Dakarai's Life Matters

Have you ever watched a baby sleep? The tranquility, the unspoken assurance that his parents, that his caregivers have him covered. There is no fear of being unprotected. I remember my son losing oxygen and the doctors having to do an emergency c-section. The thought of losing him. I remember the mixture of emotions as I felt him being pulled from my belly. I was thanking God for his breath, not asking my white nurses "Do you have any idea what it will take to raise this African American male?"

If you know me you know that my life, my friendships have not been bound by color. But, I refuse to deny the difference in my fears compared to that of my white friends who have raised or are raising sons. I have daughters but there is a different fear every time my son leaves my presence. That's my chocolate drop who has a smile that will melt your heart and a warrior's spirit. He's a young man. While he still has a lot of growing and maturing to do, God has graced him with a strong sense of himself.

Tell me what am I suppose to do?  He gets tired of my endless conversation of watching your environment, if stopped check your attitude,, yada...yada. I grew up in a household where my grandmother and stepfather where Black Muslims. I was a protestor, an advocate growing up. I remember banging on the windows of Allegheny College as we demanded that the trustees divest from South Africa. I co-chaired the Political Actions committee of our Advancement of Black Culture organization. I helped to start the multicultural coalition. My family didn't raise no punks! But every time my son walks out that door - the worry, the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Why you might ask? Because we live in a world that doesn't value his life! I remember when I was pregnant with him, the summer of 1999. His father and I moved into a suburb area of Cleveland. There was a park across the street from our apartment. One hot, late night his dad decides to walk across the street to the park. Within 5 minutes a couple of police cars pulled up wanting to know why he was in the area and where he was going.

Again you ask why the pit in my stomach? The profiling, the system, the perceptions! I know for a fact that some people see my son as a hoodlum. In 8th grade one of his white teachers told a security guard that she was afraid of him.  Really chick?  Afraid of boy who has never gotten into trouble beyond the nonsense that boys that age do. But really? So what scared you? His dark skin, the way he carries himself to say that ain't nobody going to mess with him, the swagger in his walk?  His confidence at such a young age? What?

Isn’t it bad enough that we live in a society where parents are already worried about their children’s safety, the senseless, non-stop violence! I moved us to a small suburban neighborhood. I am a homeowner! A hardworker! I went to a private school, graduated from college and got my masters! I have taught my children to be respectful to adults, to listen to those with authority. I also taught them that no one was perfect and that even adults make mistakes. Am I wrong?  I have especially told him that it was our responsibility, not his, to defend his rights! That’s why I am the parent. Right?

But am I right? Is it okay when he is walking down the street for the police to pull up and tell him to "take his ass home."  Oh - but you want us to be respectful to you? If he is approached by the police do you want him to completely devalue himself and – “Uh…yes sir, master...

I am a woman of God and well-educated. So why does world tell my heart that my teenage son, who could easily pass for a young adult, is seen as threat to be taken out!

In Genesis 4:10 God says: “What have you done? The voice of your brother’s blood is crying to Me from the ground."

Make no mistake that this is a spiritual battle! I am my son's keeper. I am my brother's keeper. We are our brothers’ keeper. For the sake of my son and yours, I will no longer be a spectator. I have put on the armor of God. Lord you said if I cry unto You, You will light my path and show me me the way.

My spirit is heavy, my heart aches.

Aba Father, I cry unto you.

A Mom and Her Stair Steps

So, over the last couple of months I have started and restarted this blog a few times. Not quite sure what direction I wanted to go. But today, I needed to vent about raising teenage children. As you know I have three, stairs steps no less…14, 15, and 16.  OOOhhhh what a joy? Most days lately, not really! So, let’s take them 1 by 1. There is my oldest, Eboni. She was born looking just like a little China Doll. She was literally that baby that everyone stopped to coo over because she was just beautiful. She was even tempered, didn't cry a lot, you could babysit her without much fuss, etc.

