Skipah’s World

When I got an email from Double T recently asking if I wouldn’t mind spewing my special brand of B.S. on her website while she would be down for a bit, to say I leaped at the chance would be an understatement.  I mean seriously, one of the most intelligent women I have the pleasure to call a colleague in the blogosphere asked this college flunky for a post, I would have been an idiot not to say yes.  That still doesn’t excuse the fact I’m an idiot, but I mean we are talking DOUBLE EFFING T asked ME for a guest post.

Double T is one of my sisters from a different mister.  We’ve both dealt with divorce, single parenting, and the mysterious phenomena known as family law.  It’s been so long ago I’m not exactly sure what brought our paths together.  It’s the wonderful thing about being a regular blogger, you meet people (not literally, but Double T and I almost did meet last year when I was in her part of the world for a couple of days).  I just remember reading some of her earlier posts about her precious “Munch,” and it just brought a warm and fuzzy smile to my face.  I was in the middle of an ugly custody battle that I ultimately lost and reading Double T’s blog and how much she looked out for Munch always had a connection with me.

Plus Double T and I are similar bloggers.  We just speak what is on our mind for the most part.  Baby momma/daddy does something stupid, we put them on blast with our words.  Remember now I’m an idiot, it cost me a ton of money legally, but I’m still pounding out meaningless words on a keyboard and meeting interesting characters along the way.

So who am I?  I’m the Skipah, a nickname that has stuck with me since I was a young teenager.  I got into this crazy little world of blogging back when I was blindsided by a divorce in 2014 fresh off a three day stay at the hospital after an unsuccessful attempt at perfecting the Klonopin diet.  I thought eating thirty of them would help me sleep a little better or, like, forever, but thankfully it didn’t.  In a state of confusion that I wouldn’t wish on anyone, I thought what the hell let’s start a blog.  Second chance on life, no reason to go back to the status quo and thus, Skipah’s Realm was born.

What started out as a nightly series of my own personal “keyboard” therapy as I was figuring out life while going through a divorce and one of the nastiest custody battles this area has ever seen quickly morphed into a passion.  The early days of my blogging career were literally me figuring out life on the fly, looking out for my daughter every way I could, and learning very quickly that the aforementioned family law game doesn’t work on common sense and facts.  More like the best lawyer(s) and the threat of a suicide attempt held over your head at every turn.  Of course, my little digital love child definitely didn’t help, and I learned quickly that a family law judge can pretty much make up the rules as he sees fit regardless if they are considered “legal” under criminal court.

Always centered around my daughter first and everything second, my blogging days morphed into just telling my story on a semi regular basis in hopes that some soon to be divorced dad would maybe stumble upon my little sector of the internet and figure out that life doesn’t end with an unwanted divorce.  In fact it is quite the opposite. Your child(ren) become your rock and keep you distracted when yet another legal bill comes in the mail and you are torn between peanut butter crackers or a can of Campbell’s soup for dinner because frankly that is all you can afford! After my divorce and suicide attempt, I really don’t get to rattled now when things don’t go my way.  Sure I bitch and moan (I am a man after all), but at the end of the day things usually seem to work themselves out.

Blogger world got a whole lot more interesting for me though on July 28, 2015.  I had been on a few dates post divorce, some went ok, one went into the batshit crazy zone, and one inconspicuous date had me travelling 45 minutes from home to this podunk little piece of Americana better known as Madison, Indiana.  Coincidentally it would be the last date I would go on with someone I had never met.

When Miss Madison (now my wife) walked into the land of Skipahsphere, that next year was easily the most fun I’ve had in blogging.  Between her, my daughter’s former KGB spy hamster (now deceased…R.I.P. Hammy), my future step-children, and good lord all the travelling Miss Madison introduced me to, Skipah’s Realm was a fun place to visit from time to time when you were missing out on something to read while killing time at the airport or sitting in the car rider line at school.

My proudest blogging accomplishment would be back when I did a little freelance work for Credit.Com and had an article featured in the financial section of Time.Com and the Yahoo finance page, as well as a few of the bigger newspapers in the country.  When I received a grant to go to the Dad 2.0 Blogger Conference in San Diego last year was pretty exciting also.  Throw in some big ticket product reviews and overall my career as a blogger has been eye opening to say the least.  What started out as my personal therapy really grew into something I would have never thought back when I hit publish for the first time.

