Putting Away Childish Things

"But God was angry that Balaam was going, so he sent the angel of the Lord to stand in the road to block his way... -Numbers 22:22 I'm certainly no bible thumper, but I've got several thumpers in my family and their thumping has rubbed off on me. It's not that I don't believe in God, I was raised in the church and like all good girls who go to church, I try to live my life based on the golden rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Of course, as I've had some time to think about my life, I realize I haven't been the best doer unto others... You know, back when I was younger, and I thought I knew it all, I would balk at my grandmother's proselytizing and her claim that "if she didn't have God in her life, she just didn't know how she'd manage. Back when I was out of work and living with her she would tell me not to worry because God would provide. I remember waiting a hell of a long time for that provision. And I couldnt' understand why it was that all of these horrible things were happening, seemingly all at once: getting fired, having to move back in with my grandmother because I couldn't afford the rent on my apartment as a result, my dad(her son)passing away unexpectedly, my mother out of work again, and the world just seemed a shitty place to live in. I kept praying, but I heard nothing. It probably didn't help that I had always seen religion as a way of controlling vulnerable people, or a means of justifying injustice. As I've grown older and wiser, I've learned to dismiss the ignorance of those who believe everything they read or hear, just because it comes from the mouth of someone who is supposedly ordained to give them the "truth." I've always believed the truth is what you make it. I believe I am intelligent enough to come to my own decisions about the context of biblical prose; most of it quite beautiful for example: "If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal...and If I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs..." (Corinthians 1:13) Some biblical language is poignant in a way that satisfies my most carnal yearning for revenge against those who have wronged me: "The Lord will grant that the enemies will rise up against you will be defeated before you. They will come at you from one direction but flee from you in seven." (Deuteronomy 28:7) The vindictive Scorpio and the writer in me rejoice in such poetic justice! However, my point today is that as a new mother I've been feeling challenged in all sorts of ways that I've mentioned in these pages, and some I haven't mentioned. This morning I found myself bawling because all Iv'e been doing since maternity leave is watching MSNBC all day and night, reflecting on my past and wondering why the hell I can't be Mika Brezinski on Morning Joe, basking in the limelight, enjoying Starbucks coffee while magnificently coiffed. Every so often she comes up with these angry woman quips that make me feel good about myself. Funny enough, I always imagined myself in that kind of a high profile career. Perhaps I cuold have had it. I just wasted so much time. My priorities were messed up when I was in school. ( Why couldn't my father have been Secretary of State?). In any event, I did have a great education, even though I was shy and cared more about being popular than speaking up in class. For some reasion, it was more important for me to practice faux humility, rather than be considered pretentious, like those assholes in my class who had an opinion about everything and just loved to hear themselves talk. Not only are those pretentious assholes in positions of prominence now, but they love what they do and I'm sitting on my couch watching them on t.v. whining that it "should have been me.' I've learned that I mistook humility for lack of confidence and some hubris. I was afraid of being wrong. Also, I didn't believe in myself, or trust that I was exactly where I needed to be at the time. I've learned to be patient, but I have learned it the hard way. Now, I know the true meaning of humility. It doesn't mean shying away from your natural (God-given) talents and abilities for fear of what others may think of you. It means knowing that you are fearfully and wonderfully made: God made you an individual, perfect in your imperfections, a fearless human being capable of doing anything you desire to accomplish. Whatever your concept of God, you have to know that he/she has your best interest in mind, knows the road you are on and where it will lead you. You don't have to be a bible thumper or religious zealot to understand this. Most of the world's religions are rooted in this fact of life: ask and ye shall receive. Knock and the door shall be opened to you. I asked but unconvincingly, and I also didn't believe I was worthy enough to receive, so I didn't get, and then I would get mad because I didn't get. I was inspired to open this post with the passage of Balaam from the Old Testament book of numbers because I see a lot of myself in him. For all intents and purposes Balaam is faithful. God speaks to him-they have a relationship. Just like me; I went to church and "believed in God." But did I really? We both suffered from the very human condition known as self-importance, which despite our faithfulness caused us to do our own thing-forcing God to use his angels (in this case those angels are my sons)to block our path-so we take time to stop, and pay attention to where we are headed and let Him guide us there. I also think it's important to God that we understand the journey He has placed us on and to enjoy it. To trust in it. To believe that we are exactly where we need to be and to be grateful for the lessons we have learned along the way. God works in mysterious ways when it comes to teaching us life lessons. Ironically, though this time is challenging, I feel strongesr than I ever have in my entire life, even without the things that are supposed to make me feel secure, like a great career, or even an income. It's because I know now that God has always given me what I've asked for. I just wasn't specific enough. Now, I know what to ask for, and my faith will guarantee I get it. "Without wavering, let us hold tightly to the hope we say we have, for God can be trusted to keep his promise. -Hebrews 10:23

