Speaking Your Mind Or Being Disrespectful

"Respect Your Elders."

That was one of my mom's golden rules growing up. Disobeying that was a cardinal sin. It made her look bad, and among other things, she would not have a disrespectful child. She'd kill you first. As a result, my family will tell you I had manners. Instinctively, I still say "Hello, how are you?" on the phone.

Talking back was a huge no-no. If someone older than you said something, it was fact. You didn't disagree. You didn't correct. You didn't argue. No ands, ifs or buts about it.

I never thought twice about this rule until I started working in corporate America. I went from my peers being the same age as me to being the youngest on my team, even if I wasn't the lowest salary grade.

I faced an even stronger internal struggle in Kansas where my friends were 10+ years older than me. I had friends that were the same age as my aunt! Luckily, they never made me feel like I was just some youth's that needed to stay in a child's place. However, there would be times where I was reminded that they were closer to my parents' age than my own. And in those times, I would often wonder if my conversations with them were perceived as disrespectful. There were times where we had some pretty intense debates, and though there was no love lost I couldn't help but wonder if my speaking my mind was taking as me talking back.

I've been reading a lot of professional development articles lately and I've noticed that I have a lot of mild mannerisms. In other words, I lean out when I need to lean in. I know why this is. I don't want to be seen as confrontational or disrespectful. But the problem is I've been employed because they want me to challenge them. The powers that be decided I bring a fresh new perspective and they welcome me speaking up.

I'm just not always good at it. But I need to be. If I want to have the career that I desire, I need to find my voice and use it - loudly and clearly.

I also need to teach my daughters how to find their voices. To navigate the lines of respecting others without silencing themselves. I want them to know that they should always have respect for others as human beings, regardless of age. And, that their opinion is not any less significant because they may be younger. It's important that they know they can speak up and offer a differing opinion without being considered disrespectful.

Their future careers depend on it. Their value and worth, the way they see the world depends on it.

Why Can't It Be Easy?

About a month or two ago, Todd and I got into a huge argument, and after we both had calmed down, we tried to restore some normalcy to our relationship and routine. The problem was that the issue that caused the argument in the first place still had not been resolved. We spent the next few weeks avoiding the elephant in the room until it grew so big we could barely fit in the room with it.

I was ready to attack the elephant and reclaim my living space, but Todd wasn't. And then I persuaded him to address it before it reached the point of no return he was. So we sat down and we had a long, overdue discussion about us. Our issues. Our fears. Our doubts. He went first, telling me his biggest issues with the relationship. And I listened, asking permission to speak to make sure I didn't cut him off. I responded to his issues, explaining things that he didn't understand. Then, I went. And he did the same. And throughout the conversation, we both acknowledged where we were wrong and agreed to work on those things that bothered the other. And in those areas where we could see the other person's side, but didn't totally agree that we were wrong or they were right, we did the unthinkable - we came up with a mutually satisfying compromise.

And together, we decided to move forward. The End.

Only, a few days later, I couldn't help but feel like it wasn't the end. It was too easy. We both took the high road and handled the entire conversation with class and maturity and worked together to make sure both of our needs were going to be met moving forward. Yet, somehow I still felt unsettled. Maybe I should have yelled, or put my foot down more. Why did I agree to compromise? He's going to think he can walk all over me now. No, I didn't have a particular issue that I felt I was too easy on him with. I just couldn't believe the conversation went so well. And then, I caught myself. Why can't it be easy? Who says that relationships have to be hard? If we both have the same endgame in mind, why can't we work together to get there? Why does it have to be a Me vs. Him scenario?

I am extremely proud of how we handled a delicate and difficult situation. I hope that we continue to handle future situations like this. I hope that we can continue to grow and mature as individuals and a couple and reach a point where we are teammates and not competitors. We are in this for the long haul, and how much easier and more fun it will be if we are side by side for the journey of parenthood instead of at each other's throats.

So, why can't it be easy? Because it definitely doesn't have to be hard.

Momfessions: What Now

As I write this, I'm sitting in bed with a heating pad on my left shoulder. I'm left-handed and right now it hurts to do anything with my arm. And I just wanna cry.

Cry because I feel damaged.

Cry because my body hurts and aches in places and ways I've never known before.

Cry because I can't seem to catch a break.

Cry because I am incredibly stressed.

Cry because I need an outlet.

Cry because I feel as if I have none.

Cry because I feel all alone.

Cry because my f'n dominant arm f'in hurts all the time.

I just wanna smile. I just wanna be happy. Able to see the good in life. I want to be a positive person. But every time I resolve to be a better person, something happens, and I snap. My tolerance for anything is non-existent. And I hate it. So I cry.

