exhausted and comatose..that's where you'll find me

I spend most of my days somewhere being exhausted and comatose. Waking up tired is chic and my appreciation for all things take out has returned. My inner Martha Stewart folds and creases endless pages with great sales ideas and all the stupendous projects I am going to tackle..tomorrow. I have notebooks to organize my notepads and lying in bed nightly solve the problems of small countries . I condemn the laundry with a stern look and refuse to be lured by it’s continual growth, setting an alarm on my blackberry to check out full service wash dry fold places.
Daily I cart my gym bag to work, remembering how great I felt two months ago when I slipped on my Nikes. More energy, more stamina, and no droopy butt. However, lunch is infinitely more enticing and what’s 20 stinkin minutes on the bike going to do anyway? My body continues to shape shift in preparation for baby landing aka birth. Potato sacks and burlap soon will be my only viable options, as the breasts continue to make their case for soverign nation status. I spend whole hours staring at black and white grainy ultrasounds, fascinated by my baby boys face already. I cry for everything and nothing, laugh and talk to my stomach knowing I am heard.I dig in my daughter's ears in public, lick my finger to get dirt off her face, and just like that, I am my mother.
Pregnancy brain loss surfaces when I return to the parking garage clueless about my car's location. Sexy underwear left with my waistline and in it's place a worn Sox jersey and my used to be too big sweats. I'm officially hot.I scroll through my 12 year old daughter’s phone contacts and come across my own name saved under mom. And just like that, I am cured for the moment, from the over everything and underliving blues. At least until tomorrow.

amazed at the assumptions people make

My father is a red haired Irish man, my mother a Monacan Sioux, dutch black woman. I was raised and continue to be nurtured and blessed by the best parents on the planet. Marriage in my family is the norm, and I can't think of anyone in my family besides myself who is a single parent. Despite my liberal upbring in Massachusetts, I have been an active member of the Republican party since I was 21. I didn't finish college but have worked my tail off to get to the place where I have a pretty comfortable standard of living. My daughter is a joy,beautiful, kind,intelligent and her dad and I have always joined forces to give her the best we can from two different homes. It was very difficult coming home the first time unwed and pregnant, more so because I felt I had let my parents down and I didn't want to become a statistic. So even when times were very hard, I worked three jobs, maintained home and joy and believed even when I couldn't see it that hard work and determination can get you out of most situations.

I never planned on another child unmarried, but morally abortion was never an option. Financially I am capable, and I feel that part of the problem of our society is the throw away mentality. Don't like what you did, take a pill, ignore it, blame someone else. Do anything but face your own choice square in the eye. I tell my daughter that while she can survive any situation, God intended for parenting in the best case scenario to be done with two parents and not one.
Daily, however, as I blog on various topics throughout the web about my single pregnancy, people make the assumption that as a woman of color having her second child, I must be headed for or already on welfare.
I am the first to denounce lazy people- black white, red green single married. There are many many people of all races and creeds that worked hard day in and day out because that was the right thing to do, and because they had a strong sense of integrity. However I know especially in this day and age, people hit hard times, and as a single parent, those times come five times as fast, because there is only one person to count on.
No person in their right mind would without great and deep thought have a child alone. I pray daily for strength, courage and fortitude to be all that i need to be for my children. And as much as I cry when it comes, I will never feel sorry for myself nor wonder why me.
I chose my life and I put into place the circumstances. How i react to those always is within my control.
Just as I teach my daughter right and wrong, I teach her that while she should have a strong moral compass, it is not her place to stand in judgement of anyone, that remains on God's shoulders alone.
My parents love is going into it's 41st year. I am thankful that they were able to be steadfast and choose love over comfort, and were able through example to instill that in us.

dreamt oatmeal and woke up tired

...but no one ever said growing a baby was easy. I've pulled over into the exhausted lane of life, happily, and figure it's a prelude for the next eight years of life with boy. My obsession with all things food continues..as I type I am dreaming of the oatmeal and how yummy it will taste, picturing what is exactly in my frig now and looking forward to my morning scramled egg whites, grapefruit and toast with oj.

My daughter continues to lift up my superwoman cape for me when I am more content to shove it in the back of the closet, she hugs me and her baby brother more than usual, talks into my belly button and tells me what a great momma I am..

and I can't help but remembering the joy I felt when I first saw her face, how instantly i understood what uncondtional love was staring into her eyes..how in that split second how I wanted to be better and more....
I would rather walk blind with faith than eyes wide open with fear...I figure if I'm not a little scared, I'm not really human...

just makes me a parent...this is one of my favorite pictures of my dad and my brother..just because..