Amina and Me

Sleep pose

2012-02-09T06:43:00.003-05:00

2012:

2005:

For the Love of Via

2011-12-28T09:37:00.001-05:00

It used to be,
Whenever I'd travel outside of NYC, I'd start dogging the place if I couldn't walk to get good coffee, or a decent glass of wine.

Now I chill in the 'Ville with excellent coffee.
Excellent INSTANT coffee.

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We Still Believe.

2011-12-11T23:41:00.002-05:00

Favorite time of the year

2011-12-06T07:05:00.001-05:00

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Happy Thanksgiving!

2011-11-24T14:58:00.001-05:00

Big Mama cooked everything and brought it all to Baltimore.

She even brought the ice tea!

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Location:Baltimore, MD

New Chapter

2011-09-07T22:09:00.002-04:00

Looking forward...

Soul Food Junkies

2011-08-28T15:42:00.000-04:00

Soulfood Junkies Teaser from Byron Hurt on Vimeo.

School Clothes

2011-07-27T14:35:00.004-04:00

Not to claim that I'm a child of the Depression (or even the Recession), but when I was growing up, School Clothes were a very big deal.

It was a major expense for my single mama -- right up there with Christmas.

I was recently reminded of the all this when I got a email the other day from M'Mama (which is what my brothers and I call her): "Rodney said HE is going to buy Amina her School Clothes."

When I read this, my eyes watered up.

Let me tell you: when I was growing up, especially when I got to junior high, my brother, Rodney, would take me school shopping. It's not like he had some big time job. He was working at Miller & Rhodes, busting tables at Ramada Inn, delivering papers for the Fayetteville Observer. He wasn't working these jobs all at the same time, but these were the type of jobs he had. All while driving a Dodge Dart -- which had no heat. Instead we all buried under quilts in the back in the wintertime!! My brother would scrape his coins together and take his little sister School Shopping. He knew our single mama couldn't afford the kinds of things I liked and wanted (Polo shirts, Izod, Levi jeans!) and he didn't want me ostracized at school for not being decked out. He and I would travel to the Mall in the Dart, like it was nothing at all. And he would sit there and give feedback while I went from store to store and tried on all the things that would make or break my fashion reputation. And then he would take me out to eat at the Rockola Cafe.

(I literally had to pause typing just now because I am so moved by these memories.)

This is just one single snapshot of what A Good Man my brother is.

And just as I am a witness, so his only niece will be as well.

The Weekend Edition: Third Friday in July

2011-07-26T11:58:00.006-04:00

I exercise a belief in scarcity as far as summer weekends are concerned.
Luckily, NYC and BROOKLYN have all that's needed to pack oh so much in!

Friday: A Day at the Beach

Friday was the hottest day on record for the New York Region. No, that's not my tendency to be hyperbolic: it's true.
I knew it was hot because when I stepped outside onto Prospect Park West, I could hardly breathe.
So we went to the beach. In Brooklyn.
Can I just tell you how lucky I feel whenever I realize how close we are to the ocean??
I decided to explore a new beach so we went to Manhattan Beach.
When we got there, it was as if we overslept.
And everyone else had been there since YESTERDAY.

Amina's first response: "There's too many kids here!"
There were a lot of kids.
But we made our way through the hot sand and found our own little spot to put our blanket.

By then I was sweating profusely and decided to go in.
I can't describe how wonderfully cool the water was!
After a while I held Amina, bent my knees a little and we just stood there, immersed to our necks, like a mama and baby hippo.

At one point, Amina remarked, "No one's skin looks like mine!"
I wasn't sure what she meant. So I pointed out how that wasn't true.
It was one of those moments where being in NYC shows you how much of a GLOBAL CITIZEN you are.
Three ladies sat on the sand in front of us chatting in Russian (I think).
Behind us were two men with shorts on and a woman with a long sleeve short and pants, and a head wrap.
They were brown and talking in Arabic. The woman went in and out of the water as often as I did with her outfit.
A brother walked by into the water -- with shorts and tube socks on! Yes -- on the beach, in the sand, into the ocean and back with the tube socks!
Of course there was many Spanish speakers and English in every accent imaginable. And there was also every skin color imaginable.

We stayed about 3 hours, until the beach started getting more crowded.
Amina does not have a daredevil chi -- the most she did was flirt with the water that reached her ankles, running back and forth like a little sand bird with the surf.
I finally decided to leave when I saw a man, fully clothed, come out of the water and blow his nose vigorously back into the sea.

Later I joked online that I had "strengthened my immune system" by going in the water.
I do believe that. Kinda.
What I more strongly believe is that going to that beach that day and seeing how perfectly happy people were, people from all over the world, made me feel as if I were a part of the world.
This is how most people who can't afford seclusion live.
Yet at the same time, I liked seeing my "tax dollars at work:" a free public beach with about 4 lifeguards keeping a watch on everyone.

When we left the beach, I asked Amina where she wanted to go to lunch.
IKEA! she yelled excitedly.
What a wonderful cheap date.
Yet as I've always declared, there's no need to think that a day full of wonderful experiences and love need cost a mint.

Learning Art through Osmosis

2011-07-25T11:46:00.004-04:00

In Amina's room, there has always been a print of Romare Bearden's Jammin' at the Savoy.

By no means can I afford "real art."
But I do frame posters and post cards, just so she can see the images around her.
I remember once, my English teacher, Mrs. Culbreth, explained that books should not just be something you read.
The stories should live with you.
They should inspire you and teach you about the world; give you different perspectives to weigh your life and reality.
It's for this reason that I have my books around me -- so I can reach up and visit a passage.
The words seem more akin to something someone told me -- a living and thriving story -- than something I read in a book.

I think the same is true of art.
Actually - I know it's true.
Which is why when we passed a print of a Bearden piece of work not too long ago, Amina said, "Mommy, look! It's like the picture in my room!"

It's Never Too Late

2011-06-22T12:57:00.004-04:00

When we got to the church on Saturday for Aunt Lucille's funeral, I wasn't looking forward to making the trek across the church parking lot. The blacktop pulsed with heat from 95-plus degrees. The hat I wore shielded my eyes but it seemed as if the black dress I wore sucked in every spike of sunny heat.

I saw some people I knew when I pulled into the parking lot. Of course. I was home. These were people who knew who I was before I knew my own name. The first person who called to Amina and me from across the church parking lot was my daddy -- or "M'Deddy" as we call him. Amina sparkled with joy at the sight of her Paw-Paw. He picked her up and kissed her cheek and I felt something in my heart lay down contentedly like a puppy on a soft pillow.

Just this afternoon, once I got home, I called M'Deddy to let him know we'd made it home safely and to check on Grandma Barbara. We had a warm and pleasant conversation, with him also making sure my brothers had also arrived home safely.We wrapped up the conversation by my reminding him that I would see him in a week or so.

And what I realized when I hung up was this: in order to have the relationships I've always wanted, sometimes it's as simple as being the person I've always wanted to be. And that by itself transforms everything.

I didn't grow up with my dad in my house or in my life really, but his presence has always been prototypical. I felt he was a part of my life for reasons that loomed larger than actual presence. Everyone said I looked like him. I was born into a home where he lived. I always wondered about him. And most importantly, he was alive.

And I guess that's all I'm trying to say: as long as you're alive you always have another chance.

When I finally has a baby, she was one of those babies who wouldn't go to ANYBODY. If I were around, she only wanted me to hold her. With very few exceptions. One of those was my dad.

Snapshots of Aunt Lucille, II: Note to My Brother

2011-06-16T22:18:00.001-04:00

Death is always a reminder of the fragility of life.
Coming together for a funeral is how we honor the ties that bind us.
It's a value we were raised with.
And attending a funeral is how we show the survivors we care.
I know I would know and I would care were it my mother's funeral and my cousins didn't come...

Snapshots of Aunt Lucille: I

2011-06-16T21:56:00.004-04:00

My Aunt Lucille died on Wednesday.
She was 93 years old.
And the only president she ever voted for --
actually the only time she ever voted in her life --
was for Barack Obama.

Whatever Happened...

2011-06-04T13:08:00.003-04:00

I'm cleaning up my house, listening to Adriana Evans.
I haven't listened to it in a long time.
Takes me all the way back to Clermont Avenue.
Fort Greene.
Early spring.
Late 1990's.
"You know that seeing is believing/
Don't say you love me if you're leaving..."

Wow -- still a great album...