I know things come with the territory of being a parent and I know that in life ish happens. But it seems like the two always team up and screw me over and right now I really need to set the reset button. Life's downs and annoyances and trials and tribulations have beat the life outta me and I haven't had a chance to recharge, resulting in a person I don't particularly like or care for. I have less patience for things out of my control. I'm less tolerant of others and their flaws, especially those closest to me. And my ability to properly assess situations is ridiculously horrible - everything is a big friggin deal.

I need a change, a break. I need a solution. I know this ish ain't cool. But what I don't know is, what now?!?

It's Not Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas

Christmas Eve is almost over and I just keep thinking that it should feel different. My holidays as an adult are completely different from my holidays as a child. Things were easier, more delightful back then. I wish I could revive those moments.

But really.....

I really wish Vera was still alive. The more I live, the more I recognize the difference she made. And, the more I realize that not only was 17 years not enough with her, but I was also too young to appreciate and make the kinda memories I would love to have to reflect on right now.

I am, however, thankful that I never had to see her in an unfortunate light - in my memories, she was the perfect grandmother. And, I wouldn't change that for the universe. I hope my children get the same opportunity with their grandparents.

In a world that is increasingly evil, hurtful and dangerous, it doesn't hurt to have someone that you see as purely good. As a parent, I have to administer tough love and while I'd love to be their blissful happily ever after, I know more than likely it will be the grandparents that win that title. And I'm ok with that. I believe grandparents are God's gift to children and I truly cherish the bond my children have with their grandparents.

And they are fortunate enough to have three sets.

The Hardest Part of Blogging

I started this blog as a way to keep our family and friends connected to Tempess as she grows. I also thought it would be a great avenue to share my experiences as a new parent. I thought it would be filled with lots of "Oh, Tempess just took her first step."  Or "Isn't she adorable eating her first cracker?"  I thought I'd talk a lot about my lack of sleep or the high price of diapers.

I didn't think my experiences would be so deep and hard to share. I didn't think so many outside forces and people would weigh so heavily on my parenting experience. I'm not talking about the "My mom gave her sugar"  or "Todd's mom spanked her against our wishes" kinda outside forces. I'm talking things I never imagined I'd have to deal with, this ish only happens in books kinda stuff. I guess to be fair some of it, I should've seen coming. But, I guess I wanted to give life and people the benefit of the doubt. I wanted so badly to believe parenting wasn't going to be a bad experience that I chose to look the other way. Pretend I wouldn't have to deal with certain things.

But you can only pretend for so long. And I've exceeded my limits, making it hard for me to smile and pretend everything's okay. And since I've exceeded my limits of pretending, I'm also challenged with how much I share with people and how. People I know read this blog, so if I go into too much detail, certain parties may feel I talked too much about them or their situation. I run the risk of oversharing parts of Todd's and my relationship that we don't want to share with the outside. On the other hand, if I share too little, or I'm too vague, then I run the risk of confusing people. So I shut down and I don't share anything. Sharing nothing is easier than sharing too much or too little.

I also have to admit that another reason I don't blog is because I don't want to be seen as a bad mommy, girlfriend, sister, daughter, person. Yes, I make mistakes, but I have nothing but the best intentions and I only want to do what's best for my family. Unfortunately, that can't be done without upsetting people, even those closest to me. I know everyone isn't going to agree with my parenting choices. But sometimes that's hard to accept. It's one thing for my formula-giving, sugar-loving family to give me a hard time for nursing and limiting Temi's sugar intake. It's another when I have to choose between being perceived as a bad daughter or a bad mother. Or when Todd and I disagree on how to parent in a certain situation and I feel like standing my ground makes me a b!tch, but giving in makes me a horrible mother. These are the parenting experiences that are beyond hard. These are the experiences I need to share to get support and advice.

But these are also the experiences that I probably won't blog about* because they have the ability to hurt those I care about and color how the outside world perceives them and me. And that's why blogging is so hard. Because balancing that line of over and undersharing is very, very delicate.

*I say probably because I may decide one day to share some things. Or I may find a way to blog about it that I feel is appropriate for all parties involved.

Where I've Been

☆★Today's post is Day 20 of the #31WriteNow blog challenge. I'm posting a new entry every day for the month of August★☆

Things have been beyond crazy since Friday and the constant go-go-go finally caught up with me. It doesn't look like things are going to slow down anytime soon, but suck is life. My Cha-Cha slide just got super uptempo.

Everybody clap your hands.

It Takes A Village

☆★Today's post is Day 13 of the #31WriteNow blog challenge. I'm posting a new entry every day for the month of August★☆

As I deal with daily life, I realize more and more how important our relationships are. We need a support group that helps us destress. As parents, we occasionally need a break. Without appropriate stress releasers, we become overstretched rubber bands ready to pop. And a popped rubber band is useless.

