I know it’s Mother’s Day weekend and I’m sharing a post about my daddy, but I had to share this. I was asked to be a part of an incredible project by Dr. K E Garland. Her next book is called Daddy: Reflections of Father-Daughter Relationships and will be released next month (pre-orders are going on now and hard book copies will be available June 2, 2018). This is an amazing book and I wanted to share my write up for the upcoming release.
Daddy is going to give you insight into the importance of father-daughter relationships. All relationships are important, but I tell you growing up without a dad changed me. In good ways, but definitely some bad and I’m not alone. So, I wanted to share my story.
I’m so excited to be a part of this project. It was therapeutic and I know that you will enjoy the book, so please check out my interview via DADDY CONTRIBUTOR: Tikeetha Thomas
Also, look out for me promoting this awesome book for everyone and think about getting it for Father’s Day as a gift to the many men in your life that are raising daughters.
I have a confession. I’ve struggled with forgiveness for so long. I told ya’ll about what my therapist said about how I gave my dad grace and not forgiveness. So, here I am feeling somewhat guilty because it has been 3 weeks since my dad called me. He called me on my birthday.
The first time in 34 years. Do you know how disappointed I used to be each and every year? But, God. Each year got easier. I realized that it just didn’t matter to him.
Until 2018. I guess it did matter. He called and left a message saying Happy Birthday.
I haven’t returned his call. I made up excuses. I had some real stuff going on and real health issues that took priority. But, I haven’t called him back. Why?
I honestly don’t know. I think I am just struggling with my feelings for him. So, I’ve been trying to catch up on some blog posts. Forgive me for my delays. Muddling through emails, throwing myself back in work and then I read two posts about forgiveness. I stopped.
It was as though God was speaking to me. Talking to me. Telling me to push forward and understand where I’m at and decide where I want to be. To talk to him and to let him know. The truth.
I declined to do so. Me and God don’t always see eye to eye, but I know that in the end His word is forevermore, no matter how stubborn I am. So, I pushed his voice to the side and kept it moving. Until Chris Weatherly posted this:
This particular Saturday morning, I’m looking at my 2-year-old son playing with puzzles. He looked at me and said: “Mommy, this is too hard, but I got it.”
All parents have read about bed or morning routines. Even Daniel Tiger and Elmo have this covered. My family has always believed in the power of words or confessions. My mother confessed to my sister every morning: “You are the head and not the tail, above only and not beneath.” I believe (& think my SiSi would agree) that these words resonated in her mind when she wanted to throw in the towel.
Every night we pray for my son to be thankful for family, friends, and provisions. But additionally, I pray (out loud) for my son to be strong & brave. I never saw that world as a scary place until I became a mother. These glasses of parenting put a filter on everything as terrifying. Most importantly, I know the world will be unkind to a young black man. The joy he has today is delicate and needs to be preserved. I want to protect him, cover him, shield him… but I know I can’t. I can only pray that he always finds the strength to be joyous, strength to trust God and Strength to be brave enough to keep moving forward when the world will feel cold.
I guess, I never meant for this reflection to be so emotionally heavy. I am generally not that type of writer, but out of your heart flows the truth. Take the time to speak life over the children your world. Nieces, nephews, God-children, neighbors, & friends every child deserves to hear that they are loved and amazing.
Southern Fried Mommy
This post was shared by Southern Fried City Girl. I love her blog. She’s one of the newer blogs that I discovered and I’m happy to share her work. She’s a wife, a mom, a woman of faith and everything in between. Go follow her at her wonderful blog called: Southern Fried City Girl
Please don’t think I’m creepy but I can’t help it.
She moved in last week and I have been watching her almost every single morning. It’s not like I go out of my way to do it. Her bedroom window and balcony is directly in line with my French doors and even though there is quite a distance between the two houses, I still have a good view from the kitchen island as I drink my coffee.
She has wrecked my morning routine. After having breakfast with Nate and then sending him off to get ready for the day with niñera Alma, I used to spend that time meditating. But instead, I am observing her, wondering where she comes from and for how long she will stay at the Wilson’s rental home. I am intrigued and not just because she is cute. And curvy in all the right places. There is just something different about her.
In the morning, her black curls suffer from a serious case of bedhead and she glides around barefoot in some kind of over-sized T-shirt, starting her day with a large mug of coffee on her balcony and looking out into the distance until it is empty. What she doesn’t realize is that we are having coffee together.
When she is through with her coffee, she disappears for a while and reappears with a towel wrapped around her wet hair, a bathrobe hugging her body. She turns on some music but never loud enough for me to decipher what is actually playing. A smile on her face, I can see her dancing and twirling, from her bedroom to the balcony and back. I chuckle as she brushes her teeth and suddenly stops to use her toothbrush as a microphone mid-balcony. She never glances around to see if anyone is watching her and even at the odd occasion when joggers pass by at that early hour, she doesn’t miss a beat. She waves, they wave back and she continues dancing.