Notes from "The Road"

2011-05-29T21:52:00.004-04:00

The cannibalism in this book shakes me to the core. It reminds me how fragile our agreements are, the ones we use to order our societies. It could all come crashing down in one deadly and swift sequence of disastrous events. Leaving us walking through ash and destruction. And coming upon the smoky remains of a "charred human infant headless and gutted and blackening on the spit."

Reading notes

2011-05-28T16:50:00.001-04:00

I'm reading Cormac McCarthy's "The Road." And I just read the following two passages that I love:

"He knew only that the child was his warrant. He said: If he is not the word of God God never spoke."

And this one:

"Just remember that the things you put into your head are there forever, he said. You might want to think about that.
You forget some things, don't you?
Yes. You forget what you want to remember and you remember what you want to forget."

Pearls from the Very Last Oprah

2011-05-25T21:19:00.002-04:00

Please take responsibility for the energy you bring to this space.

Everything you done to me, already been done to you. (from The Color Purple)

You are responsible for your life.

Little by little we started to release the shame.

There's a difference between thinking you deserve to be happy and knowing you are worthy to be happy.
You're worthy because you are alive,
and because you are here.

Snap Back - another day of Fitness

2011-05-25T11:25:00.003-04:00

I just finished my strongest run around Prospect Park in .... I don't know how long!
Definitely the strongest since I moved back.

I was going to go to the gym.
But Sal, my bootcamp instructor, was telling me how much running works your ENTIRE body.
Which I knew -- I lost one inch (from my waist, hips, lower stomach) in just two weeks from what I call "ugly running."
When you do your run by any means necessary.

It feels good to feel strong.

And you should see Amina's stride -- she's a runner for sure.
Like her dad and grandfather.

Timing

2011-05-24T12:05:00.002-04:00

There's a song we used to sing in church,
and still do.
It's about how God "may not come when you want Him/ but he'll be there right on time."
It's all I could think when I read this story about woman who FINALLY received her back child support.

Click HERE to read more:

Who's on First

2011-05-24T11:57:00.002-04:00

Well last month, I started a program of integrating exercise into every day for at least 30 days straight.
I may have lost count of how many days I did.
My point was to tease out The Hunger (for fitness) that I believed was still in my somewhere.
It worked.
But actually writing what I was doing and how I felt about it helped me so much, I've decided to be better about writing what I'm doing.
And more importantly sharing what it looks like to get out and do it.
I found a lot of my friends on Facebook got inspired about hearing how I actually managed to fit in my workouts.

Meanwhile I also joined Weight Watchers.
I've been coddling about 20 extra pounds since 2007.
I lost it when I weaned Amina and did ran a 10K.
But an injury after that race and emotional eating put it right back on.
And I feel it.
It's changed my quality of life.
I'm still more fit than the average person.
But not hardly as fit as I have been.

So what did I do today?
I biked to and from the gym.
Then did 45 minutes of bootcamp.
Suicides, planks, bear crawls -- crazy crazy stuff.

Now I'm about to get dressed and head out to a meeting.

A lovely Saturday afternoon

2011-05-22T20:52:00.001-04:00

Tornado Day

2011-05-16T21:25:00.004-04:00

On the day that tornados were ripping through North Carolina and Virginia,
my daughter, my dog and I were on our merry way down Interstate 95.

Long story short, we had to pull over and stay in a hotel for the night, in Emporia, VA.
Right near the state line (between North Carolina and Virginia).

At the Hampton Inn where we stayed, I even let Chulo get in the bed.
Here are some photos I took of my Little People The Morning After.
When I was feeling very blessed, and very safe.

Cherry Blossom Festival, 2011

2011-05-02T23:50:00.004-04:00

Easter 2011

2011-04-25T12:08:00.001-04:00

My daughter and My Daddy.

Perfection until the end

2011-04-23T18:33:00.001-04:00

The sun rose reluctantly. Or so it seemed. The air remained shrouded with clouds and a foggy mist. Yet as 10am approached so did sunshine in all its valor.

The day was glorious.
Our last day at the beach.

More later.
I just ate an astonishing amount of food from the grill.
And am now, consequently, sluggish.

One down...

2011-04-22T13:49:00.001-04:00

I read one book this week.
Before I confess how many I brought with me, I'll just share the title: Meghan Daum's "Life Would be Better if I Lived in That House."

(Oh yeah- I brought about 10 with me.)

Spring Break 2011, Kure Beach

2011-04-19T21:03:00.001-04:00

Thinly Veiled Brag

2011-04-06T20:26:00.002-04:00

Bath at 7:45pm.
Lotion, pajamas by 7:55pm.
Teeth brushed by 8pm.
Read a story about a "piggy pop star."
Said prayers.
Found "friends" for sleeping company.
Gave big hug.
Lights out by 8:12pm.

When I went down the hallway at 8:25pm -- she was fast asleep.

I'm a professional, baby, at putting this one to sleep.

Naps

2011-04-02T15:42:00.004-04:00

Weekend napping..

The Downpour of Life

2011-04-01T12:50:00.001-04:00

It was raining again today.
There are few places where I feel as safe and blessed as when I lay in my bed, looking up at the sodden sky, with the softness of my down comforter under my chin.

Lots to do today.
Today and everyday.
The only thing constant is change and challenges.
And shelters and grace.

When I was much younger, the confluence of change scared me; felt unbearable. Which is not surprising considering I had so little solid ground on which to stand. By solid ground I mean the faith in God and the knowledge of myself that I would be fine - and always all of who I am - no matter how taxing the circumstances.

Indeed now I tend to peer out at the unrelenting downpour of change, from the warm and blessed comfort of knowing, All is Well.

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Hectic

2011-03-24T22:19:00.000-04:00

From a post from the neighborhood listserve:

Please forward this email to anyone who might be interested in the future of the public schools in South Park Slope.

I am a 20 year resident of Park Slope and my son is zoned for PS 107. We are number 41 on a waitlist (WL) of 47 for a K spot and have been told we have almost no chance of getting in for next year. Because I was told in person on a tour that all in zoned kids were expected to get in to 107, we did not apply to any other schools.

I went door to door yesterday to PS 10, 295, 154, and called several others. I spent the morning on the phone with the the Borough Enrollment Office and Brad Lander's Office. The only good news I have so far is that the principal of PS 295, who spent part of the day yesterday at PS 107, has committed to offering a percentage of her WL to the 107 WL, by lottery. This would be done in late April when the PS 295 acceptances are totaled. Thank you, PS 295. If you know the principal, thank her for her support.

Still, OUR COMMUNITY NEEDS TO ORGANIZE, not just for the 47 families who have no K spot, and the unknown number of in zone families who will have no K spot at PS 39, but as a community. This problem is not just about our 47+ kids, it's about a population bubble in our community which has not been appropriately addressed by the DOE, and which may continue to grow.

We need to figure out how to lay the groundwork for a strategic plan which will allow our neighborhood schools to provide a quality education to our kids. Next year, 107 potentially faces more first graders than they have space for, yet they are required to take zoned 1st graders, for now. Will the policy hold? Will this result in even fewer K spots? Or less space in other areas of the school? Will the resources for the upper grades be stretched beyond what reasonable? Who knows, but it will certainly be an issue.

We are a community of resourceful individuals who care about public service, support our public schools, and care deeply about our neighbors. That's why so many of us love living in Park Slope, and wouldn't think of raising our children anywhere else. We are facing a crisis in our community – overcrowding and a lack of resources have led to the inability of our public schools to adequately educate our children. We need to be part of the solution.

First, to handle our immediate problem, I suggest that as a group we organize, and actively work to be involved in the DOE's decision about what constitutes reasonable alternatives for our children. My family believes that sending overflow 5-year olds to a school miles away from their home is not a reasonable alternative. This happened to some families last year, and will likely happen to many families this year.

I suggest we organize meetings with the principal, Brad Lander our city councilman (whose kids are alums of PS 107) , the DOE, The Public Advocate (who lives in Park Slope), and others. As a group, we may be able to help come up with creative solutions – use of space at the Armory, Park Slope Jewish Center, or other space that could be annexed by 107 if the DOE would certify it before September. We also should provide networking and support for those of us, like my family, who will consider homeschooling our child for one year rather than send him to a school far away from our home.

Parents in a similar situation in lower Manhattan organized around the same issues a few years back with some success and I have contacts for those who spearheaded that effort at PS 234. We should talk to them and learn from them.

If you can help, please email me at ...

Say My Name/ Say My Name

2011-03-20T21:44:00.003-04:00

I'm convinced: my daughter is on a mission to find every reason possible to say, "Mama!?!?"

She says it before she goes to the bathroom.
"Mama?!?!"
"Yes, Amina?"
"I gotta go pee-pee."

