tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60316156128741157972024-03-14T07:19:06.450-04:00Mommy DeliciousAll of the anxieties and awesomeness... fears and fabulousness of being a YOUNG SINGLE MOTHERAliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.comBlogger799125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-32461377698972948492021-03-10T14:52:00.009-05:002021-03-12T12:12:03.096-05:00I Got A Promotion <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;">It was all a dream....</span></b></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-H4BwFpQEeJk/YEkh2py-ebI/AAAAAAAApSk/Wvg4awb9gvMC5L_lKbLUee7YiDUsAeD1wCLcBGAsYHQ/Principal%2BHarper.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="411" data-original-width="739" height="223" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-H4BwFpQEeJk/YEkh2py-ebI/AAAAAAAApSk/Wvg4awb9gvMC5L_lKbLUee7YiDUsAeD1wCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h223/Principal%2BHarper.PNG" width="400" /></a></div></div><p style="text-align: left;">This will be filed under: Black women belong everywhere. I've been selected as the next Elementary School Principal of Achievement First North Brooklyn Prep. </p><p style="text-align: left;">*hits the dougie*</p><p style="text-align: left;">This promotion comes after 10+ years in the game as a school leader and as a school teacher. After years and years of helping kids fall in love with learning by making school fun and magical and exciting for them. </p><p style="text-align: left;">After years and years of leading teams with top test scores in the entire state (some years in the top 20, some years in the top 10, and some years in the top 5 for various tests). Where this led to my schools being in the top 1% of the entire state. </p><p style="text-align: left;">After years and years of transforming different staff cultures across various networks, leading to teachers feeling more happy and valued at work. </p><p style="text-align: left;">After years and years of transforming the student experience so that FUN is front and center of our school. Because that matters. A lot.</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6vFA0ysa8QE/YEkcttQMNoI/AAAAAAAApR0/t9PvoqRAsSA-5q8w7qyt3qHT3xfI4P0RQCLcBGAsYHQ/yasir.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="510" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6vFA0ysa8QE/YEkcttQMNoI/AAAAAAAApR0/t9PvoqRAsSA-5q8w7qyt3qHT3xfI4P0RQCLcBGAsYHQ/w265-h400/yasir.PNG" width="265" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QxWPPjONvEA/YEkdQk6g6NI/AAAAAAAApR8/W13HhGwMOQIwBEkfp0OXCGYccZB6XxLuwCLcBGAsYHQ/CC.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="673" data-original-width="745" height="361" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QxWPPjONvEA/YEkdQk6g6NI/AAAAAAAApR8/W13HhGwMOQIwBEkfp0OXCGYccZB6XxLuwCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h361/CC.PNG" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;">After three years at my current network. After I spearheaded turning around my K-2 team at one school in my network by taking us from essentially the bottom of the network to the top while making school fun for our kids. Because that matters. A lot. </p><p style="text-align: left;">After leading the charge on revamping the lower school math curriculum. Not just my <i>current</i> school, but for our <i>entire</i> network of schools (across three states). And leading math professional development days for all the lower school leaders in the entire network.</p><p style="text-align: left;">After not even blinking when the powers that be asked me to go to another school in our network that was also in turnaround. And after taking another team to the top of the network.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Again. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>Another again.</i></p><p style="text-align: left;">During a whole pandemic. </p><p style="text-align: left;">While making school fun for kids and teachers. Because that matters. A lot. </p><p style="text-align: left;">But, as they say, some seasons are for sowing seeds and some seasons are for reaping. I'm grateful that I get to be in a season of reaping what I've sown.</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-s8fxlcpH-O4/YEkerp3i7eI/AAAAAAAApSE/Y2OwxGtjo5Yql9qrOhqHnYlHhdjDiCTzwCLcBGAsYHQ/with%2Bkids.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="286" data-original-width="375" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-s8fxlcpH-O4/YEkerp3i7eI/AAAAAAAApSE/Y2OwxGtjo5Yql9qrOhqHnYlHhdjDiCTzwCLcBGAsYHQ/with%2Bkids.PNG" width="315" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-v_Ehc3DtPcM/YEkexw0gLDI/AAAAAAAApSM/OHiaJLpouJU_vjNqZr64S9m6h938py3DgCLcBGAsYHQ/cc2.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="677" data-original-width="784" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-v_Ehc3DtPcM/YEkexw0gLDI/AAAAAAAApSM/OHiaJLpouJU_vjNqZr64S9m6h938py3DgCLcBGAsYHQ/cc2.PNG" width="278" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;">One day I'm gonna write a full post about the "twice as good to get half as far" phenomenon. Because: racism. </p><p style="text-align: left;">And about how white supremacy is one helluva drug that leads to internalized racism and self-hatred. And how it caused another Black woman in a position of power to make slanderous remarks about me and cause harm to me because she was scared and threatened and probably felt as though there was only room at the top for one of us. </p><p style="text-align: left;">And how it almost cost me the promotion. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>Almost. </i></p><p style="text-align: left;">But my work speaks for itself. And my work ethic is unmatched. And people just ended up regretting underestimating me. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">If you don't know, now you know...</span></i></b></p><p style="text-align: left;">(He never said the weapons wouldn't <i>form</i>; He said they wouldn't <i>prosper</i>.)</p><p style="text-align: left;">Not to mention that trashy people are just that: trash. And the amount of women (including Black women and other women of color) who rallied around me and wrapped me in love and light? <i>Those</i> are my people. </p><p style="text-align: left;">One day, I'll write about it. </p><p style="text-align: left;">But today? We celebrate.</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-eymaAENFR-s/YEkgSsCt3OI/AAAAAAAApSc/_7PTUCOTlBQpcL7dP8zF9OpPtWx-Tg3ZACLcBGAsYHQ/cc3.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="773" data-original-width="839" height="369" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-eymaAENFR-s/YEkgSsCt3OI/AAAAAAAApSc/_7PTUCOTlBQpcL7dP8zF9OpPtWx-Tg3ZACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h369/cc3.PNG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">when your whole school plans a surprise engagement for you...</div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Now we sip champagne when we thirsty...</span></i></b></p><p style="text-align: left;">I'm humbled by God's grace, honored by this opportunity, and excited to do the damn thing! </p><p style="text-align: left;">I can't wait to hire more staff that look like the kids and families we'll serve.</p><p style="text-align: left;">I can't wait to create a school where Black and brown kids feel safe to take up space and walk in their fullness. </p><p style="text-align: left;">I can't wait to create a school that's joyful and engaging and academically captivating... where our Black and brown babies feel loved and cared for. </p><p style="text-align: left;">I can't wait to create a school that I'd send my own kids to... a school that I needed when I was a kid. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Listen... they ain't even ready for all this #BlackGirlMagic that's about to takeover.</p><p style="text-align: left;">But I am.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Matter of fact: I been ready.</p>Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-81624852578281938672020-06-11T18:13:00.001-04:002020-06-11T18:13:02.033-04:00#ShareTheMicNow And #KeepSharingTheMic<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i_bCm7u9tOk/XuKrVfa7TXI/AAAAAAAAixI/UFRiMA_HuN8gpYNztuDIHQHn6AwPDbxOQCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/Capture.PNG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i_bCm7u9tOk/XuKrVfa7TXI/AAAAAAAAixI/UFRiMA_HuN8gpYNztuDIHQHn6AwPDbxOQCK4BGAYYCw/s400/Capture.PNG" width="400" /></a></div>
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So often when the world listens to women, it leaves Black women out of the conversation, and so often, our voices go unheard. <div>
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Even though we have amazing things to contribute. </div>
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This week, there was an attempt to fix that. Popular white celebrity women muted themselves and handed over their Instagram accounts to popular influencers, activists, writers, and total bosses. </div>
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All women. All Black. </div>
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This was for a campaign called #<a href="https://www.instagram.com/sharethemicnow/" target="_blank">ShareTheMicNow</a>. </div>
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When I first heard of the campaign, I was all kinds of excited because, at a time like this, the world needs to hear from Black women. That's why I was very excited when the amazing folks at Babbleboxx reached out to me to join forces with them for the piggyback campaign, #KeepSharingTheMic. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CKy5hyijgK4/XuKqyjUDvJI/AAAAAAAAiws/haJCvdNmFSUdx8JY6e1MTmWOdvc-x0AXwCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/Capture.PNG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CKy5hyijgK4/XuKqyjUDvJI/AAAAAAAAiws/haJCvdNmFSUdx8JY6e1MTmWOdvc-x0AXwCK4BGAYYCw/s400/Capture.PNG" width="400" /></a></div>
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So I took over <a href="https://www.instagram.com/babbleboxxofficial/" target="_blank">BabbleBoxx's Instagram Stories</a> yesterday to introduce myself, share my writing, share my joy, and share a little bit of what I think the world needs now to begin to dismantle white supremacy and work towards being anti-racist. I did all of this while pushing past my discomfort, getting in front of the camera, and speaking truth to power. This message is too important and too necessary for me not to.</div>
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My biggest focus? </div>
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What are we going to tell the kids when they grow up and ask us what we did to fix this mess? I mean, I'm around children all day, everyday so I couldn't think of a better thing to focus on. </div>
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And then, as I was just about to #DropTheMic and turn it back over to BabbleBoxx, I challenged their followers with a call to action that included four things:</div>
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<li>Reading</li>
<li>Watching</li>
<li>Donating</li>
<li>Discussing </li>
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Check out BabbleBoxx's Instagram Stories and let me know what you think! This week was one step in the right direction. </div>
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Let's #KeepSharingTheMic. After all, there's enough room for all of our voices to be heard.</div>
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Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com268tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-85120864120252003122020-06-02T21:27:00.003-04:002020-06-03T12:08:04.032-04:00On Black Lives Mattering And Resources to Becoming Anti-Racist<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jdNvY7AE9vY/Xtbv6JH6f2I/AAAAAAAAh6M/V-kz56KspBYmaDUoPgBAirTJDaWy9kYNQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Capture.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="741" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jdNvY7AE9vY/Xtbv6JH6f2I/AAAAAAAAh6M/V-kz56KspBYmaDUoPgBAirTJDaWy9kYNQCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/Capture.PNG" width="381" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Dapper Dudes</span></div>
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Aiden has several nerf guns. Matter of fact, he went through
back-to-back-to-back Christmases and birthdays where that’s all he requested. And
that’s all he got. <o:p></o:p></div>
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He’s not allowed to play with any of them outside. <o:p></o:p></div>
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He’s also not allowed to play with water guns outside.
