Someone

I want somenoe to dance with (besides the kids) Someone to rock out to Ben Harper with on my air guitar Someone who doesn't leave the room because he doesn't dig the songs I keep putting on repeat that mean so damn much to me How is it after all these years you still don't seem to get me Or my fascination with Girls I can tell your judging me You claim I go someplace else when I write-that I'm not there And you need me. Babe please understand I have to go there to get it right I always come back; this is my reality I can't escape it though I may try every once in a while Here I am, with you but alone Sitting in the living room in silence playing with our future-and they love it all giggles and smiles You lay in the bedroom, stuck in your pride We planned this, remember? Maybe you wanted it more than me. But now that I have it, I can't let go. I won't let go Although, sometimes I feel stuck here Like I'm settling, ill at ease, unhappy I've done it my whole life. Fortunately this time there's no running for me. Unless you come. and we can bring the kids.

A Black "Girls" Friend

When Girls premiered, I had already made up my mind I wasn't going to watch. It came right after they cancelled Bored to Death and I didn't think there would be another show based in Brooklyn that could move me that way again. I tried to get into Girls, but something about Shoshanna, Jess and Hannah pissed me off-it looked to me that the show was going to be some sort of hipster Sex in the City and I wasn't interested. And, I'd read countless commentaries about the series lack of ethnic diversity, so I figured I'd do my part for as a representative of said under-represented group and boycott the show. Cut to 5 months later on a Sunday night. My husband and I are getting ready to watch Enlightenment. O.k., I’m getting ready to watch Enlightenment. (He just doesn't get it) but Girls hasn't wrapped yet, so I watched. My husband noticed that "look" I get when I begin to develop a new habit. "Oh God," he starts. "Please don't tell me that you can relate to this shit." Yes. I could. But as a black girl, I know I’ll have to prove how. So, I went back to season one. I was watching the episode where the gynecologist examining Hannah says: "You could never pay me enough to be twenty-four…" and I began to wax nostalgic about that age. It was certainly a tumultuous year for me. I had just moved to New York City and I was going to make it as a writer. I had a job in publishing and I was fierce, fearless and stupid. I remember lying on an exam room table, having the exact same conversation with my doctor, scared to death because the guy I was seeing was a weirdo, like Adam who justified his pretentious, freakish behavior on the fact that he was an artist. In reality, he was a condescending, self-indulged, megalomaniac (who couldn’t write for shit) that I was a slave to. When Marnie confides to Hannah that she’s worried about being barren because she never had a pregnancy scare, even though she’d have enough irresponsible encounters to warrant it, I became hooked on the show because it was like Lena Dunham read my diary and changed all the names and faces to protect the guilty. I remember having the same conversation with my best friend and I was worried that I could never give my husband children right until I became pregnant with my twins. I'm no longer a twenty-something struggling writer trying to make it in New York City-- I'm a thirty-eight year old new mom/wife/struggling writer trying to make it in New York City. I no longer live in trendy, gentrified Clinton Hill; I live in hard knocks Bronx, as a wife and mom with responsibilities. I no longer have the luxury of making those awkward, degrading, and humiliating albeit exhilarating, life experiences/ mistakes, which by the grace of God did not kill me. I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss those days. Often I wonder how I ended up in this life-when did I become a grown up? Now I’m married, changing diapers, doing laundry and wiping (two!) drooling mouths instead of becoming intellectually stimulated and simultaneously wasted at SXSW in Texas. I don’t rock out anymore. I live in my husband’s mother’s basement apartment and sometimes it seems that he just doesn’t “get” me the way other’s in my past did-regardless of how reckless they were or bad for me at the time. My husband doesn’t get my fascination with the show and that frightens me. What if I made the biggest mistake of my life? These are the questions I ask every time I watch the show and I feel a twang of envy because as messed up as things are for them at times, it seems that they are going to get it right. They have good-looking futures ahead. In my case, it seems the die has been cast. So, I live vicariously through the show. Clearly, I can’t relate to everything; my parents would never be able to support me for any length of time while I pursued my writing career. I'm not white, no longer in my twenties, and of all the things I have smoked, crack was never one of them. I did spend my twenties living in Brooklyn with a roommate and hanging out all over the borough with girls who were Marnie, Jess and Shoshanna and of course, I was Hannah. Those were the best and worst years of my life. Girls gives me some semblance of the life I yearn for as I find myself laughing (and crying) all the way down memory lane. So who cares if there are no black girls on the show? There is a black boy! Sandy, Hannah's black, Republican boyfriend was a clever addition to the cast. Hannah claimed that color was never an issue for her because she didn't live in a world that made "those kinds of divisions,” this is the essence of Girls and why the show is brilliant. Girls seek to define/find itself on its own terms despite societal conventions based on race, class or gender, where we live, what generation we’re from, how we dress or even how we speak. The ensuing conversation/argument between the two of them was one of the most hilarious and honest discussions about race I’ve ever heard; Hannah quoting Missy Elliot- but not understanding the reference-classic. And, despite criticisms of her affinity for getting naked, Ms. Dunham has no problem baring it all for the camera; she has a healthy body image, which is refreshing in an industry that promotes grotesquely thin, gorgeous models in leading roles as some sort of standard of beauty we are supposed to attain. Speaking of cultural diversity, I’d like to point out that hip hop is practically featured in every scene of the show, (the girls even dance to it) Ray prompted Hannah to talk about the “urban” issues of our day: gentrification, urban sprawl, social injustice…Beyonce’ is imitated, Rhianna’s ass is referenced, and there are countless black, and other extras in the background from every walk of life representing Brooklyn. Unfortunately, not everybody has a black friend, but guess what? Girls just made one.

