Tag Archives: Motherhood

Friends–how many of us have them?

4 Nov

One of my besties doing my makeup on my wedding day

I have started a new chapter in my life.  I recently launched my new eMagazine (YAY ME!!).  I got my twinsie’s potty trained (YAY one step closer to school).  And sweetness and I have started writing her book (Junie Beatrice Jones has nothing on my first grader).

For the past three years I have dedicated my life and soul to my kids.  A very drastic change for me.  I was always a free-spirit.  The life of the party.  The social butterfly.  The “it” girl.  But when I got married, had the twins and moved into a house, I thought the “right” thing for me to do was to take care of my family in a domestic sort of way.  Problem is, domestic just isn’t me.  I can only make meatloaf; I wash-dry-but don’t fold laundry and I don’t make my bed everyday.

While I love being home with my kids, how appropriate is it that I read Cosmo’s “5 bedroom tricks that will make his toes curl” while my kids are in the bath tub??  To add insult to injury I knew I had to do something when sweetness asked if I needed some more mommy juice (wine)–I may not have high standards, but a 6-year-old bartender is where I draw the line…she should at least be 10.

So I branched out.  Connected with a circle of friends.  All sassy and unique in their own ways, but all offering me with what I so desperately needed in my life.  Intellectual stimulation with some divalicious girlie-girl sprinkled on top.  As I sit back and think of all the phenomenal women in my life I know they were all sent to me for a reason.

I have married friends and all we do is talk about our single friends (just kidding!!).  I have single friends and they keep me young, fun and hip.  I have academic friends who keep that JD and Ph.D dream in the forefront of my mind.  I have SAHM friends who know me as the meatloaf diva.  She also knows all the Nick Jr. theme songs and whenever she’s feeling gloomy you just tell her “everybody makes mistake, everybody has bad days” and it actually cheers her up.

Though I may not speak with all of these ladies regularly (we need to do better ladies!!), they each have a special place in my heart.  It’s the text that says ‘hey just thinking about you’ , or the FB message that simply says ‘Aonya Monique’ , or the IM that says “martini’s. tonight. 8 sharp!”, I’m just so happy to have them in my life!

So to Ashley, Tamara, Angela, Kenya, LaShona, Heidi, Maya, Felicia, Brittany, Whitney, Christa, Janel, Tina, Moniqueka–So grateful to have you all in my life! We’ve laughed, cried and some of us have gotten belligerently drunk together…and at the end of the day I cherish you! My sistah friends!

It’s About Time To Diversify

21 Aug

Sundays are my narci days (short for narcissist) because the world revolves around me.  I watch Lifetime TV and LMN all day, I paint my fingernails, bake cookies with my mini’s, call my girlfriends and just chill out.  It’s all about me pampering myself and doing things I love.  Because I think cooking is a pain in the ass, the hubs cooks or we go out to eat.  It’s just a day to relax before the chaos of the new week commences.

Detouring from my traditional home entertainment, this Sunday I’d decided to go see Eat Pray Love, the film adaption of Elizabeth Gilbert’s best-selling memoir of post-divorce globe-trotting.  Wouldn’t we all love to just throw caution to the wind and embark on our own adventurous journey to have an Eat Pray Love moment?  But then I read a review titled Single-Minded: ‘White Girl Problems’ and my joy and anticipation for the movie quickly changed to enlightenment and annoyance.  I thought: here we go again, yet another white girl angst movie for me to see, just like the kind I watch every Sunday on my beloved Lifetime Network.

Though I am an avid viewer, I’ve always thought it was about time to add some diversity to the programming on Lifetime TV and LMN;  featuring movies with multicultural actors and plots that reflect issues that affect minority women. Shoot, I personally have an arsenal of material I could use to write a script; between my friends and family I could offer some dysfunctional yet riveting material.  I’ve even got some “ripped-from-the-headlines” stories to offer, maybe I should submit.