Matter of fact, he’s never even owned a water gun. I’ve always refused to buy
them for him and refused to allow people to gift them to him.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Why?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Because I’m afraid that, if he had one, he'd want to do play with it outside, and police officers will see him with the
water gun, mistake it for a real one, and shoot him... because he's Black.<o:p></o:p></div>
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If you’re a mother and you’ve never had to worry about that,
then this post is for you. If you’re <i>not</i> a mother and you think that’s a wild
thought, then this post is for you. If you’re surprised that this is the
reality of mothers of Black and brown boys in America, then this post is for
you. If you work with Black and brown kids in any capacity, then this post is for you.<o:p></o:p></div>
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If you want to be an ally, then this post is for you. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AbnX0TC9DgA/XtbxZ_kJuVI/AAAAAAAAh6c/h9jhh_hR7sonFv3AtEP_2OL0iCqvihbYACK4BGAYYCw/s1600/96142791_10105187187471522_8656710265322078208_n.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AbnX0TC9DgA/XtbxZ_kJuVI/AAAAAAAAh6c/h9jhh_hR7sonFv3AtEP_2OL0iCqvihbYACK4BGAYYCw/s400/96142791_10105187187471522_8656710265322078208_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Quaran-team!</span></div>
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Truth is, I think about things like this all the time. I don’t
live in fear, but I’m aware that it’s a necessary part of my son’s survival. <a href="http://www.mommydelicious.com/2016/07/mom-of-black-boys-fear.html" target="_blank">I’ve written about this before</a>. </div>
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And I want you to understand that, having something
like this be at the forefront of your mind, along with all the other stressors that
come with raising a child, is stressful AF. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Full stop. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It literally takes a toll on my mental, emotional, and physical
well-being. Imagine dealing with this everyday and then having to show up at work and go hard as I always do... all while watching my tone and choosing my words carefully because I don't want a white co-worker to think I'm an Angry Black Woman. (But who wouldn't be angry if this were their lived experience?)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZLcwFNYnqcU/Xtb2cugLhUI/AAAAAAAAh6o/8TBUM4U92uQtjPtxBMbM37RAdVZ-uGSyACK4BGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_0523.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="271" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZLcwFNYnqcU/Xtb2cugLhUI/AAAAAAAAh6o/8TBUM4U92uQtjPtxBMbM37RAdVZ-uGSyACK4BGAYYCw/s400/IMG_0523.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Photo credit: Google </span></div>
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Aiden is 12. (Same age as <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=tamir+rice&rlz=1C1GCEA_enUS855US855&oq=tamir+rice&aqs=chrome..69i57l2j69i59l2j69i61j69i60l2j69i65.1439j0j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8" target="_blank">Tamir Rice</a>.) He knows about Amy Cooper and George Floyd and all of the protesting because we’ve been openly discussing it in our house. And he's been listening and asking questions.<br />
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He’s twelve. And cute and funny and sometimes quirky. <o:p></o:p>He still sleeps with a night light and teddy bears on his bed. And he’s been asking for extra hugs these days.</div>
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But at what age is he going to be seen as a threat?<o:p></o:p></div>
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13? 15? 16? <o:p></o:p></div>
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How many more years do I have with him until the <a href="https://www.cnn.com/2020/05/26/us/central-park-video-dog-video-african-american-trnd/index.html" target="_blank">Amy Cooper’s</a>
of the world use their whiteness as a weapon against him? Or police officers
see him as threatening? <o:p></o:p></div>
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How many more? <o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m sick. I’m tired. I'm hurt. I’m mentally exhausted. I'm emotionally spent. Because the
truth is racism and systematic oppression are so deeply embedded in our society
that it literally affects <i>every… single… aspect</i> of our daily lives and
lived experiences. It's everywhere and it's terrorizing!<br />
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You may know about George Floyd, but people are not protesting <i>just </i>because of him. This is from years and years and decades and decades of us begging and pleading and peacefully protesting (see: Kaepernick) to law enforcement and elected officials to treat us like humans. See our humanity. Stop killing us.<br />
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It's too much!<br />
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And we are tired.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PaHJjgXecks/Xtb5XCRR4nI/AAAAAAAAh60/ez_GAChKLKQE4cxFzqPDFldwnN55GgZPgCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/0.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PaHJjgXecks/Xtb5XCRR4nI/AAAAAAAAh60/ez_GAChKLKQE4cxFzqPDFldwnN55GgZPgCK4BGAYYCw/s400/0.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">12th birthdays be like...</span></div>
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And because other people – who are way smarter than me – have
already written or spoken on it, I’m sharing their work. I’ve literally read
all of these books (sometimes twice, sometimes thrice!) and watched all of
these films (sometimes twice!). They're good and informative. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Click, read, listen, learn a thing or two, and support… you
know the deal. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>On racism and the criminal justice system…</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/New-Jim-Crow-Incarceration-Colorblindness/dp/1620971933/ref=sr_1_1?crid=7ZJVSFEZIGJX&dchild=1&keywords=the+new+jim+crow&qid=1591145820&s=books&sprefix=the+%2Cstripbooks%2C170&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Read: The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander</a></div>
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<span id="goog_1219945337"></span>Watch: 13<sup>th</sup> by Ava DuVernay</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/"><o:p></o:p></a></div>
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<span id="goog_1219945338"></span>Watch: When They See Us by Ava DuVernay<br />
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<b>On voting…</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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Watch: Selma by Ava DuVernay <o:p></o:p>(yes, I love her and all her #BlackGirlMagic)</div>
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<b>On segregation, redlining, White Flight, and government-created
low-income neighborhoods…</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Color-Law-Forgotten-Government-Segregated/dp/1631494538/ref=sr_1_1?crid=GNPAZ9BT7KMU&dchild=1&keywords=the+color+of+law&qid=1591145777&s=books&sprefix=the+color+%2Cstripbooks%2C176&sr=1-1" target="_blank">The Color of Law by Richard Rothstein </a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Warmth-Other-Suns-Americas-Migration/dp/0679763880/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1NT88NKVKFJ1Z&dchild=1&keywords=the+warmth+of+other+suns+by+isabel+wilkerson&qid=1591145750&s=books&sprefix=the+war%2Cstripbooks%2C181&sr=1-1" target="_blank">The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson <o:p></o:p></a></div>
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<b>On a little bit of what it’s like to be a Black man in America…<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Between-World-Me-Ta-Nehisi-Coates-ebook/dp/B00SEFAIRI/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1M1T4BWQZDXGG&dchild=1&keywords=between+the+world+and+me&qid=1591145698&s=books&sprefix=betw%2Cstripbooks%2C200&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates </a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/What-Doesnt-Kill-Makes-Blacker/dp/0062684302" target="_blank">What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Blacker by a Very Smart Brother, Damon Young</a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>On White Supremacy why it’s so hard for White folks to talk
about racism…</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/White-Fragility-People-About-Racism/dp/0807047414" target="_blank">White Fragility by Robin Diangelo <o:p></o:p></a><br />
<br />
<b>On Raising An Advocate and reading books with little Black kids as main characters...</b><br />
<a href="http://raisinganadvocate.com/" target="_blank">Raising An Advocate by Mamademics</a><br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/DeneneMillnerBooks/" target="_blank">Any one of Denene Millner books </a> (My kids' libraries are stocked with these books)</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Articles that I’ve posted to my Facebook account within these
last couple weeks:</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://zora.medium.com/finding-our-better-beckies-59b4fa9b242f" target="_blank">How White Women Can Use Their Privilege to End Racism </a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://www.katykatikate.com/the-blog/2020/5/26/5-racist-anti-racism-responses-good-white-women-give-to-viral-posts" target="_blank">Five Anti-Racism Responses “Good” White Women Give to Viral Posts </a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://www.prettygooddesign.org/blog/Blog%20Post%20Title%20One-5new4?fbclid=IwAR1F-fPH9gKQOpygYmG01GahhdmaZCfK4AJG4x6QOtbxQrtPb6MPZcnimd0" target="_blank">Your Kids Aren’t Too Young to Talk About Race: Resource Round-Up</a></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dAwDwQueVdc/XtcMOUl2VBI/AAAAAAAAh7A/ShK0gN-KVUA2sBrCTTsC_M2zaixiY9KawCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/download.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dAwDwQueVdc/XtcMOUl2VBI/AAAAAAAAh7A/ShK0gN-KVUA2sBrCTTsC_M2zaixiY9KawCK4BGAYYCw/s400/download.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
After you’ve read and studied and learned a few things, <a href="https://lifehacker.com/where-to-donate-to-help-people-fighting-for-racial-just-1843852418" target="_blank">donate some money</a> to the cause, if you have it.<br />
<br />
And then, <i>actively</i> work to be anti-racist. And then, <i>stand</i> in the gap for us.<br />
<br />
Seriously. Talk to people about Black lives mattering.<br />
<br />
Make it a habit, even when there's not a major civil rights movement happening.<br />
<br />
Make it a habit, even after all these George Floyd protests die down.<br />
<br />
Make it a habit, before the next hashtag becomes a "thing".<br />
<br />
Make it a habit, by posting about it on social media.... along with all the other mundane shit that we like to post.<br />
<br />
Make it a habit, even when people bring up looters and rioters. (Spoiler alert: <i>humans</i> over property, all day, e'erday!)<br />
<br />
Make it a habit, even when people bring up Black on Black crime. (Newsflash: it's a myth.)<br />
<br />
Make it a habit, even when people try to whitesplain MLK and what he stood for. (Plot twist: they murdered him too.)<br />
<br />
Make it a habit, even when people say, "He should have been more respectful/less resistant/followed orders" and a whole bunch of other things in order to... I don't know... stay alive. (Be clear: we ain't about that victim-blaming life.)<br />
<br />
Make it a habit, by talking about Black lives mattering with your friends, family, and co-workers.<br />
<br />
If you’re afraid of saying
the wrong thing, say something anyway. Practice, stay at it, and you’ll get
better. If you’re afraid of what your white friends and family members might say in response, ask yourself why, do some soul-searching, check your privilege,
and say something anyway. Because wherever you are, <i>that</i> is your frontline.<br />
<br />
This is <i>literally</i> a matter of life and death for my kids.<br />
<br />
And me.</div>
Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com71tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-82434629618393634482019-05-21T09:15:00.000-04:002019-05-21T09:15:56.740-04:00Birthdays Was the Worst Days...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">blazer & sequin mini-skirt: Express | blouse: Target</span></div>
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Now we sip champagne when we thirsty. (#BigUpToBiggie)<br />
<br />
I celebrated my 35th birthday a couple weeks ago, and honestly, I'm still coming down off the high of the celebration.<br />
<br />
I felt the love at home when I woke up to the couch filled with purple balloons (my favorite color -- details matter), a card from HEB, and Apple Air Pods.<br />
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I felt the love at work when my co-workers decorated my office and had all 400+ students surprise me at Community Circle with a cheer in my honor. Later that day, my co-workers surprised me with lunch and red velvet cake. Talk about yum! And I can't forget the roses from HEB that we're delivered to my job. (Thanks boo.)<br />
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I felt the love at brunch the next day when my friends showed up and showed out. And, of course, more (purple) cake. The weekend was literally the epitome of love and joy and life.<br />
<br />
Matter of fact, all birthdays should feel like that.<br />
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Growing up, I didn't make a big deal out of birthdays because I didn't always feel celebrated on my birthdays. But I'm happy that 35 is teaching me to be different. To be loved. And to let love in.<br />
<br />
Real talk: it's a good place to be.<br />
<br />
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I can't wait to see what this year has in store.Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com49tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-17788245513183112962019-04-16T21:50:00.000-04:002019-04-17T15:53:50.451-04:0013 Thoughts About Running 13.1 Miles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s1kV9eThwxQ/XLaB9Swg2II/AAAAAAAAYbw/fStLGWPzS6Ytshiy2cOR6Ic2BLMbIonnACLcBGAs/s1600/57486633_10104394756304932_4499205029718130688_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="770" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s1kV9eThwxQ/XLaB9Swg2II/AAAAAAAAYbw/fStLGWPzS6Ytshiy2cOR6Ic2BLMbIonnACLcBGAs/s400/57486633_10104394756304932_4499205029718130688_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Last weekend, I ran the Shape Women's Half-Marathon. Yeah, you read that right. I laced up my New Balance kicks, secured my bib, and ran around Central Park. Twice. And then some. It was the longest distance I've ever run. (My previous longest run was nearly 10 miles.)<br />
<br />
