"Eat, Drink and Be Married..."

Updating this blog.

2020-04-24T15:46:00.000-04:00

I am archiving all my old work and writing new pieces here: shelbystone-steel.com.

Meraki is the updated work.

Eat, Drink, and Be Married is the (slowly) archived pieces from this site.

Currently, I am watching Modern Love. I'm excited about it because I used to love reading the stories in the New York Times. I am folding clothes as I watch this show. My friend Tasha told me about it. We've been friends since we were 16 years old. She is someone that does a far better job at keeping her ear and eyes to the culture. And she does such a phenomenal job at keeping me updated. But I think the coolest part about it all is that she is someone that knows me well enough to suggest stories that are so aligned with who I am. It's funny how relationships work - some for moments, some for years, some for a lifetime. And we never know which relationship is which (short, long, deep, shallow) until it's all said and done. We will always have Paris.

Update: there are no women of color as a love interest so far... arrrgh....come on AMAZON!!!! What a beautiful series - you really couldn't incorporate a woman of color in it? It reminds me of Disney movies as a child. You love the film, but you watch as a spectator "an other." Meh.

A little video throwback!

2020-04-04T12:44:00.000-04:00

Can y'all believe Shelbystonesteel.com is about 13 years old? This space was my public journal for so long. I was cleaning up the website because I need a creative and quick venue to write and ran across this video. It's too funny! I hope that you are well.

Soundtrack: Ice Cubes

2019-09-11T17:01:00.001-04:00

It's the beginning of September in Georgia, but it's still in the 90's. The boys are playing in their rooms. Both in their respective corners. And so I sit on the couch with a magazine and instead of my natural instinct to grab a hot pumpkin spiced coffee - I create an iced coffee with seltzer water and almond milk. It's delicious and refreshing. Before long, though, the ice cubes caught my attention and created for me a moment of pause and gratitude. Thought I'd try my best. to capture.

Stress Relief

2019-09-09T16:22:00.002-04:00

My cousin, Mia, introduced me to my obsession a few years ago: Blue Zones. Blue Zones "BZ" are places where folks live long and healthy lives. I literally used to have its image as my screen saver: an old woman in purple shopping in the market with a wicker basket. It was my constant reminder of who I wanted to be in 50 years and therefore needed to be now.

Well, enough about my computer. One thing that holds true for most of the BZ areas is that they have ways to alleviate stress.

Now our elders told us right - prayer, meditation, and gratitude lists are EVERYTHING. And most of the Blue Zone regions are incredibly spiritual and attend a place of worship weekly.

But when you look at blue zones - stress management is separate than the spiritual. Now, I know folks are thinking... exercise - but that activity is separate as well.

So in true Capricorn nature (you already know that) I am a sucker for rhythms and routines, but y'all taking it a step farther (life changing alert) preparing the NIGHT/DAY before...CHILE' when I tell you that just picking out clothes the night before/ the boys on Sunday, packing lunch/snacks early, putting dinner in a slow cooker, planning meals is making me into a ZEN being.

Okay, that was a little bit of an over-statement, but it's been magical and there is something super special about waking up a 5:30 am, stumbling into my (prayer) closet and seeing my workout clothes neatly folded on my yoga mat.

Peace and many blessings,
Shelby

I'm obsessed with this Costa Rican woman (image from blue zones)

More on Blue Zones:

Blue Zone Territories:
Buettner identified five regions as "Blue Zones" (a term he trademarked: Okinawa (Japan); Sardinia (Italy); Nicoya (Costa Rica); Icaria (Greece); and among the Seventh-day Adventists in Loma Linda, California.

Blue Zones in a nutshell:
Read this article for more or go to the Blue Zones website:

"The Blue Zone regions are home to some of the oldest and healthiest people in the world.

