Sunday, July 31, 2011

Maybe i'm selfish

I know that I appear incredibly friendly. I am like everyone's younger sister, older sister, best friend, therapist... whatever. The truth is that I am incredibly antisocial. Since I AM antisocial, when things go wrong, I immediately flip myself inside out so that the only person who can see my problem, hear my problem, or deal with my problem is me. By internalizing, I can keep the panic, upset, and anger at a minimum. I find myself in one of those moods again.

I have been dreading this moment for about 6 months. 6 months is the length of time that my daughter had to be in this state for her to be a resident. 6 months is how long I have had to wait to file for custody. We've reached the close. In a few days, she will have been here for 6 months. It is time for me to saddle up and ride the custody pony. Except, in my mind, it's not a pony at all. It's like the biggest, blackest, meanest wild mustang around and that's the one that coach fingered for me.

I absolutely believe that I am doing the right thing. She needs to be here with me and my Fiance. Not just because I am her mother. I don't believe that having a uterus and breasts automatically makes a mother the best parent for her child. She needs the stability that is provided for her here. Sure, she has it there but it is not provided by her father. Instead, it is provided by ailing grandparents. Cancer is a terrible thing and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. The fact is, both grandparents have it. He Who Must Not Be Named has it as well, though it is just a small area of skin cancer. She needs to be here where she has her own room to retreat to and not one that is shared with 3 (soon to be 4, excluding her) other people.

She needs to be here where she isn't stuck at a daycare center all day. She needs to be here, where financially, she is able to be in dance classes, go to the amusement parks with friends. She needs to be here where she is the sole priority.

Even knowing that, evening knowing that my intention is good, I am scared. I was with him for 4 years. I know the kind of venom he is capable of spewing during a court case for custody. I know how manipulative he is. He makes everyone believe that he is just a good ol country boy, trying to make good. I am petrified that this will be just another hearing where he has the mediator eating out of his hand and a judge indignant on his behalf. I'm scared of losing my daughter.

He Who Must Not Be Named doesn't live a few towns over. He lives in a completely different state. Somebody is going to get just a few weeks a year. Somebody is going to miss her first day of school, her dance recitals, tball practice, doctors appointments, scraped knees, nightmares. Somebody is going to miss much of her life. When she turns 18, one of us, with our few weeks a year, will have seen her for less than a year out of 13 years of life. Selfishly, I don't want it to be me. I don't want to miss her growing up.

Monday, July 25, 2011

Women put on a uniform just so a soldier can take it off

I am watching Army Wives and literally bawling my eyes.

I miss my battles. I miss the feeling of knowing that I am doing something good and worthwhile. I miss my uniform. I miss my weapon. I miss my Army. I have to go back. At the start of my relationship, way back when it was new and unseasoned, J didn't want me in the Army. He didn't want me in the military. The idea of defending his country was noble. His parents were/are vets. The idea of his woman sweating, humping rucks, getting blistered feet, and if I am being completely honest, being surrounded day in and day out buy 100s of men just didn't agree with him.

So many people question why a woman would want to join the military. They assume she is after 1 of 3 things.

Money

Sex

Marriage


J at least, had the decency not to say what he was thinking. I knew though. Every woman ho has every worn a uniform knows what men are thinking when the tilt their head to the side and their mouth takes on that sneaky, *I know what you did last summer* type smirk.

Not everyone has J's decorum though.

I was speaking to a drunk friend one day and you know the saying, "A drunk mouth speaks the words of a sober mind" it rang true when he told me, "You are just like every other girl that joins the military." "You are going for the men." "You are going to have sex with so many soldiers and eventually you will find one that you like well enough to marry." Obviously he said some other things that don't need repeating.

The point is, this isn't just his view. A lot of people feel the same way. Before I go defending the fairer sex, I will defend my own position, though I really don't need to. I was having sex with with military members long before I thought about joining the military myself. I certainly didn't need to sign a contract with the Army to get into the ACU's of some hot stud GI. I'm a woman. I don't need to put much effort into getting laid. Joining the Army, going through basic training/AIT,deployment.... for the sake of a tumble in the sand box???????????