Miles 1-7 were good and smooth. I was in a groove and, at an average pace of 10'0"/mi, I felt like Super Woman.<br />
<br />
Then it got hot. And hard.<br />
<br />
And as it got hard, I started to think lots of thoughts. (Yes, some of them were about quitting.) So... here are 13 life thoughts about running 13.1 miles.<br />
<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
1. The people who say things like, "If you can run 8 miles or 9 miles, you can run 13 miles!" are what life-ruiners are made of. They're lying. #FightMe </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
2. Crowds are evil. (I was so through with crowds and ran on the outskirts for pretty much half of the half.) </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
3. A few encouraging people are all you need. Really. The hill at 9.5 miles kicked my ass. The hill at 10.5 miles tried to take me out. My headphones gave out at mile 11. At that point, <a href="http://www.mommydelicious.com/2016/01/right-in-thick-of-love_26.html" target="_blank">I literally texted HEB </a>to say, "Life hates me." But he texted things like, "Keep pushing" and "You got this" and "You're almost there." That's what kept me going. And the signs that people held up. Which bring me to my next point... </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
4. Signs are lifesavers. #BigSignsSaveLives </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
5. Hard does not mean impossible. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
6. Slow progress is still progress. It got to the point where I <i>really</i> needed to slow down because the hills were trying to kill me. But I was still moving forward and I was still inching towards the 13.1 mile mark.</blockquote>
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<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
7. Focus on yourself and your goals because you are <i>only</i> in competition with yourself. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
8. You don't have to be the strongest. You don't have to be the fastest. You just have to endure for a... <i>little... while... longer</i>. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
9. Beginnings are beautiful and magical and what unicorns are made of. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
10. Middles are rough and messy and murky and muddy. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
11. There's an expiration date for things that are hard. When things got hard, I started to think of crossing the finish line and getting to that 13.1, or the metaphorical "expiration date." So whatever you're going through has an expiration date. Even if you can't yet see the finish line. Which brings me to my next point... </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
12. Finishes are glorious. It's up to you to push pass the messiness and murkiness and muddiness so that you can get to your glorious finish. #PointBlankPeriod</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
13. It's <i>literally</i> marathon, not a sprint. It took me 2 hours and 30 minutes, but I finished. And it felt damn good!</blockquote>
Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-65154783464843650982019-03-08T08:49:00.001-05:002019-03-08T08:49:31.942-05:004.0 and Running Goals<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
I'm officially a runner, y'all!<br />
<br />
A couple of weeks ago, HEB and I ran the Al Gordon Brooklyn 4M race with the NYRR and I was able to check off one of my 2019 goals that I didn't even know I had!<br />
<br />
Even though it was pretty cold that day and I had to wake up pretty early to get to Prospect Park, I'm happy that I did the race.<br />
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<br />
At the gym, I've been running 4 miles in roughly 45 minutes, but I wanted to cut that time down by five minutes and finish the race in 40 minutes. Because #goals.<br />
<br />
I'm proud to say that my official end time was 39 minutes and 44 seconds with a 9:56 pace per mile.<br />
<br />
Not bad at all.<br />
<br />
And now I can set a new goal -- to finish off 4 miles at a slightly faster pace. (Emphasis on <i>slightly</i>.)<br />
<br />
Also... setting running goals, pushing through (in the cold and early morning) to meet said running goals, and then setting <i>new</i> running goals officially makes you a runner, no?<br />
<br />
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Onward.Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-5493722752085171322019-02-15T13:53:00.001-05:002019-02-15T13:53:06.353-05:00Kids Cooking Class at Nonna Beppa Soho<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yLA4_5ex-Co/XGYpkeV0SMI/AAAAAAAAXbY/NU6QM1lpITck2t788jVqbSH5-C7w3g1_wCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_6009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="543" data-original-width="724" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yLA4_5ex-Co/XGYpkeV0SMI/AAAAAAAAXbY/NU6QM1lpITck2t788jVqbSH5-C7w3g1_wCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_6009.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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"I wish we could get one of those things for our house!"<br />
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This was Aiden, referring to a pasta maker. The crew and I attended a Kids Cooking Class this past weekend at <a href="https://www.nonnabeppa.com/kids-cooking-classes.html" target="_blank">Nonna Beppa</a>, an authentic Italian restaurant in Soho, and let me tell you, the restaurant is the truth!<br />
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Not only are the majority of ingredients at Nonna Beppa imported straight from Italy (think cured meats and many cheeses), but the Kids Cooking Class is a Pasta-Making Class.<br />
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From scratch.<br />
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I'm talking combining the flour and eggs, kneading the pasta dough, allowing the dough to rest, dividing the pasta dough, rolling out the pasta, thinning the pasta, cutting the pasta, cooking the pasta, and last but not least, eating the pasta... the whole nine yards!<br />
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The kids thought it was so cool and they were really into it.<br />
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And, by "kids," I mean Aiden and the other big kids. August was too cool for school and had other toddler business to tend to. Like running up and down the restaurant, drinking water, and taking a nap. Oh, and the "eating" portion of the class.<br />
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(Fun Fact: Pasta is legit his favorite thing to eat. In fact, 9 out of 10 times, he eats some type of pasta for dinner and all I do is switch up the sauce. #toddlerlife)<br />
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I was also seriously impressed with the entire class. And with the wine selection. (#dontjudgeme)<br />
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Tania, the teacher, helped the kids every step of the way by explaining everything to them in a kid-friendly way. She was also very patient, worked with the kids on the skills they were lacking, and shouted them out when they were rocking it out!<br />
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Thanks, Tania!<br />
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On the menu was tagliatelle and ravioli. And who knew that you used little cute square to make ravioli?!<br />
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While their pasta was cooking up, I enjoyed a little <strike>more</strike> wine, ordered my meal, and admired the chic and trendy scenery that is <a href="https://www.nonnabeppa.com/kids-cooking-classes.html" target="_blank">Nonna Beppa</a>.<br />
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Then, it was time to eat! While the kids ate their delish pasta, HEB and I ate a yummy 3-course meal. Everything was cooked to perfection.<br />
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Interested? <b>Kids Cooking Class takes place every other Sunday at noon. Visit the <a href="https://www.nonnabeppa.com/kids-cooking-classes.html" target="_blank">Nonna Beppa website</a> to learn more information or to reserve your spot. </b><br />
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(You're welcome.)<br />
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Thanks so much to the entire team at Nonna Beppa for the fun experience. The wine was amazing. And the pasta was pretty good too!<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">{Disclaimer: The kids were provided with a complimentary Pasta-Making Class and the grown-ups were provided with a complimentary meal in order to facilitate this review. All opinions expressed herein are my own.}</span></i></div>
Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-82394407032809365172019-02-08T09:25:00.002-05:002019-02-08T09:25:50.379-05:00{Relationship Stories} Guarded<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nqVTm7yhiyg/XF2QZw1t9GI/AAAAAAAAXGk/iknfA6xvF7Ijzb7BNZqT0NaMu52MiImHQCLcBGAs/s1600/guarded-heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="317" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nqVTm7yhiyg/XF2QZw1t9GI/AAAAAAAAXGk/iknfA6xvF7Ijzb7BNZqT0NaMu52MiImHQCLcBGAs/s1600/guarded-heart.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">{photo <a href="https://hopespassage.wordpress.com/2012/10/16/is-surrender-the-pathway-to-life/guarded-heart/" target="_blank">via</a>}</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">I'm hanging out on the Lower East Side at happy hour with wo of my girlfriends and after a few five-dollar lychee martinis, I get started with some details about this thing I've got going on with </span><a href="http://www.mommydelicious.com/2013/06/personal-style-golden.html" style="background-color: white; color: #ad8eaf; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">The Guy</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Specifically the fact that I'm all screwed up when it comes to dating and relationships and that I might kinda, sorta, </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">really</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> benefit from seeing a therapist.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Don't know what I'm talking about? Sigh. </span><a href="http://www.mommydelicious.com/2013/02/dating-tales-this-thing-about.html" style="background-color: white; color: #ad8eaf; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Catch yourself up by reading this</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">. And then bear with me as I share my theory, y'all. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">I talk a lot about my past on this corner of the web -- </span><a href="http://www.mommydelicious.com/2013/08/more-faith-more-fight.html" style="background-color: white; color: #ad8eaf; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">my crazy, unstable, and very, very messy upbringing</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">. At the age of five, I was a witness to my family getting evicted from an apartment that I lived in since birth. I was five-years-old. </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Five!</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> Let that marinate for a minute. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">That night (when I was five-years-old... </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">five!</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">), we slept in a shelter, which is where we stayed for the next couple weeks until my mother took us to my maternal grandmother's house. And so began the crazy, unstable, emotional roller-coaster that would be my life.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">I was in and out of foster homes, enduring emotional and physical abuse, not really feeling like there was someone around to protect me and look out for my well-being. (Well, not anyone other than my sister. But she's three years older than me so she didn't have that much power to be the grown-up that I needed in my life. She tried though.) </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">I learned a few things from that upbringing... Resilience. Heck, look it up in the dictionary and you just might find the biography of Alicia Harper. Faith. I had to trust in God to get me through those years of hell. (He never said the weapon wouldn't </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">form</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">; He said it wouldn't </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">prosper</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> -- Isaiah 54:17). Optimism. I needed to look forward to a better tomorrow in order to make it through my today. Love. Kindness. Joy. Hard work. Independence. Drive. And a slew of other qualities that makes me the Mommy Delicious that I am today.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">For that, I'm thankful.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">I managed to get a </span><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2002/03/14/nyregion/19-who-defied-the-odds-get-times-scholarships.html?scp=1&sq=19%20Who%20Defied%20the%20Odds%20Get%20Times%20Scholarships&st=cse" style="background-color: white; color: #ad8eaf; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">full scholarship to a great university</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> and I truly looked forward to the life that I'd create as a grown-up, which, I proclaimed, would be </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">nothing</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> like the one I had growing up. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Fast forward a few years to my first serious adult relationship. Aiden's </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">other</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">parent. After enduring </span><a href="http://www.mommydelicious.com/2011/03/post-im-not-supposed-to-write.html" style="background-color: white; color: #ad8eaf; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">emotional, financial, and physical abuse</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">, we all know how that one ended -- not good. I still suffer from PTSD and have flashbacks of those incidents from time to time -- it's not easy to get through that kind of trauma. I went through a year of therapy after that and it really helped me to pick up the pieces of my life, learn some hard and heavy lessons, and move forward.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Resilience, at its finest. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">What's crazy and freaky and mind-blowing is the way the cycle of events works. I </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">left</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> the drama of my upbringing only to </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">create</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> it once again in my adult life. And I barely escaped it in my adult-life. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">See what I'm talking about when I say I need therapy? </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">More </i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">therapy? </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">I guess we have a tendency to gravitate towards things that are familiar to us. There's comfort in that, even if it's unhealthy. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">The thing about the horrific events that have taken place in my life is, while they've helped me to learn so much about the great things about life, they've left me shattered. And guarded.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Extremely guarded. Abnormally guarded.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">The scars of my past have made me very protective of my thoughts and feelings and situations in my life, and I don't know how to share them with others. (Except for when it comes to writing. I can put it all out there in an article or blog post.) </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Enter The Guy. He's nice and sweet and smart and handsome and honest and comes from a good family and wants to build something with me. He's the guy I've been praying for! </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">During the cocktail therapy session with my girls (hey, it's cheaper than a regular therapy session), I went on and on and on about my guardedness. (Is that even a word?) I've been guarded for so long, not really letting anyone in my heart for so long, maintaining these superficially relationships with folks that I genuinely care about for so long.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Sigh. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">I'm finally at a point in my life where I don't have to be this way anymore... and I don't know how </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">not </i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">to be this way. Here I have this perfectly good (and good-to-me and good-</span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">for</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">-me) guy who just wants to love me and like me and go at this thing together... and I don't know how to let him. I want to be successful at this, but I, must admit, I don't know how to do this. (My Type-A personality is </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">not</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> okay with this, by the way.)</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">He's been patient, I guess. But we're at the point where he's starting to think that I'm hiding things from him. But I'm not. Not intentionally anyhow. I genuinely don't find it necessary to share certain things with him. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">He's all like, </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">"</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">But... we're trying to build something together, why wouldn't you think to tell me about that?"</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">And I'm all like, </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">"</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Uh... uh... I need more time to process your question and formulate a response."</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">I don't think that's gonna work for much longer though.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">I take another sip of my lychee martini and I spill it all out to my girls. They sit there and listen to me, order more martinis with me, wallow when necessary, validate my feelings, and lean in for hugs when I need them. Then they give it to me straight and tell me that, yes, I do in fact need to speak with a therapist about my guardedness (It </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">is</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> a word. I'm proclaiming it.) </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Gotta love girl talk.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">{This post was first published on <a href="http://www.mommydelicious.com/2013/10/dating-tales-guarded.html" target="_blank">Mommy Delicious on October 27, 2013</a>. And it's about HEB. We're coming up on six years in this relationship thing.}</span></i></span></div>
Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-56495897820462031572019-02-06T13:01:00.001-05:002019-02-06T19:14:55.299-05:00On Recognizing Kids As Fully Human<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_-MhgWVJ6Gs/XFl5__D4-WI/AAAAAAAAXF8/vymA-SHjDZA0VVyOLj-WKMe5k5uIhblpQCLcBGAs/s1600/0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="626" data-original-width="722" height="277" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_-MhgWVJ6Gs/XFl5__D4-WI/AAAAAAAAXF8/vymA-SHjDZA0VVyOLj-WKMe5k5uIhblpQCLcBGAs/s320/0.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This meme knows my life.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Real talk: I'm not a morning person. Matter of fact, most mornings I'm cranky as hell. </div>
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Also, I'm cranky when I don't get enough sleep. Or when I'm home and want to take a nap, but can't. Or when someone in my house wakes me up from a nap. Or when I'm hungry. Hangry. </div>
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Or when I think things are stupid, but I have to do them anyway. (That makes me <i>really</i> cranky.)</div>
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And you know what? </div>
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Because I'm grown, I get to "get away" with being cranky for the most part. (I mean, I don't walk around with an attitude or anything, but if folks know that I'm not in a good mood, they tend to leave me alone. Or hold the space for me as I work through my feelings.)</div>
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Here's the thing though: that's not the norm for our kids. Generally kids aren't offered that same level of grace. If kids are having a rough day or a rough moment, it's seen as disrespectful or unacceptable. </div>
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In fact, I've found that so much of motherhood (Black motherhood) has been folks looking at me to prove to them that I have control over my kids.</div>
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But motherhood has taught me to accept my children as fully human. And that means holding the space for them to experience the gamut of human emotions. </div>
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The other day, Aiden was super moody as I was helping him with his homework. Actually, he walked into the house in a funk, went to his room, sat on his bed for a few minutes, and then came out into the living room. When I asked him if he wanted to talk about his day, he declined. </div>
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That's cool. </div>
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But I told him that I'm here for him if he wanted to talk about anything. I left the space for him to just... be.</div>
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While we were going over his homework, he was snappy. I checked him when he tried to direct his energy towards me. I told him that he's allowed to be in a bad mood, but he's not allowed to speak to me any 'ol way. </div>
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I asked him if he wanted a hug, he declined. </div>
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That's cool. </div>
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Again, I told him that I'm here for him. And we continued with his history assignment. </div>
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Ten minutes later, he wanted a hug. So we did that. And I could feel the release as we embraced. </div>
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The thing is: I could have easily yelled at him or sent him to his room for being "rude" or grounded him or took away his phone for his behavior. I could have easily seen his behavior as unacceptable.</div>
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But I didn't.</div>
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Because kids are allowed to be cranky. And because kids are allowed to be in a funk. And because kids are allowed to be in a bad mood. Just as much as adults are allowed. And it's my job to help Aiden navigate and make sense of these tricky feelings instead of punishing him for them. </div>
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And that's what I'll continue to do. </div>
Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-11516179510210161852019-01-31T13:17:00.002-05:002019-01-31T13:17:37.782-05:00Special<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R7hcBHKnQZo/XFM5yT4jT-I/AAAAAAAAXBc/5yUL1Ir88K4k0_advp5d8wypB91pct1MgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_4955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="550" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R7hcBHKnQZo/XFM5yT4jT-I/AAAAAAAAXBc/5yUL1Ir88K4k0_advp5d8wypB91pct1MgCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_4955.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222;">August has an Autism diagnosis.</span><span style="color: #222222;"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222;">There. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I said it. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Out loud.</span></div>
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<br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">(Wrote it. Online.)</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It actually feels like a relief to write it here because now I can
normalize it in public. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Whew!</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w0SPt4-n6Pk/XFM56e1TbRI/AAAAAAAAXBg/qP11EcTTgP0cFLEDT0qcXG3VgDe5BpZ4gCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_5470.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="412" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w0SPt4-n6Pk/XFM56e1TbRI/AAAAAAAAXBg/qP11EcTTgP0cFLEDT0qcXG3VgDe5BpZ4gCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_5470.jpg" width="298" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By the time he turned 1 ½, I had a hunch that there was something
special about August. I've written about it on the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/mommydelicious" target="_blank">Mommy Delicious Facebook</a> page before. I’d been reading books to him, speaking to him, and doing all the activities
that I did with Aiden with him… but he didn’t respond in the same way. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">His speech and language were not like Aiden’s were at the same
age. (But then again, I thought Aiden was a baby genius because he and I were
having full blown conversations by the time the kid was 18 months.)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I remember thinking that I made it too easy for August not to
use his words because I accepted him pointing to objects or using two-word phrases
to communicate his needs.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I remember thinking that I needed to read <i>more</i> books to him or
do <i>more</i> activities with him in order to develop his speech. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then I remember thinking that I just needed to chill and not
compare him to his older brother. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All of these things were true. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I did my due diligence, did all the things I said I’d do to “catch
him up,” and waited it out. Then I noticed that he started to play with his toys
in a way that was… </span><i style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">interesting</i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. He’d
twirl a string for hours on end, he’d look at his toy cars and buses and trucks
on an angle to watch the wheels go round and round. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And he’d fixate.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Real talk: his fixation game is strong. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By the time he turned 2 ½,
August could identify every letter of the alphabet (both lower case and upper
case, both in order and out of order), say the sound associated with each
letter, identify every number from 0-20, count from 1-20, count backwards from
10-1, label shapes (including things like "hexagons." I mean, what 2-year-old
calls something a hexagon?!), and recite entire books like it’s nobody’s business.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All of this was very…<i> interesting</i>. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W7aE5hUQpOg/XFM6I3qqZyI/AAAAAAAAXBo/u94fyI-VxyMrFmZ7jMi_njjwCunOwybfgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_5642.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="510" data-original-width="680" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W7aE5hUQpOg/XFM6I3qqZyI/AAAAAAAAXBo/u94fyI-VxyMrFmZ7jMi_njjwCunOwybfgCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_5642.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So HEB and I agreed to get him evaluated. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I learned that the process could be long and draining and sometimes frustrating. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Aight, bet... I just had to brace myself for a battle. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I also learned that on the Childhood
Autism Rating Scale (CARS), you need to score at least a 30 in order to receive
the Autism diagnosis and get the services. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Aight, bet. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So when the Psychologist came to evaluate him, I emphasized all of his
symptoms and pushed for him to receive the diagnosis so that he can also receive the services. He got a rating of 30.5. When the Speech Therapist came to
evaluate him, I pushed for him to receive that service even though he is maniacal about labeling objects and knows a lot of words. When the Social Worker
came to evaluate him, I pushed for her to get an Occupational Therapist out to
my house asap because I knew he was very sensory-seeking and I needed the guidance of
a professional. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Throughout the entire process, I realized that I didn’t need to “catch
him up.” I just need to embrace his dopeness, love on his special-ness, and get him the services that he
needs in order to thrive. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Through Early Intervention, August qualified for 20 hours of ABA
therapy each week, speech therapy 3x/week, and OT 3x/week. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now that he’s 3-years-old, we have to go through the entire
evaluation process all over again in order to get him the same services as a
preschooler. So I’m bracing myself for another battle.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">But this time I feel more confident because no matter what happens, know this: August will be okay.