I was glad to hear Lifetime had tapped Oscar-nominated actress Taraji P. Henson to star in Taken From Me, a true story about Tiffany Rubin’s daring 2008 rescue of her seven-year-old son, Kobe who was taken by his father and was illegal whisked away to her ex’s native South Korea.  With no support from authorities and no money, Rubin reached out to the non profit organization The American Association for Lost Children to help her retrieve her son.   Not only is this story a must-see it’s also empowering, shifting from the typical Lifetime format of damsels in distress. 

It’s so important for me to see multiculturalism on the networks I support and in the movies I watch.  I know it’s not a simple black and white answer that will solve the problems surrounding the lack of diversity on TV,  but  it’s long overdue that the networks we support start reflecting the true diversity in our society.

Happy First Day of First Grade Sweetness

16 Aug

“Mom, I’m not a baby anymore.  My grade has a number now.  I am officially a big kid.”  Spoken like a true scholastic diva.  My baby who’s been by my side 24/7 every 104 days of summer vacation, was sent off to her first day of first grade.  Off to conquer her academics, make new friends and compete to be the number one box topper in her class.  The sending off was bittersweet, I was told my crying and lingering is quite embarrassing,  so her dad escorted her.     She and I have been preparing for this for a couple of weeks now.  She had to have the sparkling pencils with the feathers on the tip.  The paint that offers glitter and pastel colors.  And the hand sanitizer and lotion from victoria’s secret.   I would be remiss if I failed to mention the emphasis that was put on her artsy nail design, wardrobe, jewelry, sandals, backpack and lipgloss shade–all the things that makes back-to-school a fun and entertaining experience for any girl.

I’m sure she can’t wait to play mother hen to the younger kids of school, meet the new teachers and principal and catch up with her old friends.  If she were a beauty queen Miss Congeniality would be her title.  If she were a author Harriet the Spy would be her muse.  And if she were literary character Junie Beatrice Jones would be her personality.  I’m so happy to have such a smart, creative, funny and sassy girl to call my own…she is really a girl after my own heart.  Love you sweetness–Make me proud!!

I had to sneak a little note into her lunch, she read it before she left.  I cried while she read it and she looked at me with this “see this is why you can’t drop me off at school” look.  Man I can’t believe my baby isn’t a baby anymore.

Close Encounters of the Crackhead Kind

5 Aug

Have you ever been in such close proximity to a crackhead that you felt uncomfortable, scared or just plain nervous?  And I’m not talking about that resident addict in your family (cause I have one too–what’s up aunt pookie) I’m talking about a possibly irrational crackhead fresh off the street.

Well I have and boy was it an experience. After getting my hair done I stopped in Popeye’s to get some chicken–I had just spent 3 hours in the beauty shop and looked too pretty to be slaving over a stove. I go in, order and like 88% of my Popeye’s experiences I’m waiting for some fresh chicken because apparently they ran out chicken, *insert shrug here* I’m sure it’s happened to you.

Anyway some crackhead (CH) came into the restaurant and decided to sit at the same table as me. Before I could look up from texting I immediately smelled a pungent concoction of musk and whiskey; then I see these blood-shot red eyes beaming down on me. I got nervous. So I stood up to move out the way because I was in between the CH and the window–I was cornered.

When I tried to move he lifted his arm and whispered “No, you don’t have to go. Stay right there.” I thought: “Oh boy, I don’t need this shit right now. I just got my hair done. I’m ready to go home and pop open some wine and enjoy this nice meal! WTF…where’s a taser when you need one”. Clearly there was a look of  sheer panic on my face. The cashier noticed my distress and she yelled:

“Derrick, Craig is messing with Anya” (Yes, I patronize Popeye’s so much they know me by my first name in fact they know my whole family)

Derrick, the manager of the restaurant, responded to the call for help by rushing to the front of the store and yelled:

“No, Craig! OUT! You do not mess with her. Get out now!”