Although their lifestyles differ slightly, they mostly eat a plant-based diet, exercise regularly, drink moderate amounts of alcohol, get enough sleep and have good spiritual, family and social networks." - Healthline

The Rhythm of Slow Living

2019-09-09T15:29:00.001-04:00

I wrote this blogpost about listening and slow living, then I disappeared for months. Well, you'd be happy to know that I have been doing just that: slow intentional living. But when I tell y'all that it's not the least bit as easy as I thought it would be. For me...and this will surprise no one. It takes routines and rules.

Routines (such as my night routine):

Boys down. Electronics off. Pick up and return everything that's out of place. Bed made. BIG cuppa water poured. Apartment is clear and open. Turn off all lights. Light candles. Silence. Fill up bathroom sink. Prepare hair for sleep. Face mask (gotta start the anti-aging process). Teeth care. Shower/bath. Lavender. Oil. Robe. Hot rag on face. Mask off. Comfy loose pjs on. Spritz. Candle in bedroom filling up the room with a dim light and fragrance. Gratitude list - at least ten. Drink cuppa water. Tea time. Book/Show/Mike.

Rules (such as my 9-12; 3:30-5:30) time:

Outside for morning session. Most of the time - little electronic use. Activities fill the space. Exploring with Noah. Talking with Neiko. Wandering. Swimming. Walking. Jogging. Hiking. Reading. Recipe trying. Cooking. Mixing. Blending. Barista'ing. Tutoring (Neiko). Play dating. Eating. Marketing.

I am still trying to get it all down and each day is different, but for the most part

Off to a new adventure....

2019-05-06T12:01:00.001-04:00

So, it's funny, because just a few short months ago I wrote about putting my dream back on the shelf. I was confused because I didn't have a dream. I also wrote about writing, again and then I stopped writing. But, guess what? I didn't stop dreaming - in fact, I began dreaming, feeling and walking in this peaceful obedience that at times felt incredibly: privileged, naive, ridiculous, bittersweet, scary, and everything else - but all the while peaceful... I'm sure I lost folks there.

But for the last three months, after some very turbulent times, I realized that I was depleted. Depleted in a way that was unrecognizable to other folks (even those closest to me), because I've been slowly, slowly, slowly emptying for so long that by the last drop folks just think "oh, that's just who Shelby is now." I was the lively frog in the cool, to warm, to hot, to boiling water. And so, I started a daily study on stillness, peace, solitude, silence, and energy renewal.

That said while studying - I realized (and some very clear events helped lol) that my journey was bringing me to a spiritual sabbatical. At least three months, but at most 15 months to dig deeper in my faith. During this time, I look forward to praying longer, meditating deeper - simply being still in solitude. LISTENING. I want to listen. I want to listen to God's voice, I want to hear my inner woman, I want to be silent and listen to what the universe and others are telling me. I want to hear what my boys aren't saying. I want to move with the rhythm and the flow of the moment. I will eat, workout, and rest when my body tells me to, not when I have a spare second. During this Sabbatical, there's no pre-plan. I don't want to have an agenda, have a response before fully hearing, or have judgment without a full and complete observation. I want to simply be...

One thing that I have missed out on (due to a busy schedule) and I look forward to doing during this Sabbatical is stopping and listening to ALLLLLL the folks- the farmers, my camping neighbor, the market folk, the baristas, the gardeners, the storytime folk, the fellow parents, the fellow pedestrians, the librarians, and the elderly woman at the craft store.

Baking.

2018-11-27T18:15:00.004-05:00

Today, there was a bomb threat in Decatur city schools. My little Neiko was on lockdown in his tiny kindergarten classroom. And I was right outside of the school. Right outside of his classroom. I sat there doing my work - taking intermediate breaks to pray and to stare out the window. We had no details. But I knew that if Neiko was there - I'd be there too.

The dough...

Neiko's teacher eventually snuck him out to me once they were told that the threats were actually in another location within Decatur. The threats were surrounding Noah's daycare. But Noah was home in his crib nuzzled under blankets snoring loudly.