So anytime you are bored and need to something to read to fall asleep, come on over to Skipah’s Realm.  These days it’s a series of bad jokes, me bitching about millennials, enjoying life with my new family, and currently trying to get this damn pool cleared up in our new house we just moved into a few months ago!  It’s never dull and boring around here, so come on by, hell you never know what we are up to around here!

Now before I go, my mom would rip my ass if I didn’t thank my buddy Double T for the opportunity to say a little piece on her site.  When I get back to the D.C. area I’ve already promised Double T dinner on me and we are eating some of the finest seafood the Chesapeake Bay can offer!  Give “Munch” a high five from me, and keep doing what you are doing as a single mom!

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This post was submitted by my friend Gary over at Skipah’s Realm. Check him out.

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The Village Doesn’t Have an Idiot

Yesterday, the surgery center called to talk me through my upcoming surgery. I wasn’t available and they left a message. They then sent me an email and asked me to confirm that I received it and understood what it said. I started freaking out. I mean – I’m having surgery soon. I was now having a panic attack.

I’m at work struggling to breathe and calm my heart down. I’ve been calm about the procedure. No surprises. I’ve had 3 surgeries prior so I know what it is like to go under the knife. No fear. Not even when my mother called to tell me that she can’t take off to take care of me. Basically, she’s on detail and will just be getting back from Hawaii and needs to finish out some projects before heading back to her original post.

Ugh! Minor setback. I breathed through that experience. She asked me can I reschedule my surgery so she can be there. Umm, nope. I’m getting ready to head into my busy season and the time is now. Pushing it back will only put me in a bind. Now, that I’m in management – I need to think realistically. To look at my schedule and be able to see what is coming down the pike. The date will stay the same.

I appreciated the fact that she wants to be there, but I now had to go it alone. I asked her could she take and pick Munch up from school and she said “Yep, I can do that.” Well that was the worst of it right? I can do this. I called Mr. C and confirmed that I needed a ride the day of my surgery. Mr. C started a new job and doesn’t have leave and has to be at work at 2 p.m. I may not be awake and moving around by that time so I need a ride home. No worries. I’ll figure it out. Called my girlfriend and she said she’ll be there. Tell him to call me when he leaves and I’ll be on my way.

Friends.

Damn, I’m lucky. Then my girlfriend started asking me questions like “Do you have a recliner at home?” Umm, nope. “You need a recliner.” I don’t have one. Research recliners I told myself. She then told me that I needed to get an app for the alarm so that I can turn it on and off so that people can check on me. I don’t like this idea. Still working through it. But, she’s packing up food so that my mom can feed me and Munch when she gets home without having to cook. She’s a great cook – my inner fat girl is getting excited.

Oh, I’ll be too groggy to eat right? Ugh! Another minor setback.

She then told me she would get me home and in the bed, but once I head up the stairs that I needed to be up there for about 3 days. Walking up and down the stairs is not good for my incision. Okay, no problem. I can do that. She said that she would go to the pharmacy and get my medications while I’m resting so that I can stay ahead of my pain.

This is a lot. I’m still aware that I will be alone during the day time, but I should be fine right? Sleeping and stuff.

Last week as I’m finishing up my staff meeting I mentioned that my mom can’t take off after my surgery and I needed a recliner and that my girlfriend was going to help me and go and get my prescriptions. My staff is awesome. Apparently, I can get my scripts in advance of my surgery. They told me to call the insurance company to see if I can get a nurse for a few hours a day. They confirmed that I needed a recliner and I remembered Rent a Center.

I talked to my niece who is coming home from college next week and she will be staying with me for a couple of days to get my meals and make sure I’m breathing. No real work to do. If the nurse comes, even better.

I’m excited. I’m working my plan. All is fine in my world that seems to be anxiously moving. That was until the call came that reminded me that I’m having surgery. I didn’t talk to the surgery coordinator at the facility. I responded to her email. The only issue is that she has a day earlier than my doctor’s office on when my surgery is taking place. How is that possible? I’m now confused as to when this dang surgery is taking place.

Finally, I’m running around like a mad woman to finish up some projects and make sure that my transition is smooth. I will not be checking messages or responding to calls. I’m going to let my mind and body heal. I will miss Munch’s concert on the 31st of this month, but I have a whole lot of people who will be in attendance supporting him.

Yes, it’s overwhelming as hell and I feel like a chicken running around with my head cut off.   But, hey…I’m proud to report that there is not one idiot in my village.