Derek and I have been very intentional in our parenting and are definitely in sync on what we did and didn't want to do. For those who know me, you know I am the off the cuff, let the steam fly person where Derek has been the more level headed one in our parenting adventures. I don’t think we treated Ebs like a princess, but maybe along the way it happened because Lord knows she is the DIVA in the family. She is the typical oldest child. Ebs has always had a strong sense of herself. She has been interested in the medical field since she was about 5. She has always known that she wanted to be a doctor and only the type of doctor has changed. 

She works, she spends her money wisely, she is not impulsive. She is analytical like me but better in how she really studies and calculates her moves. Unlike me, she does not do well with change. I don't think most Diva's do. And like a Diva, she has the tendency to act like the world revolves around her and her only.  I was reading something by T.D. Jakes and he said that the problem we often have in living our lives in abundance is that we never quite grasp the reality that God has already given us the land to possess. Thus, we fail to take possession. Even though Ebs may not fully understand this yet, I think Eb has already begun to activate that principle in her life. Deep down inside its like she knows what God has already prepared for her and she is going to get it!

Then there’s my middle child, Dakarai. Yes he is also like the middle child. A friend recommended that I read the Birth Order. Wow, it was on point and insightful. Even as an infant my dad knew his strong spirit. My family affectionately named me “rainmaker” as a child because all I would do was cry until my mother came home. That was Dakarai and definitely Jazmyn.  My dad was the only person who could watch Dakarai and he would not have a fit. My dad would say, “Mare…you’re gonna have to tame him, but never break his spirit.” 

As a child he was feisty and strong-willed but there was always something sweet and gentle about him. He could always make you laugh. He had high energy…still does. But there was the quietness to him that I think others his age took for a weakness. He had a slight speech problem which looking back, I think, made him a little unsure of himself. He went through a brief period of being bullied. As a result, that “no one will ever get the best of me again” attitude arose. In some ways he was able to turn it into good on the football field. But, that on guard is still there. He always wants to be on the edge, always a little bit ahead of everyone else.

He is a natural leader. Actually I think I have been blessed with 3 leaders but the flipside is that to be a leader you also have to know how to serve. A lesson each still has to learn. However, amongst the three Dakarai is the one who would help out a stranger without blinking. I think the young man keeps finding money on the street because each time he does, he shares it with a friend.  He doesn't even realize how people flock to him and the influence he has. Take that back…he does realize it but I don’t think he understands the positive impact he can have. He’s fifteen so he’s beginning to live into and test his manness (if that is not a word - it is now in the MAP dictionary). But, as the mother it’s driving me crazy. Plus, it can be scary raising a young black male. I think that so many women have squelched that manness in their sons because they didn't know how to handle it. 

The truth of the matter is they are meant to be warriors. They are meant to grow up and be the head of their households. So how do we balance letting them grow into who God has called them to be and keeping them in check. If someone backs him in a corner, the warrior is supposed to rise but….it’s about teaching them to use discernment and make wise decisions in handling the situation.  A warrior doesn't always have to fight, a warrior can stand his ground, make peace and diffuse conflict. I have seen Dakarai get in the midst of conflict, stir it up and I have also seen him mediate situations. 

He is very opinionated and will stand his ground even to his fault. This is a humbling lesson he still has to learn. But, he can be a loyal friend. I have also seen him apologize to his friends when he has been in the wrong. I have heard him speak encouragement to a friend. He is a thinker, an abstract thinker. Even though he won't always show it, he does have compassion. It troubles him when his friends are living troubled lives at home. 

Then there is Jazzy. In many ways, yes she is the typical baby of the family. Derek says she is a lot like me which can be a hard pill to swallow. Why didn't she get my love for school? As I used to complain to my mother about my brother -  the other two tell me that I am not hard enough on her, she gets away with everything. I have to admit this is not totally untrue. Jazzy has a hard exterior like Dakarai. We used to joke when she was little about just how mean and stubborn she was. Really not a joking matter anymore….let’s be clear about that. 