Tonight while I finished work, the boys painted their arms, faces, and hands. Once finished, I prayed, again, for the children and families still affected, looked for updates and then I put on my apron and began to mise en place my baking station. I had an idea to bake the most extravagant caramel monkey bread.

For context, I usually don't bake desserty desserts on a weeknight unless I have someone I can share it with. I mean I have baby weight that is still holding on, I don't want my boys to have too much sugar and tomorrow...tomorrow...tomorrow...

Well, tonight, on this random Tuesday in November. I decided to celebrate the day - the moment - the fact that we were all safe in our little cozy apartment. I put on some slow jams to accompany the wind hitting my kitchen window and made a caramel sauce with tons of sugar and butter. Dough with another stick of butter, flour, spices, SUGAR, and cinnamon and we watched it go bubbly and caramelly in the oven. I made delicious hot beverages without skipping on the whipped cream, and we ate our desserts in big comfy socks on the couch before dinner.

I love to plan for tomorrow, but I'm tired of living for it. So today, we will live, eat, and be grateful for this moment. For the present. For monkey bread on a Tuesday.

Diversity & Love

2018-11-22T11:14:00.009-05:00

Since it’s the day of mourning/ thanksgiving - my day of gratitude - I’m combining my blog and journal entry.

Before anything - a moment of silence and thanks to the Native community.

So although I’m not home. I’m gonna make this time as authentic as possible: Music on.Bible study app, bible gateway, and blogger instead of favorite pen (.38 tip), study and women’s bibles, and my journal. A sleeping baby Bear (Noah) in my arms vs a hot cuppa’jo. And go time:

Reading: 1 Co 12 & 13 these chapters speak on the importance of diversity within the church body and the fact that love is the most important aspect of being a follower of Christ.

Journal entry: diversity is everything. There are few things more important to me as a diverse and global perspective. I’m thankful for the people in my life, they span every identity and keep me in tune with humanity. Homogenous populations make me feel incredibly uncomfortable and people that prefer them scare me. Tokenism is something I quickly smell out and run from. But if you have me in the relationship or setting - show me why I’m there. So that I can be a blessing and then exit. These verses, remind me that you’ve created us differently on purpose and value us all the same. But regardless of how much we accomplish - if we don’t show love - it means nothing. So diversity matters. Gifts matter. But love - treating folks with kindness, patience, and avoiding self- righteousness matters more. I try to be as nonoffensive as possible, but still have a lot of growing to do. Grow me, God. Show me where I’m not in tune with love.

Next steps: This is a simple reminder to seek out the beautiful, the value, the differences in people. There isn’t a better day than the day that I’m surrounded by loved ones to practice listening, valuing, being grateful for and speaking in love. I will be love today. I remember the example that the Native community set when they welcomed the settlers. I will seek out ways to serve, to be kind and to be patient. I will make sure that I not only show love towards those in the room, but also those not in the room.

Prayer: too much, too many people, and too private

Perfection.

2018-11-18T14:38:00.019-05:00

"Oh this shirt is fabulous! I'll take five!" "Working out feels great - I will do it every single day." "Wait, that's unfair - I am going to do EVERYTHING in my power to correct that."

This is one of the greatest weakness of my character - according to me (and my personality weaknesses). I am a passionate extremist.

Let me step back - if you are to know one thing about me - it's that I am OBSESSIVE about personality quizzes. Some folks are into astrology. I like to know what kind of pizza I am or what shade of blue.

Anyways, my cycle is as follows:

"I'm gonna DO ALLLLLLL the things ---> "oh no, I'm out of energy" - I'm gonna crawl under this rock and rest'

Well, today, I am under my rock:

I tried my hand at getting to the on-trend church right on time and in my Sunday's very best outfit. Boys shiny, I'm shiny, Mike flawless. Everything is perfect including our pre-service morning routine: low-tech, everything made from scratch, low-sugar (cause the boys must be well manicured and perfectly behaved - sit straight, quiet, and stand up when time).*

WELP.

