the things i never told you

i am too good for you.

i don't think you are really my friend.

i really do miss you - why can't... why aren't you where you should be in life?

i'm so proud of you, but we'll never be on the same level - does that make me an elitest?

you embarrass me sometimes.

i wish you were never born.

what happened to our friendship?

the reason you have no complaints about me is because i cater to you. i let you have your way.

why aren't you proud of me?

once again, love saves the day

not that this is new, but i am beginning to question my judgment.

"this was a good decision - to buy a home - you just bought a bum home."

I know that everything seems bleaker than it is when you are down.  but i was still surprised that for the first time, m's laugh...didn't resonate as loudly as it normally does.

that's when i knew i was getting pretty low.
and the spiral began.  thinking of all the moments i thought were good ideas, seemed like good ideas, conventional wisdom would seem to suggest that
these were
good
ideas.

but then
i came back.

because my best idea, my best investment, was sitting right there in the tub.  pretending to be a fish.  and even if it was a bad investment to be with his father, it was the best decision of my life to have him.

and things started to turn around.

i wish i had the words to express that feeling - its such much higher, cleaner, purer than the "being in a relationship" love.  snuggled with m on the couch, his fresh baby-lotioned browness, and i think back to when he was in utero, and how all of my best went to him.  and i want nothing in return, yet i get so much.

there is a lesson in there somewhere.

its just the kind of love i can't compare to the boyfriend/girlfriend crap.  the one-sided conversations of recent dates.  the banality of the "what black women need to do is..." argument

once again, and i wonder why i am single.

i just won't settle for anything less.  now that i know love, i can't take/give any generics.

elegy to black love (sometimes it feels this way)

"baby.
i recognize that you have been intimidating to those in power, and that you have systemically been denied the right to shine.  to work. to be the man in the house.  and so i,
i mean we,
black women have stepped in to be the breadwinners, not because we wanted to, but because we had to.  and i,
i mean we,
have held that position demurely, and humbly.  when did you forget that we would gladly let you step up if you would just step up?
I only want you to 'pay my bills' because you should manage the finances in the home.
i would happily 'play my place' when you can assume your rightful place as man.

why are you so angry at me baby?

i, we, have always loved you.  i have always seen the second sun in your smile.  i have always praised your beautiful brown skin.

i am only wearing the pants until you put yours on.

my sassiness is why you love me.

but you are leaving me,
us.
so quickly. and dragging my name in the street, and on BET, and on the airwaves, when all i have done is support you.  rubbed your feet.  cook your dinner.  change the diapers, even though i was the one coming home from work.
i did all the work
around the house.  lovingly. but i guess my hair wasn't straight enough?  so i weaved it up.
my nose thin enough?  so i got a nose job.
my skin wasn't light enough?  so i used lighteners.
but my ass was fat enough;
thank you for the compliment."

restoration of a purer ideal

i would like to reclaim the word orgasm.

it's become this nasty, guttural thing.  That's just not fair.

you are probably thinking that i just had an orgasm, prompting me to ruminate on its attributes.  see what i mean?  tsk. tsk. tsk.

orgasms should not be limited to sex - it is the height of emotion.  ecstatic joy.  i don't feel this just during sex.

for example.

for your information, i just finished reading the lover's dictionary  - a quirkily good little book, but the orgasm came not in reading the book, but completing it.  there is nothing (for me) like starting something and actually finishing it.

perhaps this is why i am single.

or like eating - there is nothing like the "foreplay" of buying the ingredients, knowing they are destined for some sumptuous loveliness.  Then prepping - washing hands, cleaning the kitchen only to dirty it again.  and you know its coming when you are cooking and you reach that point in the recipe where you diverge from the words on printed page to smells, sights, and sounds - it becomes so visceral that of course it can only become better from here.  

i have to pause.  got a little heated there. 

you know what?

its the g.   

its the letter g in 'orgasm' that lends the word to that voyeuristic feel. that "back-of-the-porn-store" sensation.  perhaps the o shares a bit of the blame as well.

i can't even put any labels on this post.  shame.  such a shame. 

thank you, MacBookPro, with your unobtrusive backlit keyboard, your ready availability as soon as i open the lid.  a wee-hours bloggers dream.

finishing up the day

a new chapter may be opening in the near future - let's see how this goes.

started re-reading Nella Larsen's Quicksand.  The opening is the most beautiful description I've ever read -  I am literally in the scene.  So much inspired that I actually began writing my idea of a movie/book/thing... once again, let's see how this goes.

today was a little rough - its hard being a single mommy at times.  for example, after going to visit dad @ work (yay for re-employment) around 5p i:

pressed m's and I's clothes
lined him up
sang (and did) the clean up song
bathed both he and I
put away the laundry (i absolutely HATE putting away laundry.  not sure why.  just do) and refolded the
clothes in his drawer
check in with friends
pulled out the fall clothes for me and m
cooked dinner - choo choo train mac n cheese
ate - and fed m since the broccoli in the bowl paralyzed his ability to eat
cleaned up the kitchen
de-gunked the food processor
painted my nails

and not all in that order.  but all by myself.  that's the sucky part.  a little tired, i am.


i should go ahead and get this out - again -
i really am happy for all those in love, getting married, and all that goodness but
DANG
is EVERYBODY getting engaged or married this year?!?  I mean really?!?!

