23 Jan 2013 1 Comment
Do you remember falling in love? With a person, place, time, color, food – anything? Can you pinpoint the instance when your feelings turned from admiration into something deeper, when you realized you needed this person or item to bring something special to your life? I thought about this after reading an article somewhere the other day about how eating certain foods before sex can increase your orgasm or something along those lines. We’ve all heard of love at first sight, and everyone is attracted to different characteristics, be they physical, mental, spiritual – whatever.
I fell in love with my fiance in late 2008, as summer changed from fall, autumn to winter. After reconnecting on the beach after our initial brief meeting in high school, we spent what seemed like every waking moment together, when we weren’t at work or an internship. We had so many things in common, eventually our friendship circles intersected, and I was even taught the homie handshake, which let me know I was good in his friends’ eyes, a big plus.
One evening we were in his room and his niece was finding every excuse to make her way downstairs and “play” with us. He had something in his hand he was eating, we’ll call it a chocolate bar for discussion’s sake. She stared at it like it was the last thing she’d ever get to eat in his life, and he asked her if she wanted some. Of course she did. He broke it in half and then they played a game. I think she had to spell a word or answer some question correctly and she would get the larger piece – she got it wrong. He handed her the smaller piece, which she was happy to be getting, but clearly she was disappointed she hadn’t gotten the answer correct. As she went to walk out the room with her chocolate, he called her back and let her have the bigger piece, which made her day, then gave her a hug and sent her upstairs.
I remember sitting next to him on the futon watching the whole transaction and holding back tears. His compassion, his ability to understand the mind of a child and read her emotions to know what would make her happy, the fact that I already felt so connected to him like we had been lovers for years – it all contributed to my feeling that I needed to keep him around in my life for as long as he wanted to stay there. It’s been said that a woman becomes a mother as soon as she finds out she’s pregnant, while a man becomes a father when his child is born; I knew Rick was a natural father/daddy from that day I saw him with his niece. He has the firmness needed to discipline in the loving way only daddies can perfect, as well as the tenderness to protect and nurture.
It’s amazing to me that my feelings for this man were sort of cemented watching him interact with a child, but it’s sort of fitting, since my heart melts every single day looking at him and our son together. It’s great to love someone for how they make you feel, but to see others around you experiencing the same is truly magical.
12 Nov 2012 Leave a Comment
Me: Khi! Stop taking the laces off your sneakers; what are you doing?!
Khi: But ma-ah-meeeeee!! I need to use these to lasso the monsters!
31 Oct 2012 1 Comment
- We are doing fine in the wake of Hurricane Sandy. As of today, there is still no power in our apartment except to the microwave, fridge and Mekhi’s lamp, but we have hot water and didn’t lose groceries during the day and a half we were without electricity totally.
- About 14 times a month, I’m reminded why I need to get a new job, but the fact that I had to brace myself for the monstrous winds on the Northern State on the way to work Monday really depressed me something serious. What was the point of telling us “Business is as usual” and for us to come in at 9 with the hope that y’all “might let us work through lunch and leave early.” Is we back on the plantation and massa has graciously decided to let us come in off the fields before we get swept up into the skies? What in the hell!!
- My son really is a fricking fabulous kid. It took us a while to try explaining to him that we couldn’t watch TV and the lights weren’t coming on because of the wind and rain outside. I guess at 2 you can’t wrap your mind around such concepts, but eventually he got into the groove of things and we played cards, built houses with blocks, colored, sang songs, and taught him the meaning of the word “instrument.” We also had a sleepover Monday night and built a tent in our bedroom on the floor. We told scary stories as the three of us shared grapes by candlelight, made a Spiderman blanket stretch 3 ways, and slept bundled up together in a ball. Eventually it got too cold and we sent him to my aunt’s house where there is electricity and heat, so hopefully by the time we get off work today we can watch some TV or do something without candlelight.
- It’s still sort of amazing to me to be able to have this much fun with my guy at this point in our relationship. We got a little stir crazy after being cooped in the house for two days, but there was something so cool about sitting in the silence left after our thoughts and feeling like everything was OK despite the havoc outside. One of the things I love most about him is his ability to make me laugh almost through anything – Rick always has me smiling and for that I’m always grateful.
12 Sep 2012 2 Comments
As I hurried through the parking lot this morning with a lone salty drop of sweat trickling down the crease of my back, belt half-fastened and falling off my waist, a mass of frizzy curls tossed haphazardly into an ungodly bun atop my head, I couldn’t help but throw a little bit of mental shade to my two-year-old, whose last-minute need to tinkle in the potty before we made our way to grandma’s house threw us off schedule by two minutes, causing me to be 7 minutes late to work. At our house, every morning is a battle of coordinating three schedules, dressing, feeding and dealing with toddler independence. It’s a routine we are accustomed to, though it still has some kinks, and one that I find myself sometimes loving, hating and defending all in the same breath. At 25 years old, I’m simultaneously in the minority and majority of my peers, some of whom like me are mothers, partners (wives, girlfriends etc) and working women trying to make a way for their families – and the others, who while I’m turning my key in the ignition on the way to grandma’s with Spiderman fruit snacks stuck to the bottom of my shoe, are just turning theirs in the keyhole and are on their way to sleep off last night’s end-of-summer rendezvous.