When I look back on my childhood, I remember the people that were around. I have memories of my grandparents, cousins, my mom's friends. They were my mom's village. They helped her out with me and my brother. They helped her out with her social life. They helped her out with school. They helped her get through life. They helped her from stretching till she popped. They helped her not be useless.

Life and parentdom look a lot different than what I remember they looked like for my mom. Which means I need a different kind of village than she had. But I need a village. I don't want to be useless. Not to my kids. Not to my friends. Not to myself. So I'm working to build my village. Because it doesn't just take a village to raise a child. It takes a village to sustain a person.

And thank you to those invaluable village people that have already claimed their territory in my life.

When Plans Go Unexpectedly

☆★Today's post is Day 10 of the #31WriteNow blog challenge. I'm posting a new entry every day for the month of August★☆

A little *humorous* reminder that even when we plan, the unexpected can still happen.

Everybody, Do the Shuffle

☆★Today's post is Day 5 of the #31WriteNow blog challenge. I'm posting a new entry every day for the month of August★☆

By nature, I'm a thinker, planner, fixer, dreamer. I get an idea, then I brainstorm how to make it happen. I run into a problem, I come up with a plan to fix it. (Unless I can't fix it, then I lose control. I don't do well with what I can't control.)

Since I got pregnant with Tempess, I have been determined not to listen to all the naysayers who said life would suck because I was a mom before I was 45. I believe my children are blessings (even when they make me want to play Hide and Don't Seek). I also believe that Todd and I don't have to give up on our dreams, desires and goals just because we are unexpected parents. We just have to find a different approach.

And find a different approach, we have been doing. Or at least trying to. It's hard. Every time we have a plan, every time we think we've figured it out, something happens to knock us off our feet. Or at least make us stumble like Drunk Uncle Charlie. And so we do the infamous life shuffle.

One step forward. Two steps back. One step to the left. Slide to the right. Now ChaCha....oh wait that's the ChaCha slide. Sure feels like our life right now.

But as we both keep reminding each other:
It's only temporary. Things WILL get better.

Life Lessons...The Hard Way

☆★Today's post is Day 3 of the #31WriteNow blog challenge. I'm posting a new entry every day for the month of August★☆

Today was one of those days where I was reminded of the importance of caring for me first. I get so wrapped up in my girls that I hardly take time for myself. I'm guilty of putting everyone else before me.

Today was also one of those days where I was reminded that life is out of my control. Sometimes no matter how much I try to plan or protect or do what I think is best, sometimes things still don't go as planned. I like things to be perfect. I like them to be the best. To be how I planned them. I don't do well with things I can't control.

Today I wasn't in control. And I lived. Tomorrow's another day.

Career Woman vs. Mom

☆★Today's post is Day 2 of the #31WriteNow blog challenge. I'm posting a new entry every day for the month of August. Join me! ★☆

Years ago, I was talking to my supervisor about long-distance relationships and marriage when she told me that I wouldn't sacifice my career for the man I loved. You see,she was in the middle of a crossroads - she loved her job but she hated doing the long-distance thing. She could easily get jobs closer to home, but they wouldn't offer what she currently had. So she chose her career and prayed daily that a position would open up in the company that moved her closer to her boo. I was the same, she argued. She could see it in my eyes and my dedication to my internship that, I too, would make the same choice.

"You are dead wrong!! Your job should never come before those you love." That's what the fairytale romantic inside me was screaming at the top of her lungs.

But my supervisor was right. When it came my time to make the proverbial choice, I packed up and moved 12 hours away. Of course I talked it over with my boyfriend at the time, but in the end love wasn't enough for me to throw away my career. Especially when "love" had no place for me to live, no signs of putting a ring on it anytime soon and no means to pay my bills that my internship was barely covering. At the end of the day, I couldn't settle careerwise just to be close to the one I loved. Because let's face it, if it was true love, it would conquer all - even 12 hours. Things didn't work out the way I planned or hoped, but I never regretted that decision. I know that I did what I thought was in my best interest long-term with hopes that I'd be able to provide and enjoy the future I dreamed of. I loved my job. It was my baby, my pride and joy. It kept me going in a town where I was all alone.

Fast forward a relocation, layoff and two children later, and I am more than willing to settle careerwise to be close to the ones I love. When it comes to Tempess and Tové, I'd give up everything for them without thinking twice. At the same time, I still have hopes and aspirations. I have financial goals I want to achieve. I have pride in my work. (Who wouldn't want to see their story make the cover of a magazine?)

And so the Career Woman and the Mom in me duke it out daily. Some weeks, the mom wins and I'm all about my home, my family, trying to stay at home. Other weeks, the CW wins and I'm looking for ways to grow professionally and learn new skills. Somewhere, there's a nice bakery where the two sit down over pastries and hatch a plan to become partners instead of continually competing. I'm still looking for that bakery.