She says it before she gets some water.
"Mama?!?!?"
"Yes, Amina"
"I'm thirsty."

She says it when 2 minutes have gone by and she realizes she hasn't heard or seen me.
"Mama?!?!"
"Yes, Amina?"
"Oh."

But this one takes the cake:
Just now?
No lie.
She was asleep.
In the bed.
She woke up, with her eyes still closed.
"Mama?!?!"
"Yes, Amina?"
"I'm tired."

What's Different About Paris

2011-03-14T16:17:00.001-04:00

I had an appointment today. It was in the neighborhood where I worked when I first came to New York. Midtown, Grand Central Station.

On the corner of 42nd Street and Fifth Avenue was a Zara. I can't even remember what was there years before. But it certainly wasn't Zara.

That's the thing about New York. In Paris, you can go back five, ten years later to a cafe you used to frequent. The same old lady will be there, in the same dress, with the same dog.

Not so in New York. Change blows through as swiftly and scorching as a wildfire. Leaving in its wake, a new young forest of restaurants and corner stores - as lean and new and earnest as saplings.

If you don't know, now you know...

2011-03-10T21:51:00.003-05:00

I am simply stunned.
Reading "Warmth of Other Suns."
Textured, layered details about what life under Jim Crow felt, smelled, looked like.
The meanness of Florida.
A black boy, a mama's child, a daddy's son.
His upcoming, scheduled lynching was broadcast in the newspapers and over two thousand people showed up.
The white men took him to the woods to torture him first.
Cut off his penis and made him eat it.
Made him say it tasted good.
Made him hang from a rope around his neck until he passed out.
Then let him come to, only to do it over again.

The gathering crowd was disappointed -- they'd killed him in the woods prior to the advertised lynching.

This was all less than one hundred years ago.

Waiting for the Cat in the Hat

2011-03-10T18:17:00.001-05:00

The sun did not shine.
It was too wet to play...

Now reading...

2011-03-09T14:40:00.001-05:00

The Warmth of Other Suns...

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A Room of One's Own

2011-03-06T13:45:00.001-05:00

Where I usually

work when I'm home.

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Family of Men

2011-02-12T12:03:00.005-05:00

Contrary to Ms. Sophia's experience (in "The Color Purple"), sometimes the safest place for a girl child to be, is in a Family of Men.

My cousins Dexter, Daniel, and Keith all came out to Amina's Valentine's Day Dance.
Her father wasn't available, so I invited them so she could have some handsome men to dance with and show off!

We all had a wonderful time!

You know you need to get a life when...

2011-02-12T11:14:00.002-05:00

Last night at the PS 107 Valentine Dance, Amina had to go the bathroom.
I was annoyed.
Why?
Because the DJ was playing my song!

Ok, let's clarify a few things:
This was an elementary school dance!
But they had a DJ!
Who was fantastic!!
And it's been so long since I've been out somewhere with a DJ,
and dancing...
Who cares if most of the dancers were under 5 feet tall and under 10 years old!
IT WAS FUN!!

The Hamster's a Turtle

2011-02-06T23:50:00.001-05:00

Amina and I were sitting on her bed earlier this afternoon, watching Cookie sleep. Cookie is the fat little class hamster we hosted this weekend.

"Mama, Cookie is a turtle."

"A turtle?"

"Yes," Amina explained, very patiently. "He sleeps during the day, and gets up at night. So he's a turtle."

"Yes! Cookie is NOCTURNAL. You're absolutely right."

Unintended Consequences

2011-02-01T22:52:00.002-05:00

I let Amina watch the Oprah segment on cow slaughter, thinking it might spark some animal rights activism, or more conscious eating

She watched it wide-eyed.

Then she said: When I grow up I want to kill a cow!

Me: excuse me?

Amina: I want to be a farmer, and kill a cow. No I want to be them [the people working in the factory] - and I'll get you lots of meat, Mama!

Uh-oh.
I, um, don't think that's what Oprah intended!

Not so evident crushes

2011-02-01T14:03:00.003-05:00

(In no particular order. These are men that I stop for -- either to look at them or hear what they have to say. Actually, it's the combination of the two -- I want to look at them AND hear how they think -- that makes me swoon.)

To be continued...

Sigh: Identity and Hair

2011-02-01T13:36:00.004-05:00

"I want long hair -- like you, Mama!"

I was startled! Like me??
I see myself as the little girl getting my hair pressed, and putting barrettes at the end of pigtails (not PONY tails) in an effort to stretch out length.

Yet here Amina was, disgruntled by the MASSIVE head of luxurious THICK hair that I combed with delirious pleasure. Here she was, asking to have hair like mine. Asking to have LONG HAIR like mine.

It was certainly one of those moments when I get slapped by a stark realization that what I think -- especially how I see myself -- is not the whole truth.

Other things I also believed to be true fluttered down, undulating slowly, like bright dying leaves leisurely floating on the last warm breeze of autumn.

I realized: I don't think of my locks as "real" long hair. Real long hair is the hair I never had -- like my cousin Keitia's ponytails ending mockingly in the center of her back. Real long hair was like the thick asymmetrical bobs of late 80's teenaged girls in hiphop videos, who had dimples when they smiled and new all the latest dance moves. Or like the black girls in Brooklyn with masses of shiny ringlets who could pay $20 at the Dominican hair salon and -- in about an hour -- look like the models on the boxes of hair relaxers.

None of that was me. Right? l looked down at my daughter's profile, she had turned away from me and was playing with the ends of my hair -- ends that fell in the center of my back. I caught myself before engaging in an exercise that adults always try with children, "My dear child, the emperor is wearing lovely clothes."

My hair was long. But whether it was or wasn't, what caused my heart to ache was that my little Amina-Bambina was discovering the difference between the two of us. Not just our differences. But her differences. Her uniqueness. Existentially, she was feeling alone.

"You know why having eyes is so fun?" I began. She turned to me; her eyes sparkled -- she was listening. "Because we get to see all the ways we're alike and how we're different!"
"Yeah!" Amina answered.

And then she continued, "Like how I'm the color of brown sugar. And you're the color of chocolate."

Just in case you're wondering -- I left that one alone.

(For now.)

The Resistance Before the Fall

2011-01-24T12:09:00.002-05:00

Most nights, these days, Amina's eyes widen in a frenzy at bedtime.
Mama, I have to sleep with you!
Mama, I have to"bwaid" your hair!
Mama! Mama! Mama!

I steel my resistance to all appeals.
Continue the bedtime routine.
Within 10 minutes of lights out, I can VACUUM in her room without her stirring.
She falls so deeply into sleep.

Her resistance to going to bed remind me of the initial resistance I feel prior to writing. There are so many things I "have" to do beforehand.
Like do a house tour on apartmenttherapy.com.
Or add something to the basket of groceries on freshdirect.com (that I inevitably end up getting from Fairway anyway.)

But once I give even ten minutes of focus to writing, or being creative, I snuggle into my task as deeply as Amina snuggles under her down comforter. (She sleeps like me, without a pillow, but she burrows under the comforter like... well, like Chulo! If you walk into the room, you can only see the ponytails at the top of her head uncovered by the blankets.)

Smells Like a Book

2011-01-21T13:02:00.004-05:00

Today I was on my back to work after running an errand.
I decided to stop by the library.
When I walked in and saw all the books I could walk out with,
for FREE,
I felt the same sense of giddiness I felt as a child.

When I was in kindergarten, and in elementary school, we used to go to the library to check out books, of course,
but also for films and story times.
I loved the structure of the visits. How all mywiggly giggly classmates were shushed, allowing me to move through the stacks at my own leisure, in my own mind.

Since I've moved back to NYC, the transition has taken a toll -- being busy (busy, busy!), getting Amina settled in school, starting TWO new jobs in less than a year. I've fallen out of the habit of reading and of visiting the library. When we were in Fayetteville, oftentimes we'd have the local library to ourselves. In Park Slope, the local library is closed for renovation so I took Amina to the main library a few times. But it was far more crowded, and frankly not as nice. We'll have to find another branch to visit regularly.

Especially since my girl has one of my favorite habits: when I crack open a new book, I place it up to my nose and breathe deeply. Then I look at Amina with deep satisfaction and pronounce, "Smells like a book!"

Influence of the Elders

2011-01-03T15:22:00.002-05:00

Last night, Amina awakened -- hysterically distraught.

What's wrong? What's wrong? I implored.

I had a bad dream.

What happened in your dream, baby??

I dreamed a police car took Mama away!!!