Working Through Limitations

Talk about working through limmitations: this is the third time I'm writing this post. What I wanted to talk about today was this google+ post that inspired me this morning. It was a photo of this tree with its roots enmeshed in cement and grids, yet the tree was thriving. The tree was not supposed to grow, but it did, despite its limitations. So here I am now feeling so inspired, that I got busy on my iphone: typing while breast feeding Zach while Noah (God bless his beautiful soul) slept soundly for just as long as I needed to write. It was a beautiful post talking about not wasting time, or giving up because of challenges we face, which I related too, being a mom with twins. And wouldn't you know, that as soon as I got ready to post the damn thing, it was lost. So I tried again, writing an entirely new post and that too was lost. Now, to add insult to injury the boys were both screaming for my attention. Zach was still hungry after being breast fed, so I was preparing to feed him some more. When Noah caught a glimpse of his brother in my arms his eyes widened with confusion and betrayal and then of course, the waterworks. Well, thank God for grandma, she came down at the right time and here I am two hours and several diaper changes later creating yet another post. Noah's still awake and he's sqauwking at me but I'm still here, getting it done. I have used my limitations as a crutch,using them as the reasons I can't write. I blamed the twins; it was if they were deliberately thwarting my plans. everytime I wanted to write was when they become most demanding. Truth is: I'm lazy and I'm afraid. What if I suck as a writer? Now I know why God blessed me with twins. Talk about a rude awakening. Zachary Carlton (named after my father, who's unexpected death is another reason I realize that time is the most precious commodity we have-you can't get back what you've wasted)and Noah Austin Chalmers are the reasons I get up in the morning and work even when I don't want to. I know that I have to be an example to my boys. You see, as hard as it is to raise twins, be on maternity leave without an income, fulfill my wifely duties taking care of the home, and dealing with unwanted, irritating and unexpected intrusions, it will be even harder to live an unfulfilled life. I don't want to be an old, bitter mom with regrets taking my failures out on my innocent boys. I owe it to them to fulfill my purpose in life. I have to be an example to them and of course, I want them to be proud of me. They must learn something early on that I wish I took more seriously when I was younger. I could have been or done anything I wanted if I just put in the work. Back when I had opportunities to pursue my dreams my priorities were screwed up; I expected instant gratification and as my grandma would say, I put the cart before the horse. I didn't want to put in the time it takes to hone one's craft. As the mom of two African American boys it's important that they understand the importance, no-necessity of hard work early on since they will have to work twice as hard to achieve their goals. Funny, even with my time limited, I've written more now than I ever have in my entire life even though it was my dream to be a writer. It means so much to me now. I have been making excuses my entire life and I am too old to make them anymore. So I thank God for the newest challenges in my life for they have motivated me in a way that nothing or anyone ever could. I am a writer, and I will write. Period. I have a bunch more I could say but I don't want to risk losing this post again. So I just want to end with a shout out to google+ and the author who posted the tree that grew in spite of its limitations. Speaking of limitations-has anyone ever tried to type holding a drooling 4-month old? It's actually pretty gross.

