed opportunity).
noun:
a feeling of sadness, repentance, or disappointment over something that has happened or been done.

          Usually, when the anniversary of my best friend's death is approaching, I like to share the humorous details of our many memories together. The time she gave me a piggy back ride to her dorm room after a party we went to. The way we were realists when it came to the opposite sex yet romantics at heart with our expectations. Her singing "Crank That Soldier Boy" to lovingly annoy me. The way she loved to carry my cell phone and answer it when we hung out. How we loved to take turns pretending it was our birthday at restaurants just so the staff could sing to us. My little dance off at her communion party. Volunteering to help with the kindergartners in the fifth grade because we adored the babies. The way she eased new friends into the picture because I was just not the social bug that she was. *smile* Her obsession with The Rock and mine with Ma$e. Our love of reading books and trap music. Oh, how I get loquacious when I get the chance to stroll down memory lane with someone. This year I shall take the opportunity to create a teaching moment. Hey, I have a blog. Why not? I wanted to touch on the concept of regret because I believe there is a misconception out there. More often than not, I hear people proclaim how they regret nothing in their lives. This is supposed to infer that every choice they have made in life bought them to the person that they are today so therefore they have no reason to feel disappointed in any of those decisions. Some people actually feel this way. And that's alright. However there are some people who feel that a disappointment in a past decision indicates that they are unhappy with the person that they presently are or the situation they are presently in. They stay clear of that word regret in spite of how they actually feel. I have only recently come to terms with my regrets so I completely understand. 
          During my college years (Not so true, even in high school, I held two jobs), I put blinders on. I work double shifts at work and took courses in the Summer seasons. Tan always had a luminescent spirit that matched her personality. She had many friends and therefore always in attendance at one celebratory event or another. It was difficult for me to share a lot of these experiences with her due to my work schedule. We had great times together however there was so much more to do. She understood so there was no love lost. It made the times we shared together that much more precious. Times were hard for me so I was motivated by this idea about life after college. We would have great jobs and an endless amount of time. We flirted with the idea of moving out on New York City and taking trips abroad. A perfect world in which Tan and I would tackle as many adventures as possible. "Let me get this work in first." I would tell her when we dreamed dreams. Little did I know . . . I mean very little. When she passed I was at the end of my junior year in college. Devastated, lost and thoroughly confused. We were literally just celebrating the fact that we had one more year to go. I was even loosening up being that the end was in sight. Eight was my favorite number. 2008 would be the best year ever. Every set back I had paled in comparison to this "great" future I was building. One of our common expressions was "Girl, at least we have each other". What happened? Anger had settled into my soul. Bits and pieces of it linger still. I was one of those "never regret anything" people so I was at war with myself for quite some time. Went through every stage grief and then some however that anger was a constant burn. Slowly but surely, I came to the realization that I was infuriated with myself. As amazing as our friendship was, I do have regrets. I regret making plans as though I would live forever. I regret racing through life as though one part was more important than the other. A pretty common mistake teenagers make yet still....I severely limited my life as though a reward of a future was promised to me. I do this in love too but eh, that's another story. *smile* Saving moments to share at a later date as if God has made promises to me as God does to no man. It took even longer to say the words aloud however one day I did and it was liberating. I would go back and change some things if the universe gave me another chance. This says nothing of where my life is now. It just feels like growth when I can lay claim my mistakes. I was suspended in time for a long while so growth is special to me. Cheers to regrets. Here's to owning them and learning from them. Life is not guaranteed. Grow as much as you can while the sun is still out. 

End of 2014 Year Reflection

1. Am I happy with where I am in life right now?
Yes, I believe that I am.

2. What am I passionate about? What am I doing to pursue my passion?
I am passionate about an existence in which I am an unadulterated version of myself. Where the thought of what others think or desire no longer limit who I am. I have always lived outside the box however my aim has been not to wander too far. To pursue this, I love with abandon now. I ignore odd stares to stop my car in the rain and finish a poem dancing wildly among my thoughts. If I want to take a selfie, I take a selfie. If I walls are too bare, it's time to buy some artwork. If I want to read all of Alice Walker's work, I shall do so. I allow myself to feel these urges and respond to them accordingly. 

3. Who and What things are weighing me down that I need to get rid of? How will I do it?
It's a who and a what. Society is weighing me down. Specifically the notion of what it means to be me. A woman. A black woman. A Caribbean woman. A mother and provider. A poet. A lover. How these identities are allowed to merge however only to "their" liking. My marital status, children's hair, how I dress, weight loss, etc. It's exhausting. Moving forward, I will simply ignore societal demands and do as I please.

4. What do I need to forgive myself for?
I need to forgive myself for playing my part in willful ignorance. It's a hell of a drug.

5. When did I feel most alive this year? What was sacred about that moment?
I felt most alive this year when I became a full fledged vegetarian. I had been struggling with this transition for quite some time and was growing tired with the duplicitous lifestyle. I fasted, mediated and prayed on it for a couple days and came out of that experience with no desire for flesh at all. Like magic. The sacred moment was when I could look in the mirror to see a vegetarian  dread-locked woman. It was like "Wow, there you are, Storm. Nice to meet you."

6. What self-love actions can I practice on a daily basis?
Meditation, a long walk, & a uniform of sweat pants and wife beaters. 

7. What do I want to let go of? (i.e self doubt, fear, etc)
I want to let go of that obsessive desire to want more for other people than they want for themselves. 

8. What do I dedicate 2015 to? (i.e independence, artistic pursuits)
I dedicate 2015 to dating myself. To look in the mirror and say "Bae, what do you want to do today?" or "Bae, look what I bought your sexy ass". Tattoos I've wanted for so long, books that need reading, restaurants that need dining, mountains that need hiking, etc. 

9. What did I learn about myself in 2014?
I learned that I am awesome and an okay cook. Also I don't like laser tag. And it's okay to love someone more than they love you so long as you don't love them more than you. Yes, I've learned a lot *smile*.

10. What did 2014 represent to me on my path?
It represented a year of the "take backs" so to speak. I took a large sack and took a walk around. Give me back my heart, Nigga. Give me back my body, children (still working on it). Give me back my health, meat. Give me back my God, white America. I took a lot of things back. This bag is full and I couldn't be happier. 

Happy New Year to everyone.