Category Archives: Motherhood on Fleek

WORTH HUNG HIGH

We live in a digital world. We store photos in our devices and then forget about them. We say we will go back and review them, those countless moments passed, but we rarely do. I have always loved pictures, taking them, being in them. I love to look back and remember times passed. I have been called the paparazzi at more than one social event. I love capturing sunsets and candid moments. However for the last several years I have felt less of the desire to capture life’s moments because those moments were filled with so much loss. Yet I cannot allow the loss of my past to arrest me from enjoying my present.

celecbrateThose moments are far too precious, my only child’s first moments, first days, first years. I have captured many of them in spite of pain that filled those days, oftentimes taking them through tears. So for the first time in my son’s young life, I put those pictures on a wall. That’s a big deal!  It is a direct and bold declaration to celebrate life and not be buried by it. It is the choosing to dedicate time and energy to something not dire to today’s survival, yet essential to the survival of esteem and well being. Those lasting moments of self reflection and overcoming, those reminders on how far we’ve come while remaining unbroken.  After the loss of our home and possessions, after a nasty divorce, after sickness, after homelessness, after the abandonment, lies and character assassination of those I once called family, and even after coming to terms with my son’s Autism diagnosis, life is still worthy of celebration.

So this weekend, a year after I purchased their frames, I created a small monument to what we’ve overcome. Those moments when we laughed and smiled in spite of the circumstances around us. Those moments of growth, of reaching, of becoming new. Caleb will grow up with a monument to his life, to his mother’s life, to his late grandmother’s life. He will have what I did not growing up, an account of his worth hung high. We frame what we want to celebrate, what we want to remember, and sometimes we decorate those moments with fairy lights.

#FairyLights #Pictures #Photos #FrameWorthy #LifesMoments #MomentsCaputred #Worthiness #Perspective #Thankfulness #Loss #Autism #Divorce #Newness #Hope #PlantedNotBuried

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It’s a Wonder

4thofjuly

#Transparent

Today is a hard day for me, it always is. I got married on the 4th of July back in 08. In this pic taken on the 4th of July in 2013, I held a very bothered by the 98 degrees, 2 years old Caleb. I was just about to turn 40 and I was going through my divorce. I had also just lost 60 pounds. I was motivated to do that because my ex-husband told me that I was fat and that no one would ever want me.

I look at this picture in wonder now. It’s amazing how much my heart was bleeding and I was still going. Amazing how attacked I was by my ex, and by those who I once called family. I look at this picture with pride. That in spite the heartbreak, I was still handling my business, and I’ve been doing that ever since. I’m proud that I still had the courage of heart to wear a smile on my face, and that I have not darkened my heart towards people because of my experiences with a few.  I’m encouraged when I look at the girl in this picture, that I can return to that weight, while still dropping the weights that so easily beset me.

I am now proclaiming some things on this very difficult day. I will have good things in life. I will love again, (I’ve never said publicly that this has been something I’ve questioned). Caleb will continue to shine and grow. And I’m not only going to be alright, but I will have a glorious end.

I’m not sure how I got though all that I’ve been through, but I did. Sometimes when I can’t quite find words that suffice, all can say is “Lord you’re a wonder!!” Thank you for keeping me then, and keeping me still.

#NeverWouldHaveMadeIt #EncourageYourself #4thOfJuly #GonnaBeAlright

Happy Single Mother to Child of Deadbeat Father’s Day

Calebsleepsfinal

So let me be clear. I am not a man. I never have been one, and by the looks of how these things work, I probably will never be one. One thing I do know for sure however, my son’s father is ghost. He is out. He is totally and completely absent. I have not heard a word from him since May of 2015, and that was a year after he stopped paying a cent of child support.

He does not call to check on his son, he does not ask how he is doing, he does not inquire, he does not send a text, telegram or message pigeon. How could he do that?  There are questions that I had years ago that I now have answers to, this is not one of those questions. After being born into a marriage, and being planned for, I do not understand how a man denies his child. Part of me has lost interest in trying to understand.

I am very clear that I cannot be a father to my son. I cannot teach him how to be a man. I do not fully know the challenges and conundrums of what it is to be born male. But I along with so many single mothers are caught in this target practice of still needing to fulfill dual roles, regardless of our inability to do so completely. And the shaming of women who have this insurmountable task, who cry out for acknowledgement of this insurmountable task on a painful day of reminder like today, is to me one of the sure ways that we live in the last days, where love in action is condemned and criticized, instead of applauded and admonished.

Just before tucking my baby boy into bed tonight, I brushed his teeth and rubbed his back, just like good Mommies do. That was just after disciplining him for pushing beyond his boundaries, just like good Daddies do. And tomorrow I will fix his breakfast and his dinner, just like good Mommies do. And I will take out his trash, and put oil in the car he rides in, just like good Daddies do. But not after I work all day, like good Mommies and Daddies do, I have to of course bring home that bacon AND fry it up in a pan. I have continual vertigo as I swing between roles in being all things for my son. No one can ever tell me different. This is real life. This is everyday.

Father’s Day is for fathers, men who are present. I don’t claim this day as my own, but I dare anyone to question my dual roles, beyond holidays, constant juggling act of raising a child that requires at least two people to raise, and maybe five if I’m including my son’s special needs.

So excuse me if today, Father’s Day, is tough for me. Do I claim it as my own day? Not really, they don’t have a Happy Single Mother to Child of Deadbeat Father’s Day. But I do know that each and every day, no matter the fall on the calendar, I play all roles to my son, the feminine and all the masculine I can muster.

So goodnight young prince, with my hand in the Lord’s I will lead you in all the ways within my reach. And I am willing to play as many roles as necessary to do so.