Mommydom: the Job that Never Ends

It's hard to believe, but it's already been seven weeks since Tové made her infamous debut into the world. Since that morning, it has been one heck of a roller coaster ride, filled with lots of tears, pains, laughs, smiles, fatigue and dirty diapers.

Before last Saturday, I hadn't been away from both girls for longer than 30 minutes, maybe an hour. They have accompanied me on every family visit and errand run. Thanks to the Moby Wrap and our third floor apartment, I am pretty confident that I will have legs of steel by the time I go back to work. My days consist of pumping, nursing, potty training, colors, ABCs, Elmo, Abby, cooking, cleaning, and I'm pretty sure I'm on a first-name basis with the UPS guy.

And I love it. Yes, it's overwhelming when you have two little people that can't articulate what they want crying for you at the same time. Yes, it gets lonely when your only interaction with people your age is watching Saved By The Bell and Supernatural reruns on Netflix. And OMG, is it tiring when your toddler spends the entire night crying in pain because she has some God-awful hand-foot-mouth disease and when you finally get her to settle down and fall asleep, the newborn has started her night feeding shift, so you average 30 seconds of sleep.

But it's an amazing feeling to look into the eyes of your newborn and feel a connection that can't be put into words. Finding ways to teach your child the basics really challenges your mind in a "I like to solve puzzles" kind of way. There is nothing funnier than the spontaneous laughter that erupts when your child makes the craziest face. Or the pure joy you feel when you experience her excitement over the littlest things. Being home with the girls helps me to appreciate the little things in life. It keeps me focused on what matters most to me.

However, it's not all sunshine and peaches and cream. It definitely has its share of rain and storms. Life as a mom and life with two children is not what I imagined it would be. At times, it's better than anything I could have ever dreamed of. Other times, it's harder than anyone could have prepared me for. And not the dirty diapers, you'll never sleep again kind of hard. It's a deep, this is different than anything I've ever known before kind of hard. I never paid much attention to the ingredient list when buying groceries. Now I'm Googling anything that looks suspicious. I'm constantly worried about doing the right thing and making sure I'm protecting my babies.

I want to be a good mom. I want them to think I'm a good mom. When they're my age, I want them to tell people they have the best mom ever, and mean it. They are at the forefront of every decision I make. And they also cause me a considerable amount of mom guilt. So much so that it can be easy for me to lose myself in them.

And that's how I found myself about to have a meltdown in the middle of my closet last Saturday. Tempess had been sick all week. We thought she was teething at first, but found out she had Hand, Foot, Mouth Disease. Because of the sores in her mouth, her crying was elevated to a new level that no parent that loves their child should ever have to endure knowing there's nothing they can do to help. I was dog-tired because Tempess and Tové were tagteaming me and my heart hurt for my toddler. My mom had offered to babysit them so that we could go out for Todd's birthday, but I didn't feel comfortable leaving her when she was sick. I felt like a bad mom. 

To top things off, after I finally got Tempess to settle down for a nap long enough for me to shower, I came down with theeeee worst chills. Standing in the boiling hot shower that was literally too hot to stand and I was covered in goosebumps. I still didn't know what I was gonna wear but decided it should probably be something thin enough for summer but long enough to provide some warmth if I was gonna have the chills all night.

Standing in my closet, I began to mix and match a bunch of tops and bottoms, trying to find the perfect outfit. Of course, I wanted to be cute, but I also needed comfort and practicality built in. After all I was going to have to take some pumping breaks in between whirlyball and the bars. And if we ended up having to walk to the bars, I didn't need my shoes expiring before I even got to the bar. Todd was ready in five minutes while I was still assessing my options. I grabbed what I had and started the process of trying things on to see how they looked together. First pair of pants wouldn't go past my thighs. *sigh* Second pair, with a little help from jumping up and down and jiggling from side to side got over my hips, but refused to fasten. *sigh* Third pair: SUCCESS! But now they don't go with the top I had on. So I had to change tops. No problem. I'm putting on my shoes when Todd comes in: "Are you sure you want to wear those. I don't think heels are a good idea for whirlyball. You should wear flats." *big f'in sigh* These pants were not made to be worn with flats. And we were already late for dropping the girls off to my mom.

And with that came, a huge meltdown. I realized that my options for outfits were limited. All I wanted to do was look cute and go out and have some fun. This was much simpler when I didn't have to factor in engorgement, pumping, mid-section pudges, the fact that my weight has been deflating and ballooning for the past three years or not knowing how my once cute and comfy heels would feel on my feet after 10 months of pregnancy. Yes, going out for a night on the town was much simpler before I was a MOM.