What the hell??
Where would she get that image??
My first instinct -- blame somebody else!
I thought about it -- who likes watching shows with the police taking someone away??
Ah-ha! Must be Grandpa Mac!!
She'd been down in NC watching television with him!!
He loves a western or cop flick.

Then I thought some more.
And sheepishly remembered: I was all caught up with The Game marathon yesterday.
Yes, I mean I got literally caught up.
But I was also "caught up" in that I really didn't want to do anything else!
And one of the episodes... (yes, I'm sheepishly grinning)... someone got carted off in a police car!
(Jason Pitts to be exact)

And here I was -- dogging Grandpa Mac!!

Doesn't it feel like Christmas?

2010-12-23T09:38:00.002-05:00

There is so much I have.
If I focus on that, what I think I don't have gets smaller,
like a whittling snapshot in the rear view mirror.

At this time of year, and at Easter
I am in awe of miracles.
Like a baby born from a virgin.
And her husband who loved her anyway.
And raised the child as his own.

I woke up this morning by myself.
Munch is in NC and last night I had a bad cold.
I thought of one of my friends, a guy who when asked about what he would do on Christmas,
"Christmas will be just another day."
It made me think about all the staunchly solitary people.
Decidedly alone, in the midst of so much love.
Their path is not my own, but I hope they connect with someone soon.

Anyway, I've got promises to keep.
And miles to go
before I sleep...

Being There for a Friend

2010-12-07T07:05:00.003-05:00

Blossoming love blooms slowly.

A delicious unfolding.

A dying relationship's last breath

is a harsh intake.

Wheezing then a death rattle.

Sometimes as swift as a falling ax.

Heartbreaking to witness.

A woman's face, wet with tears.

After all this time

you would think:

there must be a kinder way

to break a woman's heart.

A Walk in the Woods of Prospect Park in the Fall

2010-11-30T22:30:00.006-05:00

Giving Thanks.

2010-11-23T06:44:00.003-05:00

When I awoke, just several minutes ago, light was warming the sky.

Yet like a beacon the full moon still shone -- pulsing.

A perfectly round orb of luminous determination.

Thanksgiving is this week.

It's the first time since 2003 that I have had to travel for the holiday to get to my Mama's table.

I'm both giddy and anxious about our departure.

I can remember every single Thanksgiving since 2003, but not before.

(Many reasons for this. Many.)

Amina is a lively five year old.

I almost wrote "six" because that's all she says these days, "I'm almost six years old."

Her teeth are missing in the front of her mouth and there are two missing at the bottom.

Her pigtails, bouncy walk and gaping smile make her ADORABLE incarnate.

She talks a lot these days of North Carolina -- her Granny, especially.

It will be good to see those two together again.

And we are - five years later!

2010-10-04T14:15:00.003-04:00

I had such high hopes for this blog.

Such high hopes for how often I would post about Amina.

And me.

Now we're almost at October 13th.

It's a Monday afternoon.

Cool rain is sputtering.

I'm sitting at a window where I usually have a view of the Manhattan skyline. Today the clouds are like bodyguards with big fluffy white shoulders, keeping me at bay with a stoney face.

I just told my oldest brother that we are going apple picking on Sunday. Last year, in the the face of so much about which I was unsure, I decided to act in the small space of what I knew for sure. I had no job. No strong prospects. I no longer wanted to be in Fayetteville, but I was there indefinitely. And it was my little girl's birthday. And it was a beautiful autumn. Still warm but with a gentle kindness to it -- so unlike the mean heat of the southern summer. I decided to begin a ritual with the little girl. We would go do something to celebrate her birthday season that we could do every year -- go apple picking! And ride in a hay ride! And pick pumpkins!

So I loaded her up in our still pretty new car. And we drove to Uncle Rodney's in Charlotte. But on the way, we stopped at the North Carolina zoo, where I had never been. Then we got to Uncle Rodney's and headed out the next day to a farm I'd researched on google.

"After pancakes with Uncle Rodney, we drove to Mooresville, where Amina took her first hayride. To the pumpkin patch. She loved it! It was in a place called Carrigan's Farm. The day was cloudy at first. Then brilliant bursts of sunshine erupted like irrepressible laughter. We quickly found pumpkins we wanted. I liked the small ones, still green in some places. But what Amina loved the most was a wonderfully warm Irish Setter -- Murphy. Murphy ran around the tractor, all the way to the clearing, where baby farm animals lounged in a small pen next to the pumpkin patch. Murphy had a tennis ball. Sometimes he liked to let you have it, and play fetch. He seemed to enjoy more a good game of tug-o-war, where he would hold the ball in his mouth, with every one of his teeth, while we pulled with all our might.

Amina and I followed Murphy down to one of the two small ponds. From time to time he would run into the water for a quick swim to cool down. Amina liked to gather up larger rocks from the gravel on the dirt road and throw them into the water. I sat by, no phone, no book, just being there in the sun, watching her indulge such a simple pleasure that totally occupied her time. After she threw away her handful of stones, she would trot back to the road, sometimes mumbling something to herself. In the distance, I could see Uncle Rodney perched on a cluster of boulders on the edge of the pumpkin patch, occasionally chatting with the cycle of folks from the hayride. They all came and went. I stood watching my small girl. On the small slope from the pond, a couple had brought a small blanket and a cooler. A bottle of white wine stood lightly sweating. The wine in their glasses glistened like molten gold in their glasses. Murphy stood by patiently, waiting for them to drop something. Eventually Amina tired of the pond and we made our way up the hill and back to the tractor to take the hayride back to the farmers market.

As we rode back, Murphy chased a small goat who leaped from the pen, herding him back to the others. Everyone chuckled small laughs of contentment. The patch disappeared from view as we rode beside an aging orchard with apples rotting peacefully on limbs wrought with age. At the end of the ride, we were treated to small mercifully cold glasses of tawny cider. I wanted to check out the market. When we got there, a boy had a small caterpillar that looked like a little fuzzy beast. Amina was delighted to watch it crawl over mums, deep purple and scarlet and gold, like jewels.

When we returned to Charlotte, Amina and I took, Jackson, (Uncle Rodney's Chihuahua) on a walk around the neighborhood while Uncle Rodney napped. After only 3 blocks or so, a light rain hurried us back home. As we came up the block, we saw Uncle Rodney waiting in the front yard, waiting to make sure his girls got back OK."

Thanks to Lesterhead

2010-10-02T20:46:00.003-04:00

How Do You Experience Race?

2010-09-29T11:45:00.001-04:00

This question was asked by an anthropologist this morning on Tell Me More.
He's studying why African-Americans experience higher rates of high blood pressure.
I tuned into this because I keep wondering myself.
What he said resonated with me.
It's not that there's a genetic disposition.
But it's based more on how one experiences racism because of your skin color.
Being black brings with it layers and layers of stressful interactions.
Being black, being dark.
So the researcher says that in order to know more about the unhealthy manifestations of dealing with how one's race is defined in society, we must broaden our understanding of how we all experience racism.
The stresses of this experience also cuts across social class.
We must also broaden our understanding of what contributes to our good health.
Caring for our health is more than health care.
It's also progressive and inclusive social policies -- transportation, economic.

This intrigues me because I'm in the process of a book project where I'm asking mothers I know how they help their children understand their race and class...

More later...

First Day of School

2010-09-08T19:46:00.006-04:00

RUNNING DOWN HALLWAY!

SUNSHINE ON THE WAY TO SCHOOL!
(and no it was not raining!)

ONE LAST HUG FROM MAMA

SITTING IN THE NEW CLASS

"I DID IT, MAMA!!"
THE END OF THE FIRST DAY!!

Boundary-work

2010-09-08T09:58:00.005-04:00

So I've finally turned to a book recommended by Lesterhead some time ago -- Blue-Chip Black: Race, Class and Status in the New Black Middle Class.

Ever since reading Lareau's Unequal Childhoods: Race, Class and Family Life, I've been fascinated by the construction of identity while navigating through class. Lareau's book gave me a prism of understanding and a language I'd been so hungry for. It sparked an appetite in me to know more, similar to how James Baldwin sparked an appetite in me to understand race.

Baldwin also inspired me to be a witness to the times in which I live. I also want to be very aware of the choices I make and what they're informed by.

Becoming a mother has meant that lots of dormant instincts have come to life. At the same time I'm also trying to be conscious of what kind of mother I want to be. In many ways, I often have no road map. I've been blessed to receive far more education than most people in my family. I live and am raising my daughter far from where I grew up. Although I'm constantly vigilant about money, there's no doubt I'm middle class. All of this entails a degree of "class travel" that is at times horrifying, thrilling and very isolating. (I got that term from bell hooks.)