Inaugural Reflection

It's the day after the Presidential Inauguration and my post inaugural blues are kicking in. This year is especially brutual because I'm on maternity leave and I've been pretty much housebound for the better part of the winter. So you can imagine that the pageantry, pomp and circumstance of the event (though less stately than inaugurals past) meant a lot to this stay at home mom/wanna-be-first-lady. What a vision Michelle was, with her new bangs and faux lashes. I have to admit, I was a bit envious. What woman wouldn't be? All eyes on her, a model for the entire world. What it must be like knowing that whatever you (or your children) wear influences women's fashion across the country, and that the dress she wears to a ball will be immortalized in a museum. Not to mention her regular clothes increase in value as soon as she takes them off. Not to mention that as the first Black First Lady she has already made her mark in the world and secured a prominent place for herself and her family in history for posterity. As I sit home caring for my newborn twins and watching the Obama family basking in their famous glory, I wish my father were still alive. Not only to witness the first African American president sworn in for his second term-but to share the sentiment with his grandsons. I know he would tell Zachary and Noah that they were on the road to glory as well he would point to the president and his family as an example of what a strong Black family looks like. Obama reminds me of my dad; stern and doting father, his girls remind me of myself and my sister. They are well behaved and disciplined. I can tell that the girls are probably whipped into shape with just one look from president dad. My dad could have been president, he sure was the smartest armchair politician I know. Even though I do believe that most inaugural speeches as rhetoric, they are nice to hear and the event is a beautiful sight to behold. Democracy is an incredible thing. It is quite inspiriting to see thousands of Obama's supporters and Americans who celebrate democracy and the hope and promise that is America. Awww well, after the inaugural events it's back to politics as usual and, if we can garner anything from Obama's speech besides it's progressive agenda, it is that he is older,(with the gray hair to prove it) wiser, and much more agressive. For the past four years it did seem as though compromise was a dirty word when it came to President Obama's approach to working with republicans in Congress. When Obama came to office, it was his goal to change the toxic partisan political culture in Washington. He wanted to "reach across the aisle" to grasp hands and get the job done! His first inaugural address was (much longer) and conciliatory; this time he has his fists up and he was ready to fight, much to the chagrin of Republicans like John McCain who claim he is no longer trying to reach across the aisle-but why should he when his hand keeps getting slapped? Yes, President Obama came out swinging with his not-so subtle-digs at the right. He insisted that Medicare, Medicaid and Social Security allow "Americans to take the risks that make this country great," it does not make them a nation of "takers." He also defended the the middle class, who bear the brunt of this nation's prosperity, and spoke about the fact that we still have a way to go on civil rights. We haven't achieved equality until all our "gay brothers and sisters" share the rights of every American to marry. In addition to infuriating Republicans, he set an historical precedent as the first American president to use the word "gay" in an inaugural speech. I'm sure he won even more Republicans over with his idea that we can achieve peace without perpetual war. He spoke confidently as a man who seeks to move the country center left politically the way that President Ronald Reagan moved it center right in the eighties with Reaganomics. Ironically, Obama's presidency and style are comparable to Reagan, although the outcomes of their plans are antithetical, with Reaganites claiming that Reagan's recovery created jobs and a strong economy, while Obama's recovery has been abysmal. What can we expect in the next four years? according to Obama's Senior Advisor Valerie Jarrett, he is planning to spend more time touring the country in an attempt to connect with the American people and make himself more accountable to those who put him in office. Republicans disapprove of course; they think he spends too much time campaigning and not enough time governing,as was their complaint when he was on every talk-show from Letterman to Meet the Press selling the Affordable Care Act during his first four years. As one who enjoys the bloodsport that is American politics, I will be looking forward to the next four years, with the first two issues being particularly bloody: the confirmation of Chuck Hagel as Secretary of Defense and bloodier still, Gun Control. T expect Obama to triumph this time and create his legacy this term. After all, he has nothing to lose and everything to gain. Let the games begin!

Good Mornin'?!?

It did start out pretty good-grandma has to go out this morning, which gives me some private time with my boys, which as much as I hate to admit it, I love. It gives me some time to myself, which I desperately crave and need. Alone time is a rare luxury these days.