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

Happy Mother’s Day

Wishing every last mother a big fat happy mother’s day! You are to be honored this day. Your hard work may seem to go unnoticed, but know that you are making a difference in the lives of the children you raise. Stand strong Queens! You got this!

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Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

Flash Back Friday – 05.04.18

Hey Everyone,

I’m doing a flash back Friday to last Sunday when I gave Munch his 10th birthday party. He had a great time and I’m in awe and blessed over the friends and family we have. His cake was amazing and they took real good care of us at Dave & Buster’s.

Thank you for all the birthday wishes on social media and here on my page. He read every comment and relished the accolades. The cutest thing was that he asked my godson is it cool being in the double digits. He told him “Yeah.” LOL. Welcome to the Big 10!

 

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

The Truth About Parenting

Yesterday when scrolling through Facebook I see this great post that was shared to a group that I’m in:

la0508

The post angered a lot of people. They felt judged. I get it. But, should you feel that way? Yelling at your child early in the morning starts them off on the wrong foot. We’ve got to do better. Speak in normal tones to them. If you set them on edge first thing in the morning, how do you think the rest of their day will go?

I saw this video below a couple of years ago and it really solidified in my mind that I was doing right by Munch.

There were many opportunities to start the child off on the right path and each adult that he encountered was determined to make his day suck. Yep, it was the adults fault. You are the ones that set the tone for how their day should be. Can they have bad days if you do everything right? Yes, absolutely, but how they start their day matters. Just like eating a healthy breakfast in the morning is best, it is also imperative that we put our children in a mindset of success and peace.

I commented on the Facebook post in my group with this…

capture0502

This mother commented that compared to you I must be doing something wrong. I laughed and said “No, we do our best. I only have one. I chose to do my best and pour the very best of what I have in raising him. It’s important that I get up each morning and fix him a hot breakfast. That I make sure he is presentable and in a positive mood each day. It’s my job as his parent. I wasn’t raised in the manner I’m choose to raising my son. Not a bad thing. I chose to raise him differently.” I’m not in competition with other parents. I am just choosing to do what I believe is best for Munch. Some days are good. Some days are a struggle. But that’s to be expected, right?

The other day Munch was taking his sweet time eating breakfast (38 minutes) and I was going to be late getting him to Before Care. I calmly called downstairs and asked him was he finished eating? He said he wasn’t. I then told him that I needed him to come upstairs in 7 minutes because we were late. We had to go. He started to talk about how he wasn’t finished. He still had food to eat. I explained that he was being distracted by watching his Ipad and not eating his breakfast. He complained that he was not. He then wanted to argue with me. I calmly replied “This was not a choice. I asked you to follow my instructions because you need to finish so we can get dressed and leave.” He did as instructed and we finished getting dressed and we left.

When I chose to practice positive parenting I knew that there would be days that would be overwhelmingly frustrating, but I’m sticking with it. I’m choosing to teach him positive behaviors and not to mess up his day with my own frustrations. Because that is what it is…my frustrations. I need to learn to control me.

I’m different. I do things differently with him. I trust that he will be grateful for the lessons that I’m teaching him and understand that I only wish him peace knowing that it starts with me.

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

Version

March 30, 2018

The version seems to be the same…I was afraid for my life. Another black boy dies. Gun downed. Another acquittal. No charges. The characters may change, but the version remains the same. Different cast. Same roles. More black boys die. It doesn’t matter. Our lives don’t matter.

The sins of the father are visited upon their offspring. What the hell did my ancestors do to make our children a target for violence? Their version always ends in a chalk outline and a community in outrage.

No more tears.

No more.

There should not be separate versions.

Only one.

The truth.

V

 

This post was part of the A2Z challenge and the letter “V” is for Version. My posts will be written as a journal style for the challenge and will be on the theme: Mothering While Black. I hope you enjoyed it.

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter@mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram pagehttps://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

Unjust

April 24, 2018

Dearest Munch,

As you approach your 10th birthday in less than a week, I want to tell you that I love you more than words can ever express. You are an incredible young man with a beautiful spirit. I vow with all that I am and all that I have to always love and support you. But, son, I have to be honest about something…

The world is not as it seems. Life is unjust. Justice is not always given. Life may beat the heck out of you and sometimes it may seem as though you can’t catch a break. The enemies will rise around you at every turn whether it be personal or professional. Expect heartaches and setbacks. They are only temporary son. Don’t dwell in failure or swim in sorrow.