!?!??!



at least I own my bitterness aloud.

smile.  night.

best when sick

there is a list of things to do before bed with a sick little one:

• drugs or no drugs?  Nothing worse than the little one waking up in the middle of the night.  if i can give a decongestant that will get him through so his body can rest, i am all about it.

• vicks.  everywhere.  Company I wish i would have invested in before i became a mommy - pampers, vicks, neosporin.  i have the vicks vaporizer with water, the vicks waterless vaporizer, the babyrub, the adult vicks rub... and of course since he's in the mommy bed tonight - what is it about the mommy bed that makes everything better? - my room emanates Vicks. a cloud of medicated goodness.  and of course im old school - vicks on the back, on the chest, and a little hint from my italian colleague - a little on the feet with some socks.  hey, if you told me to stand on my head and whistle twinkle twinkle little start to a samba beat i would, if it made my itty bitty feel better.

did you ever realize twinkle twinkle little star is the same beat as the alphabet song?  go ahead, sing em.

• the last big blow.  I did not know such a little body could produce so much snot AND spread it everywhere.  its on the couch.  on my pillow.  on the bedsheet.  and on God knows how many of his blocks.  but we do the last big blow, prop his head up on three pillows, and hope for the best.

there is something about a sick baby that puts me right back into mommy/infant mode.  but i got to thinking about my mommy - the alcohol rubs, the time she took off work, the quiet love she gave.  my mom isn't an overly affectionate hugger, but i loved her strong, secure hands rubbing my back.  i think that alone made me feel better.  and i realize how lucky i am to have a mommy - a real mommy, who put me as a top priority.  not ever mommy does that.

2 pts if you're a real mommy. 1 pt if you're not but you are working hard to get there.

time for me to check on him.  its these moments when i just feel my heart beating, my eyes getting a little moist... i'm such a sap for my son.

smile.

pulling a Dumbledore

been reading rumi and waking up at five in the morning to meditate
it hasn't been an overnight change, but i am starting to feel
at peace
with whatever

-----

been cooking really well the past few weeks - veggie cheese risotto, herb stuffed salmon, and tonight - thyme and lime chicken (marinated for 24 h) in butter.  cause butter taste good.  m gets to eating and lets out the biggest belch i've ever heard a two year old conjure up.  he replies
"ooo, mommy.  dinosaurs."

I am excited that we are getting to that stage of clarity - i think that kids from around the age of 2 -5 are the most wisest (yes. most wisest.) people on the earth.  they make the best observations of the world around (and in) them.  they really are quite profound - and hilarious.  M thinking the belch was a dinosaur really made me lol.

smile.

____

i've been a little frustrated lately - unable to make a decision about what to do about m's dad.  part of me is just saying stop answering the occasional calls.  if he doesn't want to be a full time dad, don't let him waste m's time.  he's given all of maybe $100 since he left last november.  called maybe 20 times.  30 max.  is it my problem that he doesn't know how to be a dad AND doesn't want to listen?  what do i do? I am not "one of those" who calls constantly.  cusses him out.  i just don't have the energy for that - those women have too much time on their hands.  I definitely don't hate him - that would mean i still loved him.  and i don't.  there is just this empty ambivalence towards his existence.  somewhere in the back of my mind, i am aware he is alive somewhere on this earth.

and me and m just keep moving forward.


-----

i just needed to get all the random thoughts out.

_____

me and m were sick this weekend.  casualties of being a teacher - with all the "I missed you Ms. C" hugs, i get all the summer germs.  so it hit friday after work.  saturday, worsened in the evening.  Sunday - full blown snottiness, KILLER headache, and some serious narcoleptic periods.  M was a champ  - putting his little blanket on me and patting my back, then..

achoo.
toddler snot everywhere.
he caught it, too.

crawled up in my arms and went to sleep - i know he's feeling bad when he does that.  laid him down - two hours later i hear that scream. that "mommy-i-can't-breathe-this-sucks" yell.  we both just laid on the couch holding each other.  me blowing into his mouth to get all the snot out his nose

yea, they don't tell you about that in sex ed class, huh- that when your kid can't breath, blow in his mouth to clear his nose.  yep, that means there is snot on your lip; but your kid can breathe.

there's some natural birth control for you.

me downing ibuprofen to get rid of the sledgehammer at the back of my head.  its only in those moments that i feel the familiar smolder of ... anger?  disappointment?  betrayal? of m's dad not being here to help.

damn.