As is the norm these days, as soon as I sit down to write, (I have never been more serious about my writing then after the birth of the twins, I guess all that stuff abouat motherhood being the greatest motivator is no joke)the  boys want my attention. It's incredible. They could be sleeping and as soon as I tip toe off to the computer, their eyes burst wide open and they are ready to play.

 Look, I knew having kids would be challenging; adding twins to the mix,  double! But trust me when I tell you I had NO IDEA that it would be this challenging. Not only is it exhausting trying to be a good mother to two kids at the same time, but in my case, I worry about the fact that I have a mom-in-law right above my head that I have to worry about. I worry that I don't have autonomy over my mothering if that makes any sense. I miss my privacy. At the same time, I am challenged by the fact that despite all my efforts to appear independent, I have no choice but to ask for help at times. And of all the issues that come with parenting, this dependency thing seems to bug me the most. Not to mention the fact that I hate to be told what to do, and now that I am a mother, I certainly don't want to be told how to mother my own children. I know that mom-in-law tries her best but when she is here I feel her watching me, judging me, but trying her best to hold her tongue. I appreciate that. I know I have to take it in stride, and things won't be like this forever: everyone is fascinated by babies and these are some fascinating babies. They never cease to amaze me...

Like  right now, both of them are screaming to be fed. When I say screaming, I mean SCREAMING. In stereo! (Do people use that expression anymore? It sounds so...eighties), and of course, grandma is not around so I will be feeding them both myself. Actually, it's proof positive that it can be done, which I suppose isn't the point. I know that mom-in-law-wants to help and I shouldn't deprive her. My husband and I always get into it over this because he says I have a problem accepting help, which I do but that's mostly because I feel like if we had no help, if his mom (or my mom, who came up from Toronto for a month after the kids were born to help me out, which caused grandma issues of another sort that I will reserve for later entries) weren't around, we'd have no choice but to deal with things by ourselves.  I find myself feeling resentful and I hate myself for that because it is nice to have the help...to a point, it just seems that sometimes people don't know when they have overstayed their welcome.  And how in the hell can you tell grandma that she overstayed her welcome? You don't.

Hungry Zach and Noah have been fed and are sleeping soundly at the moment. Although I can see that  Zach is stirring, so I'm on borrowed time right now and I have a few other tasks I must  complete before the boys wake or grandma comes home, which seems to be now. I hear her tinkering upstairs. Man, I've really come to hate that noise, almost as much as I hate to hear the doorbell ring because I know it's another unwelcome intrusion that  reminds me that my life is just not mine anymore...I don't mind sharing it with the boys and my husband. It's what I planned on.  It just seems that I'm sharing it with everyone... God, will I ever get used to this? 

Reprieve

Ok, so I don't know how long this will last, so  forgive my rushing this morning. Both kids are down, and they were pretty good last night, except that Zachary, as usual, likes to test his lungs on us before he actually settles down for the night, which tends to take anywhere from 10 minutes to a half an hour.  My husband doesn't mind letting the boys "cry it out," which much to my mother-in-law's chagrin (will deal with her at another time) actually tires them out that they just fall asleep.

Anyway, my husband said his mother claimed to have heard the boys crying last night, which according to her leaves her with an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach,  causing her to come in and take over as only grandmas can and will, and of course, this leaves me feeling incompetent and irritated. So, before she comes down and interrupts the little privacy I have this morning I have to bang out these morning pages.

Not to mention I hear little (well, I can't really call him little-at 3 months the boy already ways 12 pounds and I' m positive he ways more now, since it's been a month and a few weeks since his and his brother Zach's last well visit. The boys will not stop eating, and if they are hungry-mon Dieu! I worry that our neighbors may call the cops on us because they think we are beating them to death! I feel like a cow trying to produce enough milk for these two guzzlers. 

In other news, my boys are smiling and cooing on the regular, which makes me feel good, especially since I swear I'm in a kind of competition with my mother-in-law and other relatives who I feel keep judging me. I know how crazy this sounds and yes, i know that the hormones are making me paranoid,  but I just can't stand anybody thinking that they are smiling and cooing for anybody else but their mama!

Awwww damn! .Zach's awake and full of gas, which means Noah is next, that's the lovely thing about twins: they do everything together! so folks, this morning's reprieve is officially over.