What does it mean that I live in Park Slope now and that because of decisions informed by how I navigate and do "boundary-work" my daughter will likely be in mostly white environments and deliberately chosen all black ones? What am I trying to protect her from? What am I trying to give her?

This book, Blue-Chip Black, is helping me get more information about a lot of these questions and more. The author, Karyn R. Lacy, writes about boundary-work as a collection of efforts one makes in interacting with others to define one's self as a member of the black middle class.

Interestingly enough, she talks about the work of one sociologist who contrasted middle-class white American men and their French counterparts. For the Americans, it was all about using money to make the class distinction. For the French, it was all about culture.

This is interesting to me because culture is the most prominent talisman I use to identify myself. When you come to my home, the first thing you see is a wall of books. They're a proxy for the rich interior life I value. The comfort of my class positioning has allowed me to read so many books -- and to have them. My daughter is very much aware that WE READ.

Now how race interplays in all of this -- very tricky. I guess because I am still examining my own notions of race. But I do know that I am imparting something. Just this morning, I reached out to a friend to remind me of the black church he said folks were liking in Bed Stuy.

Anyway, just a note to share the most interesting thing about my book that I read today (in addition to how culture is used to create class boundaries in France): Lacy writes in her introduction that she feels a need for this book because the folks doing class work don't examine race -- they just assume that once racial groups are middle class they are more alike and have more in common then they do with members of the same racial group who are in a different class. That never rang completely true to me. And it's the one weakness I saw in Lareau's work.

But what's fascinating to me is how did Lareau, such an otherwise astute sociologist, miss this? I think it may have had a lot to do with her being unaware how much we pull back our racial identities when being observed? I don't know. But it really is fascinating stuff...

No Child Left Behind

2010-08-09T10:28:00.003-04:00

You have no idea the web of preparations that must spin out to travel with a child.

First there's notice to all of HER appointments and childcare folks.
Then I have to make arrangements for the dog.
Then there are the actual travel plans.
Next are any arrangements for childcare on the road (when I'm traveling for work.)
The actual packing.
Cleaning the house before departure.
Getting dog to where he's going...

I'm tired and overwhelmed already.
And the trip is not until next week!

Is that Destiny - or a siren?

2010-08-08T23:46:00.002-04:00

When I got ready to leave New York, I believed it was time.

We take in information according to our framework of belief.
So everything that we encounter once a belief is set, just proves what you already believe.

I was haunted by Didion's "Goodbye to all that,"
"It is easy to see the beginnings of things, and harder to see the ends."

I needed answers that I was getting in the city.
And so it happened that I believed I wasn't getting the answers because I was in the wrong place.
I wanted someone to love me the way I loved him; the way I wanted to be loved.
I found fault in the rhythms of the city.
Everything I used to love became the source of all that was now wrong.

My rational mind searched for a reason for it being time to go.
And the reason for the departure was the same reason for my arrival.

I didn't understand that answers don't come when you want to know them.
They come when you need to know.

I heard the call to head somewhere else.
At the time I thought it was the call of Destiny.

In time I came to believe it was the seductive wail of a siren.
Leading me in step after step of blissful agony towards disastrous consequences.

Now I believe that the beckoning of Destiny and the wail of the Siren...

.. are the same thing.

Nothing Can Diminish You

2010-08-01T08:37:00.003-04:00

Last week was a tough one.
I had to deal with someone's unconscious racism.
In talking about it to several friends, I coined a phrase to describe the gist of the situation:

It's not possible to have a honest conversation with someone who's dishonest.

So, yes, I can't reveal the circumstances (yet) but I'm more interested in how I reacted to it.

At first I was stressed, because it came on the heels of a lot of other things going on.
There was one night where I could not sleep at all.
And then after much prayer, a small voice came to me.
The force of its truth soon embraced me.

Nothing can diminish you.

Because that's what the issue was: I was dealing with a person where my existence (?!) made her uncomfortable.
I'd tried to make myself smaller to settle her anxiety.
That's not possible.

So after one night of stress, I woke.
(As my mama's choir used to sing, "I woke up this morning to the bright sunshine/ I didn't have no doubt")
I put on my gorgeous red and white dress, high heels, and even piled my hair on top of my head.
All as an outward manifestation of how large my spirit will always be.

I had the meeting with the person that she requested to make her dishonest claims.
When she asked what I had to say in response, I replied, Nothing.
She was trying to get me in a defensive position.
But like I heard Marianne Williamson say one time: Whatever you defend yourself from, you create.

The meeting ended, and I walked out, as tall as ever -- inside and out.

Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, Centennial Celebration

2010-07-13T22:35:00.001-04:00

NC Visit, June 2010

2010-07-13T22:30:00.002-04:00

The Missing

2010-07-13T22:14:00.001-04:00

Today, one of Amina's instructors told me that one day she and Amina were chatting.

Ms. Diana said, Amina, it's nice to have a conversation with you. You're great to talk to.

Amina responded, I miss North Carolina.

Vanity as a Motivator

2010-06-28T21:28:00.002-04:00

In the gym I used to frequent in North Carolina, there were a number of private changing rooms.
Sometimes women walked around with a towel wrapped around them, or a bathing suit, but that was it.
As a matter of fact, I think there was a posting saying that no nudity was allowed.

I guess I should also mention that the average size for women down there was about a 14.

Now that I'm back in NYC, I'm back to the free-for-all locker room.
There is an endless supply of towels to use.
But the towels are no bigger than a bandanna.

In New York, the average size for women is 8 -- but I would say most women are a 6 at the gym.

The nudity works as a motivator. There are endless mirrors and endless opportunities (is that the right word?) to see your body reflected back to the worst critic of all -- yourself.

Myself.

But I also find that I'm more accepting of myself. I know what my body looks like. I'm not surprised when I see it.

Overall, I like the gyms in NY better.

I've got work to doooooooo

2010-04-28T11:03:00.001-04:00

here are my shifts:

1st shift: Getting myself up and ready. Getting Amina up and ready. Taking the dog out.

2nd shift: Fulltime job

3rd shift: being a parent after work, being present with her and getting her fed and to bed

4th shift: consulting work, household bills, cleaning

personal shift: doesn't exist! so no dream time, etc. usually i sabotage the 4th shift with personal time by surfing on apartmenttherapy.com

Traditions

2010-04-18T22:24:00.007-04:00

I love getting a rhythm, a routine.
It figures I always loved the Cheers theme song.

For my girl and me, we've been going for cheeseburgers and sweet potato fries on Friday nights.
I have mine with blue cheese and chardonnay.
She has hers with a vanilla shake and nothing but ketchup.
This past Friday, it was chilly and rainy.
The cow in front of Flipsters was like a beacon in the evening.
We settled in, with our favorite waitress, Elizabeth.
I read my new O magazine, and Amina watched a new episode of Sesame Street I'd put on my phone.
During our meal, the guy next to us goes,
"I gotta tell you something -- that's a great kid you got."

And then we walked home, under a canopy of cherry blossoms...

And so here we are

2010-04-03T20:17:00.007-04:00

So.
We live in Park Slope.
Across the street from Prospect Park.
Amina has adapted well to the move.
She loves the dogs on parade, all day, everyday in the park.
She loves seeing all the other kids.
And the 9th St. playground right in our "front yard."

I love being back in the place where I feel so much at home.
New York, and Paris -- my chosen homes.
I love walking everywhere -- to the bank, to the store, to Amina's daycare.
I've dropped 5 pounds just by being back.
I love our apartment, and the building.
Pre-war. The marble in the halls.

Today I thought about the dogwoods and the azaleas.
My rose of sharon tree in the front yard of my home in Fayetteville.
But then along with those longings, I remembered how lonely I would be,
in the midst of all that splendor.
If I have to choose -- and I did -- I'd choose here.
We spent the morning with one of my dear dear friends from college.
He came over, and we had coffee on the roof terrace while Amina watched Dora.
Then we all went for a walk in the park.
The light was breathtaking, although a chilly breeze persisted.
Afterwards we dropped Chulo off and went for burgers on Seventh Ave.
I had blue cheese on mine, with sweet potato fries.

All in all, a very good day.

In Prospect Park:

Personal Best

2010-03-16T20:54:00.008-04:00

The movers brought my things on Saturday.

By Monday night, I was completely unpacked.

I thought I told you/ that we don't stop...

Insight

2010-03-08T08:08:00.000-05:00

I understand now why people don’t move.