To which Craig, the CH, obliged and walked outside with Derrick. Clearly Craig is a repeat offender but this time he crossed the line by messing with me (Popeye’s takes care of their VIP’s–don’t be jealous) you could see them outside arguing back and forth and then they both came back in. Craig yelled:


At this point I’m at the counter getting my food bagged up. I was so ready to go I almost told them to just throw the chicken pieces in my purse so I could leave. Forget a box, bag, condiments and anything else. I was ready to get the hell out of there. As I was leaving I saw Craig following behind me, so I rushed to my car. As I opened the car door, the CH turned in the opposite direction and ran down the street with lighting fast speed, I mean you would have thought this dude was Usain Bolt as fast as he was running.

Relieved all imminent danger had ceased, I sat in the car, looked in my rear view mirror and watched this man sprint down the street and all I could do was laugh. This silly fool had me so scared and now he’s running down the street in 105 degree weather without a destination. I was so drained from the roller coaster of emotions I just experienced I couldn’t wait to get to my house–my mother and little bro were there babysitting my kids–to tell about my encounter.

So I walk into the house, chicken in tow, and tried to explain:

Me: Hey you won’t believe what just happened to me. I was just hemmed up in Popeye’s by a crackhead.

My little bro: For real? Where’s my chicken nuggets? Did you get me barbecue sauce? (All he can think about after I tell him I almost got assaulted is his damn chicken nuggets?)

I attempt to tell the story.

Me: …Yes ma this crackhead tried to attack me (of course the story has to be exaggerated and dramatically re-enacted) and hemmed me into a corner and Derrick the manager yelled “Chris, no not her”!

Ma: (In her notoriously nonchalant tone) Oh Chris the crackhead was messing with you? Yeah he’s up there all the time–you’ll be alright. Not to change the subject but your hair looks fierce!

Wha-what the heck is going on here? Did anyone not notice I was almost battered, could have been carjacked and kidnapped by a crackhead? Apparently no one in my family cared…I’m just glad I survived unscathed and in tact…and with a fierce hair do.

7 Friends A Mom Needs

20 Jul

A woman needs her friends.  Whether she’s  married, separated or divorced.   There’s a  sanity–or insanity depending on the friend–that comes along with having other empowering women in your life.  I have been blessed to have a diverse range of friends, to whom I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without having them in my life.  They’ve cleaned up puke after a night of 7 Patron shots, stayed up long nights to help with college essays, helped parlay me into a job, listened to my ideas and told to me pursue them–no matter how outlandish I sounded, stood by my side through the important stuff in my life.   But most importantly they encouraged, inspired, and uplifted me.  I thought about my life and made a list of 7 friends every mom should have:

The remember the time we almost got kicked out of college pal–this friend is important because she knows what it means to throw caution to the wind, a true free spirit.  In my world, letting my hair down is a rarity.  I fret over things such as:  public restrooms and changing tables,  I wake up multiple times throughout the night to re-tuck the kids in, I cringe over germs that populate shopping carts and I get quite nauseous over the of thought of  the presence of bodily fluids lurking on movie theater seats (this is a separate post for another day, it will gross you out).  But having a crazy nutso friend, is actually a breath of fresh air in an uptight life.  She will have you doing things you will never speak of, but the two of you will have a few chuckles and constant “I can’t believe I effing did that” moments followed by “Did anyone catch that it camera?  If so, you better not upload it on facebook.  Better yet,  burn it!”.

The fab friend–this friend is equpped with a keen eye for fashion, style and chicness.  She can take something old and make it new.  She can shop high-end and knows where all the sales are.  This pal will not allow you to fall into the mommy jeans and over-sized sweater slump.  And if you know you’re going somewhere with her, you know you have to bring your fashion A game.  The glitz and glamor of this friend will guide you to the light at the end of the fashion faux pas tunnel.  But most importantly, she’s probably got a wardrobe so awesome, she won’t even notice a few missing pieces.