My reasons for joining the military are always questioned, dissected. I joined the Army because I was tired of school. It was no longer enjoyable to me so completing it was no longer a viable option. I joined the Army because I was lost,and it gave me purpose and a sense of direction. I joined the Army because men and women whoa re far better human beings than I will ever be, laid down their life for this country. I joined the Army because after taking, and taking, and taking from America's basket of plenty, I realized that if everyone continues taking but never gives back, America will wither away into nothingness. We will be nothing. If everyone assumes that someone else will do it. it will never get done. So, if not me, who is going to step forward and take responsibility for protecting and defending this nation? I joined the Army because no matter the outcome, I want to be able to say that I fulfilled my duty and served my country. Our freedom and our way of life is important enough for me to fight for. I did it because the discipline that the military teaches can't be bought. I did it because I wanted to and nobody has the right to judge me harshly or question my intentions.

If in fact, I had joined the Army for the money, the soldiers, the uniform, the potential for membership into the secret society whose initiation includes secret greek orgies in the barracks, as long as I was capable of doing my duty in a military manner.... it would be nobody's business but my own.

That is not to say that some women don't join the military to be around military men but that is no different from the men who join the military to acquire the uniform that gets them women.

I will fight and die for this country. The only other thing that those words ring true for is family. I will fight and die for my family. If I don't fight for this country, what legacy will I be leaving them?

J isn't happy about it. He pretends. He pretends like he understands. He doesn't and that's ok because he accepts it. He accepts it and he encourages me to do what I need to do to be at peace with myself.


So I watch Army Wives and cry, knowing that one day, that will be me, the spouse leaving behind a husband and children to march off to fight America's war, take her stance, and defend her honor

Friday, July 22, 2011

Fhoto Friday

I don't care for the beach all that much. I watched the Titanic. The ocean swallowed the ship whole! Though I continue telling myself that I am going to diet, I am much smaller than a ship. So not going into the water. J and the kiddo seem to love going. I don't want to ruin their good time so I put on my cute red bikini and I pretend like I am excited about going to the beach.

While I am pretending to be the dragon come to destroy their sand castle, in my head I am cringing about the entire experience. I hate the way that sand feels in between my toes... or in my bathing suit bottoms! Bell somehow gets it in her hair every time. I haven't posted any pictures of her yet but she has really thick, curly hair. It isn't fun to wash, especially since she is so concerned about the water getting into her eye. Don't lay in the sand!!!!

J is... ya know, there really is no other word for it so I am just going to say it, pasty. He is pasty! His arms may have been kissed by the sun but that's it. And he sweats so much. The only person I have ever seen sweat as much as he does is my mother and she doesn't like to venture outside if it is above 62.5 degrees. I lather him up with sunscreen but because he sweats so much, he always gets burned.

I will be glad when summer is over and the beach is no longer considered an option.
J's 14 year old niece took these pictures. My sandmanship sucks so I was incredibly impressed with hers.







LIFE'S A BEACH!

Long time no see!

I just started this blog and already I am getting a little slack. I have tons going on in my off the net life right now. The child custody thing that I mentioned earlier is about to start. I am incredibly stressed out about it. I know that He Who Must Not Be Named is going to turn into this person that I don't know and say really horrible things about me. It is going to be ugly and so many people are going to be left wounded. Most importantly, Belle. I spend a lot of time stressing about it and worrying if I am doing the right thing. I have seen how it sometimes leaves the child a shell of who they were before the battle started. I don't want that for her. She is my baby and I want her happy.

J has been absolutely amazing, as always. He keeps telling me that even though it will be hard, there is nothing to stress out about. This HAS to happen. I know that. That knowledge doesn't make it any easier though.

When you have a child together, you are expecting to live out your life with that person, raise your baby, TOGETHER, with that person. I am absolutely an advocate of marriage before babies and divorce not an option. Even in the face of that, I knew that my ex husband was not my forever. No matter how I tried, I could not force myself to imagine growing old with him, taking care of him if he got sick, devoting my life to his happiness and wholeness. The simple fact of the matter, with no juicy details, is this: we were wrong for each other. We both knew it. Still, we chose to proceed with our faux relationship.

The only thing worth having that came from the relationship was our baby. She is so beautiful. Even with her newfound attitude, thinking she is always right, rolling her eyes, my baby is perfect.

She has started to ask me some very difficult questions. "Why aren't you still married to Daddy?" "Why do I have two homes?" "But I just have one really big family, right?" I put her in the position to have to ask those questions and so, with a lot of guilt, I answer them for her. I told her that some people will say that she comes from a broken family. That's not true. What they can't see is that we just picked our family pieces, so that they would fit together perfectly.

