365 Days of Marriage!

7 days ago, Keith and I celebrated are 1st anniversary of marriage. The days leading up to our day, I didn't find myself relishing in the memories of that day. In fact, some of the details I had forgotten. For example, my co-workers were giggling and shocked to know I could not immediately recall the song we danced to on our "first dance." I now recall of course that it was a Boyz II Men song, For The Rest of My Life. 

I thought I would be struck with grand revelations about what the past year taught me. I found it odd that I hadn't immediately came up with a list of witty anecdotes to write down to share with others. (Sidebar: if you're looking for a list, check out a previous post I wrote). Nope, none of that happened. Then I panicked. Did that mean I hadn't learned a thing in the last year? Absolutely not. 

It wasn't until the day of our anniversary, May 17, that I began to reflect and really breathe in that moment and the 364 days following it. Perhaps it was the fact that our day trip to Cincinnati turned out to be a bust. Everything we planned to do was a wash. The Jazz/Wine/Art Festival turned out to be the size of our duplex with the rain drowning out the jazz acts and ONE wine vendor to count (yes, 1!). We missed the Riverboat cruise and the carriage ride was a charge of what might as well have been a million dollars for 15 minutes. Through all of that, neither of us was annoyed or irritated. For trips, I normally like to plan and prepare and find myself impatient when the plan isn't followed. But there were no complaints from me and even the rain and clouds at the beginning of the trip didn't seem like such a downer.


Us by the Ohio River.

We ended up spending hours in IKEA, taking pictures, getting ideas and making plans. Plans for our new home that we'll hopefully move into within 60 days (hopefully, sooner!). We followed that up by a drive to Pappadeux. To our heart's delight, the 65 minute wait was broken up by a live jazz band that was awesome. The food and drinks were great and we shared desert that was almost as sweet as our wedding cake! 


Before the hour+ wait! lol.


Jazz band at Pappadeaux doing their thing!


Sweet Potato Pecan Pie! nom nom nom!

The day was spectacular because of who I was with, not necessarily what I did. We could drive Cincinnati any day of the week. But on that day I was with my husband--the man I'd joined my life with in love and commitment in front of 150 of the greatest people I know. Reflecting on that day away from the business of life was peaceful. We laughed at our plans going awry; when something else didn't pan out, we just laughed harder. We took loads of selfies like teenagers, kissed in public like lovers and just enjoyed the nostalgia of doing it all over again. And for the record, yes, I would do it all over again :-)

I often hear people say, "marriage changes people." I may have actually agreed with this during my singledom. But, now I'd have to disagree. Marriage doesn't change the root of a person. Their activities, schedules and priorities may change. Time spent with the girls may lessen, sure. B-ball sessions with the fellas may shrink I'm sure. But the root of who they are does not. If anything marriage puts a microscope to that person...flaws and all. I remember how terrified I was for Keith to find out how messy I was (slightly messy). I mean, I was terrified. I had this idea in my mind about the idea in his mind of how neat and clean a wife should be. And I knew for sure that I would not live up to his standard. So one night I simply told him. And he laughed out loud before asking why I told him that. After explaining my made up theory, he shrugged it off. Imagine my relief! He loved me and my flaw! Another confirmation I needed to marry him!

Lastly, in love I've found freedom. I've learned it is perfectly ok to be myself. It is ok to prefer flats to heels, sweats to slacks, a bare face than a made up face. It is ok with him because it is ok with me. Him allowing me to have autonomy on my expression of myself makes me confident in life. That's a freedom I didn't know I needed! 

Others may say that you can only find freedom in love through God. There was also a time that I wholeheartedly agreed with this statement. And to some extent I still believe this to be true--just not an absolute truth. See, I believe God shows himself through people. Marriage is a union designed by God so there's no surprise that the spirit of freedom (among other faces of God) would be etched in it! It is a freedom that praises me while also challenging me. A freedom that builds me up and never tears me down. To all you singles wanting to be married, wait for this. Hold out for it. Be realistic, but never compromise. It's there! And it is real and tangible! 

Marriage is still God's perfect gift of grace to me. Happy Anniversary my love! 