The tell it like it is girlfriend–it may sting, make you upset and even may make you cry; but this friend is there to tell you the truth.  She’s a no holds barred type of woman who will tell you crocs make your feet look like shit and you’re always broke because you can’t budget.  She tells you the things you don’t want to hear and helps snap you back to reality.

The friend with no kids–your kids likely call her Auntie and she spends just enough time around them for them to know her, but to not ask to spend the night at her house.  This friend can offer cool conversation that you once had but sadly went out the door soon as the pregnancy test read positive.  She’s up on the latest music, fashion, movies and gossip.  Her conversation is just what you need to get those annoyingly catchy Gabba Gabba tunes out of your head.  She’s a respite from the craziness of mommyhood.

The intellectual friend–when my brains doesn’t get any intellectual stimulation, I short circuit.  As a defense mechanism my brain issues a warning and I force myself to analyze dumb shit like Sarah Palin quotes.  That’s why having a friend who can enlighten and stimulate your brain is imperative.  Two months after having the twins, I tested my brain age on sweetnesses DS and it was 81–DAMN!  In my defense, many of the questions required mental math, a subject I suck miserably at.  My brain age diagnosis made me realize just how fast I was losing my touch.  I was always the witty one.  The know-it-all.  The one who answered the questions–even if I made them up.  Your intellectual friend is just the right prescription for a decrepit brain.  She’ll whip you into shape, jump start those synapses and get you back to the place you once were–being a smart ass.

The mom like you–This mom knows all about what you’re going through.  She despises Chuck E Cheese just as much as you do but she’s the first one there to help you set up for your 3-year-olds birthday party.  She doesn’t think you have a chemical imbalance when you cry uncontrollably.  She doesn’t judge you’re messy house and crayola-covered walls.  She tells you all about her struggles with weight, sex, depression and you rejoice your life hasn’t gotten that bad help her thorugh her battles just as she has helped you through yours.  She justs gets you and there’s no greater feeling than being understood.

The been there done that friend–When I have a “this is freaking me out, is this normal?” question, she always provides the right answer.  Having a friend like this helps keep my medical bills down because a hypochondriac like me would always be in the ER.  This veteran mom loves to give advice and no matter the time or day, she’s always there to answer your call.  Even if it is to ask if green poop is normal (and apparently it is especially is taking an iron supplement).

Cocktail Playdates

30 Jun

It”s mid-day and already I have happy hour on my mind.  And I’m also getting excited about going out with my partners-in-crime and having a drink tonight. Then thinking about coming home and getting chocolate wasted while the hubs plays Xbox.  My blood type is pinot noir and drinking is my vice.  There I said it!  You won’t ever see me on the ‘Moms Who Drink’ episode of Dr. Phil, although I love watching other people’s dysfunction hilariously unfold on  TV, while secretly rejoicing that my life hasn’t gotten bad enough to invite Dr. Phil to analyze and castigate me (this is a lie, I just haven’t heard back from the show’s producers).  When the Today Show did this piece on whether happy hour and play dates should mix, my response was “Uh, everyone mom knows forget the playdate, put those kids to sleep and pop open that bubbly, duh.”

As you would imagine, many have something to say about this topic.  People who oppose drinking around kids cite the negative example mothers are setting for their kids as role models, the issues with driving from your playdate after indulging, and the possibility of dependency that may develop.  Those who see no problem with it claim it’s only one or two glasses of wine being consumed (WHAT!!  You mean no one is taking Patron shots?) and it exposes kids to responsible drinking.  There has been extensive blogging and media coverage on this controversial topic. Don’t be shocked by my stance but I’m not for or against cocktail playdates.  When it comes to the hubs and I, in every instance there was drinking in a social atmosphere and our kiddos were around, one of us refrained from drinking.  What can I say, it just works for us raging alcoholics.