But, be encouraged my beautiful little boy. This life is the only one you’ll get. So, no matter what cherish it. Live each day to the fullest. Bring forth the best of who you are and whose you are to the world. Color outside the lines and always remember like it says in Hebrews 11:1 “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”

U

This post was part of the A2Z challenge and the letter “U” is for Unjust. My posts will be written as a journal style for the challenge and will be on the theme: Mothering While Black. I hope you enjoyed it.

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

Trayvon

February 27, 2012

I couldn’t believe what CNN was reporting. A 17-year old black boy was walking home from the store when he was shot by a neighborhood watch man. What neighborhood watch person carries a gun? Oh, this is Florida. Seriously? Why oh’ why did this boy have to die. His face looks so innocent.

His life. Gunned down. This evil man is claiming self-defense. How? Did he have a gun? He was a kid. You’re a grown man.

A hoodie. The news is trying to make it seem like this fool, this murderer was scared because this little black boy was wearing a hoodie. Are you kidding me? A hoodie.

God, please help me. Why are little black boys viewed as thugs and violent when the biggest terrorists in America are raised in our country? What can I do to keep Munch safe.

Pray.

I shall trust you to protect him. He’s all I have. He’s no thug. He’s no criminal. He’s my Munch.

T

This post was part of the A2Z challenge and the letter “T” is for Trayvon. My posts will be written as a journal style for the challenge and will be on the theme: Mothering While Black. I hope you enjoyed it.

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter@mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram pagehttps://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

Responsible

February 2009

Munch said that he learned about the Civil Rights movement. He was talking and excitedly sharing what he was taught at school. “Mommy, why did white people hate black people?” I didn’t know what to say. His 5 year old eyes waited for an answer. I said “It wasn’t all white people baby. Some people felt that they could speak for others. They liked the way things were. They were wrong. Everyone is entitled to live their best life without other people doing mean things to them or hating them. Times have changed. People are more responsible for their actions.” 

He seemed satisfied with that answer. Started talking about the kids that wouldn’t play with him today. “They were being mean to me mommy” he said. I began to explain that it is okay to not want to play with children that don’t want to play with you. I told him to play with those that wanted to play with him and ignore those that don’t. Everyone is responsible for their own choices.

I don’t think he understood what I was saying. How do I teach my five year old that he can only be responsible for his own actions and not those of others? He needs to know that because it goes hand in hand with the choices he will make. His free will. You must engage and hang out with responsible people. People that will stretch you and make you a better person.

I know he’s still young, but he’s a black boy. The weight of the world will someday be on his shoulders. He will assume responsibilities for a lot of things and a lot of people. But, my prayer is that he knows that he doesn’t have to do so. You are only responsible for yourself.

R

This post was part of the A2Z challenge and the letter “R” is for Responsible. My posts will be written as a journal style for the challenge and will be on the theme: Mothering While Black. I hope you enjoyed it.

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

Nursing

December 2007

I asked him “Do you want me to breastfeed?” It really wasn’t his choice. It was mine. Nursing was a personal choice. He responded “I would like you to try.” I thought about it. I could try.

April 2008

I was exhausted. The delivery was an emergency c-section. I was sick. The baby had to come out because I couldn’t take anymore. But, I wanted to nurse. In post-op I wanted to nurse him. I asked to nurse him. I didn’t want them to give him a bottle. I wanted him to nurse from his mother. I was too weak. I was told that they had to give him something. Sugar water I think. I was hazy. “Rest mama” is what they kept saying.

May 2008

With many of the tubes removed from me I’m now settled in the maternity wing. No more high risk wing. My blood pressure is still high. Pills to reduce it. “I want to nurse him” I say. “You’re too weak mama. We’ll give him formula. You can pump.” I cried. All I wanted to do was to nurse him. I slept. I was exhausted.

Day 3 after my delivery, the lactation consultant came to show me how to nurse him. I told her that I had been sick and they wanted me to pump. That I pumped and my mom fed him from the bottles but I wanted to nurse him. She told me that nursing was best. She turned over the bottle and the milk just flowed out. She explained that babies don’t have to work for it in the bottle. They have to work for it on the boob. The next twenty minutes were about her showing me how to nurse my son. He was 3 days old and I finally got to nurse him. It was weird. It didn’t hurt. It just was a weird experience.

I sighed.

I’m a mom.

I’m nursing.

I did it.

N

 

This post was part of the A2Z challenge and the letter “N” is for Nursing. My posts will be written as a journal style for the challenge and will be on the theme: Mothering While Black. I hope you enjoyed it.

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.