I quickly grabbed a pair of my bigger jeans, hoped they'd fit, tied a belt around them so I wouldn't have plumber's butt and ran out the door. On the way out, I glanced in the mirror and thought: "I look like such a mom." I definitely didn't achieve the look I was going for and on top of that, the sweater that I was wearing did nothing for the chills I was still battling with.

I could avoid mirrors all night, but my breasts refused to let me forget that I was still a mom of a newborn the entire night. And with that I came to the realization that I can change the way I dress, I could send the girls away, but I couldn't stop being a mom. It's the one job that doesn't come with PTO benefits. And my closet isn't okay with that.

I love being a mom, but I'm not just a mom. And trying not to fall into that trap is hard.

God is Good: The Tové Pureza Sparkman Story

Tové Pureza Sparkman

Nine months ago, I took four pregnancy tests that all came back negative and had to push my doctor to do a blood test because she didn't believe I was pregnant. Little did I know that was just the beginning of a pregnancy that would end in a crazy and amazing way.

My HCG levels were incredibly low - they showed I was one week pregnant when I was really at least six. My follow up ultrasound showed two masses - one in my tubes and an empty one in my uterus. There was concern that this was either a tubular pregnancy with a pseudosac inside my uterus or an anembryonic pregnancy, meaning there was a gestational sac but no fetal development and I would eventually miscarry. Turns out the mass in my tubes was a cyst which they removed via laparoscopy, but my HCG levels were still low. Subsequent ultrasounds and prenatal checkups showed that my levels quickly increased and everything was on par to be a low-risk pregnancy.

Thank God!!! I was terrified and worry stayed in the back of my mind the entire pregnancy, although I tried not to focus on it.

Super parents with the super child

Fast forward through nine months of morning sickness, pelvic pain, upper respiratory viruses and stomach flus and Braxton Hicks contractions. I couldn't fall asleep on the night of April 29, 2013. Finally at about 1:30 a.m. on April 30, my eyes closed, but I spent the next two and a half hours tossing and turning trying to get comfortable. Then I felt it. The first contraction. It was more intense the already intense Braxton Hicks contractions I had been feeling for the past three months. It subsided. I feel asleep. Then another one. I could feel the rise, peak and fall of each contraction.

Oh sh!t!! This might be the real deal. I should probably start tracking these.

I grabbed my phone and for the next hour and a half, I tracked contractions. They were roughly 10 min apart, then 7.5 min apart. Between 6 and 6:30 a.m. I had my midwife paged and she called me back. She confirmed it was more than likely the real deal, but to wait until they were five minutes apart before we headed to the hospital. Relax, grab some food, take a bath, she suggested.

They started getting more intense and coming faster. Meanwhile, Tempess woke up and Todd got her dressed. Between contractions, I tried to do her hair. One ponytail at a time. Todd ran me some bath water and I hunched over on the couch, squeezing whatever was in reach while screaming OWWWWWW!!!!! and other inaudible sounds. I got in the tub which helped tremendously! Oh yeah, I can't wait to get to the hospital and do this waterbirth thing. It's going to be amazing! I thought as I was able to breathe through each contraction. Temi who loves baths and playing and water joined me. For about five minutes, it was a beautiful thing. The relief didn't last long as the contractions increased in frequency and I started feeling pressure. That's when I told Todd and he got Temi dressed, for the second time.

I tried to track a few more contractions so that I could let my midwife know exactly how far apart they were. At this point it seemed like they were never ending and the pressure was becoming really intense. I crawled out the tub and into the hallway, called my midwife. It wasn't even 8 a.m. yet. My contractions were about 3.5-4 minutes apart. I told her we were heading out to the hospital and she said she would meet us there.

The rescue team on the scene

Todd went to get the car and get Temi strapped in. I struggled to get dressed and walk out the door. We got in the car and as we were pulling out of the parking lot, I asked Todd for the towel and garbage bag in case my water broke on the way. We realized he had thrown it in the trunk in the midst of us moving. "I'm sure we'll be fine. I doubt my water breaks in the next 20 minutes, let's just keep going. We need to hurry up and get there."

Todd drove like a scene straight from Fast and Furious. Meanwhile, I was grabbing, squeezing and punching anything I could get my hands on. There was lots of screaming and singing "Jeeeeeeeesssssuuuuuusssssss." Managing pain in the front seat of a Ford Focus is surreal and d@mn near impossible. I'm surprised I didn't break the window or the door because I'm sure I punched the heck out of both. We got off 290 at the York Rd exit and I looked up just as we were passing our turn. I told Todd he needed to turn around and almost immediately, I could feel the baby bearing down. At some point, I snatched my seat belt off, turned around and squatted in the front seat. Temi started crying to get free, but calmed down after awhile.

I could feel something pushing out of me, not sure what it was, I turned around and sat back down and told Todd we were going to have to call 911 and he was going to have to deliver this baby. "Calm down babe. You're fine. Just focus on breathing. We'll be there in two minutes." "I'm telling you my body is pushing and I don't know how to NOT push."