When I was in my 20’s, it felt like existential cannibalism to stay in one place.
I saw what it did to people.
I saw all the negative things – the small offenses and hurt feelings grew roots and blossomed into monstrous bulbs of insult and payback, years of not talking to one another, years of recycling the same narratives. I saw how people got boxed into iterations of their identity that were only relevant at a particular moment in history.

What I didn’t see: the unconditional acceptance. The continuous forgiveness of yesterday’s transgressions. The ongoing cultivation of hope that you and I could be different. The delight from sitting in place and watching the inevitable change of everything around you. Trees thicken. Grass comes back news. Love begins and lasts or ends. Babies become adults. And the people who know you best will take care of you when you need it. And then one day bury you, and see to your loved ones.

I understand now why people don’t move.

Munchkin at School

2010-01-20T13:45:00.006-05:00

Amina's preschool teacher sends me photos of Amina in action at school. Here she is today:

New Decade

2010-01-10T21:09:00.004-05:00

I turned 40 this weekend. While in SOUTH BEACH.

The Magic Number

2010-01-01T20:31:00.001-05:00

By the end of her vacation,
Amina will have watched "101 Dalmatians"...

101 times.

Deep in the Throes of Rome

2009-12-29T19:13:00.002-05:00

One of my best friends kept telling me,
"You HAVE to watch the series, 'Rome.'"

I finally got around to it and ...
OMG.

I LOVE IT!
I've been getting too little sleep every night, watching it on DVD.

First of all, I love any historical series that gives the texture of the daily.
I am totally into the character, Mark Anthony.
So is my friend. (We've been dueling over him over texts.)
So was Cleopatra.

Train wreck

2009-12-28T22:51:00.002-05:00

Why do these women keep marrying Charlie Sheen?

I remember being curiously intrigued about why Denise Richards left him at 8 months pregnant.

Anyone who's been pregnant before knows that those hormones will have you fighting to the death to keep your family together if you love your child's father. It takes a lot of strength (more than I ever had) to walk away while you're pregnant. And she never said why.

Now we know.

Charlie Sheen is crazy as hell. Violently, deadly, crazy.

Now Denise deserves no prize for an obvious display for intelligence. But I did dislike the way that "people" (i.e. Perez Hilton) depicted her as being a lunatic and Charlie as having "moved on."

I wonder how long it will take before the next blond lines up to wed him?

Christmas Decorating

2009-12-26T22:31:00.007-05:00

BEFORE

DURING

AFTER

Before the ponytails

2009-12-14T09:10:00.002-05:00

Now that's a beautiful head of hair!

At Mocha Moms Holiday Dinner

2009-12-14T09:07:00.004-05:00

Our next door neighbor, Mrs. Hooks, gave Amina this dress and matching doll outfit last Christmas! And her Aunty Tolibah gave her the doll in 2007.

Amina was so thrilled at this ensemble! So was I.

Such a small place

2009-12-05T13:39:00.002-05:00

Today Amina had an unexpected invitation.
Her friend, who's family is Bengali, invited her over.
I was delighted -- I really like her friend's mother.
She's funny and smart and insightful -- and you get all these things from a 5-10 minute conversation.
And she's a marvelous cook.

When I went to pick up Amina, the husband and I chatted about Indian novelists.
The kind of chat where you really want to talk more because you've found a kindred soul,
but small beings were melting down at our feet. (It was nap time, after a morning of playing.)
As we stood there and chatted, I realized how little I knew about the area where they're from in India.
The husband told me they're from the same place that Jhumpa Lahiri's family is from.

After I got home and put Amina to bed, I immediately jumped on the computer and saw the following sentence which floored me:

"While the city's name was always pronounced "Kolkata" in the local Bengali language, its official English name was changed from "Calcutta" to "Kolkata" in 2001, reflecting the Bengali pronunciation. Some view this as a move to erase the legacy of British rule.[8] This change has not always been reflected by overseas media, but news sources like the BBC have opted to call Bombay Mumbai[9] and Calcutta Kolkata."

I did not know this. I will call it Kolkata from now on.
And there are 15 million people in the city!

I'd love to spend time in India.
America is such a small place.
It really is time to get out of the country a bit.

Thanksgiving 2009

2009-12-01T13:28:00.001-05:00

World AIDS Day

2009-12-01T13:12:00.003-05:00

The first World AIDS Day, I was in Paris. It was 1990.
It was a cold clammy day as I made my way towards the Centre Pompidou where I liked to study.
AIDS was a scary 4-letter word. My friends and I talked about whether we should get tested. We would scare ourselves to silence over the possibility that we might indeed be infected since none of us had had 100% safe sex. Those days, if you had it, you died. Immediately and surely. That was the only narrative we knew.

I'd heard something on the radio about a commemoration of "SIDA" ("see-dah" as the French call it) but I hadn't given it much thought.
So as I crossed Les Halles to where the KFC sat on the corner, I saw the hushed gathering of folks.
Many carried candles and had bowed heads and tear-stained faces.
I fell in step with them, saying my own prayers for all who'd been stricken and to those suffering.

Tonight I'll have the first of many conversations with Amina about AIDS.
It might just be a candle lit and a prayer said.

The Feet

2009-11-23T10:56:00.002-05:00

Text message I just received from Granny: "Your daughter did not like pigs feet"

My response (after chuckling to myself); "Good!"

When Amina was at Granny's over the weekend, I told my mom she could offer her some. I'd forgotten to ask how it went.
Now I know.

The Tooth Fairy Strikes - AGAIN!!

2009-11-19T23:41:00.002-05:00

This is It

2009-10-30T20:07:00.004-04:00

I went to see the movie this evening.
There was a woman on Oprah earlier this week who'd said that she felt celebratory afterwards.
I don't get that.
I felt so so sad.
Just seeing how alive and well he was right before that doctor killed him.

Amina and I thoroughly enjoyed the dance rehearsals.
MJ wasn't even dancing full out, or singing full out -- trying to preserve his voice for the show.
He was still was so amazing.
But during "Billy Jean", the spirit hit him and he was mesmerizing.
Everyone at the rehearsal was cheering it was so fantastic.

I especially appreciated witnessing how much of a grown ass man he was.
And how kind and professional.

I finally got who those "random" singers were at the memorial --
they were his backup singers who were prepping for the show.

The concert would have been out of this world.
Sadly, I don't think I would have been compelled to go to it.
(Although I'm not even sure it would have come to the states.)
I had this smug, false sense of security that there would always be another Michael Jackson album.
That there would always be another concert.
He'd been a star my ENTIRE life.

Anyway, it all just made me think,
there really are no rehearsals.
If we get another chance -- to reconcile, to love again, to laugh, to dance -- we should really count that as a blessing.
Because honestly and truly
This is it.

21st Century Bonding

2009-10-29T21:38:00.002-04:00

My oldest brother and I love the same shows.
Thursdays: Greys Anatomy and Private Practice.
Sunday: Brothers and Sisters.

So every week, we get in front of the tv,
and we get our phones.

And we text message during the shows.
Mostly during commercials.
Being the only adult in my house, evenings - when the girl and dog have gone to bed - can get lonely.
I miss the company of former roommates.
The intimacy in the mundane.
I look forward to being with my brother.
Me in NC, him in Baltimore.

It makes me think of how we used to dance in the kitchen together.
He taught me to hustle, both wearing our socks, our other brother perched on the washing machine.
They were my first company.

I'm oh so lucky to have them still.

The Teeth

2009-10-29T06:43:00.004-04:00

Amina has ANOTHER loose tooth!

And the one she lost last week?

The tooth is ALREADY coming back!!

People!
She JUST turned four!!

Here she is right after she lost the first one:

Gender Secrets

2009-10-29T06:39:00.002-04:00

I'm convinced:
the same way women have little steps for recipes that they never totally give up,
men have little steps about getting a car clean and shiny that they never give up.

I washed my car yesterday.

I can never get it as shiny and spiffy as a man could.
And I bought the recommended products!

My dad's tires are so so shiny.
He pulled out a bottle of stuff that I have never SEEN in the store.
And I looked.

What do they do at the Advance Auto Parts?
Pull you into a back room and give you the good stuff to get your car clean?

A Word of Advice

2009-10-28T00:55:00.002-04:00

You really shouldn't be asking a single mother
to volunteer for ANYTHING.

If she wants to be a kamikaze.
Then more power to her.

But don't ask her.

And all the other single mothers (present company included):
Stop volunteering for stuff.
And stop feeling guilty for what you can't do.

Seriously.