I have really come to believe that some of the anger that just sits inside of Jazmyn stems from my pregnancy. First let me say that Derek and I are great friends and I am so thankful that we are partners in this parenting. When I was pregnant with Jaz I was a very angry person inside and I detested the ground her father walked on. I think there has been some transference there so I continually pray for that to be lifted off her. That's was never her cross to bear. But, there was something about her. When I would get restless, as a baby I could just hold her and my spirit would quiet down. Imagine that! 

The girl can be so defiant and can just outright refuse to acknowledge your presence or the authority you have (not me or her dad although she can be testy).  I have even told some of her younger teachers to set the stage from the start, let Jaz know that you are not going to take her crap. If she spots a weakness, it’s all over.  She can be a mean girl and has been the victim of mean girlness. Yet she has a heart for babies, the elderly and those with mental challenges.But I can see something changing in her. I am claiming it into existence. 

Like Dakarai, people flock to her too. She can also have a good amount of influence. But then there is that part of her that seems lost. If you every talk to the youngest in families they often talk about this feeling of being lost, not quite sure where they fit in in the world, etc. I often feel like that’s my Jaz. I think her exterior is a cover for how she is feeling inside and to mix all that up with being a teenage girl and having an older sister who always seems to have it together. 

Derek also reminded me that some of my frustration comes with our parenting style. Yes, we both believe that our children have voices and have a right to be heard. We have instilled in our children that their voice, their thoughts, their feelings…they do matter. You can be upset with me because that’s your emotions but it is how you act upon that. You can state your opinion and/or facts, yes we will take them into consideration and you can disagree with us but we have the final say. Also, as parents we understand that we are not always right or may not always make the best decision. When they are owed an apology, we give them one. Why, because it teaches them the basic level of respect, respecting one another just as human beings.

But, what do you do during those times when you feel like its not enough and they are never gonna get it! Yes, I have higher academic expectations than they may choose to achieve, yes they don’t like me sometimes, yes I don’t like them sometimes, yes they get tired of hearing my mouth, yes I get tired of having to always open my mouth, yes they think they can do what they want, yes I remind them that there are consequences to their actions, yes they make me cry, yes they make me laugh, yes I am proud to be their mom.

I initially started writing this because I am a frustrated parent trying to get two of her children to understand the importance of doing better in school and just raising three teenagers is a challenge in and of itself. Am I still frustrated and tired…yes, yes and yes. But, I wouldn't trade a late-night football game where Dakarai gives me a nod from the field, dropping Ebs off at 6:30 in the morning so she can have the chance to shadow a doctor, or those times when I am too tired to move off the couch but I hear Jaz come down – turn off all the lights, check the windows and turn on the alarm before going to bed. My kids rarely break curfew, they don’t cut school, for the most part they hang out with other decent kids and I generally know where they are. Beyond the normal teenage crap that drives parents crazy…they are just growing up and finding their own way. Then I think, is that how God feels about us? They are His gift to me. 

My own blog has given me the fortitude to plunge ahead. When referencing our walk with God we often say that we are works in progress…well, so are they!  

What Is Like To Raise An African-American Male?

For everyone holding a baby in their arms, looking over their children as they sleep – Do you know what it is like raising a young African American male?  Today our hearts still ache, we still cry, we still worry and we still pray every time one our sons walk out of that door!  It is bad enough that we are living in a society where we are constantly worried about our children’s safety due to the constant nonsense violence that it taking some many our young people’s lives no matter their color. But to pour salt into that wound, we who are parenting young black sons still have additional burdens.

As those who know me will tell you, I am not bound by color but I can’t deny the fact there in a difference in some of my fears and how I need to parent when compared to my other friends and acquaintances who are not raising African American boys. We all teach our sons that they need to be respectful to adults, that they need to respectful to those in authority, that as young persons it is our jobs, as the adults, to defend their rights when they have been violated by an adult. I am always telling my kids when they feel they have been wronged or mistreated by a teacher, etc….let me handle. That is why I am the parent. We also all know how teenagers are, especially boys. They are growing into their own manhood.

