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.