Sweet

2009-10-24T08:25:00.001-04:00

Saturday morning.
Sitting on floor, drinking my coffee.
Watching Curious George while Amina leans on my shoulder.
Clutching her Brown Dog.
And holding my hand.

So sweet.

We Got It

2009-10-21T09:47:00.003-04:00

Amina and I got our swine flu vaccinations yesterday. For free. At the Department of Public Health.

I was somewhat ambivalent about getting them. Until I saw a woman on Good Morning America talk about the complications that had happened to her. Granted, she was pregnant. (Later I saw this story.) But I went to the computer and saw the statistics on the soaring numbers of folks in the ICU's across the country.

I cannot afford that.

I think the final straw was Amina getting a fever that lasted for several days a few weeks ago. I was up all night long the entire time, scared (excuse me) shitless. Fortunately, it eventually went away so it was just a virus (which means it's another one that she's gained immunity against.) But I couldn't imagine what it must be like to go through that with the seasonal or swine flu. Knowing I could have gotten her vaccinated.

Plus my mantra is "we live in the 21st century." I'm all for taking advantages that our modern time affords us. Then, too, I thought, here I am luxuriously deliberating when there are mamas in the developing world (and even here in America) who are praying to have access to vaccines and medicine.

So we went.

We got there at 8am, There was already a line. We waited for about 2 hours. I had books, Diego on my iPhone. But no food (you know me -- gotta stay one step from perfection). It wasn't that it was so crowded. There were just a lot of steps in the process. And not all people were there for the H1N1 vaccination -- some were there for the seasonal flu.Of course, the "anthropologist" in me surveyed the crowd. It was very mixed, class and race wise, but more African-Americans than other races. Luckily when we got upstairs, TWO of my high school classmates were working -- they're county nurses -- and pulled us out of line.

I did the sniff vaccination. And was paranoid that I was going to fall down with seizures at any moment. But nothing happened. Although I did get a slight headache. And there was a sweet taste in the back of my throat.

Then it was Amina's turn. Because she had her vaccinations last week, she couldn't get the sniff vacc. So they had to give her a shot.

Now I had promised Amina that she would not get a shot. I felt bad. And she went OFF. Four of us had to restrain her! It was all out in the open. EVERYONE who was waiting got dead silent. The poor little kids who hadn't gone yet had eyes as big as saucers! Luckily the shot was very quick. And she got a huge sausage biscuit afterwards.

I was somewhat wary for a few hours, for both of us. I didn't give her tylenol right away since I had seen this story. Luckily neither one of us developed a fever. And we both slept well.

Same Thing I Did in 1980

2009-10-19T20:46:00.003-04:00

Chulo has been sleeping in Amina's room now for a few months.
I don't know how she stands it. When he was sick, I put him in my room. It was like sleeping in a barn -- he snorted, coughed, wiggled all night long. I couldn't take it.

So he's been in her room. I put his bed/carrier in there.

Tonight when I went in there, I saw the silhouette of his head -- in her bed.

I didn't say anything. When I had a little chihuahua puppy, named Cuffy, he slept in my bed until I left home.
I can't imagine my childhood without Cuffy in my bed. And the way he would growl if any family member even approached my door!

But, alas, Chulo didn't last long. After a bit, I heard him chirp in pain. I don't know what she did to him. But after the Eyeball Incident, I wasn't taking any chances.

Into his carrier he went. With a zip.

"I could just eat you up..."

2009-10-18T23:12:00.002-04:00

"... I love you so."

I have to admit, that as a child, I wasn't a big fan of Where The Wild Things Are. I didn't really fantasize about fantastical things. My fantasies were much more pedestrian. I wanted more actual love from actual people. And I wanted broken things to be fixed.

But for some reason, once I got the book for Amina, I got it. That little Max's desire for a world of his own was really what he wanted for his own life. And the movie made this all even more clear.

The movie was so... POIGNANT. It touched me in such a tender way. In how it reminded me that what we want and want and want are such simple things. To belong. To be heard. To be loved. Not to be alone. It reminded me of the loneliness of childhood. And the pure joy when we find a connection with someone. I love the way Carol and Max howled together. All friends have something that only they do. I loved Carol's bumbling destruction that worked to keep at bay all he so desperately wanted. Well, I didn't "love" that -- I could identify with it. But the rock star of the movie was KW. And the way she was so simply herself. And how much she yearned for freedom. She wasn't sad like the others. And she refused to be possessed. And she refused to belong. Or belong the way they demanded her to belong. Yet she was with them all along anyway. I loved the kind shy voice of The Bull in the end. How we stood alone. But wasn't mean. And it made me tender to see how lonely they all were. Even though they were together. Of course, I loved seeing (my secret sweetheart) Mark Ruffalo make a cameo appearance. And the last scene where the mother falls asleep while watching him eat just touched me so. (That actress --( I had to look her name up) Catherine Keener -- is so believable in every role she plays.)

Amina loved the movie. She was a bit apprehensive at first. As she should have been, since Carol was on one of his binges. But I reminded her of the book -- that they loved Max. She totally got the yearning, and sadness. And she wanted to do for them, to soothe the Wild Things. Carol didn't put her off. The Bull was her favorite. She has a thing for bulls anyway. So when he spoke at the end, and his voice was so real and kind, she was beside herself!

On the way home, she insisted I was Carol. Although I wanted to be KW.

Carol.

I guess she knows more about me than I give her credit for.

And So It Is

2009-10-12T19:35:00.014-04:00

Out of baby coos, a little person emerges. With distinct tastes, and a personality, needs and desires.
And so it is that Amina the baby, my sweet little baby, has become a little person.

Tomorrow she will be 4.
It will be the first day of her 5th year.

We spent the weekend indulging in a number of fall fun activities.
We went to the NC Zoo for the first time on Friday.

We've been to zoos in Seattle, Birmingham, and of course, Central Park. But we had to go to the zoo in our "backyard" to see ELEPHANTS!

On Saturday, after pancakes with Uncle Rodney, we drove to Mooresville, where Amina took her first hayride. To the pumpkin patch. She loved it! It was in a place called Carrigan's Farm.

The day was cloudy at first. Then brilliant bursts of sunshine erupted like irrepressible laughter. We quickly found pumpkins we wanted. I liked the small ones, still green in some places. But what Amina loved the most was a wonderfully warm Irish Setter -- Murphy. Murphy ran around the tractor, all the way to the clearing, where baby farm animals lounged in a small pen next to the pumpkin patch. Murphy had a tennis ball. Sometimes he liked to let you have it, and play fetch. He seemed to enjoy more a good game of tug-o-war, where he would hold the ball in his mouth, with every one of his teeth, while we pulled with all our might.

Amina and I followed Murphy down to one of the two small ponds. From time to time he would run into the water for a quick swim to cool down. Amina liked to gather up larger rocks from the gravel on the dirt road and throw them into the water. I sat by, no phone, no book, just being there in the sun, watching her indulge such a simple pleasure that totally occupied her time. After she threw away her handful of stones, she would trot back to the road, sometimes mumbling something to herself. In the distance, I could see Uncle Rodney perched on a cluster of boulders on the edge of the pumpkin patch, occasionally chatting with the cycle of folks from the hayride. They all came and went. I stood watching my small girl. On the small slope from the pond, a couple had brought a small blanket and a cooler. A bottle of white wine stood lightly sweating. The wine in their glasses glistened like molten gold in their glasses. Murphy stood by patiently, waiting for them to drop something. Eventually Amina tired of the pond and we made our way up the hill and back to the tractor to take the hayride back to the farmers market.

As we rode back, Murphy chased a small goat who leaped from the pen, herding him back to the others. Everyone chuckled small laughs of contentment. The patch disappeared from view as we rode beside an aging orchard with apples rotting peacefully on limbs wrought with age. At the end of the ride, we were treated to small mercifully cold glasses of tawny cider. I wanted to check out the market. When we got there, a boy had a small caterpillar that looked like a little fuzzy beast. Amina was delighted to watch it crawl over mums, deep purple and scarlet and gold, like jewels.

When we returned to Charlotte, Amina and I took, Jackson, (Uncle Rodney's Chihuahua) on a walk around the neighborhood while Uncle Rodney napped. After only 3 blocks or so, a light rain hurried us back home. As we came up the block, we saw Uncle Rodney waiting in the front yard, waiting to make sure his girls got back OK.

On Sunday morning, I took a run in the neighborhood. I love the small bungalows and sidewalks. Not as pretty as Savannah, but quite quaint. Plus it's so nice and unexpected to be in the South and be able to head out the door on foot, and actually get somewhere you want to go.