The pressure went away. Sigh. Okay we're gonna make it. Then it came back, stronger. Yup something is definitely coming out. "Todd!!! We need to pull over NOW!! "Babe just breathe. You are not about to have this baby. Just take a deep breath." The pressure went away. Okay, we're cutting it close but I can do this. Oh sh!t I can feel the baby crowning. A long slew of expletives exploded out of my mouth as I unkindly directed Todd to pull over RIGHT NOW! He kept driving. I pulled down my pants and there was the top of my baby's head. Todd looked over. Pulled the car to the side of the road and the rest of the baby came out in our hands. It was 8:40 a.m.

She was really dark and covered in something. There was no sound. I turned her over and her face was covered. I broke the sac and I heard a little cry and saw her breathing. I immediately lifted my shirt to get her to nurse. She wouldn't but I continued to hold her close and kept trying. Todd called 911 and hopped out the car, grabbed a towel from the trunk and we wrapped her up.

For about 15 seconds, Todd lost it and started punching the steering wheel and screaming. This then sent Tempess into an uncontrollable fit that apparently lasted for the next two hours. Todd composed himself and finished talking to the 911 operator and while simultaneously trying to navigate to the hospital. GPS said we were five minutes from the hospital so Todd set out for our destination. Unfortunately, we were five minutes from the old hospital. We got there and realized we were in the wrong place. Todd pulled to the stop sign, looked up and there was a police car to our right. We both flagged him down. He pulled up on side of us.

T4 - Taija, Todd, Tempess and Tové

"Yeah, I just delivered my baby in my car and I'm trying to get to the hospital but the GPS just sent us to the wrong place." The police officer looked in the car, pulled out his radio and less than five minutes later, we were surrounded. The paramedics cut the umbilical cord, took the baby, then lifted me out of the car. Baby and I rode in the ambulance to the hospital and Todd and Tempess followed.

The paramedics ran tests on me and baby, who's APGAR scores were 8 and 9 and we arrived to a welcoming party at the Family Birthing Center at Elmhurst Memorial Hospital.

"I just knew you were going to have that baby in the car when I got here and you weren't here. I've been pacing back and forth waiting for you guys to get here," my midwife said.

She delivered the placenta, they cleaned off baby and the rest was easy peasy.

God is good!! Or Tové. Tové Pureza Sparkman. It means God is good, pure. And He most definitely is. From conception to delivery, He has watched over and blessed my child. And she now has an awesome birth story to share. And we're local celebrities!

 

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Turning 26 and Putting Aside Childish Things

My aunt recently told me “You’re officially a grown person now. You know 25 is the cutoff for little kids. Now you're 26, you’re almost 30.”

And I have to say, she was right. Last year, I just wanted to go out and paint the town green for my birthday, get completely wasted and I guess relive the "glory" days of being carefree in college. This year, I had no such desire. I guess that's what being pregnant (and sick) and saving for a new child and new apartment will get ya.

Leading up to my birthday, I admit I was a little depressed. I didn't have the energy, desire or money to do anything. Somewhere deep inside of me, I was hoping somebody else would take the reigns and plan something, but that didn't happen. (And it's probably about time I give up on this childhood dream of a surprise party lol). As the days wound down to my big day, I found myself feeling a mix of pity, resentment and sadness - totally unlike me for my birthday.

Luckily several things happened that quickly changed my outlook and got me out of the funk I was in (I'm just gonna blame it on the pregnancy hormones....35 weeks preggo, they're running rampant I tell ya.)

1. Todd reminded me that he was planning something. Although his ideas and ways of doing things are different from mine, this casual reminder was what I needed. (Not to mention he's kinda obligated under this invisible contract called a relationship and parenting to do something for me, at the very least from his daughter(s).) 
2. My brother told me he wanted us to celebrate together. Not really sure why this picked me up since I'm still convinced he's some alien life form my mom rescued 24 years ago, but yet in still, it made me smile and made me feel better about my upcoming birthday. 
3. My best friend (and lifesaver) offered to take me to see the Oz (which was AMAZING!!) because her little sister’s bday is the same weekend as my brother’s (and my payday which is what’s most important in celebrating) and she wanted to do something with me.

So how did I celebrate my bday? With my loved ones over the course of several days. And it reminded me why I love my birthday so much. It's not because I spend a lot of money, or have some outrageous birthday party. It's because it's a reminder that I was blessed to spend another year with the people that I love doing the things that I love.