As my social media networks love to bemoan, it seems like everyone has news of an engagement or baby shower coming up – I literally counted the number of pictures a girl I went to high school with had uploaded of her kid in the last week (the oh-so-important milestone of a first bath had to be photo documented for all) and it was over 15, which was a little annoying but spoke to the fact that despite returning to our old bedrooms with posters of our teenage crushes still looking at us with sultry eyes after college, despite the misguided YOLO campaign telling us to preserve our youth at all costs, our asses are GROWING UP. It amazes me when people stay stuff like “DAMN everybody’s pregnant or getting married!” and are actually shocked – what the hell did you think people were supposed to do in their mid-20s?
When I was little, I had a plan in my head that by 30, I was going to be done with law school, married, have one child, and be on my way to the Supreme Court. In the years since, my career aspirations have changed, but the rest of my family-related goals are on point. My fiancé and I have one son and are planning a wedding for summer 2014. While we have the support and encouragement of so many, there have been others who in their own quiet ways let me know how much they pity my drab, miserable existence. In one breath praising our parenting and marveling at the intelligent, polite, energetic ball of spunk we call our son, they also expressly claim how they simply CANNOT imagine not being able to sleep past 11am on Saturdays and having to think about someone else’s entire range of needs over their own for the next two decades. While they admire my ability to juggle work and home and maintain some semblance of a social life, within the “You go girl” is a hidden “poor thing” that I can’t say isn’t a tad bit accurate.
Being perfectly honest, mother/wifehood is hard work. There are days when I just want to be by myself with my thoughts, not being called on to kiss a knee scrape or be a headrest for a football game, times when I want to relish in the state of having nothing to do and not being accountable for anything. On the other side of that, I get so much joy from just being with my guys in our natural comfort zone, at home or out together, because we have a ball together, just the three of us. I genuinely love cooking for them and watching them enjoy my latest creation or an old favorite. I like being able to go to a party at a club or wherever and know that I don’t have to save some man’s number in my phone as DO NOT ANSWER because I came with my dancing partner, drink-buyer and groove getter. It’s GREAT to be able to roll over and throw my leg across his strong thigh in the middle of the night, or to listen to his wild dreams in the morning and laugh about it. And there’s no better feeling after a long day of bullshit than to nestle my nose in the crook of my son’s neck and breathe deeply as he whispers “I love you mommy” before I turn off his light. Sure, I’m exhausted by the time I close the door and face the kitchen that needs to be cleaned from dinner, the carpet that has to be vacuumed because two-year-olds and cornbread are recipes for disaster, or the applications to better-paying jobs that I need to fill out. Every now and then I’d like to leave work, go to happy hour and return home at 9pm sloshed instead of bolting out the door at 5:30p on the dot to get home and prepare meat defrosted overnight and seasoned by my half-asleep hands at 6:15a.
But life doesn’t work that way. The cards we are dealt — or the ones we pick up ourselves and try to rearrange after the deck has fallen all over the floor — are those we must play in order to keep ourselves in the game of life. I, for one, am glad to be out of the rat race dating game where I have to wonder whether or not my “HIM” was referring to me in that last tweet or his “HER,” whose instagram page I’ve had my girls and even one of my guys stalk to find out what’s so special that I couldn’t get a call back. The point I’m trying to make is that in marriage/relationships, commitment is not always the terrible burden people make it out to be. The fulfillment of being mature enough to handle responsibility far outweighs the need to be “free” to do the dumb shit 20-somethings like to get themselves into. It’s fine to be #teamsingle #teamnokids, but don’t make it seem like those of us on #teammom #teamwife #teamgirlfriend are pitiful shells of women whose only function is to be there for everyone else.
21 Aug 2012 Leave a Comment
..that I have this and never use it.
10 Nov 2011 1 Comment
I sat and asked I why I gets high and I said:
Because I remember the first pull that we took together
When you said I even held my spliff sexy
and I looked at you through the smoke and years of tears
And I exhaled and breathed you back in
And I was high
That first time I got a hit of you I was hooked.
Not like that junkie itch, that withdrawal, no shakes and cold sweats
Cus the only rumble was the tremble of my thighs,
The sighs that escaped these lips and ran down to your lips and found their way back to mine
See you weren’t like those other dudes, didn’t show me who you wanted to
Just kept it organic, natural-grown like a leaf when you roll me up in your hands,
Even when you lay me on my back and bust these guts out like a Dutch Master, you make me high
Waiting to take you in, I am high
Feeling as if I will never come down
In the cyph of my memory you are the sweetest, fattest L
The grass I want to run my fingers through in the morning, after you spark me at the tip and hit me from the back,
savoring the scent I leave in the air
See all I knew before you was regular
Dusted with fertilizer, cus like
Not worthy of these virgin lungs
These lips not yet turned black from the bitter words of a woman scorned
So I found you, exotic and sweet-smelling
You felt good between my fingers as I picked you apart, got to the seeds of you
And took some to plant in my garden
And you grew
And we grew
And everybody knew
I was high
They say you ain’t supposed to get addicted to trees
But I need you
In the morning I wake and bake and you take me on a ride
I will never stop riding high
You make me wanna let my homegirls get a hit of you
Look at em and say “Yours ain’t like mine nigga, this shit right HERE nigga! This shit right HERE nigga!”
Every day is 420
Cus fortunately my supply don’t go low, and I don’t know
About nicks and dimes and cocaine lines
I know you
Conservatives say it’s bad for you
“I didn’t know you were THAT type of girl,”
But you knew all along I was the type of girl
To roll you a spliff and suck your dick while you smoke it
The type to fix you a steak, cereal and Cheetos butt naked at 3am cus you got the munchies,
Fall asleep in each other’s sweat, wake up and light another.
I want all of you at once, later for the clip cus
You are the last L I want to burn if we should ever legalize this shit.