It’s funny how much your kids can be like you and at the same time…not. My side kick is so me in so many ways…from his uncanny ability to both understand and relay sarcasm to his willingness to come to the aid of a complete stranger in need…but in others, he is utterly and completely…
Tag: Children
lessons in communion
“Mom let’s take a walk today.” It’s a common request in my house now. He asks this question so casually. Mostly it’s not even an question behind it the assumption that we will be walking. It’s only a matter of when and where. Walking has been my solace since I was a little girl….
the eternal quest for authentic rest…i might do better looking for the holy grail
You know that moment when you’ve finally settled in to catch your favorite television program? I mean the drudgery is all taken care of…dishes, laundry, dog fed, lunches are packed and ready for consumption tomorrow. Right. That moment. After everyone is bathed, prayed, and tucked in. That moment when you grab your cup of tea…
for phife. dawg.
there is no justice in this place little girl dreams get washed away with yesterday’s news and little boys are never taught that dreams can in fact come true we walk fine lines in this in between times where the end is not near but here an ending to the illusion that we are separate…
The Case for Hogwarts (Raising a Wizard in this Muggle World)
My son is brilliant. I know most people believe their children are brilliant and bombard complete strangers with pictures and statuses about how their children’s brilliance outshines the brilliance of the average star…but my kid actually is. Trust me on this, I’m a professional. I know kids. They’re my genius. So with my genius kid…
Mama in the Hood or The Greatest Show On Earth
Today I told him, “There ain’t one dummy in this family! You Will NOT BE THE FIRST!” Mamahood is hard. It’s an ever vigilant watch over every detail of someone else’s life. Somedays I feel like a CEO in full possession of my team and lair. I delegate and shit gets done. On time. The…
swashbucklers, ramble rousers, voyagers galore
hot summer rain, steam streams off side walks and the hard concrete of a 12 by 14 front porch. broken drain becomes Niagara falls, though we have never seen it. pictures from mama’s Britannica are all we need to know this is what it must look like. “Monsoon,” he screams and we laugh so loud…
mostly they save themselves (on children, crises, and fumbling adults)
prologue she is more woman in her four foot three inch frame than most will ever be steady hand runs through unwashed hair dark blue eyes set she grabs her sister firmly and walks unknowingly into tomorrow. i. he is drunk when they find him crying on curb head in hands wherearemybabies inaudible he mutters…
(silence) because ferguson is so loud
there are no words for this…this… this feeling i, a black woman, raising a son also black mid nightmare in this unreal this… this… this bullshit i am trayvon’s mother i am jordan’s mother i am michael’s mother i am eric’s mother i am and i have no words not for this this feeling that…
PTSD, an improper diagnosis because post is past and this is our present
preamble: discovering breasts under my nightgown was one of the most traumatic experiences of my childhood. from that very moment i was trapped in a world with a constant bombardment of sexual attention so aggression i simply could not breathe. they no longer saw me. the me, i had been. the somersaulting-head-standing-singing-and-climbing-trees-daydreaming me was lost. overnight, i had become flesh…
fearfree living 