This year, I could complain that not one bar or club saw my face, or that I got sick two days before my birthday and didn't actually get better until lunch time on my birthday. I could complain about the people that let me down or pissed me off on my special day. But then I would be wasting energy on the things that don't matter when I could be focusing on the things that do: like best friends that know laughter and Vampire Diaries marathons cure any ailment; or friends and family that make sure you start your day with voicemails, texts and FB messages full of birthday wishes; or boyfriends that go out of their usually nonchalant, nonexpressive way to shower you with backrubs and affectionate words; or an adorably smiling daughter who wakes you up with hugs and kisses. And most importantly: Edible Arrangement bouquets personalized for you with white chocolate because you're too intolerant of "regular" chocolate. Yup, these are the things that made my birthday fantastically awesome.

For me, birthdays are about celebrating life. Celebrating my life with those I love. They are about being blessed to see another year when so many – both older and younger – aren’t so blessed. They're about love and happiness and rainbows and strawberries and peaches and cream.

26, or almost 30 as my Teet said, is going to be a year of growth and self-reflection for me. I’m about to be a mother of two kids and it's about time I put aside my childish ways of thinking about things. This year, I’m on a journey to redefine myself by my standards, not society’s or the way I have in the past (i.e. my job and relationships).

My Not-So-Happy Pediatrician's Visit

This morning I was getting Temi ready for school when I noticed what I thought was crumbs in her hair. She's been known to smash her fair share of crackers, so food in her hair is not uncommon. When I went to dust the "crackers" out, what I actually found were red, pus-filled bumps. I'm guessing the "crumbs" I felt were actually crust from the bumps.

Either way, I became alarmed. It looked disgusting, so I called her doctor's office and got her in for an appointment. Then I proceeded to wash any and everything that had touched her head recently - hair scrunchies, hats, headbands, pillows, blankets, etc.

We couldn't get in until 2 p.m., so I impatiently waited until it was time to take her to the doctor. We couldn't see her regular pediatrician (I think she might still be on maternity leave), but who cares, just as long as we get whatever it is treated before it can spread, right?

We get to the doctor, wait what seems like an eternity to be called into a room, go through the necessary pre-doctor visit checks and then it's finally time for the doctor. She comes in, looks at Temi and says something along the lines of:

"She probably has an infection. What exactly it is or where she got it from, I don't know. It's probably not viral, probably just a bacterial infection. She probably got it from daycare. I will prescribe a topical antibiotic put it on the infected area and avoid combing her hair for a few days."

Really???? There was no culture taken. No tests done. And antibiotics were prescribed on the basis of a "probably." To be fair, she did ask questions like if it seemed to be bothering Temi, if she had a fever. She did a full body check to make sure there were no rashes or sores anywhere else. But I left the office feeling just as lost and confused as I had when I walked in. This could be anything from an infected hair follicle to something contagious she picked up from daycare. I feel like I could've just Google'd a description and looked on BabyCenter for how helpful the visit was.

Not to mention that anybody that knows me knows I'm not really a fan of medication to begin with unless absolutely necessary. So I'm definitely not enthusiastic about giving my daughter antibiotics to treat what may or may not be a bacterial infection. We get the prescription filled (it was only $5) and I Google it only to be told that it will "cause burning, stinging, itching or pain at first as your body adjusts to it."

So I'm supposed to give my daughter something that will cause her discomfort to treat something that doesn't bother her at all and I'm not even 100% sure that it will even treat it to begin with?

Now I see why our grandparents and their parents were reluctant to go to doctors and hospitals and relied on home remedies. For the money we're paying insurance companies and doctors, I find more helpful information and remedies online and in my own kitchen, and at a much cheaper price.

What about you? Do you always find your doctor/hospital visits to be worthwhile and helpful?

A Mom's Legacy

In a post about life insurance, my fave mommy blogger wrote,

"My husband lost his mother ten years ago this month and I’ve seen firsthand the pain of being mother-less. It’s hard on him and his siblings, even as the years tick by. I asked my husband what was the one thing he remembered most about his mother. His response?

"I remember how much she loved me." What a perfect answer.

And that’s all we want, right? That’s all I want. I want my kids to understand that I love them. With all the air I breathe, with every ounce of my soul. I love them. So much, sometimes, that it almost hurts. If I do nothing else, I will show them that they are loved unconditionally and that there is nothing they have to do to earn my love. It’s already here. Always has been and always will be. Forever and ever."

I first thought about my mom and how much she loves and I wanted to share it with her. I thought of me, Temi and T-Time. Then I thought of all the moms I know. They all want their kids to know how much their loved. It's a mom's legacy.

To my mom: I love you!

There's Got to Be a Better Way

Update: Here's a link to the video of Obama's remarks in case you missed it.

I just heard about the shootings in CT and I feel kinda like this picture...empty. Reports of 27 people shot and killed, mostly kids. The school was K-4. My heart breaks for all the parents that don't get to tuck their little ones in tonight.