Different Eyes

Though I've travelled this path many times, I'm seeing it through different eyes Though I've seen you every day, I've never seen you in this way Glorious, majestic and full of life Amidst the drab, amidst the misery, among the strife You are bright white velvet snow covered branches glinting in the sunlight I see God's promise in the trees I finally hear Her speaking to me Perhaps she always did I just wasn't listening.

Redemption

"I'm just a girl who's over it." -Amy Jellicoe, Enlightened I took one of the twins, Noah (5 months old; 16+ pounds) out on the town today. We took the bus to babies r' us to get some teething rings. It was awesome, though he's getting pretty heavy. I hate that I can't bring both of my boys out at the same time, but I'll take what I can get. Noah loved being out; he was all eyes, surveying all that surrounded him. I enjoyed playing tour guide, showing him trees, birds, the beautiful blue sky, the puffy, white clouds. When we got on the bus, his eyes and his head were all over, checking out these new surroundings. His gaze became fixed on someone. I couldn't really see who because it was hard for me to turn around with him being stuffed into the carrier and me with all my winter gear. All I could see were his big, bright eyes just staring out. It was surreal! I couldn't believe I was taking a busride with my son. My son. It still can't believe I'm a mommy. Not to mention I had another one just like him at home with his grandmother, waiting for me. If someone had told me that I would be married to the man I'm married to, with twin boys I would have tried to sell them a bridge in Brooklyn. I just can't believe this is my life now. If you read my last and previous posts, you would know that I have tons of issues to be worked out. Hubby and I had an enlightening conversation last night. Finally, for the first time in my life I was able to express how I feel about everything.-without beating around the bush. And you know what? My husband understood. I feel like a completley different person today. A burden has been lifted. Suddenly my situation doesn't seem so hopeless. For some reason, I thought he would be angry if I told him how I truly felt: will I be forever broke--a housewife and stay at home mother living in her mother-in-law's basement? He explained to me that all my fears, anxieties are warranted, but he put things in perspective for me: would I rather suffer unnecessarily rather than take advantage of the help that's provided. Help that I honest to God need--though I'm loathe to admit it. I will admit this though, it is a relief when grandma takes over so I can take a much needed nap, or more importantly, get some writing done. Usually, I drive myself crazy trying to get writing done, spend time with them and take care of my chores. I become a miserable wreck in the process because inthe end I get nothing done, and I've wasted time being angry and resentful. Not to mention the fact that it does grandma a world of good to see her grandsons excitement when she comes into the apartment to spend a little time with them. The smiles on their faces are priceless. It would be unfair of me to deprive her of that. My husband's mom never knew her own grandparents so to be close to her grandchildren is a special blessing. Well, what about the fact that I feel scrutinzied? I asked him. Can you fix that? Unfortunately, it comes with the territory babe, he says. People will ALWAYS have something to say, advice to give, opinions to offer. However, at the end of the day, people can say what they want, but they aren't raising these children. They aren't here at night in the trenches with us when these kids are screaming bloody murder. We are the ones doing the parenting that counts, when it's not all cute and cuddly hugs and kisses. And for the record, he adds: everyone you think is scrutinizing you is actually quite proud of how you are making out as a first time mommy to twins. They gives you an A+. (I know I shouldn't care about that, but I do, and I'm elated. Once again, insecurity, jealousy and poor self-esteem have distracted me from what's truly important. And my wise husband adds: I know this is not the ideal situation. I live here too. She's my mom and I love her but let's just say sometimes I cringe when that door knocks too. He promises me that this is only temporary, and I believe him. I am definitely a girl who's over it. Like the troubled yet heroic character Amy Jellicoe, I want to be the little girl who brings down some giants in this world-real ones, not imagined ones. Finally, I get it. I've made peace. Enlightenment is a beautiful thing.