Better than okay.</span></span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Because I’m his mother and I’ll make sure of it. <a href="http://www.mommydelicious.com/2015/07/coparenting-with-abusive-ex.html" target="_blank">I’ve fought for Aiden to have everything he needs to be happy andsuccessful</a>.</span></span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">And I’ll do the same for August. Always. All the days.</span></span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Rest ya understanding on that.</span></span></span></span></div>
Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-9784366243217732932019-01-24T10:50:00.002-05:002019-01-24T10:50:45.507-05:00There's No Easy Phase of Parenting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L7J9DHotoxk/XEnenV2TEII/AAAAAAAAW8o/uy5rQnH2XGgpgIPmE_ceDi570klERlryACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_5574.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="412" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L7J9DHotoxk/XEnenV2TEII/AAAAAAAAW8o/uy5rQnH2XGgpgIPmE_ceDi570klERlryACLcBGAs/s400/IMG_5574.jpg" width="298" /></a></div>
<br />
I remember when Aiden was younger and I had to do everything for him. Feed him, bathe him, change his diaper, entertain him... you get the drift.<br />
<br />
There were days that I was so exhausted that I couldn't wait until he got older. To me, Aiden getting older meant that he would be able to do so many things for himself.<br />
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And parenting would become easier.<br />
<br />
Well, guess what?<br />
<br />
Aiden is older now. <a href="http://www.mommydelicious.com/2018/10/this-is-eleven.html" target="_blank">Homeboy's eleven</a>.<br />
<br />
He's much more independent than he used to be. Matter of fact, Aiden manages his football schedule, he takes the subway to and from school by himself, he stays home alone for a couple of hours when I need to run an errand, and he's very efficient when helping with August.<br />
<br />
But guess what?<br />
<br />
Parenting did not become easier.<br />
<br />
Because when Aiden forgets to text when he gets to school or gets home from school, I have a little mini-freak out. When Aiden gets all pre-teenagery and hormonal, I have to work extra hard to practice patience and understanding. When Aiden forgets a homework assignment or forgets to study for a test, after feeling a little bit of rage on the inside, I have to take deep breaths and get him back on track.<br />
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(Side note: Middle school ain't for the wimps. When did it become so hard with so many subjects and so many assignments from every... single... subject?)<br />
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I have to constantly talk to him about online safety and being aware of his surroundings, appropriate conversations and when to exit chat rooms, the fine line between things being funny and things being inappropriate.<br />
<br />
How to be a leader and stand up for what's right.<br />
<br />
Systematic racism.<br />
<br />
Implicit bias.<br />
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How to control his impulses, especially if he's approached by police officers and/or authority figures. And especially when I'm not around.<br />
<br />
Even though I'm preparing him for independence, in many ways, he needs me more now than he did when he was just a baby.<br />
<br />
So, yeah... there's no easy phase of parenting.<br />
<br />
We just have to learn as we go and hope for the best.<br />
<br />
And always know that we're doing the best that we can.Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com69tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-59233923119123821282019-01-18T18:43:00.000-05:002019-01-18T18:43:48.155-05:00What Nightmares Are Made Of<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AUCKgaVikz8/VBMUbMWlqiI/AAAAAAAAFnA/RiN7Py4fKeg/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AUCKgaVikz8/VBMUbMWlqiI/AAAAAAAAFnA/RiN7Py4fKeg/s1600/images.jpeg" style="border: 0px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); padding: 0px;" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Seven.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">That's how many times, on average, it takes a victim of intimate partner violence to leave the abuser. Seven.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Seven incidents of humiliation. Seven incidents of confusion. Seven incidents of thinking, </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">I can't believe this happened to me</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">. Seven incidents of self-blaming and self-loathing. Seven incidents of thinking, </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">But maybe it'll get better if only I could love harder/be more supportive/be less demanding</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Seven.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Some victims leave long before. Some leave long after.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">All</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> are scarred for many, many years following the experience.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">I know this personally.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">I know because not </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">only</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> have </span><a href="http://www.dvrc-or.org/domestic/violence/resources/C61/" style="background-color: white; color: #ad8eaf; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">I studied the statistics</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">, but also because </span><a href="http://www.mommydelicious.com/2011/03/post-im-not-supposed-to-write.html" style="background-color: white; color: #ad8eaf; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">I <i>was</i> a victim of domestic violence</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">. And at the hands of Aiden's </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">other</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">parent. </span><a href="http://www.mommydelicious.com/2013/10/domestic-violence-affects-everyone.html" style="background-color: white; color: #ad8eaf; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">I've written about this before</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">. </span><a href="http://www.mommydelicious.com/2012/08/defining-moments.html" style="background-color: white; color: #ad8eaf; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">More than once</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">. I know because I stayed far longer than I would have ever imagined. I know because I left after way too many incidents.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">The very last incident took place in my apartment. That's when he strangled me until I passed out... </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">three</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> times in one night. He was mad at me for getting mad at him for taking money from me without my permission. (In the real world, we call that stealing.)</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">The time before that took place in my bedroom. That's when he snatched my cellphone away from me while I was in the middle of a conversation and attempted to throw it. He was mad at me for not giving him the attention he wanted.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">The time before that took place in my living room. That's when he strangled me until I passed out... </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">twice</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> in one night. He was mad at me for getting mad at him for arguing with two random guys during our date night at a bar. After I woke up, he took my keys and cellphone so that I wouldn't call anyone or try to leave my apartment. (In the real world, we call that holding someone hostage.)</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">The time before that took place by the foyer in my apartment. He dragged me across the floor. I still have the scar on my shoulder from the rug burn because of it.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">The time before that took place in a hotel room while we were out of town celebrating my birthday. He threw me up against the wall and then body slammed me unto the bed. He was mad at me because I wouldn't give him </span><strike style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">my hard earned</strike><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> money to </span><strike style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">leave me alone in a hotel room and</strike><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> go to a strip club </span><strike style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">during my birthday weekend celebration</strike><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">The time before that took place in the bedroom. He handcuffed me to Aiden's crib because he was jealous after I received a phone call from a male friend. (He used to be a security guard so the handcuffs were from his job. And yes, Aiden was in the crib at the time.)</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qmKkzMqBnA4/VBMNC7FfpFI/AAAAAAAAFmo/8YYUdc4_yhw/s1600/stop-domestic-violence.png" imageanchor="1" style="color: #ad8eaf; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" height="174" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qmKkzMqBnA4/VBMNC7FfpFI/AAAAAAAAFmo/8YYUdc4_yhw/s1600/stop-domestic-violence.png" style="border: 0px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); padding: 0px;" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">When I was in high school, I remember witnessing my foster brother drag his pregnant girlfriend down a flight of stairs and punch her so hard in the face that it almost immediately swelled up. I remember talking to some of my closest friends about the incident. I remember saying, "She should leave him!" I remember judging her and her situation. I remember thinking, </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">why is she staying with him?</i><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Ten years later, I found myself in a similar situation. Only difference is that this time </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">I</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> was the victim. And this time </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">I</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> was the one staying.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Thing is, "she could easily leave" is such a heavy, loaded statement. It's not that easy to leave. It's not that easy to walk away. It's not that easy to break those strongholds. It's not that easy to break the chains, to break free, to face the truth.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Denial and oblivion... sometimes it really </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">is</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> bliss.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Truth is, I don't know why I stayed with my ex for so long. Maybe I got caught up whenever we had our honeymoon phases. (They pretty much happened after every violent episode and they confused the hell out of me. But they also gave me hope that things will get better.) Maybe I was afraid to embrace the "single mom" status. (Y'all know all the statistics, thoughts, and assumptions attached to that label.) Maybe I was in denial. (Denial and avoidance are my defense mechanisms of choice.) Maybe I was afraid of being alone. Maybe I believed that </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">this</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> time would be different. Maybe I thought that my love, my unconditional love, would be enough to motivate change in him.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">It wasn't.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">There was no change.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">After a while, I came to terms with the fact that some folks are just broken beyond repair and there's nothing you could do or say that would help to "fix" them or help them deal with their mess. And some folks just don't have the capacity to empathize or feel compassion towards others. Control and power, that's all abusers want. And those honeymoon phases or those "I'm a changed person" speeches are just more ways to manipulate the situation, and exercise control and power over victims.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Call me heartless and judge as you many, but it is what it is. *Kanye shrug*</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Once I was honest with myself about what was happening -- </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">really</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">happening -- I could no longer deny that I was living in a cycle of domestic violence. And I could no longer deny that my life -- and Aiden's life -- was in danger.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">I realized that my abuser </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">did</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> need help, and some type of change </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">did</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> need to happen in his life. But I also realized that that's work </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">he</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"> needed to do on his own. Without Aiden and me around or along for the ride.</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.mommydelicious.com/2012/06/on-single-motherhood-when-quitting.html" style="color: #ad8eaf; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">So I bowed ou</a>t. Gracefully. </div>