To be continued...

For Grandma!

I wrote this story for my Considering Caribbean Women's Literature class during my undergrad at York University. I want to thank my professor, Althea Prince for believing in me and giving my words life. She was the first professional to take my writing seriously.

I dedicated this story then,as I do now to my grandmother Ros, and her kitchen, which along with the best cornmeal porridge I have ever tasted,  has provided much love, comfort, security and grounding. 

I was born November 8, 1974 about 11:30 in the morning at Brooklyn Jewish (now Interfaith) Hospital, in, you guessed it-Brooklyn, New York. The details of my birth and following years on the planet are somewhat hazy. Nobody can give me a complete account of why my mother and father decided to leave me with my grandmother in Brooklyn while they started a life for themselves in Canada, where I would join them about five years later but I have my suspicions. (That's another story for another day).

However, the answer for the purposes of this tale is so that my parents could get their lives in order before taking on the responsibility of  raising a young scorpio child who would have undoubtedly been acclimated to the ways of New York and possibly hard to tame. I have to admit, at 5 years old, I was pretty set in my ways. I'll never forget that dark cloud which followed (which stayed with me until I moved back to the city) as soon as I crossed the border.

You may be wondering how I could remember such vivid details of my life from such an early age.

The answer is simple: Grandma. Grandma and I had a magical  relationship then as we do now and she has told me this story so many times that it has more or less become burned into my memory, like a tatoo on the brain.

One twin down, the other one with grandma so I have a few minutes to kill...these days it seems as though the boys don't sleep longer than 10 minutes at a time, which kinda hampers my style. To tell you the truth, I wasn't even expecting this mid-day gift. Both the boys are occupied so I have time to write. I am in artist recovery right now so I do morning pages every day: 3 pages of stream of conscious writing. The whole thing is supposed to get me back into my creative mode. I'm proud of myself. I've truly been sticking with it. The only thing is I said that the morning pages would be more or less for the frivolous bullshit I worry about or need to get off my chest and the blog would be for more serious writing. Well, looks like that hasn't been able to happen yet. Not that I haven't been thinking of all the serious shit that's going on: fissaray in Washington over Fiscal Cliff and the fact that New York got stiffed by Congress over Sandy funds-Boehner's getting stiffed by his party, I'm no Boehner fan but I feel really sorry for him. His party has been hijacked and he's been held hostage. Other news: I want to add my voice to the controversy surrounding my man Quentin Tarantino's film Django but I cannot because I haven't seen the movie and I don't know when I will. Awwwww hell, that's never stopped me before...but I suppose I won't be sticking to my principals if I go ahead and wax socio-political on a mnovie I haven't seen. I'm trying to change my ways.The only thing I can say, based on my friends reaction to the movie-most everyone thought it was tasteless. I supposes dealing with slavery in Hollywood is a difficult task to undertake and of course, leave it to Tarantino to tackle it. Anyway, from what I understand he wanted to give Black folks a hero-he said we deserve one and I guess that was his intent. Of course, with this type of film you have to allow for dramatic license and I applaud Tarantino for wanting his hero to take on the most deplorable institution known to man. That's really all I can say since I haven't seen it. I've heard the controversy over the use of the word nigger. If our own people and everybody else has bastardized the word (with nary the outrage or even the threat of a boycott i.e: pulling the money: a la other racial groups who refuse to endorse or embrace anything that degrades or humiliates them) why should the entertainment industry care? Especially when they profit from the use of the word? N!@#$ please! Until some real accountability is taken, and by real accountability it doesn't begin or end with the use of the word nigger, but with the ridiculous stereotypes too many of us embrace which degrade and criminalize us. At least Tarantino's nigger is a hero to his people. He is right? Damn-just when things are getting interesting...I must go because twin B aka Nimble Noah is trying to wedge himself between myself and the computer. I'm typing with one finger now because I/m trying to hold his still wobbly three-month old head up with my other hand. (Blame HIM for any mistakes or inconsistencies. Until the next time we meet-I bid you adieu!