By God’s order males are natural leaders, presiders of their households, providers, protectors of their households. As they going through their process during their teenage years they are preparing themselves for this so they are feisty, they do need feel the need to defend themselves, “stand their ground.” Who is to say this is not what happened with Trayvon Martin?  I would venture to say that he is the one who was defending himself. Would you not be weary of someone following you around? But getting back to my point – as I stated all young boys go through this to prepare them for manhood. However, a male of another race may feel so inclined to defend his rights to a police officer, a teacher, etc. while our sons have to think twice about what they say and do even when they are in the right. It is yet another form of emasculation!  What does it do to a man’s pride, let alone a young boy’s pride, when he has to lay down his manhood to show his innocence?

I have a young dark skinned teenage boy with a little swagger, a strong sense of himself. Unfortunately he has a few of his mother’s flaws – a little mouthy, some edge on him and her temper. However, for him as a black male that can cause some serious issues. I can’t keep him locked up in the house and he is already tired of my constant preaching. But, I can’t tell you the worry that is in me every time he walks out that door alone and with a group of his friends. Not just because of the world we live in but because of profiling, people’s perceptions. I not only have to keep him out of unsafe neighborhoods but do I now have to worry about him walking the streets of better neighborhoods because some random citizen may think he’s trouble?

I know for a fact that he was one of those teenagers that can be seen as hoodlum because it has happened before. In fact, one of his teachers told a security guard that he scared her. Are you f’ing kidding me!!!! The same thing happened to his father in college. His dad got into it with a professor and she claimed that a dark skinned male was peaking in her window that night and it looked like him.  So if my son had been in that situation what should he have done? Completely devalue himself – “Uh…yes sir….I can take my hoodie off…uh yes sir…I just went to get my sister some skittles from the store…uh yes sir I will get myself out of your neighborhood as soon as possible.”  If I offend you I am sorry but this is my blog, this is how I am feeling and I need to vent!!!! We keep talking about how we have progressed as a society, blah, blah, blah.  Give me a f’ing break!  I am sick to my stomach and tired of all  this BS.  

Bernice King sums it up: “Today is a defining moment for the status of my father's dream." 

At the end of the day I pray to God for wisdom and guidance but I can no longer sit still. 

It Continues....

It has been over a year since I last wrote something. I have decided to pick it back up not only for my love of writing, but documenting this next leg of our journey as Eboni, Dakarai and Jazmyn become young adults. They are now 14, 13 and 12.  Eboni is more than half-way through her freshman year of high school and I am once again realizing how quickly time is passing by.  Many of you know that I am not this overwhelmingly sentimental person. In fact I have down-sized our house in preparation for them all going away to college. But I have to admit, as much as I loved the baby years, I am really looking for to these next few years as they continue to blossom. If you know their father and I, you can imagine that yes, each one is strong willed, stubborn and opinionated. Yet, each has a heart with their own special causes they believe in. While the sibling bickering drives me up a freakin’ wall, there is nothing like the laughter, the pranks, the jokes, the debates, time together.

I work at a high school and I know that God placed me here for a reason. Not only to do the work I do, but to be near and share this experience with my kids. Initially if it were left up to them, I don’t think any of them would have chosen to go to high school where their mother works. However, Eboni has proven that it is not such a bad deal. I remember going down the hallway and someone saying “mommie” repeatedly…Oh wow…she’s talking to me!  She likes the school and enjoys her perks. She gets to leave her crap in my office, miss homeroom without being penalized (those who know me understand this is my fault) as well as coming to get money although I have forgotten to give her lunch money a couple of times and left the building.

There are days that I wonder what self-destructive punishment drug I continue to take as I work full-time, am pursuing my doctorate and try to make sure that I am present for almost every extra-curricular activity. This was the first year that all 3 played a sport with at least 2 playing at the same time. This past winter there were at least 3 basketball games a week. The responsibility was divided between myself, their dad and his mother. There are so many days where I feel I can’t catch my breath but I don’t know that I would change it.