The Necessity of Solitude

Last Thursday, after picking up my daughter, I took her to spend some long-awaited time with my mom--just the two of them. My mom would drop Trinity off later that evening. My husband was at work. That arrangement meant that I would have the pleasure of spending time alone.

I was able to cook dinner, wash two loads of clothes, pray for an extended amount of time and talk to my friend on the phone for more than an hour. All without the tapping on the thigh, high pitched screams, the sudden sound of something dropping and/or breaking, call waiting from husband or an incessantly repeated question from the kids which I previously answered the first five times. 

My husband often declares, "I need my alone time," to which I almost always take offense. Such a comment is normally followed by one or both of the following questions:

"Are we not good enough?"
"Why do you want to spend time away from us?"

But, now, I get it. Those two or so hours was refreshing--rejuvenating. No interruptions. Time by myself to do me. To do whatever I wanted to do on my own time--how fast or slow I chose to do it. Growing up, I was very much an introvert. Perhaps, I learned to keep to myself because I was the only girl growing up between three boys. I found solace in books and writing; places where I could delve into the past through history; or imagination through fiction...I would get lost for hours. Now, it is hard for me to finish a book--a fact that I am sad to admit. I am drained from work, commuting 25+ minutes, mother and wife "duties," that I am not quite sure anymore what I like to do in my spare time...I DON'T GET ANY! 

Those few hours taught me the necessity of solitude. It is rejuvenating, cleansing and pertinent. As a new wife, I often reach for this imaginative goal of perfection placed in my mind by some fake illusion that is not even relevant to my life. Chasing someone else's standard only to realize it is all futile energy. Solitude is not shutting people out. It is letting yourself in. The nurturing nature of a mother is selflessness. This coupled with the emotional makeup of women and the companionship of being a wife adds up to sometimes no room for yourself. But I learned that life should not be all about pouring out. It is also about taking in. No matter how long of a relationship you have been in, you need your solitude. Request it, carve out time for it. Demand it if you have to! 

Once my daughter came home that evening, I was prepared mentally for her. I wasn't super anxious that she had gotten home later than intended or that she hadn't eaten. I wasn't yelling or impatient at her tiredness masked by her grouchiness. I was consoling and understanding. Had I not had that time to myself, I'm sure the opposite would have occurred. Remember, to be alone is not to be lonely. I'm no longer afraid of my alone time...or my husband's :-)

Brown Skin Crowned Most Beautiful!

Well, People Magazine confirmed what I (and hopefully you too) already knew. Generally speaking, People proclaimed that brown skinned women are just as beautiful--if not more--than their non-melanin counterparts. And this was done all by way of the super talented actress who has mesmerized us all (don't front), Lupita Nyong'o. 

Lupita's picture is front row and center of this cover to be seen by millions of eyes around the world. What makes this even more special is to think of her words just months earlier as she accepted the Best Breakthrough Performance Award for her role as Patsy in 12 Years A Slave at the Black Women in Hollywood Luncheon:

"I remember a time when I too felt unbeautiful. I put on the TV and only saw pale skin. I got teased and taunted about my night-shaded skin....I hope that my presence on your screens and in the magazines may lead you, young girl, on a similar journey. That you will feel the validation of your external beauty but also get to the deeper business of being beautiful inside. There is no shade in that beauty."

While some celebrity flee from the limelight and shrink at the label of "role model," Lupita is soaking it up, breathing it in and using it as a tool to inspire young girls to aspire. Her beauty from within illuminates the beauty that is first noticed from without. I didn't need People's nod to notice...but it's good to know they do.

Congrats to Lupita!!! May all women of all shades continue to be marked BEAUTIFUL! 

Read more about Lupita's blooming career, here. 

My Problem With The #BanBossy Campaign

In case you haven’t heard, there is a campaign currently catching fire that is encouraging women and girls--people everywhere basically—to strike the word bossy from their language. Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg's non-profit Lean In and Girl Scouts of America are taking the lead with this campaign. And of course it is complete with celebrity endorsements. Beyonce is in on it. 

Complete with a website and all. 

