Pretty cool, huh?

Gosh! So much has happened. I really need to do better about posting.

First, my husband and I just got back from D.C. and all the inauguration festivities. We left our son at home because we figured that it would be CRAZY to bring an eight-month old to D.C. in the middle of winter. It was the longest I've ever been away from him (FIVE DAYS!!). It was rough, but not as bad as I thought it would be even though I missed his first steps. Although I enjoyed being able to be a part of everything, if there is one theme of the week it is LINES! Lines for everything. I really expected things to be more organized than they were. In fact, some of it was just pure idiocy. Such is government. Other than that, I enjoyed the experience and I got to see Michelle and Barack at the Western Ball. I can live with that.

It was also a nice time for my husband and I to be together. We are still learning each other and dealing with the growing pains that occur when two people merge lives and throw a baby in the mix. It was nice to know that we are still connected.

As mentioned, my son took his first steps! I guess he was officially nine months old when he did that, but he's been standing on his own since January 3. He's progressing quite nicely! I guess we're doing something right.

School is starting back up again and I have a FULL load. In law school you aren't even allowed to enroll in 18 hours without a dean's approval so I had to do that. I am externing at the Supreme Court 10 hours a week in addition to my school schedule, being a mom, wife, chef, and housekeeper. This ought to be interesting.

Did I mention I'm participating in a national law school competition, too?

I also found out that I made the Dean's List for the first time last semester! I am thrilled. My first year was so difficult, maybe more because I was so sick from pregnancy than from school. I felt like it really hindered my ability to perform my best, but I just wasn't sure. Making the Dean's List was something I needed to prove to myself and I'm glad I did it.

Oh, one of the highlights of my D.C. trip was seeing my best friend's work in "ManifestHope: D.C." an inaugural art show she participated in. The show was very selective, it was put on by Shepherd Fairey's people. You can read more about it and her work on her blog:

www.blueingreenonrepeat.wordpress.com

Pretty cool, huh?

To Undo What's Been Done...

I just watched the Oscar Grant video and I am nearly in tears. If you have not seen it, you can see it here: http://cbs5.com/local/oakland.BART.shooting.2.900634.html

First, I am not an insensitive person. I have never personally witnessed anyone be shot or killed or hurt for that matter. I have never seen a violent fight, honestly, I've never really seen a fight. I've just never personally witnessed anyone be hurt. Even movies unnerve me at times because I watch them with a "what if this were real?" perspective. "No Country for Old Men," was shocking to me.
　
I say all this because I want you to understand how sensitive I am to violence. My reaction may be more sensitive than others. For example, my husband has seen his friends die in a car accident, witnessed shootings, seen people beaten within an inch of their lives, etc. This video may impact him differently.
　
But I felt like crying.
　
It was just so senseless. Killings like this always are, but this affected me differently. Maybe because I saw it. Maybe because I'm sensitive. Or maybe because I watched that officer, without rhyme or reason, without much forethought, take the life of someone's father, someone's son, someone's friend.

As if he was shooting an animal, swatting a fly, smashing an insect. As if the person he was killing was irrelevant. Like his life was worthless. He was no one to that officer. It didn't matter he could have been everything to someone else.

What do you say to his child? What would I say to my son if Oscar had been my husband? What do you say?

What do you say to his mother? A woman who spent 40 weeks carrying that man, fed him, clothed him, made sure he went to school, watched him graduate, who invested TWENTY-TWO years of her life in his. What do you say to her?

There is nothing to say.

There is nothing to say to undo what's been done.

And that is worth crying for. Not just because OBVIOUSLY this could be any of our son's. Not just because there are people who simply do not value life, and in fact, value some lives less. But because there is NOTHING to say to undo what's been done.

Watch me grow...

Two years ago, I decided that I would not date for fun anymore. I have always known that I wanted a family, and I concluded that it was a dangerous idea to involve myself with men I've always known were temporary. Fleeting relationships with temporary men can turn themselves into permanent problems. These things I try my best to avoid.

So, at the age of twenty I decided that I would not date (or continue to date) men that I knew had no potential for marriage. I had discovered that I was much happier by myself than being involved with a man that I had no long term intentions. The truth is this: relationships are difficult. Why tread that water with someone that you know will not be around in three months?