In many ways blogging will be good therapy for me. It will be good history tracker but more importantly it will be a journaling memoir. At the beginning of the school year Eboni asked me to write a letter that would be given to her to read her senior year.  I started it but I am not sealing it. It will be an ongoing letter to her as I talk about the journey of being her mom over the next 4 years. I plan to do this for the other 2 also.  It starts: Eboni as I sit her writing this to you I can’t believe that wide-eyed baby I held in my arms for the first time 14 years ago is now a high school student. What a beautiful young lady you are both inside and out. Sometimes I am in awe of how much God loved me to have entrusted 3 of his angels to me to steward. I love the way your smile lights up your face (you get that from me btw…lol) and how you are so eager to learn things. Plus you are so much more timely and organized than your mother. Anway…from day one there are so many hopes and dreams that a parent has for his/her children. While I do have those, it is not about living my dreams for you. As you continue to grow into a young adult, it’s about watching you dream and guiding you to full those dreams…  

Ready or Not...here comes PuppyLove

Close your eyes and think back. Do you remember your first crush? Your first kiss? I DO!!!! My first "real kiss" and crush were with the same person. To this day that man still makes my heart skip a beat. He is a few years older than me. When I was in high school I was completely devastated when I learned he was getting married...Heartbreak Hotel.  Do you remember the first time that special someone made you cry? Did you have anyone to talk to? Were you able to tell your mom, your dad?

Looking back, and not being judgmental, I am saddened that I did not experience that special mother/daughter bond. While our relationship has taken some work, we are much closer today. I am also blessed in that I have a great friendship and parenting relationship with my ex-husband. Even before our divorce we made a conscious decision to raise our children differently from what we experienced. For those who may know our mothers I do want to point out that this is not a slight against them but hopefully we all learn how to be better parents and people from those around us. For those who know us both or just me, you know how much we parent together. We want our children to understand that while there are boundaries, expectations, non-negotiables and consequences for their actions that they still have a voice that can be heard as well as a safe space with us. We both agree, particularly in these days, that our children should know that opposed to putting their life in danger or making a life-altering decision that they can come to us. There are times, even when it is hard to bite the tongue, that they need an adult listening ear. For those with doubts, believe me when I say that our children fully understand that we are their parents and not their friends. 

Last weekend I finally set both feet into the role of parenting teenagers. Not the tug and pool of rearing young men and women to be productive beings in the world, but I stepped into the reality that it is time for male/female relationships. Whether I am ready or not - it is here. Of course you know I can't go without my side note sooo...one thing I have promised myself is that even in blogging I will honor my children's right to privacy and space. However in my house I am like the Huxtables...this is not a democracy....privacy is a privilege and not a right!  That being said, I will limit my disclosure of their issues and stuff. 

Anyway this all started two years ago with my oldest daughter's liking of this boy for whom I will refrain from giving my personal commentary! But lets just say he is not someone I would have picked for her plus he and my son had some issues a couple of years ago. But I am the adult and kids do kids things so I try not to hold it against him....too much anyway. Now, this liking thing between the two of them grew a little too much for both set of parents. After a few minor infractions, too much time on the telephone and too many mutual friends - last summer we (the parents on both sides) decided that they needed to spend the summer without being able to communicate with one another. They were not allowed to talk on the phone, email or be in the same company of friends. Of course we were not dumb enough to believe that this was going to be exactly foolproof - they are kids. But for the most part it worked.

So here comes 8th grade with the liking still there much to my dismay. Of course I didn't even think about asking that their lockers not be anywhere near each other. And of course they are close together. Fortunately they have no classes together as he is in 7th grade. "Come on," I told her, "are you trying to be a cradle robber?" Truthfully his bday is in November but they are the same age. LOL...I am not that bad...sike...yes I am but we all know what happens when your parents go hating on someone you like. Thus, I have contained myself to a few comments here and there. 