Mike is out of town on a quick day trip to Florida. So this morning, I got my boys together - bath, lotioned up, kinda-matching outfits, and hair done. Gave them some hot Vans waffles smeared in maple syrup and butter, Then I threw on some Wild Kratts for them and I sat in my room with a cupppa jo and got myself ready for church (interruption free). We got to the small church with the good Word and the folded seats (which is gonna be my church home) late. And when Noah started having a fit about staying in the nursery - I left him there (with power from the wise words of the older sistah "he gonna have to get used to this, you gonna eventually have to leave him") So I did. And y'all I listened to a Word that was especially right for me. It was absolutely perfect.

I hope you are being absolutely true to you today!

*Truthfully I admire everything about on-trend churches and ladies/families that can be alllllllll the things, but admiration and my bandwidth are two totally different things. When will I learn this? God only knows.

Living Beyond the Schedule

2018-11-17T11:15:00.000-05:00

From pinterest, I am obsessed with finding these resources

So I live off of schedules. OPE (organizing, planning and executing) has always been my strong suit. It's the part of an interview that I crush. I've always said that it's the only way that a free-spirit can manage and thrive in the type-A environment in which I was nurtured (at home, at school, and now in my career). I have to know what comes next or else if left to me - the decision could take all of the execution time and energy.

As Ashley, my incredibly decisive cousin, used to tease:

"How we going to McDonald's, waiting in this long line, and you get up here and don't know what you want?"

To make it worse, I rarely eat meat - which only left a few choices (back in the 2000s).

I say this to say, that I am slowly recognizing that although I have...hmmmmm...~~six~~...errr...seven ways to organize myself - I still cannot get it all done. There is no list, no schedule that can help me. I have to cut things. I have to realize what my priorities are: Who am I. Who am I in the roles that I play? What's filling vs fueling? And then pray, meditate, and visualize a day of wholeness. What's my longterm end game (like my dad, the visionary asks me)? What are my musts? What are my BIG rocks? What are my pebbles? That's what I am missing. I am missing Shelby in all of this.

I read constantly. And I observe constantly - so many times, I say "ooohhh, I want to do that."

"And at the end of the day, I have created: my work to-dos based off of the single male that works 65 hours a week, my home to-dos off of the homesteading housewife, my boys' activities off of the homeschooling rural momma, my civil service off of the podcast social acitivists, and compared my self-care routine with the 21-year-old student with flawless skin and a beautiful full mane."

And then I sit back at the end of the day, look at my lists, make more lists, and either feel super great, incredibly depleted or both. But even after two or three super great days - I always feel burnt out and empty (which is actually a real INFJ thing). So, therefore, I am going to try to break this cycle. I am not a workaholic, homesteading, homeschooling, social activist, college student. I am a Christian, creative, woke, nonprofit, WFH, momma and wife. And under the guidance and grace of my Creator - I get to choose what my days' look like. I get to choose what I do. I get to plan it and then completely flow with the tide of my day. So, yes, I am going to keep creating my color-coordinated schedules, but only after I pray and visualize what success looks like in my world. And after it's created, I am going to allow for my Creator to create the tide and I will flow with it.

Examples of my calendars:

The weekly schedule that I created for my boys

Here is my own refrigerator - daily, weekly cleaning,
Purple - orange detailed mock Pinterest schedule (me and boys)
Workout schedule behind it.

where I put my daily reading quotes, big thoughts, "aha" moments, don't forget

Weekly work schedule

That said, in this season of life the schedule is life-giving. But when the items on the schedule or to-do list are simply inauthentic lists of stuff - then they are actually life-takers.

Active Dreaming

2018-11-13T21:25:00.002-05:00

Since the pastor told me to put my dream back on the shelf - I have been trying to figure out: "what the heck is my dream?"