One of the main draws of the #BanBossy movement is the statistics that state girls are less prone to speak up than boys by the time they reach middle school. In fact the entire movement is based upon the reception of girls and stigmas that are attached them if they speak up or speak out. And thus my problems begin. I list them for you below:

1). Bossy is a real thing. 

First, let's define the word bossy. Bossy: given to ordering people about; overly authoritative; domineering.

There are some actions that are blatantly controlling and constitute as bossy behavior. When my 6 year old tells her brother “why are you doing that?” followed by firm incessant no’s and don’t do that followed by directions on what to play and how to play–this is bossy! I repeatedly have coached my daughter in the difference in being bossy and controlling versus being a leader and persuasive. And I will continue to do so until she uses a tone of respect and words that illicit helpfulness and actions that allow others to figure things out on their own terms. Leaders lead from inspiration. My daughter is assertive and aggressive. Two characteristics I give to her with no qualms or shrinkage. In fact, these are attributes I wish I readily obtained as a young girl. Just the opposite, my nature was shy and introverted. It wasn’t until I became a young adult that I had to learn to be assertive and aggressive—not bossy.

2). Use words correctly. 

In terms of the person who supervises me at my place of employment; she is my supervisor. Not my boss. She does not order me around. I do not refer to her as my boss. In that connotation, I find it to be offensive. It's not the appropriate word to use. Neither is using the words bossy and assertive simultaneous. Assertiveness begets confidence; bossiness begets control. They are not one in the same. 

3). Don’t be choosy with your words. 

It is ironic to me that Beyonce is involved here. Really?? She uses the term boss and/or bossy in many of her lyrics. Why now is she determining that such a word is no longer applicable? Further, pop culture has embraced the word bossy to mean mastery of a certain skill or craft. (i.e., boss chef). Let’s also not forget the never old Kelis song, Bossy.

4) Isn’t the idea of banning a word kind of…well…bossy? 

Words are freeing. Instead of banning a word from our vocabulary, we need to teach our children the correct ways in which to communicate with each other. Putting the clamps on a singular word is a form of control--all in the spirit of non-control.

So I'll keep telling my children to stop their bossy ways of ordering others around, telling people when to come and how to go. Because such behavior is not an acceptable form of communication in our home, within family and friends and in our community. But in the idea of proper balance and respect I will tell them to speak up and stand out when you have been wronged, are uncomfortable with a touch or certain language. I will not reinforce domineering or controlling behavior but will tell them to watch their words. I will explicit tell them about one's right to speak and won't forget about to teach them about the right to respond. I will further explain that the latter point flows in both directions of communication.

Further, these attributes will be shared with my sons and daughters, nieces and nephews--all young girls and young boys alike. The symmetry of all expectations of behavior and communication should be the same for both genders. Don't single out the perception of girls without raising the standard for how we teach our boys.

Lastly, I will continue to teach my children self control of their actions efforts words and deeds -- all without clamping down others with control. 

Let's call bossiness what it is--but let's teach our children the opposite. 

A Dream Deferred...

For as long as can remember, I've wanted to be a writer. My 3rd grade teacher, Mr. David Bible, introduced me to Langston Hughes and challenged me to write my first short story -- and I was hooked. In fact I went into the journalism program at Otterbein College with the intention of being a writer and editor. I wanted to be the person to assist writers (published and unpublished) in their journey to telling the story they envisioned in your mind; to cultivate an idea's expression into a story worth reading and to be an ear of advice to the novice. But no one told me how to make this dream a reality when after graduating from undergrad and I could not land a job in the journalism field, I turned to the jobs I could get, and away from the jobs I wanted. 

Fast forward some years (I won't tell how many) and I had deferred that dream. But it was still knocking. 

Blogging has been the fuel for many writers to put their thoughts, opinions, ideas and stories to life without the backings of a traditional publishing house. Specifically, this blog has provided me a platform to talk about my struggles (past and present) and my life. It was this blog that propelled a family member to solicit me for help for his wife who is writing a memoir. To make a long story short, I have my first official editorial client! 