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*Dusts dirt off of shoulders* (That was a Jay-Z reference.) </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-z2eWyfdl-YY/VBMUNLUw16I/AAAAAAAAFm4/KWUkIiPG3wA/s1600/domestic_violence_survivor_2_oval_decal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #ad8eaf; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-z2eWyfdl-YY/VBMUNLUw16I/AAAAAAAAFm4/KWUkIiPG3wA/s1600/domestic_violence_survivor_2_oval_decal.jpg" style="border: 0px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); padding: 0px;" /></a></div>
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Looking back at that tumultuous time in my life, I know that God must've thought that I had a purpose in life because I can't even begin to fathom how I survived. But I'm so thankful for God's grace and faithfulness and protection. It's the only thing that helped me to survive and live to tell what nightmares are made of. </div>
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I'm here. To share my story. </div>
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I hope that it brings healing and comfort and strength to some. And understanding and compassion and clarity to others. </div>
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So the next time you're thinking of asking the question, "Why is she staying?," remember the number seven, and then think again.</div>
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<i>{This post was originally published on the Mommy Delicious website on <a href="http://www.mommydelicious.com/2014/09/domestic-violence-and-black-women.html" target="_blank">9.12.14</a>.}</i></div>
Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-6465063199309870082019-01-15T18:52:00.005-05:002019-01-15T18:52:46.499-05:00Brick by Brick<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xEhBxgQ4RfA/XD4wftKuZeI/AAAAAAAAW0k/fP3oZZCwl9AC4_grQ0z13Bi6MgFo-hUVQCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xEhBxgQ4RfA/XD4wftKuZeI/AAAAAAAAW0k/fP3oZZCwl9AC4_grQ0z13Bi6MgFo-hUVQCK4BGAYYCw/s400/0.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How I greeted students after Winter Break</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), otherwise known as seasonal depression. In fact, even though it's the start of a new year and new beginnings, January is my least favorite month of the year. I hate that it's cold and that it gets dark by 4:00pm and it really affects my mood.<br />
<br />
Every year, I sit and complain and wallow in the fact that I really hate January and wish it were Spring already.<br />
<br />
But not this year.<br />
<br />
This year, I decided to do something -- <i>anything </i>-- to combat my SAD. I decided to move my body.<br />
<br />
And so.<br />
<br />
I began running. <i>Again.</i><br />
<br />
My first run was 30 minutes and I ran 2.51 miles outdoors during daytime hours, with the sun in my face. Two days after that, I ran 4 miles in 47 minutes. Two days after that, I ran 5.6 miles in 60 minutes. By the time I got to my tenth day of consistently running, I ran 8.1 miles in an hour and 30 minutes.<br />
<br />
Not gonna lie: that 8-mile run was hard AF! Around mile 5 or so, I started to feel like I was done! But... I decided to buckle down, get in the zone, and grind through.<br />
<br />
Brick by brick.<br />
<br />
One step at a time.. one block at a time... one mile at a time.<br />
<br />
That's how I got to the proverbial finish line.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ugz7DStTGOo/XD4wY_7kDsI/AAAAAAAAW0c/rSqtYqvnXhUL5uyAfjSaK27PSsZp51kFACK4BGAYYCw/s1600/0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ugz7DStTGOo/XD4wY_7kDsI/AAAAAAAAW0c/rSqtYqvnXhUL5uyAfjSaK27PSsZp51kFACK4BGAYYCw/s400/0.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NYE with kids be like...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
That led me to think about my 2019 hopes and dreams. I have several goals for this year and if I take things slowly, stay the course, and remain consistent, I will be able to look back on the year and realize that I met all of my goals.<br />
<br />
Brick by brick.<br />
<br />
That's how I got to the proverbial finish line.<br />
<br />
If I want my friendships to be healthy, then I need to commit to reaching out to my friends more regularly.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
If I want my hair to be strong and healthy (that's real goals, ya'll!), then I need to commit to deep conditioning my hair at lest three times a month.<br />
<br />
If I want my savings account to be healthy (for me, that means ten grand that's just for savings), then I need to commit to having automatic transfers to my savings account each month.<br />
<br />
If I want my relationship with my children to be positive and healthy, then I need to commit to spending quality, non-interrupted time with them.<br />
<br />
Brick by brick.<br />
<br />
If I want my to feel mentally healthy, then I need to commit to listening to what my body needs more regularly, and commit to having "me time" a few times each month.<br />
<br />
If I want to feel physically healthy, then I need to commit to moving my body a few times each week.<br />
<br />
If I want to establish a healthy work-life balance, then I need to commit to leaving work on time at least three times each week.<br />
<br />
If I want to minimize my evening stress, then I need to commit to doing one thing that takes my stress away. For me, that's meal prepping on Sundays, which means that dinner is ready to go each night and all we have to do is heat it up.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3aYLXb4Gu9o/XD4wnE0AyWI/AAAAAAAAW0s/o_HlemToueEGpYiRHmCAqkrSIgm5etcVwCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/0.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="341" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3aYLXb4Gu9o/XD4wnE0AyWI/AAAAAAAAW0s/o_HlemToueEGpYiRHmCAqkrSIgm5etcVwCK4BGAYYCw/s400/0.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Brick by brick.<br />
<br />
One step at a time; one block at a time; one mile at a time.<br />
<br />
One day at a time; one week at a time; one month at a time.<br />
<br />
I can do this...<br />
<br />
Brick by brick.Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-8244329960027462472018-10-29T00:03:00.002-04:002018-10-29T19:09:20.579-04:00This is Eleven<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bwyz0xnHLIw/W9aFq-e3ZAI/AAAAAAAAVLY/fmN8zbCpkfch9PT4AkAei85Bv97Z9hRWwCLcBGAs/s1600/Capture8.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="547" data-original-width="578" height="302" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bwyz0xnHLIw/W9aFq-e3ZAI/AAAAAAAAVLY/fmN8zbCpkfch9PT4AkAei85Bv97Z9hRWwCLcBGAs/s320/Capture8.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Aiden:</b> Ugh! I don’t want to. Ugh! No!</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Me</b>: You don’t wanna follow directions? Fine. Bedtime.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Aiden</b>: Okay, okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ll listen.</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is eleven. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eleven is backtalk and mini tantrums and everything being a
biggest deal ever. Eleven is me learning how to deal with these pre-teen hormones
while raising a free black boy who owns his feelings while raising a kind and respectful
and responsible human. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OFzJCxAZLaA/W9aFjhGbe8I/AAAAAAAAVLA/gB6LOtlugg0HgRKe5fRhm1WAd7_8tqA7gCEwYBhgL/s1600/Capture1.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="554" data-original-width="571" height="310" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OFzJCxAZLaA/W9aFjhGbe8I/AAAAAAAAVLA/gB6LOtlugg0HgRKe5fRhm1WAd7_8tqA7gCEwYBhgL/s320/Capture1.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eleven is Aiden wanting space, together. Eleven is him wanting
to watch YouTube videos on his phone for hours, but in the same room as me. Eleven
is going in the next room to facetime his friends, but reading books cuddled up
on my bed. Eleven is wanting to be alone, but wanting August to play on his
bed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ia3PkCuaGtA/W9aFnV8-53I/AAAAAAAAVLE/1WENNtRJJ08grdLEuAhh6jwCByxpnSg-wCEwYBhgL/s1600/Capture2.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="592" data-original-width="586" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ia3PkCuaGtA/W9aFnV8-53I/AAAAAAAAVLE/1WENNtRJJ08grdLEuAhh6jwCByxpnSg-wCEwYBhgL/s320/Capture2.PNG" width="316" /></a></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Aiden</b>: What’s an erection?</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Me:</b> It’s when your penis becomes enlarged. Or like, really firm.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Aiden</b>: Is that like a ‘boner’?</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Me</b>: I guess that’s what some people call it. Erection is
the scientific term.</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is eleven.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eleven is hearing things from friends and feeling
comfortable enough to come to me to get straight answers, clarifying answers. Eleven
is asking the trickier questions and me trying my best to normalize and not
stigmatize. Eleven is wanting privacy in the shower, but still calling me to
condition his hair. Eleven is bath time battles. Still. Eleven is not wanting
to take a shower, and then, not wanting to leave the shower. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R-77ECIqa4M/W9aFnaliCcI/AAAAAAAAVLc/RX24pgIBix8f3QwE-3xAbgDB32e1YlG1QCEwYBhgL/s1600/Capture3.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="578" data-original-width="569" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R-77ECIqa4M/W9aFnaliCcI/AAAAAAAAVLc/RX24pgIBix8f3QwE-3xAbgDB32e1YlG1QCEwYBhgL/s320/Capture3.PNG" width="315" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xVC-Xy_t-SQ/W9aFnaNC3qI/AAAAAAAAVLg/2xSMb2OjiroG_1BqZ04gSIrTdtZc1zKnwCEwYBhgL/s1600/Capture5.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="567" data-original-width="584" height="310" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xVC-Xy_t-SQ/W9aFnaNC3qI/AAAAAAAAVLg/2xSMb2OjiroG_1BqZ04gSIrTdtZc1zKnwCEwYBhgL/s320/Capture5.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eleven is wanting independence and being nervous about said
independence. Eleven is being excited to take the subway to school alone and
being scared when the day finally arrives to actually take the subway to school
alone. Eleven is doing homework alone and needing me to double check. Every. Single.
Night. (#sendhelpnow) Eleven is no longer being afraid of the dark, but still
sleeping with teddy bears and still wanting hugs and kisses before bedtime. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mrLcqSrwYRQ/W9aCTtsovSI/AAAAAAAAVK0/5Zhk5qmJ7i0TUHGyEdornca6X7gQkH2wwCLcBGAs/s1600/Capture.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="571" data-original-width="597" height="306" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mrLcqSrwYRQ/W9aCTtsovSI/AAAAAAAAVK0/5Zhk5qmJ7i0TUHGyEdornca6X7gQkH2wwCLcBGAs/s320/Capture.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Aiden:</b> I don’t like it when you and [HEB] tell me to stop
dancing. Like, I’m not even bothering anybody.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Me:</b> You’re right. You should dance anytime you feel like it.
Just not in front the TV when I’m watching it.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Aiden:</b> Deal!</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is eleven. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eleven is speaking up and speaking out. All. The. Time. Eleven
is me unlearning maladaptive responses and learning responsive discipline. Eleven
is different from the way I was raised. Eleven is new for me, but normal for Aiden.
