thoughts on the confederate flag

thoughts on the confederate flag: Should it be outlawed of course not! that would be against one’s civil liberties. Should it be flown outside of a government building on government ground OF COURSE NOT that would be akin to allowing the British flag to fly on Plymouth rock. A flag that that represents a war against the very institution upon which the flag is planted. That just doesn’t make much sense. In that time what did the British flag mean to those who fought and died to free themselves from the British oppressors? Now for the very reason why it should not be outlawed for private citizen use (civil liberties), those who support the flag have no right to be mad at private sector companies who decide not to sell it. Just as you have the civil liberty to fly it, they have the civil liberty to stop selling it. The very same law that protects you also protects the private sector business. So unless you are a major share holder complaining about walmart and ebay will do you no good and its antithetical to your point. Lastly if you personally fly the confederate flag that’s cool for you, I am all about southern pride and we can go in circles about what the civil war was fought about but it really doesn’t matter. But what does matter is that when I look at the flag I am reminded that so many years from the abolition of slavery many people fly that flag in fond memory of a state that would have me enslaved. It reminds me of the fact that my aunt Betty while living in Mississippi was forced to go to a vet instead of a doctor because they wouldn’t see her. It reminds me of my grandpa who saved to get his family out of the south so that we could have a better life. It reminds me that slavery was not too long ago, my great grandfather was on my mom’s side was most likely born into slavery or at least directly after abolition. Some of you know know who your great grandfather is some are still living mine was most likely a slave. It also reminds me of my neighbors house in college. There weren’t many blacks on campus aside from a couple of racial incidents we went about as coexisting for the most part. But our neighbors who lived next to the only house with blacks in it put up the confederate flag. They attributed it to southern pride, maybe, maybe not it seemed like a stretch. We saw it every day as a separation between them and us, as if to say hey there you only blacks on the street we know you are here and we don’t like you. It reminds me of the fear I had when my dad was pulled over for a routine traffic stop while on our way to vacation. Instead of being allowed to stay in his car and show licence and registration like a normal traffic violation he was asked to step out of the car, once he was taken to sit in the police car while they ran his plates. I had a helplessness in that moment, knowing we were at the mercy of this man. One false move by my dad and things could have ended differently. As a child one day I was looking out of the window of our SUV I signaled for the semi truck next to us to beep his horn like so many children do. I waited in excitement and he gave me the middle finger. It reminds me of my friend who got spit on in college or that time some frat guys drove by and called me the N word just because they thought it was funny. It reminds me that some people are afraid of me, some think they are better than me, some assume I am uneducated or a hood rat. It reminds me that no matter the southern pride you feel from that flag, if the flag would have seen victory, my ancestors, my great grands, and grands would have continued to be beaten, raped, killed and sold like animals for who knows how much longer.

Here is my point its your prerogative to fly the flag but know this when people like myself see it this is what one is reminded of. If you fly it in spite of what it conjures up, or you do not think that evoking these memories is of any importance to you than just be honest that you do not care. I am ok with you not caring, just be honest about it. My feelings wont make the news, my feelings are certainly subjective to my point of view, but to those who care my feelings are valid.



To my husband on Father’s day

father's dayI wasn’t sure if it was possible for me to have a husband who is as great of a dad as my own father is (daddy you are fantastic happy fathers day! shameless plug in the middle of my blog about my husband!), and then came you! I see the spark in your eye when the kids giggle. I notice how our daughter leans her head against yours.

Jude intently watches your ever move trying to copy your very persona. He sees you. We see you. He sees when you pray for me and show me affection, he sees when you are engulfed in a bible study or playing the guitar and he so desperately wants to be you.  As a mom that is the most terrifyingly special gift for you to hold. There is one person who will shape my son like no other, and that is entrusted to you. And I must say as grave of a responsibility this is, I’m cool with it :-). I pray our son learns your passion and grace, I pray he is a jack of all trades like you. You can pick up something you have never done before and somehow be a master at it. Just yesterday we took Jude to put put golf. The little guy is two, never seen golf before, no one explained the game, but he watched with intensity. I brought him on to the course and he grabbed his aunts putter and intercepted his uncle’s ball at the hole, held it correctly and proceeded to putt that little thing from here to high heaven all the wow saying “OH NO” since he missed each time. He is so like you.