Trying to Bend and Not Break

The kids were drifting off to sleep and then... Mom-in-law knocks on the door. Damn! She was just down here...I was looking forward to the solitude, (not having her look at me strangely while I'm breastfeeding the boys) She's on the phone and she asks me--no, she tells me that Auntie is stopping by to bring me orange juice from concentrate. I don't drink orange juice from concentrate, but sure, come on by. I know she's really coming to see the boys, but it's nice of her to bring me stuff. She really doesn't have to. However, I dont' understand why mom-in-law can't tell from the look on my face that I'm not in the freaking mood! My solitude has just been brutally interrupted. Sure as I'm writing this post, Auntie is chatting and chatting while I'm fuming and fuming. She keeps asking me questions and telling me things I don't care about, or saying things to instigate debate, i.e. Obama is right about everything and nobody wants to work with him because he's Black. I'm tempted, but it's gonna piss me off further, so I just keep my mouth shut and keep on typing. I get it, the kids are cute. People want to spend time with them, but guess what? I still live here. I still need my privacy. As if having the twins wasn't enough pressure, now I have to deal with people thinking they can just drop by whenever they want, taking over the kids, advising this, suggesting that. Asking questions that insult my intelligence and my motherhood. I know how this sounds but I'll say it anyway: I'm tired of pretending to be grateful for help I may need but I do not want. I'm tired of smiling when I want to cry. I'm tired of being gracious when I want to curse somebody out because they are just getting in the way. I feel like I'm being scrutinized. Can't mom-in-law understand this? This is the biggest challenge I've ever faced in my life. And I've faced challenges. Normally, I'm an introvert. I'm a very private person. I'm tired of having to hide the way I feel from my husband because this is his mom, this is his home and to make matters worse, she is a sweet lady-it's just not my ideal situation. I want my husband and my children and myself to be get through mommy and daddyhood like most parents do-I feel like he has an unfair advantage having his mom upstairs. When he gets frustrated by one of the twins, he doesn't have to deal-grandma does. We need to be able to mess up and learn from our mistakes-that's what parenting is about. His mom had to figure it out, and so do we. I'm not saying that I'm not happy for advice, but do not tell me when I can take my own children out, or what I should and shouldn't be giving them. I want peace and quiet. I want to be left alone-especially when I'm not in the mood for company-like today. Since I've been home with time to think, I've realized that I am a victim of my own circumstances. I have never spoken up for myself. I love my husband, but it is my fault that I am here...I complained about my previous living situation (look out for my book-the details will be in it) and when he suggested living with mom, I didn't speak up for myself because I was in a rush to get out. We had our kids before we found a home of our own, and well, here we are. All my life I have been afraid to speak my mind and I have suffered for it. (Again, details in the book.) The one thing I truly regret is that I have never lived completely alone and now, I will never have that opportunity. I believe every woman should live on her own at some point in her life. It's empowering to depend on nobody but yourself. Even though I'm speaking up now, I've realized that when you have kids who are somebody's grandson, nephews etc., you don't really have a voice. So my every thought, action, desire these days is for autonomy. I guess my anger could be considered misguided, but my friends all say they'd go crazy if they were in my shoes, and it hurts me because I know where I went wrong but I can't undo my past. I'm always behind the curve- damn near 40 with a husband and two kids and we still live with mom. I feel like I'm 12 years old. I don't ask for permission to take the kids out or to do anything but I may as well, because that's what it feels like when I'm debating with mom about why I'm taking the kids out in cold weather (mind you, if I had to work and had nobody to watch them, I'd have no choice but to take the kids out) I've tried to address it with my husband but he just won't understand. I guess I can't blame him. Perhaps if the situation were reversed, he'd be writing this post. But that's just it. The situation is NEVER reversed where I'm concerned. Am I overreacting...nope! Auntie just changed the channel-without my permission-and I was watching MSNBC!!!!!! Last thing I can't quite understand: when its time for Auntie to go, I'm always relieved, but it always goes like this: "I'm sorry I can't stay,"(Really? Does it look like I'm heartbroken?) "I will probably come back on Sunday..."(WHY???) Doesn't it occur to you that Sunday is hubby and my down time? We need/want alone time. I need all the help I can get these days-that means divine intervention. I've been subscribing to YouVersion- a Bible app on my iphone. Joyce Meyer's Promises for your Everyday Life is a daily devotional for 365 days of the years. I haven't read it for days. When I say days, I mean months. Anyway, as God should have it, today's message was "Live at Peace with Everyone..." (Are you kidding me????) Joyce Meyer claimed that before she found God she wasn't adaptable...Shoot! I know God and I'm still not adaptable. Change is hard for me and I hate not being in control. I can admit that. I've been praying every day for help with this. There's this very lengthy prayer I posted on my bathroom mirror, which essentially tells me not to do everything I've done in this blog. I read it every morning, along with the Daily Bread and any scripture that might help me. Every day I pray for patience. I pray that God will open some doors that will lead us out of this one. I pray for peace of mind. You see, I have these beautiful boys and this amazing husband that I won't allow myself to completely enjoy because I just can't "suck it up". I know this won't be forever, but as the days drag on with no movement in sight it damn sure feels like it. Things could be worse and I'm sure I'm not the only new wife and mother who has had to face these particular challenges. I'm quite fortunate that despite all I've said, I'm blessed to have a mother-in-law who goes out of her way to make me happy. I am truly grateful for that. I might have already fled to Canada with the children if it were not so. Back to Joyce Meyer's prayer, which was apropos: Holy Spirit, help me to bend so that I will not break. I want Your peace in my relationships, so I choose to be flexible today." I was as flexible as I could be. I ignored them. What can I say I'm a work in progress. I need to get through this any way I can.