I want it that way. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mcf5nFtM7Bw/W9aFpYlDdfI/AAAAAAAAVLk/q6y6fAX0cV8BIaq-NumV4cR19fryTH0lACEwYBhgL/s1600/Capture6.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="503" data-original-width="575" height="279" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mcf5nFtM7Bw/W9aFpYlDdfI/AAAAAAAAVLk/q6y6fAX0cV8BIaq-NumV4cR19fryTH0lACEwYBhgL/s320/Capture6.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>August:</b> More yogurt?</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Me:</b> Aiden! Can you get him more yogurt please?</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is eleven. Eleven is having a built-in babysitter. Eleven
is being my go-to person for all things August. Twenty times a day. Whether I need
a diaper, baby wipes, his cup filled with water, a juice box, more yogurt, more
pirate booty’s, more cereal, to turn on Mickey, to turn off Mickey… I call
Aiden. Always. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qHlWqdJyi8c/W9aFqM97OiI/AAAAAAAAVLo/BaGp-qll8XILEOUdInQm_ICYfVkFj8wTgCEwYBhgL/s1600/Capture7.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="590" height="277" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qHlWqdJyi8c/W9aFqM97OiI/AAAAAAAAVLo/BaGp-qll8XILEOUdInQm_ICYfVkFj8wTgCEwYBhgL/s320/Capture7.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Look at your career, they said.<br /> [Alicia], baby use your head.<br /> But instead I chose to use my heart.<br /> Now the joy of my world lives in [Aiden]. </i></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is eleven. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eleven is a perfectly imperfect and
beautiful storm and I wouldn't have it any other way.<br />
<br />
We made it. We're making it.<br />
<br />
Onward. </div>
Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-74687740138433588642018-05-01T16:16:00.001-04:002018-05-01T16:16:05.052-04:00Fixer Upper, Apartment Style: Dining Room<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-heJRuKFwqR8/WuieT2H6obI/AAAAAAAANd8/ASHK7ahID_Ub2LRVpbLoKu1r6yxzzVIvwCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_3188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-heJRuKFwqR8/WuieT2H6obI/AAAAAAAANd8/ASHK7ahID_Ub2LRVpbLoKu1r6yxzzVIvwCK4BGAYYCw/s400/IMG_3188.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Black and white was the name of the game when I started thinking of ways to decorate the dining room area. I already had a white Ikea rectangular table that fit perfectly in the space and all I had to do was add the black and white Ikea chairs and table decor.<br />
<br />
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<br />
I painted the walls gray (Gig's Gray, to be exact) which is the same color as the <a href="http://www.mommydelicious.com/2018/03/fixer-upper-apartment-style-living-room.html" target="_blank">Living Room wall</a>, but... I added an accent wall to the dining room. I found this textured wallpaper in the home decor section of Target and fell all the way in love. So, I had to have it, of course.<br />
<br />
Real talk: it was really annoying putting the wallpaper up because I haven't figured out an effective way to smooth out the bubbles without peeling the whole thing off an re-starting. So after doing that like 50-11 times (annoying, right?), I finally nailed it.<br />
<br />
And loved it.<br />
<br />
Success!<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ooZyWAunGD8/Wui7wLsCfvI/AAAAAAAANes/FNPFG7ubrWEIKGmpVqlAe4XTS28hf2N5ACK4BGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_3193.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ooZyWAunGD8/Wui7wLsCfvI/AAAAAAAANes/FNPFG7ubrWEIKGmpVqlAe4XTS28hf2N5ACK4BGAYYCw/s400/IMG_3193.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qwqgtix-BWg/Wui73WYl9FI/AAAAAAAANe0/ax_En1nF80ogfV23iHOcCQNtILSIjTmKQCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_3192-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qwqgtix-BWg/Wui73WYl9FI/AAAAAAAANe0/ax_En1nF80ogfV23iHOcCQNtILSIjTmKQCK4BGAYYCw/s400/IMG_3192-1.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<br />
Then I had two different spaces of the dining room that needed to be filled with furniture. I filled one space with bookcases, books, pictures, and other decor. Originally, I filled the white bookcase with children's books galore, but because August pulled them all out every... single... day... I had to figure out another way to store them. So I got these adorable book bins from Amazon (love!) and they fit perfectly!<br />
<br />
Bonus points because they are black and white. <i>Score!</i><br />
<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m1JnX-SArm8/WujF81R6pOI/AAAAAAAANfQ/xqHSCtB80rY-BwEo20mo7ltahqZD7EjaQCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_3189.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m1JnX-SArm8/WujF81R6pOI/AAAAAAAANfQ/xqHSCtB80rY-BwEo20mo7ltahqZD7EjaQCK4BGAYYCw/s400/IMG_3189.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<br />
I filled the second space with a mini upgraded mudroom-ish area: above the white bench and below the white bench. Below is where we store backpacks and some shoes, above is where we display degrees and one of my favorite quotes.<br />
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The pillow is for posh-ness. Because: Mommy Delicious. And the black and white striped area rug tied the whole space together.<br />
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All in all, I love the way the space turned out. It's sleek and clean and gives off cool vibes.<br />
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This whole renovation is allowing me to flex my creativity muscles in ways that I didn't know was possible. And I'm totally feeling it.<br />
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Now... unto the hallway/entry way and kitchen!Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-26069621861840919032018-04-19T09:43:00.000-04:002018-04-20T09:35:42.852-04:00Kids Pizza Making Class at Rossopomodoro<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo via the <a href="https://www.instagram.com/rossonyc/" target="_blank">Rossopomodoro Instagram page</a></td></tr>
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"Okay... so let's talk about what we liked and what we would change about the class."<br />
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This was Aiden, as we walked down 14th Street after our hour-long pizza-making -- <i>and pizza eating!</i> -- class at <a href="http://www.rossonyc.com/" target="_blank">Rossopomodoro</a> this past weekend.<br />
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The boys and I were invited to a <b>Kids Pizza Making Class at Rossopomodoro</b>, a rustic-chic Italian restaurant in the West Village. Upon our arrival, the kids were greeting with an apron, a chef hat, and a rolling pin to gear up for their chef-experience.<br />
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Then we headed to the semi-private seating area in the back of the restaurant, where participants were led through a step-by-step process in making their own pizza: rolling the dough, flipping the dough, rolling it some more, adding sauce, adding toppings, and placing it in super glamorous golden oven. (Seriously... can I get one of those in my house?!)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo via the <a href="https://www.instagram.com/rossonyc/" target="_blank">Rossopomodoro Instagram page</a></td></tr>
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And, of course, eating!<br />
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Can I get a "Yum!"?<br />
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After the entire experience, Aiden had some thoughts and ideas.<br />
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<ol>
<li>The pizza was the best pizza he ever had!</li>
<li>He doesn't want basil on his pizza because "who eats veggies on their pizza?" Ha!</li>
<li>The only thing he would change is to have even more toppings, like pepperoni. (He lives for pepperoni.)</li>
<li>It's great that they give you the choice to cut the pizza in four slices or six slices. (He picked six slices because he wanted the pizza to last as long as possible. Ha!)</li>
<li>It was the best pizza and best day ever!</li>
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August didn't say anything about his pizza-making experience, except, "More!" when he wanted more pizza, orange juice, or my mimosa, but judging by how much of the pizza he ate, I'm pretty sure he was living-it-up!<br />
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Kids. So easy to please.<br />
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<b>Beginning Saturday, April 21st, <a href="http://www.rossonyc.com/#the-real-neapolitan-experience" target="_blank">Rossopomodoro</a> will be kicking off their new Kids Pizza Making Class. </b>Classes will be offered every Saturday at a rate of <b>$27 per child</b>.<br />
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At the class, kids will be given homemade dough, Italian tomato sauce and cheese, and a variety of toppings. Afterwards, they will be able to arrange their pizza in any shape they like, and wait for the yumminess that is to come!<br />
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It's truly a fun-filled family activity that the kids will eat up! <i>Literally! </i><br />
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You can call <b>212.242.2310</b> to reserve your spot!<br />
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Thanks so much to the entire team at Rossopomodoro for the fun experience! The pizza was yummy and the mimosas were the truth!<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">{Disclaimer: The kids and I were provided with a complimentary class in order to facilitate this review. All opinions expressed herein are my own.}</span></i></div>
Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-6767214341980802482018-04-07T11:39:00.001-04:002018-04-07T11:39:45.039-04:00Air Play at The New Victory Theater <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PycZ8mgRfXQ/WsjlMWC6MCI/AAAAAAAAMrY/RvnkzrGkdRIy4u29uBGe4lJEAjp9TH_ngCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2018-04-07%2Bat%2B11.33.39%2BAM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PycZ8mgRfXQ/WsjlMWC6MCI/AAAAAAAAMrY/RvnkzrGkdRIy4u29uBGe4lJEAjp9TH_ngCK4BGAYYCw/s400/Screen%2BShot%2B2018-04-07%2Bat%2B11.33.39%2BAM.png" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo courtesy of The New Victory Theater</td></tr>
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If balloons and bubbles are your kids' things, then <i><b>Air Play</b></i> might be too. Last weekend, Aiden and I spent 60-minutes giggling and laughing as we checked out the show at <a href="https://www.newvictory.org/Show-Detail.aspx?ProductionId=5246" target="_blank">The New Victory Theater</a>.<br />
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We haven't been to the super cool children's theater in a few months and we were totally surprised when we saw that the theater got a little nip/tuck. Not only are the renovations on the upper level sleek, but the lower level has a modern and updated space where theater goers can purchase snacks and souvenirs, take pictures with the performers, and participate in fun show-related activities. All in all, we love the new space.<br />
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But I digress.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-289XcBs4kkw/WsjldpyVJwI/AAAAAAAAMrg/FwNjpeRbr3kFGeqDxOPXf8kFXhafYVzmwCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2018-04-07%2Bat%2B11.34.00%2BAM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-289XcBs4kkw/WsjldpyVJwI/AAAAAAAAMrg/FwNjpeRbr3kFGeqDxOPXf8kFXhafYVzmwCK4BGAYYCw/s400/Screen%2BShot%2B2018-04-07%2Bat%2B11.34.00%2BAM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo courtesy of The New Victory Theater</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-brTbL7WH0CE/Wsjloy1z0EI/AAAAAAAAMro/K-kn4gwRrDQkOUhWGcABN12o2PGZuCIzgCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2018-04-07%2Bat%2B11.33.48%2BAM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-brTbL7WH0CE/Wsjloy1z0EI/AAAAAAAAMro/K-kn4gwRrDQkOUhWGcABN12o2PGZuCIzgCK4BGAYYCw/s400/Screen%2BShot%2B2018-04-07%2Bat%2B11.33.48%2BAM.png" width="271" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo courtesy of The New Victory Theater</td></tr>
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The show <i>Air Play</i> is all fun and games and perfect for the entire family. The performers Seth Bloom and Christina Gelsone are a dynamic duo, and the show uses a carefully positioned circle of fans to wow the audience When they aren't making their umbrellas fly (yes, you read that right), they're making their silks ripple. And when they aren't doing that, they're using balloons in ways that you'd never think was possible. (Yes, people <i>can</i> fit inside balloons.)<br />