I remember when we took Jude to the big pool for the first time, he was ok as long as you were visible to him. Even though mommy was there, you are his comfort and you are his safety.

You’ve been gone this week so I’ve been filling in as his wrestling buddy. He saw me laying out and jumped on my back just like he would do to you. I tried to get with him and flip him around but alas I am a stand in.

Do you see how beautiful our baby girl is? Her eyes dance and her smile is infectious. She will look at you and know how a man should treat her. She will know how a man should address her by the way you address me. She will know what responsibility looks like because we can count on you. She will know what safety looks like because we can trust you.

I am so unbelievably blessed to be your wife and the mother of your children. You bring us all joy and we miss you so much!  Happy Father’s Day boo!


My perfectly, imperfect 31st Birthday!

Today is the day folks! I am 31. Its an interesting thing turning 31, at 30 the novelty of true adulthood was fresh and exhilarating. At 31 the additional year feels more like a permanent seal proving that I have traveled over yonder lol! Don’t get me wrong I am not afraid to age! I just still feel like a child playing dress up some times. I have a husband, now a house, two kids, two cars and bills… when did that happen 🙂

My day so far is not going as smoothly as I expected. Last night I volunteered in the toddler room at my church for VBS! OMG the horror! My kid is two, is he like that? If so God Bless the sweet childcare workers who run around with him, I need to bring them cookies or something. At one point a small child with terrible eczema kept asking me to scratch his sores. I felt terrible for him, but man, that takes a mother’s love.

Needless to say I returned home hot, sweaty, and exhausted.

Today I woke up to my baby girl screaming and she proceeded to scream until we left the door an hour later.

My son, who made his way to our bed last night, kept trying to poke my eye out (literally) as I was breast feeding because he thinks its funny. He then proceeded to drop a large load.

I boiled and egg for him, sat him in his chair so I could get some other things done. I turned my head and he had thrown all of the eggs on the ground, not at all at once in one location, but strategically little egg bit by little egg bit. I left it there…

Our diaper Genie that saves us from breathing in poop fumes is out of bags so the garbage is full of these little surprises. Redemption is here because its garbage day. But on a particularly hot Texas day they forgot the trash bags out front. This is going to get interesting lol!

Jude refused to leave his toy car at home and Lily kept crying, I was running late so I proceeded to ditch the idea of coffee and eggs for myself and ran out the door.

On the way to drop the kids off in two different locations my mind is running about typing up loose end for our lease termination as they may be trying to scam us out of a deposit (don’t worry I will win!). My husband was side swiped in a hit and run a couple of days ago. He is great but the car needs some care. I have yet to call our insurance company. And we don’t have the money.

I was 3, yes 3, minutes late to pick up my daughter yesterday and was charged 15 dollars. I had planned to bring cash this afternoon but apparently I was already extended grace and it was due immediately,  So off to the bank I go already late to work. My son is in the back seat saying “OH NO” because he cannot get his sock off lol.

I look down at my toes……. (Ladies can you relate lol) I wanted to feel cute on this 31st B day of mine, so I threw on some sandals, but my feet are not sandal ready 🙂 oh well. I changed my outfit twice this morning. While Jude was throwing eggs I was trying to see if I can even fit back into my intermediate fat pants yet. (I can’t )

So I am here now and its my Birthday! I’m not mad, a little stressed out, but still grateful. There are some things I could be handling better, some hurdles to leap over, mountains to climb and all of that stuff. I have a gym and a trainer in the building I work in yet I don’t go.

This didn’t strike me as an ideal Birthday Morning, but when my boss asked me if I had any 31 year old wisdom I told him, “I am perfectly Imperfect”  and supper blessed!