She doesn’t seem to have a care in the world. And just watching her somehow makes me happy. I am more than intrigued and haven’t felt that way for a long time, probably since being with Nate’s mother.
I know that she isn’t a regular tourist or vacationer. Dressed quite chic and her wild curls tamed into a tight bun, she would disappear into the back of a black town car at 8am and resurface around 4pm.
Where is she going with nothing more than a fashionable purse everyday?
Since I have been spending full days in the studio on the east side of the house, I see the same town car pull up to the main community gate and so that’s how I know she gets back around 4pm...It’s not like I am some creepy dude with no life next door. But that’s what you were thinking, right?
From the heavenly scents coming from the Wilson’s house around 5pm everyday, I know that she is a good cook. Concoctions that required buttery fried onions, freshly diced tomatoes, pungent herbs…Definitely a woman who can handle herself in a kitchen and likes real food. And from the healthy curves she has in all the right places (I said that before, didn’t I?), I can tell that she appreciates a good meal. She isn’t one of those I-will-just-have-a-salad kind of girls, she is a meat and potatoes/rice and beans type of woman. A woman after my own heart.
I noticed a few days ago that she takes walks on the beach at sunset, adorned in workout clothes and ear plugged into her cell phone tight within her grasp.
I need to meet her and somehow invite her over for Christmas dinner with us.
And that’s when I decide to take Nate for a walk before his bedtime to accidentally on purpose bump into her.
I have a lot of thoughts. Conversations occur. People ask for advice. People share things about their lives. I overthink the conversation, advice, or experience, and voila! A thought occurs. So, I jot it down in my notes section in hopes of writing about it on a future date. I have 221 notes on my phone. I figured the future is now lol. Here’s my first one:
I’ve listened to how my male friends talk about women and how they interact with them. I also listen to and observe how women interact with men. Sometimes it’s different.
Men don’t treat every woman like she’s their future wife. They don’t treat every relationship like there’s an impending wedding. Men seem to know which women are so-called “wife material” and which ones are not ready to commit. Consequently, they seem to treat each “type” of woman accordingly. Now, I’m not saying this…
Hello my faithful and wonderful readers. I am taking a blogging break from December 26 through January 1, 2018 to spend time with my Munch. If you would like to guest host on my blog during this time, let me know and I would love to host you.
Some housekeeping items for hosting on my site:
Read through my site. I discuss everything about life, love, dating, parenting and relationships and anything in between. Keep with my genre topics.
Make it fun and relateable. Let readers want to know more about you and to follow you.
Respond to any comments a reader leaves on my page. This is a must for me. Let them know that you appreciate their response on your post and answer any questions.
Keep the swearing to a minimum. I love a good curse word two, but your post shouldn’t be all about your invention of new curse words.
Posts should be between 250-800 words or less
Create a catchy title
Reblog and share on your site and social media handles
That’s about it. I will host seven bloggers and just let me know on this post if you are interested in being a guest blogger. Thank you in advance.
It’s funny, I have no where near the numbers of followers that Danny and Jason have, but I get asked this question a lot too. Please check out what Danny has to say about growing your blog. He is one of the main people that I followed when I started to blog. Read him and you will understand why.
As I’m gearing up for Mother’s Day on Sunday, I wanted to share a series of posts about my experiences being a mother. First up is this one when I was pregnant with Munch. This post was originally shared on January 25, 2008. I was about 20 weeks pregnant and having complications. We had to go and see a specialist after I spent the weekend in the hospital. I was married to Munch’s dad and this was our first child, so we were both quite nervous. Some more than others…
LT and I went to see a Maternal and Fetal Medicine Specialist regarding the shortening of my cervix and the development of the baby’s brain. The doctor said everything was fine with the baby and the brain stem and flap looked normal. I thanked God. We got the cutest pictures of the baby in my stomach.
The hospital had told us last week the sex of the baby. We knew we were having a boy, I was right all along, but LT decided to question the sonographer. LT: “Are you sure it’s a boy because I heard that sometimes sonograms can be wrong”.Sonographer: “Here’s the penis and here’s the scrotum, any questions”.
LT was truly annoying the sonographer yesterday. She would say, “The fluid levels in the sac look normal” and LT would then ask “So, the fluid levels in the sac look normal?”. I asked him “Why are you repeating everything she says and then asking it like you just didn’t hear her? He said, “I just want to be sure of what I am hearing.” It frustrated the hell out of me. I told him to bring a video camera next time so we can record it and he can play it back later. Without a doubt I am married to the craziest man in the world.