It makes me question how much I take Temi for granted. I love her kisses and hugs. And I admit I get a little frustrated when she tries to use them to stay up at night. But God if I couldn't ever feel them again.....

A picture of the kids being led out by police with looks of terror on their faces is just too much. My prayers go out to all affected.

This situation is beyond sad and makes me think of India.Arie's song "Better Way."

Really?? That's All It Was?!?!?

So earlier this week, I talked about how Temi's screams were driving me crazy. I didn't know if she was throwing tantrums or something was seriously wrong. Turns out my baby was just tired of her "sick baby" food. She wanted some real food. She had one bite of tilapia and ran to her Daddy. After she finished all her food, she was bouncing all over the walls, smiling,  dancing, laughing.
Better but nerves are on edge lol

*Note to self: Much like her Mommy, Temi turns all shades of Incredible Hulk when she's hungry.

A Word from Our Temi

Temi and her Big Girl Sippy

Earlier this week, I went to San Diego for work. When my trip was over, I was picked up from the airport by a knocked out toddler who woke up as soon as the car stopped moving. Upon seeing my face, she immediately got the biggest smiled, grabbed my face and brought it close to hers. She then proceeded to shower me with an assortment of hugs and kisses that never tasted so sweet. The joy she she felt was so pure it shone through her eyes. The love shower continued as we made our way into the apartment where she opened her mouth wide and for the first time, I noticed her tooth.....WAIT WHAT???!!! Tooth? When did THAT get here? Yeah, when I left, the princess had four, count them 1...2...3...4 teeth, now she has five. And it's not just coming in, no, it's already in. My, oh my, where does the time go?

Temi's favorite activity is leaving. She likes to bolt out open doors. Wave bye bye. She even created and sang her own bye bye song as her and Daddy were leaving for work yesterday. Sometimes, she will even grab me or Daddy's finger and lead us to the apartment door.

Temi on the phone with her Nana

Since I've been back, Temi has been waking up in the middle of the night with these bloodcurdling screams and refusing to go back no matter how much I rock or kiss her. Thursday night/Friday morning was absolutely horrible. It took forever to put her to sleep and then when I finally went to sleep, she woke up. I'd only been sleep an hour. She was inconsolable. Screaming at the top of her lungs. Then she would kick furiously and throw herself all over the bed. All with her eyes clothes. I've never seen anything like this. Besides it being frustrating for the lack of sleep, I also felt so helpless and heartbroken. Whatever it was that was causing her to act and scream out like this, I couldn't do anything about it. On top of that, it was just agonizing. My happy-go-lucky, sweet, sleep-thru-the-night, blow-you-kisses-and-smile-all-day girl was screaming in pure pain or terror (or both). Such a complete contrast to what I've been used to.

And now, a word from our Temi: rrc 4x4eelweplelell2w121,m

 

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You Can't Save a Brother that Don't Wanna Be Saved

"[When are you gonna learn, you can't] keep trying to save a brother that don't wanna be saved."

I don't know why this line stuck out to me, but ever since I first saw Jason's Lyric, it did. And since then I've quoted it countless times - to family, to friends, to myself.


Today is one of those days where I need to say it to myself again. I'm surrounded by people that need to be saved but for one reason or another they don't want to be and it hurts.

I have super high expectations for the people that I choose to allow in my life. For those people that I have no choice, there are a select few that I hold in high regards. For all the jokes and $h!t talking that goes on in my family, I come from a lot of talented individuals - I have people that have recorded multiple hit records, went on tours, rapped and sang with celebrities, owned successful businesses, played pro sports, became successful career people, taught celebrities, have amazing singing/writing/acting skills, could've owned their own restaurant, etc. There's a lot to be proud of in my family.

These great people bred great people. Unfortunately, I got to watch so much of that greatness die by the wayside. It's disheartening. But really it's heartbreaking to watch someone you love, someone with such great greatness, destroy themselves. And lately, it seems like the people that I care about a lot are getting destroyed and it's hard to pretend like I don't care or that I'm not affected.

I'm all about accountability and consequences for your actions. It's hard to have sympathy for someone that put themselves in a bad situation, no matter how jacked up it gets. But at the same time, I want better for them. Why? Because I know they're capable of better. I want to remove them from the situation they're in. I want to remove all their vices and distractions. I want to slap them upside the head and say "Hey stupid! Wake up. Don't you see you're killing yourself?! Don't you see you're hurting the people around you?! We love you but you have got to do better. You have got to get it together!!!" But I know that will do no good.

There is only one Savior and His name isn't Taija Jenkins. I know at the end of the day, I can't keep tryna save a brother that don't wanna be saved. So I'm forced to sit on the sidelines and watch those I love go through what I feel is unnecessary troubles, drama and destruction and hope and pray to God that they get it together before it's too late. And that hurts like hell!

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