Getting Real about Postpartum Depression

Did you think that your first weeks with your new born baby would be blissfully spent kissing strawberry scented baby toes only to find yourself in a pit of despair?…. I did

Don’t get me wrong, I had the same reaction as most mothers to my adorable baby boy! He was and still is the apple of my eye, but something was off. Not only was I experiencing the normal shock of being a new mom including the sleep deprivation, anxiety, and doubt. But there was also alot of self loathing, an inordinate amount of crying as well as distance between my son and I.

My mom warned me about those evil little thoughts that come upon women in Postpartum, thoughts of hating your kids or even worse. I took it with a gain of salt but I don’t think I truly grasped the concept until I was there.

I remember taking a nightly walk with my husband and baby, it was a Tuesday, and I could not conceive how I would possibly make it to Friday. The very idea of my own personal survival was faint at best.

I did all the things I was supposed to do, I fed him, I kissed him, I rocked him, I changed him and I truly loved him. But I was not doing it with a kind and gracious heart. I was not serving him with joy, rather with bitterness. I remember singing to him when I couldn’t get him to stop crying even after doing ever single thing they tell you to do. Slowly but surely my song turned into tears and we sorta just held each other and had a temper tantrum.

What perplexed me the most is how other mother’s seemed to delight in baby care. On the weekends I would see post from moms on Facebook talking about they couldn’t wait to wake up to their babies and care for them all day. I thought they were crazy.

On many occasions I would call my husband and tell him that I just couldn’t take another second of it. He would assure me that he would take over everything when he got home from work. I would count the hours until I heard his keys in the door.

I was soaked in vomit and breast milk and things were not normal.

I had a dear friend, who has suffered with depression for some time now, encourage me to get help. I didn’t think anything was wrong with me, I just assumed it was taking me a while to adjust. I started by talking with my doctor about it. I went to a couple of counseling sessions and that didn’t help much.

I spoke with trusted friends and family about possibly going on anti-depressants and their responses ranged from go for it, to just pray about it, to you don’t really need it.

I struggled, I prayed.

I think there is a fine line between what people call the “baby blues” and Postpartum Depression. Even more so I am willing to say that in a completely healthy state a mother, like myself, can not be enamored with the things that baby care requires. These things include being pooped on, vomited on, no sleep, noise, bleeding nipples and so on. I am not really sure who would love these things unless they are a gluten for punishment. Its possible to not really enjoy the newborn stage and its ok. You enjoy your child and these are byproducts of their care.

But when the darkness is consuming you, its not normal and you need help.

So I spoke with my doc and she gave me the meds. The safest antidepressant for nursing mothers they had. I read, I researched, I scrutinized, and I double guessed myself. I think I even called and badgered my doctor some more.

I had the medication in my bathroom and I would stare at it, I didn’t want it. It made me feel weak. It made me feel nonspiritual.

I finally took the meds and OH HAPPY DAY! It was the best decision I could have made!

This was my journey, maybe it is not yours. Medication is not for everyone, but it is an option and for me it helped.

Shortly after a cloud seem to be lifted from me. I still had to do the same things, and get no sleep but my attitude was endearing.

Going back to work was a big part of my journey as well! I know this is not the norm for most moms but even after addressing my postpartum, I could not wait to return to work! I remember driving to work my first day back it was the crack of dawn I had one million things to do but I had never been so happy to be in the daily commute. People asked me if it was hard for me to leave my son, again this was not about depression, it was about me. It wasn’t very hard. I had a trusted family friend loving on my child, he was safe and taken care of and he was loved.

Little by little I realized that work actually energized me to be a better mom for him. I was given the opportunity to miss my son and to value our nights and weekends together which made them all the more sweet.

Please do not hear what I am not saying, I do value stay at home mom, I do realize that meds are not always the answer, this was my story I think other woman can relate. 11150669_10100725832477910_4102300406201662869_n