The path that Neiko and I hiked last week

Well, the Shelby of yesteryear would plump herself down on a big worn and cozy red couch with a huge wide-brimmed cuppa joe/tea and some Afro-indie music and dream, visualize, pray, meditate, write...

Well with two lils running around, that no longer works for me - well, at least, I don't think. My dreaming has become active. I dream as I pick up the house, as I light the candles, as I put on the coffee for the next morning, as I watch baby Noah bathe, or as I pat Neiko's back at night. That said, today's IDEA came while rocking Noah to sleep - I will do something creative each night.

I am going to put my sugahs to bed 30 min. earlier and then dedicate the following hours to creative work. I used to do a work block at night, but my job is good, Mike is a saint and God is even better - so I'm gonna reschedule my day and my time to literally pursue creativity. That said, tonight - I baked a pumpkin quick bread. So while I am blogging there is deliciousness wafting in the air, Diana Gordon's "Wolverine" steady flowing, and a huge cuppa water (to keep a sistah hydrated).

Every time I scroll down the page...

2018-11-07T21:32:00.003-05:00

and see pictures of baby Neiko, my heart drops into my stomach. Where does time go? What happens? Why can't we relive the special moments? Why don't we know how special they are in the time? Do we ever really know when we are truly content? I think we do. I know that I am living in the "sweet memories" days: warm drinks, tons of noise, cuddles galore, "mommy" every three seconds, a happy hubby, and the strength that only God can give. I'm pretty sure, I will be seeing these days through the rosiest colored lenses.

Why did I stop blogging? There is no way that Neiko's gonna read my journals when he is an old man, but maybe he will read these posts? What about Noah? Should I simply start posting things about him only? Will he always feel like it's "always both of us and never just me?" I'm the oldest, I don't know those baby problems.

Ashley cracked me up. We still print photos in our home. She goes, "dang cous, I'm so impressed that you have just as many pictures up of Noah as you do Neiko." hahahaha! It's true. I'm so intentional about that. I never buy one something without buying the other something. NEVER. Regardless of what the item is or who is with me.

That said, I do try to spend time with them separately once in a while - so they can both get me. I'm not great at multitasking. I do better WITH EVERYONE (and everything) one-on-one.

Well, it's 9:30 pm. No more blue light. Just dim lights and candlelight. Peace and joy.

Sunday - Put that dream back on the shelf

2018-11-07T21:19:00.001-05:00

Right after voting... love, love, love the feeling of hopefulness post-vote.

Last Sunday, the pastor called Mike and me up in front of the congregation. He prophesied on us. It was incredible and has never happened to us before. One thing that he said to me was to "put that dream back on the shelf - don't let fear, frustration, anxiety, and tiredness get in the way."

Since then, I've cut my hair and gone to a gentle yoga class. Both these things seem small, but here lately I started living in this very...hmmm... what's the word for that feeling... you know the "don't want to do too much for myself, because then it takes away from my boys, work, or Mike and I feel like it's going to bite me in the butt later (i.e. a late assignment, a late pick up, a fast food dinner, a late night of work)"... yeah, that word.

But, the pastor's words coupled with all the recent gun violence (and some of the electoral stuff )- forces me to realize that I need to pour into myself so that I can dream again and so that I can pour into my loved ones (and those that I serve) from a place of abundance. I've been pouring from a half-full cup, which means everyone gets drops and I get nothing. What was my dream?

This is not about to turn into a cute self-care post. But it is a reminder to myself to make sure that I am taking care of me in an authentic way.

For me, this does not include a fancy studio, no special food from the Wanka Wanka tree, no $35 drink from the fountain of youth, nor a standing head meditation. It's simply going to the YMCA for gentle yoga class - where my teacher is north of 70 and her students span the ages of 25 - 85, where the room is filled with an array of shades, bodies of all different sizes, every walk of life represented. A place to practice with the cafe owner, the artist, the "Stacy Abrams" sign holder, and the Women's Studies professor. A place where I can go in a t-shirt, joggers and a new haircut. A haircut that isn't social media worthy nor hip - simply a beautiful way to release the hair that is full and new and untouched by chemicals. A haircut that allows my hair to be unruly, wild, and free.