Faginers, Pews and Potlucks (Oh My!)

28 Jun

I need a reality show seriously.  What better way to make my kids proud then to document our pure and chaotic dysfunction!  Maybe the hubs and I should use the cameracorder for things other than bedroom antics.  I kid I kid…


We went to brunch Sunday after church and of course sweetness had to go to the restroom.  Because she knows I get psychotic about public restrooms, she waits until the absolute last mintue before telling me she has to “use it”.  So we rush off to the restroom because I know I’ve got 56 seconds before we have a major issue.  Once in there she normally waits for me to wipe down the toilet seat with soap, dry it off and line it.  But I guess she was in such a hurry that she decided to do it herself. As I turn around from locking the door,  I see sweetness using her bare hand to brush some toilet paper crumbs off the seat and into the bowl.  I screamed:

Me: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!  What the hel–hillaryduff are you doing?! (I didn’t want to curse just yet, I try to wait until at least a couple hours after leaving church)

Sweetness: What?

Me:  What are you doing?!?!  You never EVER touch anything on a toilet seat with your bare hands. You don’t know where that came from.  It probably came out of someone’s crevice.  Can you imagine the germs that you just transmitted to your hands?!

Sweetness: Crescent? Like the moon?

Me: (Me and my odd words) No honey, not like the moon.  Crevice.

Sweetness:  What’s that?  Is it a dirty place?

Me: (annoyed with myself that I opened this can of worms I begin to backtrack) Um, well it’s a place like a hole and yes it can be a dirty dirty place.  And in this instance we’re going to pretend that it is a dirty place.  That’s why we need to clean the toilet with soap and paper towel before we sit on it.

Sweetness: (doing the potty dance because I made her wash her dirty little hands before “using it”) Can you please tell me what kind of place could be so dirty?

Me: (why did I raise this inquisitive child?  I need to stop encouraging her to ask questions because it’s putting me in tough situations) Look girl it probably came out of someone’s vagina!

Sweetness: (finally she’s sitting on the toilet) Faginer?  (pronounced: fah-jy-ner) What’s a faginer?

Me: (we call It a princess in our house because you are expected to treat It like royalty) Your Princess.  The scientific name is vagina.  Got it?

Sweetness: Yea I do.  (the lightbulb clicks on) Eww that is gross if I touch something that came out of someone’s Princess faginer.

Me: Riiiight!!!! I’m so glad it clicked!

Sweetness: You’re glad what clicked?

Me: Nevermind, finish up so we can get out of here.

**We exit the restroom, her feeling relieved and me feeling stressed because I know this conversation is not over.


Clearly by the above post you can gather I am somewhat of a germ freak.  So imagine my disgust when I see a woman in church sitting on the pew in front of me changing her grandson’s diaper ON THE PEW as if it was some cozy little changing table.  If we can’t chew gum in the sanctuary then by golly it should be illegal to change a dirty diaper in it too.


I wanted to go get a mani and pedi over the weekend.  And because I wanted a brand new full set of fake (as sweetness says) nails I peeled off my old set one-by-freaking-one.  Talk about pain!  While peeling, I riped one nail straight down the middle of the nail–there was blood, pain and LOTS of cursing–OUCH!  My thumbnails are so brittle I can’t even text message on my cell phone.  And the rest of my nails feel like they’re on fire!!!  If you ever want to torture someone, just pull off their finger nails one-by-freaking-one.  There’s no greater pain the the world!


Oh yea sweetness is working “faginer” into everything under the sun (and sea):

Sweetness: Does Sandy from Spongenbob have a faginer?  And do you think it’s dirty or clean since she’s underwater all the time?

Rule of life#1709 A lady always makes sure her faginer is protected from all outside elements.  Even if she lives under the sea!


Last week I shouted her out as June haha, but really her name is Texas Holly!! Sorry Holly, thanx for not unleashing the blog hounds on me;)