Anyway during the course of this year they have decided to remain friends but still talk very often, see each other in school, have the same friends, etc. They both still really like each other but he is a boy and does stupid boy stuff, hence my blog. In keeping their "so-called" right to privacy I won't go into details. All I will say is that last weekend on a drive home I heard a conversation between she and her sister. I remained quiet and listened to the story about how she never wanted to talk to him again and would not be his friend. (Haven't I heard this story before?) I laughed to myself as she talked about her "girls" having her back, wanting to dog him out etc. However, she being the young lady we have raised her to be, told her "girls to just leave him alone. She has it covered (so she thinks is my thought). 

Of course Inspector Mom secretly listened as she sang along with the radio, but was really gathering as much of the 411 as possible. You know a part of me was hoping that this bull crap was coming to an end. Then....as we go into the house I see tears in her eyes. Are you freakin' kidding me? "Come on God, is this some cruel joke, payback for something I did to my mother...WHAT!??!!" This is freakin' puppy love, as our parents called it. I know her feelings are hurt but really? We haven't even begun to touch the REAL heartbreak yet. As I say this last part in my head, the unfortunate reality sets in that we really haven't hit those agonizing moments yet. While it has been my life's work to steward them into teenagedom (I know it's not a real word) and guide them into adulthood - I have also spent the last 13 years watching over them, protecting them.  But mommie can not block every pain and prevent every heartbreak. But - I can be her strong arm, the shoulder she needs to cry on, the ear she needs to talk to, the loving face she needs to see, the encouraging whisper in her head, the comfort she needs to hug her.

As I saw the tears in her eyes I remembered that although she has grown to think a public hug is embarrassing, prefers to spend more time with her friends (or room) and often thinks my presence is an intrusion - she is my firstborn baby. She's my little girl and I just want to bandage her "booboo." She, much to my surprise, lets me take her into my arms and hug her. She lays her head on my shoulder and cries. For the first time in a long while she let's her mom hug her, kiss her head and listens as I tell her what a beautiful young lady she is (inside and out), that her feelings are hurt right now and although she can't see it...this too shall pass.

Back to Reality

Tomorrow the Paxton chaos returns: my vacation ends and all of us are back to school. I should also mention that I seeing blogging as a combination of writing something mentally prepared and what comes to mind so you will find an occasional off the subject commentary. I say this because as I wrote the Paxtons I remember how my sister-in-law use to refer to them as the Little People. At Thanksgiving one of them, I think Dakarai, suggested that she now call them the same size people...lol. Anyway, I must admit that it has been ages but I finally took some time just to sleep, eat, relax, watch T.V. and be a total bum. ENJOYED IT!!! 

Nonetheless, my fairy tale will come to an end when I open my eyes at 5 a.m. to face yet another jammed packed week with meetings, catching up on endless emails, wrestling matches, homework, reading and did I say wrestling matches. Tuesday is going to be crazy - there is a 7:30 finance committee mtg, a wrestling tournament at 4:15 and a board meeting at 6:30 for which I have prepared for over my last vacation weekend. Then there is a wrestling match on Thursday and a freakin' tournament on Saturday. Let's talk about this wrestling stuff. I grew up loving WWF with Hulk Hogan, Randy Savage, etc. and even watch it now with my son. But the true athletic wrestling - well it's a little different. I am a sports nut but this does not exactly suit my fancy. 

This all started when Dakarai was the last person to get cut from basketball tryouts. An unfortunate but probably humbling experience for my little jock. A good lesson that despite your God given talents it may not always work out, you have to practice even in the off season and always give your best effort. Our filler - wrestling. Plus everyone tells us that it will help him with football which is his number one sport. Now let me say that I didn't realize that boys' bodies could bend and contort the way they do. Secondly, can we not find some other type of uniform for growing boys than than those glorified speedos----ugh!!!! They remind me of the old time bathing suits but these are made of spandex. Plus my son has a nice backside as the YOUNG GIRLS have put it. BTW...(and this is a rhetorical question) why are my oldest daughter's friends checking out my son's backside. I am not feeling that! I am soooo not ready for that! 