My Creator

2018-11-04T15:49:00.001-05:00

Neiko isn't feeling a picture but I was in my happy place...sooooo...

I am incredibly rooted in my faith in God the Father, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit.

But I don't think I was able to walk into my faith in fullness until recently after doing several studies and reading book after book on the relationship, etc. Now, most folks would be completely confused to hear me say that. I have always been grounded in my relationship with God.

But, even in that, I needed to shift my perspective. For ME, I needed to see God as my Creator. I didn't need Him to be my parent. I want...need...approval from Ken and Lynne. I didn't need Him to be my friend - I don't ever put all my ish on one person and I also fall in cycles of fear of rejection, etc.

Therefore once, I saw Christ as my Creator - my creative, brilliant, Creator that wants to see me meet my wholeness - He wants my ugly, He wants my stuff, He wants me to be great - not great in comparison... but simply Shelby great - whatever that means. Like he wants me to be quirky - he wants me to love and respect nature but also love and respect mosquito repellent. He wants me.

The relationship for me is - God the Father (my Creator), the Holy Spirit (my Guide - cause so many decisions in life - I cannot see), and Jesus (my example and the one that understands my humanity- he's my interpreter). I am able to live in my relationship with these three. I am able to "hide in their safe retreat" (Kings Kaleidoscope) and keep flowing through life...our way.

And

2018-10-26T21:41:00.003-04:00

I wrote this very "meh" post and now it's the end of the week and I am vibin'. Feeling good. Boys sleep, candles lit, apartment clean, tea poured, and listening to a little Jamila Woods, Sabrina Claudio, Sampha, Isabel Davis (and other dopeness) as I finish my work - so this weekend can be about rejuvenation.

Taken on a windshield day: my farm share - purple sweet potatoes

Isn't it crazy how one day life can seem so --- listen, one day you are the bug and the next you are the windshield?

My cousins hate when I say that - but is there any other way to describe life?

One day:

I get the boys to school on time.
Have time for a cafe stop
Get at least 30 min. devotional - Word, prayer, visualization
Have a nourishing meal for me and the boys for breakfast, lunch and dinner
Park and outside time
13,000 steps
clean apartment
work at work tight
data on point
a convo with a friend or two
a little time spent with the Mister
and hair done and a day of a great mane
8 cups of water
compost, recycling, garden stop, and chickens fed
boys activities are taken care of

Then the next day I can't seem to tie my shoe. Literally, NOTHING on that list happens, in fact, there are so many obstacles and random life events...

Hold my hand

2018-10-23T16:35:00.000-04:00

In Future of Forestry, "Hold my Hand" they repeat "would you hold my hand?"

Artist Rosario Piazza; Painting, “A Lone Boat”

With Mike traveling sooooooooooo often and working from home. It's often me. Me in this town where I know two folks (in the surrounding area). I love the peace and quiet of this life. But on days where it all seems overwhelming - Noah doesn't sleep through the night, Mike is gone for the third straight day (for the fourth straight week), I'm not hitting my work to-dos, the boys have an extra ounce of energy, I don't have an ounce of energy, I'm falling into my habits of self-isolation, God seems distant, and I simply can't seem to grasp anything...

I envision myself emerging under this calm deep sea. There are slight waves. It's pitch black. I am not sure if I am letting myself go under or if I am being pulled under. There isn't anything visible and big...but I cannot seem to stay afloat or allow myself to drown. Maybe it's not me that prevents me from staying submerged?? But I literally just want to be rescued. I want to be rescued in a real, physical way. I want someone to take my hand and pull me out. I want them to put me on their boat and let me float there beside them silently.