Keep in mind, I've done this kind of work before. Edited manuscripts when asked to, created and re-formatted resumes. But although I was operating in the form of an editor, I didn't take it seriously. So, it didn't take me seriously. It wasn't until recently that I started looking at my life from the inside. What I mean is writing down and envisioning the life I wanted. Then, looking within with the power that God gave me to bring it to fruition. Not looking on the outside to think of an excuse not to! But look for the reason inside myself that was always there! Not waiting for the right job to come around--but creating the job I wanted. Creating the life I want to live. This is the case for every area. No more excuses, no more fear! The will to do it was inside me all along...

Family is in the Feeling

Growing up the only girl in my family, I wanted a sister badly. As a young girl I would often ask my parents if they could have another child--preferably a sister especially for me. 
Now, looking back, I understand how naive I was. I was too caught up on the label to understand I always had sisters--and still do. 

This past weekend Keith said, "I liken your friends as your sisters." And he's right. My close friends are, to me, like extended family. My friends over the years have accompanied me on family vacations (and vice versa), have been there when my daughter was born and walked me through just about every life change that makes up the sum of who I am. I am fortunate.

In my blended family, the only time we use the term "step" is for legal, documentation purposes--to let those outside of us understand the nature of the formal relationship. But that's just on paper. Frankly, I had to explain to her what a "stepfather" was when her teacher announced him as such as the person who would pick her up from school one day. The essence is Trinity knows my husband as her Dad--regardless of the fact they share no DNA. His care, time, discipline and attention create for her the feeling of what she believes a father to be. I did not force this name on her. One day, after knowing him for about 4 months, the verbal transition slipped easily from her lips and the title has stayed since. She is home with him.

It is the same qualitative relationship that often propels Keith's children to call me "mommy." And the same love that provokes me to call them my children upon introduction. Sure, their mother may not agree with that label for me -- and I respect that. But there is something that is familiar about the endearing terms that are usually reserved for those we share DNA with. 

Keith often says that choosing to love someone as your family is perhaps more special than loving those who are actually your family. I think he's right. Love is a choice. People often say you don't choose your family. And formally, you don't. But I also believe family is in the feeling. The feeling of walking into my friend's house and immediately recognize changes to their decor because my visits are frequent, or not being told where the bathroom is, or even helping myself to the kitchen in preparation of a meal. It is familiar, cozy, comfortable, soothing and...home.

I've come to the conclusion that whatever label my husband's children decide works best for them, it is arbitrary to the quality of our relationship. We've built trust and love over the years and it will follow them for the rest of their lives because that's how long I'll be around. I have friends who introduce me as their sister--because the tie that binds us is as if we came from the same DNA. My sisters are here. It is extended family working at its finest. So whether Keith's children call me Ms. Tiffany, Mom, or stepmom, love still reigns. And in love, labels don't fit. 

Finish Something!

For the second day in a row, I woke up with the overwhelming thought that I need to finish what I start. I actually think this thought was in my subconscious and prior to my alarm waking me prematurely, would have stirred me out of sleep. 

I made a mental list of things I'd hoped, wanted or started to do but had yet to see them come alive: children's book in illustration limbo, novel, documentary...and other creative ideas I don't even want to name because someone might take my great idea (yes, they're that good). I've made a few strategic moves in the last few days to put some legs to a few of these but what I'm more interested in is to see them take flight. 

Finishing means you have to start, right? Sure, things take time. I get that. I absolutely respect the process that it takes to build dreams. But what propels someone to finish what they start? I realized the only thing I've ever finished was my education. After that, the rest is up to me. I've often marveled at another's ability to bring into fruition a vision, an idea or a goal that was once just a little seed in their mind. I have even asked myself, "how did they do that so quickly?" Or, "I'd like to do something like that."

I won't make any lofty goals, resolutions or promises here. The objective is simply to finish. Not in a specific time frame that is unrealistic or gives no room for mistakes. Looking back I've pigeonholed myself to timelines. Such pressure forced me to cave to it--leaving my projects isolated and alone for months upon months. This time the I'll just encourage myself to do. To work progressively toward the goal and see it through to its completion. Hard work never hurt anyone. It's time to work!

"Run mad, as often as you choose. But do not faint!" - Jane Austen