Have you ever been to a tournament? OMG!!! (Sidenote: I crack myself up. As I wrote OMG it made me think of the song where they go: "OMG Becky, look at her butt").  Those who know me know that I am a little off so back to the subject at hand. Those tournaments - how long, boring and tedious can they get? While I support the team as a whole, your kid may wrestle once every 2 to 3 hours. To be completely honest while there are a couple of them that I like to see wrestle, I really don't want to see every freakin' kid wrestle. I know this doesn't sound nice but it is what it is. Then you are there from sunrise to sunset. Really!?! My backside is too old to sit on bleachers that long, it is big enough already and doesn't need help. 

Well, I have obviously gone off on a tangent expressing some bottled up thoughts so I am signing off. Who knows this may turn out to be better than therapy...

Welcome to 2012

First let me thank my sister-in-law, Erica, for the name of my blog. She affectionately calls me Sister Mary. I am my maternal grandmother's namesake: Mary Alice. I grew up detesting this name and referred to it as some country bumpkin name. I told my mother that I was going to change it when I became an adult. Well, obviously I did not. Although I am referred to as Mary, except by family, I have come to appreciate being named after my grandmother who died a few months before I was born. Apparently there are few things we have in common, besides my mother. I have a strong 6th sense as she did, I love hats (especially for church) and I have her beautiful smile.

I apologize in advance as this first post will be a lot of rambling...but there is just a few things I need to get out before I really get started. For those who know me a just a little here is some background information. I am a divorced mother of 3 children: Eboni, Dakarai, and Jazmyn who are now ages 11, 12 and 13. I have officially declared myself a workaholic and a glutton for punishment. Besides heading the advancement department of a Catholic high school, I am beginning the 3rd year of my doctorate program while juggling the academic/social life of my children as well as our spiritual life.

The end of 2011 found me doing a lot of reflection. While I am extremely blessed, I realize that my spiritual life has hit a bump in the road. Maybe it comes from being in my 40's and seeing life differently. Maybe it comes from feeling tired of playing church and neglecting the true experience of God. Maybe it comes from realizing what world my children are growing up in, how things are continuously changing (and not necessarily for the better) and wondering what legacy will be left to them. Along with that I am now facing the challenge of rearing 3 teenagers whose job is to obviously buck the system and become their own individuals. No doubt, anyone who knows my children already understand that they each have their very own distinct personality. But, I want to make sure that they continue to live and make decisions with the values, morals and spiritual foundation they have been given. Some of this I already witness as I listen to Eboni give her friends advice, as I watch Dakarai take up for a friend who is being bullied or buying his friend a movie ticket. Then there is Jazmyn who showed concern when one of our students, who could be considered a misfit, was sitting on the steps looking dejected, befriends the mentally challenged students in her school and cares for animals.

Then there is the flip side - living the nightmare of every parent with teenagers from the female emotional roller coaster to the young male who thinks he has acquired some manhood...lol. BTW...Eboni will be attending the school where I work next year. That will be a journey in itself - working at the high school your children attend. Then there is the tug and pull of whether or not I want a love life. While I have truly listened to my best friend and her husband tell me that at the end of the day there is nothing like having that person to lay your head on his shoulders or some one to share those little moments with...some days I feel guilty for not really wanting that. Have I become too comfortable in my own solitude? Like any human, I desire companionship but I don't how much I want to sacrifice to have it. Very often I like coming home not having to worry about anyone but the kids. I can give them sandwiches, take out, etc. I don't have to worry about that other body...talking to him, taking care of him, etc. Does that sound really selfish and crass? Hmmm. It is what it is.

Anyhooo....I have always loved journaling so I have decided to blog my next few years experience - the highs and the lows of my life from raising my teenage children, to earning my doctorate, to strengthening my personal relationship with God, my work, my friendships, losing weight and truly becoming all God has called me to be: the authentic Mary Alice.