I hope that in the future, when she finds herself struggling, she thinks of her family as many pieces that were sutured together to make a whole part. Not broken.

Monday, July 18, 2011

An apple is an apple... no matter how you slice it.

I am on an amazing social site for mommies. The women are as diverse as their children and parenting styles. It's quite funny, to watch relationships amongst these women develop and fall apart in a single post. They love each other and hate each and never meet. A lot of times it is evidence of why we needn't spend so much time with technology. Other times, when there is no one else to answer your question or allay your fears but a mommy you've never met, who lives 687 miles away, it is a blessing.

The other wonderful thing I love about cafemom is all of the constructive conversations it sparks. Today there was a conversation in one of my groups about mothers who are assumed to be the babysitter based on nothing other than skin tone. I chose not to comment. I usually don't. Mostly, I read and then talk to my Fiance about the craziness later. I feel like I should contribute to this post though because I remember being there.

My daughter is mixed race. She is a bit darker now than she was when she was born but still, she is nowhere near my coco puffs breakfast cereal skin color. When she asks me, with a child's sense of wonder, why we are not the same color, it is easy for me to make her smile simply by telling her that she is the best part of mommy and the best part of daddy all mixed up and wrapped in a puffy haired bow! It is not as easy to explain to her what people mean when they tell her that she has expensive skin, or that there is no way her mommy can be her mommy. How do I explain to a 4 year old why she is smiled at when she is walking in a store holding my white Fiances hand but the persons smile changes to a tight lipped grin, when they see me round the corner and kiss either of them?

When I was pregnant I believed that somehow we were immune. I was convinced that a face that was to be showered with my kisses, would not be the protective covering of a mind touched by racism. I knew that I would have to bandage skinned knees but did not realize that I would also have to provide the verbal balm to soothe feelings hurt by a thing called racism or prejudice or bias or whatever the PC word is now, that she couldn't possibly understand.

I ended up using her food preferences to explain it to her. She likes red apples but does not like green. If I cut the skin off, she doesn't care which one she eats. A green apple is just as much apple as the red. The taste similar. They sound similar. Sometimes, people just like one better than the other. People are just like apples. At the end of the day, people are people and apples are apples. The outside is just a covering. It's what's on the inside that counts. And she understands. For now...


Friday, July 15, 2011

Fhoto Friday

Every Friday from here on out, I will post a picture that is relevant to my life. They wont always be pictures of me or my family but they will be things that have interested me somehow. The first photo for Fhoto Friday is from a birthday get together we had.

Earlier this week J's grandmother turned 89. 89! That is almost a freaking century! When J told Belle how old she was, Belle said, "OH MY GOSH, she's about to die!" It wasn't funny but her shock that somebody could still be alive at 89 was a bit funny.




8 of us got together and had lunch at Olive Garden before everyone had to run off to work, school, play. We had a really wonderful time. His grandmother and I don't talk much but that is simply because I don't see her often and we don't have much to talk about. We exchange pleasantries though, and I love listening to her stories. His mother though, is a barrel of laughs. She, I don't even know how to describe her. She is just so much fun to be around. The kids had fun.

J's sister asked me if I experienced a lot of racism being with J. I was the only black person with 8 white people. As we were walking to our seats, we got a few funny looks from other white patrons but most of the really dirty looks came from other black people. She seemed shocked by this. J just kind of smiled and looked away.

Being with me, he has had to face, in a more realistic way, that racism is still alive and kicking.

Good Bye my old friend

I have been a Harry Potter fan from the very first book. When I say that I have read all of the books at least 10 times, I am probably downplaying the number of times that the books have been read. I got suspended from school for having that book tucked away in my backpack so that I could read it when nobody was looking. I attended a private religious school and Harry had managed to land himself on the forbidden and banned book. At my school, Harry was the He Who Must Not Be Named.

I can fondly remember putting a lightening bolt sticker on my forehead, donning glow in the dark glasses and my invisibility cloak, and waving my wand around while sitting outside of a Barnes and Nobles waiting for the next book to come out. I bawled like a baby all throughout the 7th book. When I got to the very last page, I sighed and with the expelled air, I experienced this deep, gut wrenching pain. I had grown p with HP and now our relationship was being severed. It was over. Even as an adult, I feel absolutely no shame in admitting my love of all things Harry Potter.