When I got back, we loaded up in the car and headed to Hendersonville, NC. At first I was preoccupied with getting information on the IPhone, but then I just decided to sit back and enjoy the ride. Hills took over the road. The foliage on the trees was orange and tan and the slightly tired green. At one point, we even saw bison, dotting the slope of a hill, reminding me of a ride I once took from Flagstaff to the Grand Canyon (such another lifetime ago). When we got to Hendersonville, we went to the first orchard we saw -- Justus! Rows of apple trees marched up and down sweet slopes nestled in the mountains.

Why?

2009-09-29T06:57:00.002-04:00

Why is someone mowing their lawn, at 6:45 am, at the end of September??

I could understand this, and be compassionate about it, during the summer -- when you had to mow your lawn as early because it would be 10000 degrees by 10am.

There's no excuse for this now. And I can't figure out who it is from the window...

Jeez!

And I got up early to write. But of course, with the lawn mowers going, I hear what I was trying to avoid: "Mommmmmmmeeeeee!"

The Tooth Fairy

2009-09-28T12:26:00.002-04:00

Where is time going?
Where did my baby go?

I see her every morning, when Amina shuffles into my room,
with Brown Dog, Blue Dog and Blanket,
climbs into my bed,
and onto me.

Sometimes she goes back to sleep.
Other times she announces, "Mama, it's morning time!"

My little baby has always loved to snuggle in the morning.

But otherwise, there's this little girl who's with me now.
Who is so excited about "reading"!
She sounds out letters.
Spells anything she sees that's written.

But here's the topper:
Her bottom tooth is loose!!

She's about to lose her first tooth!!

Heartbreaker.

Already she turns 4 in a about 2 weeks.
Now this.

Just yesterday, I noticed the tooth was a little slanted.
Then I touched it, and it jiggled.

I told Amina the story about how the Tooth Fairy will come and leave money under her pillow.
And she can use her money to buy ANYTHING she wants.
Since I told her that, she's been talking about how she plans to buy lollipops with her money.
I'm sure that's related to the fact that I've never bought a lollipop!

Shine

2009-09-19T21:18:00.003-04:00

Today, I took Amina over to one of our cousin's for a visit. Cousin Bernice.

When I moved to NYC, Bernice lived way out in Long island, near Queens. When I was growing up, I remember her as being sparkly -- sparkly eyes, spirit. Very cute. In New York, she was my link to home. Bernice and her husband helped us get to JFK when I was on my way to Paris, for the first time, when I went to study abroad. I'd go there to have dinner when I was feeling lonely. They kept my car when I went to South Africa.

After Bernice and her husband retired, they joined the Greatest Migration and moved back to NC. It was about a year or two before I moved back.

Amina took such a shine to Bernice! She hadn't seen her in a very long time. I was happy to see it. There is something about Bernice, a genuine delight in you, when she talks to you. Amina went over to her and laid on her. Then they walked around Bernice's yard, as Bernice told Amina what all the flowers were.

Something to Show for August

2009-09-11T13:43:00.006-04:00

You know, time goes by -- and, are you like me? Do you find yourself, asking yourself, "What have I got to show for it?"

I mean, the best answer to that question that I've EVER had, was after the 9 months of gaining 60 pounds ("Heavy Weight Champion of the World! Weighing in at 210!"), was a beautiful little baby! (Who I still think is the cutest darn thing!)

Well, I took on a major project in August. I painted my bedroom.

When I bought the house, I only painted 3 rooms. Well, I didn't do it. We must remember -- I had a 3 month old baby. So I had my cousin, Tonya's ex-boyfriend (all arranged by my personal "contractor" - -my mama) paint the living room. Before it had that dark wood paneling. So I had it painted a deeper neutral. (I'll post pictures later). And Amina's room -- from beige to lavendar. And her bathroom -- from some godawful wallpaper, to a deep rust.

Later, my brother, Rodney, and I painted my dining room a deep brick red.

Well, my bedroom was this deep, dusty blue. I tried to make it work. But I swear, it was messing up my feng sui, chakras, chi, spirit -- EVERYTHING.

So here is how it looked before:

And here is how it looks NOW:

I was going for a spa feel, an oasis, a retreat. I haven't yet hung my pictures on the wall.
But can I just tell you? I sleep SO MUCH BETTER since I painted.

Day's Observation

2009-09-11T13:38:00.002-04:00

The more you exercise,
the less you want to eat.

Three workouts so far this week.

I plan in getting in two more over the weekend.

(Countdown to Sublimely Fab at Forty is on TURBO speed!)

Resistance

2009-09-11T13:35:00.002-04:00

Please, oh Mighty One, help me resist spending over $50 on mums!

They're everywhere! At Lowe's, at the grocery store, at Walmart.

And I feel my yard, my house (MY LIFE) would be transformed if I could have those luscious outbursts of color greeting me whenever I stepped outside.

But at $10 at pot....

(What about the little pots, for $2.50?)

See. My resistance is weakening already!

Prod

2009-09-08T12:46:00.002-04:00

Thank, God, for to-do lists.

I'm like a bad secretary.

As soon as I finish one task, I sit and act like I have anything else to do.

Then I get out my to-do list.

And it's like, oh yeah.

Cutest Thing

2009-09-07T22:42:00.003-04:00

We had our family reunion (on my mom's side) over the holiday weekend.

Now I remember being a kid, and getting crushes on distant cousins -- especially the ones who were in town from elsewhere. But I remember that happening when I was like, 8 and older.

Well, Amina and my little cousin, Darus, developed their first crushes. Not on each other. (Darus is about a year and some change older than Amina.)

Oddly enough they developed crushes on two of my younger cousins who are the same age -- both rising juniors in high school. More about Amina's crush later.

But Darus was flirting heavily with our cousin, Jalais. Brief word about Darus -- he's been talking like a grown man since he was about 2. He's so grown in a "been here before type of way", folks have taken to calling him, "Papa."

Anyway, he was smitten by Jalais. And he's only 4. But get this, to show that he was old enough for her, he told her he was in the FIFTH GRADE!

(I'm still laughing to myself!)

Here are Amina and Darus, with Azaria (aka "Za-Za") in the middle:

Celebrations

2009-09-07T07:21:00.029-04:00

As the last weekend in August marched towards us on the calendar, I decided to take a spur of the moment trip. Spike Lee was planning a big birthday celebration for Michael Jackson. First in Ft. Greene park. Then because of the estimated crowds (or NIMBY), it got moved to Prospect Park.

Every birthday that falls on a Saturday should be celebrated. In a big way. Not to mention, Michael Jackson's. I hadn't really celebrated his life with a bunch of folks -- when I was in NYC in June, I went to a MJ dance party too late to get in. I watched the memorial online with a bunch of folks, but it's not the same thing. So I decided to take my girl.

FRIDAY
We got to town in a rainstorm, but had a ball anyway.

Lunch at Republic on Union Square

Family Friday Fun at the Brooklyn Children's Museum

Chilling at the hotel

SATURDAY
We woke up to more rain.

But Amina knew how to make the best of it! We took a walk down around the West Village after a breakfast of pancakes. She splashed in each and every puddle she could, and then played at the playground in Washington Square Park, as if it weren't raining at all!

After a trip on the subway, to the Landmark to see PONYO

we came out of the theater and THE RAIN HAD STOPPED. Just in time for the party!

We ended the day watched a jazz ensemble in Union Square.

Playing with the puppies in the window on Sixth Avenue. I tell you -- there should be a place where you can roll on the grass and just frolic with puppies! Wouldn't that be grand?

SUNDAY
Back at Emmanuel Baptist Church -- first time I'd been in years.

And then we headed to one of my all time favorite parks, where we spent the rest of the glorious afternoon.

Dinner: scrumptious dinner at Benny Burrito's. When I first moved to NYC, Benny's was a splurge - I had so little money. But we knew we could eat well for so little. It's still true. Here's Amina trying on my shades...

And then we ended the day with popsicles and music out at Washington Square Park

DAY AT CENTRAL PARK

Polar bear backstroke

Look what hatched from the egg!

Stormy faced bunny rabbit!

Frog on a lily pad!

Nothing sweeter than ending a day with ice cream (covered in her favorite these days -- OREOs)

Indoctrination

2009-08-23T18:07:00.002-04:00

We've had a movie weekend.

I've had cablevision this year. Only because of the Inauguration and there was a special with Time Warner.

So now that it's off, it's back to DVD's.

Today I settled in to watch "Mahogany."

As the theme song wafted through the living room, Amina proclaimd, "That's the love song!"

Oh yes it is, my dear. Oh yes it is.