It's pitch black and so all there is - is a faceless embrace. I am not being cuddled or coddled. We are simply sitting beside one another allowing the water to rock us softly. I don't need to say "thank you" a thousand times for being rescued. I don't need to feel guilty for being rescued in calm water. I don't need to worry about taking up too much of the liferaft. I don't need to explain why I'm out there in the first place. I don't need to find a way to earn my spot. I don't need to apologize for being... I get to just be.

I feel like God is preparing me to be the paddler in that lone boat. I am starting to see, though, before being a paddler, I have to first fully experience the grace, acceptance, humility, insecurity, fear, embarrassment, lack, loneliness, and tears that come with being the passenger. I have to allow myself to be formed into someone that knows how to sit still and just hold someone's hand in the dark, deep, calm or rocky sea...

Obedience

2018-10-23T14:40:00.002-04:00

I'm not sure why I am blogging again.

me and my boys - photo by mr steel

Okay, so here is the deal:

A year ago, a woman comes up to me and Mike at church:
She says "one of you is a writer."
We are like, "nope, not us. Wrong couple."
She's like, "God led me to you guys."
So Mike points to me. I'm like "for real."
She's like, "yes, He wants me to tell you that you need to write again..." and this was within a week of coming off of maternity leave and taking Noah to church the first time and all I could think about was germs, sleep, and why my pants kept rolling down under my jiggly belly and so that's where this story ends.

Then, I get into this weird conversation where someone (that never read the blog) was telling me how I should just open up my blog even without entries. "It could be cool, ya know?" So I did.

Then, this world lost this incredibly smart, funny, and dedicated father (of two beautiful girls - the same ages as my sons) and a loving husband. He is my age. His wife is one of the most phenomenal human beings - salt of the world. And it rocked me. I started praying that I could use this time in a meaningful way - so I can fulfill my calling.

Someone fairly unfamiliar with my writing contacts me out of the blue and tells me that God put something in their spirit. "Really? What?"

"First thing is that you need to rest and trust in God on how you raise your sons. Don't look at anyone else. And to write it down. Write down your experience and share it."

WHAT?!?! Y'all when I say that the Sunday before all of this I had this crazy "crying storm" in church because I literally heard God speaking to me... it's like He said, "yes, it's unconventional (some of my parenting ideas/situations), but I planted these dreams/ideas in you! I have you walking a different path and I got you. You are equipped. We got this."

That said, in this stage of life I am incredibly private and just find it easier to push through - keep moving.

So, I don't know why I'm blogging again. I don't know why I am called to do this. I don't want to be morbid. I don't want to be self-exalting. So, I'm gonna just be obedient.

People Hope for Happy Kids (well, not me)

2018-10-19T11:40:00.003-04:00

Neiko took this at our community garden

And this one. He was so excited "I got the most beautiful photos, mommy"

And then I had to capture my boys

Folks always say they want happy kids. "If my kid could be happy then everything is great."

I totally get it. But I often feel like that is such a selfish endgame. I mean I think serial killers are happy people. I've seen folks smiling in mugshots. There are womanizers that are happy.

I want my boys to be whole. I want them to be secure in themselves. I want them to be secure and be lovers of themselves and others. I want their lives to be dedicated to doing service. I am okay if they experience fear, sadness, or discomfort - as long as they know that they have the Lord, they have grit, they have Steel-Stone blood flowing through their veins, they are descendants of slaves (that survived the boats, the brutality, Jim Crow, and hatred). I want them to see the creativity, beauty, brilliance, strength, gentleness and grit within themselves, their family, community, humanity, animals, and our earth.

I want them to be appreciative.

A cool article: https://teachertina.net/2015/06/15/creative-schools-should-focus-on-these-8-cs/

I am the same but different

2018-10-19T11:18:00.000-04:00

This isn't my pumpkin Neiko, but my sweet Noah - same but different

I am adulting in a way that is foreign. I have always said, "when Neiko goes to Kindergarten, (with God's grace and Mike's support) I am going to be stable and create for him a life of comfort and security.