J had never read a book or seen an HP movie when I managed to drag him out with my to see the first installation of the last movie. There was so much history that he didn't understand but he said that he still really enjoyed it. I enjoyed the fact that he isn't one of those people who, when encountering the end of a series he knows nothing about, feels like he has to ask a million and seven questions to catch up. He just accepted it for what it was and enjoyed what he could understand. I was as disappointed with it as I had been with all of the others. The characters still weren't able to live up to the them that they were in my head as I read the books. But then, what movie is ever as good as the books? Still, I dutifully watched the movie and have since seen it 7 times.

It has taken every ounce of grown up strength that I posses not to urge J to dress up with me and go out to see the movie tonight. My inner child is punching my ribcages as we speak because I did not purchase tickets to the midnight showing of the movie. I will probably wander out to go see it sometime next week. Maybe. Maybe not. Once I see this movie, my journey with Harry Potter really will be over.

Unless of course, the start having conventions in Vegas that rival any star wars get together. Should there ever be a convention in Vegas for the Harry Potter fans who were unable to let go, look for me. I will be there amongst the masses, lost in a sea of capes, hats, wands, snitches, and Harry Potter glasses.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Pick up the chopsticks

J and I really enjoy sushi. I haven't mastered the art of the chopsticks yet. J suggested that I use the elementary chopsticks. You know the ones, the rubberbands connect them so that your fingers are positioned the right way and you don't really have to operate the chopsticks. Ha, ha, ha. Isn't he funny?

We are trying to teach Belle that there is more to eat than just McDonalds. She gets in on the sushi goodness too! J starts off with a seaweed salad. I prefer the meaty texture of the crab salad and because it's spicy, it starts my dinner off perfectly. Belle prefers Unagi so she usually eats an order and a half of unagi and then takes the cucumber slivers out of our salads. If we don't keep an eye on her she will take the rice from our rolls and leave the fish on the boat, looking like, well, dead fish. We talk, laugh, and just enjoy each others company. Afterwards, we usually walk around the promenade, eat ice cream. and visit the bookstore.

The workers at our favorite sushi place are very familiar with us. The experience is always great. The food is even better. So it sucks that my opinion of the restaurant has been altered because of something completely out of their control.

J and I were sitting down having dinner and there was a family sitting next to us. Just Dad, Mom, and a boy of about 10. We are minding our own business but you can never completely tune out what's going on around you. Unless you're J of course. I hear the father at the next table over say that. "it's a shame he felt like he had to settle with a Nigger."

Now, I know that it's just a word. I know that we give the word power to have a negative affect on us. That's what people say anyway. The truth is, history has dictated its negative connotations. It will never be cool to say, "what's up my Nigger?!" "How was your day Nigger?" The fact is, to call an african american Nigger, is to demoralize him, to dehumanize him, and to nullify his worth. What right does anyone have to do that to another person?

I didn't tell J until after the family had gone and he was upset that it had happened and also upset that I did not give him the opportunity to defend me and defend our love. It doesn't need defending. It doesn't need defining. It doesn't need excuses or forgiving. It does need to be allowed without comment from people who don't matter at the end of the day when the doors are closed and the lights off.

If you are in the Wilmington area and in the mood for sushi, I highly suggest that you stop by the mayfaire shopping center to visit Tokyo101. You will be glad that you did. Try the spicy crab salad!

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

"You and Me"

I haven't talked much about my God Mother, or her nonprofit organization. I will in the next post, I promise. Her name is Leila Steinberg and she is known around the world for her work with TuPac Shakur. She does amazing work with inner city youth, using art as a form of healing. She is just so immensely passionate about what she does. She is so passionate about people. So it goes without saying that the people she has most passion for is family.

Her son, Nyku, took after his mother. He is such an incredibly talented young man. It inspires me to see somebody so young being so proactive about the gift that he has been given. He made his first music video recently and I loved it. I want to share it with you guys. Please don't hesitate to let him know that you love it to.