Shortly after this decision, I met my husband. I was home for the summer, and at that time wasn't sure if I was coming back after graduation. So I certainly wasn't looking for anything serious. But he was there. And I loved him. He wasn't everything that I wanted in a man. In fact, he was actually the opposite of some of those things. But he was everything I needed (still is).

After graduation, I had some tough decisions to make. Particularly, whether or not I was going to stay on the east coast for law school or return home. At that time I would have liked to think that I made my decision independent of my relationship with him. And if we wouldn't have worked out, I probably still would have been content with my decision. But there is a small part of me that knows he was a part of my decision. I'm still not sure how I feel about that.

That decision changed the course of my life forever. If I had stayed on the east coast, there would have been new experiences, but it would have really been a continuation of the old life I lived. The life of only being responsible for me, selfishness, clubbing, meeting new and interesting people, drunken nights, fun, diversity, friends. I must say, it was a great life.

There is a new life now. In less than a year after graduating, I was a wife and new mother. I always thought I would be married, always knew I wanted kids, but if you would have told me that THIS would be my life NOW, I would have laughed at you. I am twenty-two. I will be celebrating my one year anniversary with my husband in a few weeks. Sometimes, I am still surprised by it all. I would have never predicted that my life would be like this, but I am completely, whole-heartedly, in love with it.

It is a drastic change. And I don't always do as good of a job as I would like, but I am getting there. I am not yet the new me, but I am certainly not the old one. Right now, I am transitioning between the life I used to live and the life I've always wanted.

Watch me grow...

Human...

I am a new mother. My son is seven months old and he's my first child. I love him. I love being a mother. I really do.

But I had a breakdown.

A miniature, hysterical breakdown.

It was 5:50 a.m. on Friday. I am in school (law school) Monday through Wednesday from 8-3 Monday & Tuesday, and 8-6 on Wednesday. After one week of waking up nearly every hour, even with my husband taking turns (keeping in mind there is only so much he can do because I breastfeed), I was exhausted. And I broke down. I sobbed. I cried. I retreated to the guest room. I have never been so frustrated and felt so helpless in my life.

I don't know why I felt the need to preface this revelation with insistings about my love for him. But I've obviously decided that it will remain there, so maybe I'm a bit more aware than I'd care to acknowledge. Most parents (my experiences are usually with women), don't acknowledge these breakdowns. Fortunately, my mother has always been straight with me, and that helps. But even with the knowledge that sometimes you will falter, sometimes you will reach the end of your rope, and that sometimes you will breakdown, I still felt bad about it. It was as if I was failing as a mother. As if I was not allowed to be human.

And I am! Allowed to be human, I mean. I am not perfect. I am not always patient. I am not always kind. I do not always do the right thing. Honestly, I'm not sure that I would like to be that way. Imagine being the kid of a perfect parent. Talk about pressure! But it is hard to remind myself that it is good for me to be imperfect, to be human. I wrote this entry to remind myself.

I am a good mother. My son is healthy and thriving. I make his baby food. I'm still breasfeeding for christsakes (lol)! I can spend hours playing with him without realizing how much time has flown by. I think he is the coolest thing on earth (at least in the daytime, ha!). But most important, I love him more than I love myself. And I think (well, I hope) that this is what good mothering boils down to. Possibly, I am not the only new (or experienced) mother who has had or does occasionally have a breakdown. I just hope that if I am not alone, someone is there to tell them that it is okay to be human.

You Can Win.

This election was critical.


Not just because of the economy, the war, healthcare, marriage, energy, global warming, etc. As a mother, a black mother, this election was critical because it solidified the fact that my son's possibilities are TRULY endless.


Mothers everywhere (and fathers) tell their sons that they can be anything. They tell them that if they work hard, if they do their best, they can do whatever they want to do. But conversations between black mothers and black sons have always included an addendum. The asterisk.


"Son, you can be whatever you want to be. *But things won't come easy for you. Nothing will be handed to you. You will have to work twice as hard. Be twice as smart. Do twice as much. And in some people's eyes you will still be less than them, even when you do more. But you are not. You are as good or better."

That conversation has changed. It has officially changed . Now, I will tell my son that he can be WHATEVER he wants to be, and it will not be followed by an asterisk. It will not be prefaced with doubt or apprehension or fear or cynicism. Barack Obama has shown America, the world, that even though you may have to be damn near perfect, you can be black, and you can win.