So here we are. Stable and Adulting.

I am no longer a 20 something that flows according to the wind, my man, and my heart. I am a mid-30 year old mama and I am still free in my soul, but also anchored in my motherhoodness. I love it more than I love most things, but I am also trying to make sure that my wholeness helps produce wholeness in my sons. I want them to have SHELBY as their mother - not a mother named Shelby. Not sure if that makes sense, but as of now I am writing to myself and it makes sense to me.

This year is suchhhhh a learning curve for me. Last year and every year prior (for the past four years), life was so unstable and moving between Cincy, NJ, NYC,Philly, DC, Brooklyn, and now Decatur with a new baby AND A KINDERGARTENER - was a lot (and how I love life because it's very whimsical and for me, that's liberating - just flowing with life and moving in random ways). But this season of life is a beautiful one- but it's a year of growth, sustainability, strengthening, pushing and some things are the same and different. Everything seems important/vital/and stable and I'm trying to live with intent. I feel like this year I am having to adult in a way that's foreign. But I also feel more connected to my whole self than I ever have. It's bizarre. But in order to seal the deal on my authenticity and create patterns that bring me joy and creative expression - here I am once more - this blog. Created when I first moved in Bk. A young wife. An education reformer. I am still her - I still do that work, I still love that man, I still walk everywhere, spend lots of time in cafes, libraries, outdoor spaces, bookstores, YMCAs, and in my head. I am the still the same and yet oh so different.

Burn

2016-06-04T16:54:00.002-04:00

So funny, I got my first burn on the grill - when I was super young. My father, like his father-in-law (and only father he knew) didn't believe in meals cooked indoors when temps allowed for outdoor cooking. He still doesn't - hence all his many ways ways of cooking outdoors. That said, the grill had become a part of our family tradition and I had no problem standing close to it and talking to loved ones.

I ended up burning my entire knee. My mom, in her normal disposition, didn't trip. She made me an at home elixir and patched me up. I was back outside and near the grill in no time.

That said, years later, I was burned so many times up and down my arms - from pastry arts school and time in professional kitchens - that I almost forget the awful shock of a burn. That is until a few days ago, years of not being burned (badly) made me soft. This recent burn has been brutal. I can't help, but feel slightly tough...but I also can't help searching for "ways you know your burn is infected" on Google.

Funny how pain can be slightly nostaligic and can also feel way worse when you haven't felt it in a while.

Written on iphone.

It has been so long.

2016-06-03T11:32:00.001-04:00

I literally don't know what to say or how to say it or whether I am even open for this responsiblity and what blogging looks like in my 30s. But I do know that I have a few things to say, I feel like I miss this side of my life and so -- I am open. I am open to try --- slowly.

This won't be updated often and I am not looking for followers or visibility, but I have been writing quite often (in my dear diary - private blog) and I miss it going into the universe. I miss the feeling of yelling in a wide open field - not knowing if your voice, the echo, will reach the ears of another. If there is someone else in the meadows - feeling the same things and hears your "HELLO out there" and it brings a smile or a quick feeling of "I'm not alone."

I am not afraid to yell and it be captured by the trees or the breeze, but I miss the yell. I love writing in my journals (handwritten and electronically), but it's more like a soft whisper. A secret between me and God - I love it...but I am missing the echo...the thrill of the yell. The connectivity of humanity through transparency.

So here I am, once again... yelling into the breeze....

Smiles

2014-02-14T12:47:00.003-05:00

Nuzzled

2014-02-14T12:47:00.001-05:00

Doesn't stop at 5 pm

2014-02-14T12:46:00.001-05:00

Everyone will eat their veggies. Thing about motherhood is massive discipline and organization to keep house running. Whew

Smoothie packs, neiko's food and roasted veggies

Simplicity

2014-02-14T12:44:00.001-05:00

Valentines day projects