Nyku's video can be seen here




You can follow Nyku on twitter @http://twitter.com/IamNyku

Monday, July 4, 2011

Thank you for this 4th of July

So often the 4th of July is looked at as an extra weekend day. We are all too happy to eat good food, play with friends, and watch fire crackers explode. While I was watching the fire works a war veteran sitting beside me had the strangest look on his face. I didn't say anything. I just watched his face change with every explosion. Finally he said, "They just see it as entertainment. They have no clue what those explosions can mean."

It is usually referred to as The 4th of July and not independence day. I think this makes it easier to overlook the people who make it possible for us to continue celebrating in this manner. I cannot thank every veteran and those currently serving by name. I am so thankful though. You can always find a smart ass bumper sticker that reads, my husband risks his life so you can act an ass. My brother fights to defend your freedom  to say that the war sucks. A lot of smirks and comments are passed when something similar to that is said. It doesn't matter what you think. It doesn't matter that you don't always see it. They really are keeping the wolf from your front door. Maybe it isn't noticeable. I would bet my baby that everyone would notice if all of our men and women in uniform took a month off. It's because they are there, that we don't notice them.

I thanked every service member today. I couldn't call all of my friends and family in uniform but I thanked each of them, with all of my heart. It takes a lot of courage to put on one of those uniforms and carry out the duty that it calls for.

There was somebody on my mind all day today. If you truly want to know the meaning of today, and what people are willing to do to ensure that you can continue celebrating it next year, take a few minutes and google the name Ross Andrew McGinnis. His is a story of a hero who took his duty seriously and gave, not paid, the ultimate price for his country. Ross placed his body on top of a grenade to save the life of his friends, brothers, fellow soldiers. That is the type of thing being done in the name of this country and it's freedom. That is the type of thing that is being done in your name. That is serious business. Please, take a few minutes, google his name, appreciate him. Celebrate his life and celebrate his gift.

Damn, i'm crying again.

Hope that everyone had a happy, safe, thankful 4th of July.

Friday, July 1, 2011

He wants it so he put a ring on

I am looking at my engagement ring right now and it is in dire need of a cleaning. It's beautiful, but dirty.

I don't really care for jewelry. It bothers me to wear it so it would be a waste of money if my Fiance bought  me jewelry for any of the mandated jewelry buying holidays. You know, anniversaries, Valentines day, Christmas, Birthdays, He said my dress made my butt look big and now I won't talk to him, those kind of holidays. It was really important to me that he did a good job and put a lot of thought into my engagement ring because it is probably the only jewelry I will ever wear besides my wedding band.

I hear quite a few women say that "it doesn't matter about the size or cost of the ring, it's the fact that he wants to marry me" If that works for them, great. I didn't want something that was so tiny I had to use a magnifying glass and squint in order to see it. I also didn't want something that would snag on my clothes or scratch Belle's cheeks when I am getting her dressed in the mornings. I didn't want a diamond that was so far off of the color scale as to be canary yellow or one filled with fractures. I wanted it to be small and quality. It may seem like I am a gold digger. That is not the case.

Even though it is 2011, I have old fashioned values. I want to be barefoot and pregnant, taking care of my husband and I want my husband to be able to take care of his family. I told myself that if a man wasn't able to buy me a decent engagement ring, how would he be able to provide for our family. In my eyes, an engagement ring is tradition. I want to stand on tradition now because that is one of the things that I want to carry throughout our marriage.

I don't like jewelry. It bothers me to wear it so it would be a waste of money if my Fiance bought  me jewelry for any of the mandated jewelry buying holidays. You know, anniversaries, Valentines day, Christmas, Birthdays, He said my dress made my butt look big and now I won't talk to him, those kind of holidays. I needed him to do a good job and put a lot of thought into my engagement ring because it is probably the only jewelry I will ever wear besides my wedding band. It was incredibly important that I fall in love with my engagement ring because it wasn't just a ring. It was a new start. It was the beginning of the rest of my life. It was my future.

He did good. I am in love with the ring. I am in love with him. I am in love with the brightness of both the ring and my family's future.

Like I said,  it's beautiful, but dirty. I could take it back to the jeweler to have it cleaned but I would really like to find a way to just clean it at home. I have read so many different ways to keep your ring shiny. Toothpaste, soap and warm water, vodka, jewelry cleaning solution...

I tried the toothpaste. It shines but I don't know how clean it is or if I got the small bits of sediment off. I will keep looking for new methods that keep it clean and don't scratch the stone.