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Aiden and I had a great time and definitely recommend for your entire family!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">getting his Drake on in the updated space on the lower level</td></tr>
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<b><i>Air Play</i></b> will run at <a href="https://www.newvictory.org/Show-Detail.aspx?ProductionId=5246" target="_blank">The New Victory Theater</a> through April 15, 2017. The show is 60 minutes with no intermission and is great for ages 5 and up. Tickets start at just $16 and there is also an autism-friendly show (major props for setting this up!). Visit the <a href="https://www.newvictory.org/Show-Detail.aspx?ProductionId=5246" target="_blank">website</a> for more information or to purchase your tickets.<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">{Disclaimer: I received tickets to Air Play in order to facilitate this review. All opinions expressed herein are my own.}</span></i></div>
Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-18916558592712250052018-04-03T11:11:00.001-04:002018-04-03T11:11:29.713-04:00{Kids Style File} Corals on Easter<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yORldO8gJec/WsOUPo9E5qI/AAAAAAAAMkk/7I1rV4AjnQwjthOFHu90crNVy-o0Rtn_QCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_3244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yORldO8gJec/WsOUPo9E5qI/AAAAAAAAMkk/7I1rV4AjnQwjthOFHu90crNVy-o0Rtn_QCK4BGAYYCw/s400/IMG_3244.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pants: Children's Place | shoes: The Gap | bow ties and shirts: H&M </td></tr>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Aiden:</b> Mommy, we don't have to wear the same <i>exact</i> outfit! Can't we just wear <i>kinda</i> the same colors? </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Me:</b> Aiden, don't you want August to have happy memories of you two wearing matching outfits on special days like Easter? </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Aiden</b>: Yeah, but I'm not doing this next year. </blockquote>
Well, then. I guess he told me.<br />
<br />
I mean, it's not like the outfits aren't cute and whatnot. But I guess homeboy is aging-out of matching outfits. Fair enough.<br />
<br />
Guess this couldn't last forever.<br />
<br />
Anyway.<br />
<br />
We had a pretty low-key Easter. We went to church, ate lunch at a nearby restaurant, and headed home to relax for the remainder of the evening.<br />
<br />
Here are some outtakes from our little photoshoot on the stoop because they look nothing like the highlight reel that I shared on the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/mommydelicious/?ref=bookmarks" target="_blank">Mommy Delicious Facebook page</a>. Haha!<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8BkfWmnepWs/WsOWes0NxfI/AAAAAAAAMkw/4ZBON6AoGfw_g0SjX2IDwCrlsh_rOFUngCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_3237.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8BkfWmnepWs/WsOWes0NxfI/AAAAAAAAMkw/4ZBON6AoGfw_g0SjX2IDwCrlsh_rOFUngCK4BGAYYCw/s400/IMG_3237.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<br />
So.<br />
<br />
Who thinks I can try to fenagle my way into coordinating outfits for the Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, and the Christmas holidays?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZqNMW1egfeA/WsOY-p-qznI/AAAAAAAAMlg/yMKok6nNi9gURS8hppcYLLXoutTKZZfiQCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_3258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZqNMW1egfeA/WsOY-p-qznI/AAAAAAAAMlg/yMKok6nNi9gURS8hppcYLLXoutTKZZfiQCK4BGAYYCw/s400/IMG_3258.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">August's thought bubble: WTH?!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Too much?<br />
<br />
A gal can try, right?Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-22200740106351896652018-03-29T14:38:00.002-04:002018-03-29T14:38:55.302-04:00Fixer Upper, Apartment Style: Living Room <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hx9MpSTsY6k/Wr0qtbie6yI/AAAAAAAAMXQ/WaXYxK2WEro5DqWaj4DrTK4EVdWvQH2bwCLcBGAs/s1600/unnamed-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="656" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hx9MpSTsY6k/Wr0qtbie6yI/AAAAAAAAMXQ/WaXYxK2WEro5DqWaj4DrTK4EVdWvQH2bwCLcBGAs/s400/unnamed-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
It all started with the couch.<br />
<br />
It's a black couch and it's HEB's black couch and he refused to get rid of his black couch. So I had to plan the living room decor around the black couch.<br />
<br />
Oh, and the treadmill that quite literally doesn't fit anywhere else except for in the corner of the living room.<br />
<br />
So after <a href="http://www.mommydelicious.com/2017/10/fixer-upper-apartment-style-boys-room.html" target="_blank">I finished the boys' bedroom</a>, I got to work on the Living Room.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1jJVY_-6Qro/Wr0rAQiYD_I/AAAAAAAAMXU/rkI4E27bNlMImDIsUGWGL6Wm97SLHZBfgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_2756%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1jJVY_-6Qro/Wr0rAQiYD_I/AAAAAAAAMXU/rkI4E27bNlMImDIsUGWGL6Wm97SLHZBfgCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_2756%2B%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-08OjOzD6KqE/Wr0rCgBMH-I/AAAAAAAAMXY/9T3MS2b6x7A440WLBXF3zFtnd3SAtcR4QCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_2762.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-08OjOzD6KqE/Wr0rCgBMH-I/AAAAAAAAMXY/9T3MS2b6x7A440WLBXF3zFtnd3SAtcR4QCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_2762.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">"Start each day with a grateful heart."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I knew I wanted there to be a gallery wall because I have a ton of pictures, wall decor, and inspirational sayings. I knew I wanted to have a shag rug because it's comfy. I knew I wanted gray walls because it's neutral and nice. And I knew I wanted faux plants for the bay windows because I have to keep humans alive so I cannot keep plants alive too.<br />
<br />
Everything else was pretty much up in the air.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JD6TPxYIO3E/Wr0rMZBf6yI/AAAAAAAAMXc/18YasziI3H810vq_J4NvJxm9S1hEr5LnACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_2766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="369" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JD6TPxYIO3E/Wr0rMZBf6yI/AAAAAAAAMXc/18YasziI3H810vq_J4NvJxm9S1hEr5LnACLcBGAs/s400/IMG_2766.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
But once I painted the walls and bought a few plush pillows, the living slowly, but surely came together. I know that I'll probably change it a few more times over the next few months, but I'm really feeling this current version of the living room, especially with the black, gray, and pops of gold color scheme.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GQj4hIgBevg/Wr0rgWTmtfI/AAAAAAAAMXg/7plweCEoAVItOyujzodDTifEg0iZjaRBgCLcBGAs/s1600/unnamed-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="656" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GQj4hIgBevg/Wr0rgWTmtfI/AAAAAAAAMXg/7plweCEoAVItOyujzodDTifEg0iZjaRBgCLcBGAs/s400/unnamed-3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I also painted the radiator cover a blue hue to compliment the gray color on the wall. And my vases and balls and all the decor. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I'm digging it.<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TCNrO66sm84/Wr0r699iCXI/AAAAAAAAMX8/nFVqw_EL0AUg9HvprEjbFs4whYBwudfkACLcBGAs/s1600/unnamed-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="656" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TCNrO66sm84/Wr0r699iCXI/AAAAAAAAMX8/nFVqw_EL0AUg9HvprEjbFs4whYBwudfkACLcBGAs/s400/unnamed-4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
Can we talk about this TV stand now? It used to be brown, but the brown color no longer fit in with the color-scheme of my new living room. So... I sanded it, painted it, and a few coats later, it was white and black. (Shout-out to YouTube and all the design bloggers for helping a sistah out!) I'm totally feeling the end results and will totally take on another DIY project because of the way this came out.<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UsIzVc5JfD0/Wr0uzR0szqI/AAAAAAAAMZA/AFNSQZsxPJQsx6G7dnunO5WmDBhQu_EYwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_2777.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="778" data-original-width="1600" height="193" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UsIzVc5JfD0/Wr0uzR0szqI/AAAAAAAAMZA/AFNSQZsxPJQsx6G7dnunO5WmDBhQu_EYwCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_2777.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
This end table is also a new favorite of mine. I spotted it at Home Goods and just <i>had</i> to have it. The rustic, farmhouse vibe that it gives off makes my heart smile and I love, love love it!<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tfReTj7I8Po/Wr0v95V0kZI/AAAAAAAAMZU/E8cr07F9QTYpvHjdP_6brl-EjHHAKqviwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_2764.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tfReTj7I8Po/Wr0v95V0kZI/AAAAAAAAMZU/E8cr07F9QTYpvHjdP_6brl-EjHHAKqviwCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_2764.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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I'll do a close-up of the gallery wall at some point -- I'm still rearranging the pictures and stuff, but I'm digging the current version of it.<br />
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What do you guys think?Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com41tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-15633416375768028822018-03-22T13:29:00.001-04:002018-03-22T18:50:51.289-04:00Why I Know I'm Getting This Motherhood Thing Right <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K6q8Asryryc/WrPnDXP3qfI/AAAAAAAALk0/7rGLMFXF-JA4BDu4Jd8jj7yB-DYZxZ0egCLcBGAs/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="369" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K6q8Asryryc/WrPnDXP3qfI/AAAAAAAALk0/7rGLMFXF-JA4BDu4Jd8jj7yB-DYZxZ0egCLcBGAs/s400/unnamed.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
Because I know I'm not perfect and I know that I mess some things up. Just check last week's post about <a href="http://www.mommydelicious.com/2018/03/why-i-think-im-doing-motherhood-wrong.html" target="_blank">all the things I do wrong</a> in this Motherhood game. (Yes, the "M" should be capital. Always.)<br />
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Because I'm hella intentional and hella calculated and hella reflective about my parenting practices. And I'm <i>always</i> trying to be better tomorrow than I am today.<br />
<br />
Because I've learned that meditation and "Me Time" is so important to my mental health. And I allow myself to indulge in it. Frequently. And freely.<br />
<br />
Because I'm going to therapy and working on addressing my own ish. Because ain't nothing cute about raising these incredible babies if I'm not emotionally whole first.<br />
<br />
Because my boys <i>are</i> incredible. All parts of them. Even the parts that I don't always like.<br />
<br />
Because the way Aiden loves up on August makes my soul smile.<br />
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Because the tight hugs that August gives Aiden makes my heart happy.<br />
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<br />
Because <a href="http://www.mommydelicious.com/2017/01/new-year-new-normal.html" target="_blank">when Aiden was going through his own drama</a>, I didn't take the easy way out by just "spanking him one time". Because I think spanking <i>is</i> the easy way out.<br />
<br />
Because I knew that it wasn't about <i>me</i> and all the things that I already did for him. Because I knew that he needed even <i>more</i> than I was already doing for him at the time. So I gathered a dream team of professionals to help me help him through.<br />
<br />
Because I'm a Mama Bear during Aiden's IEP meetings. Because Speech Therapists and Occupational Therapists and Counselors and Psychologists are bae. All of 'em.<br />
<br />
Word.<br />
<br />
Because I learned phrases like, "pragmatic language skills" and "graphomotor skills" and "proprioceptive pressure activities" due to Aiden receiving various types of therapy throughout the week.<br />
<br />
Because Aiden's dream team reminds me that he's perceptive, intelligent, athletic, and hardworking. Because they also remind me that he's extremely sensory/movement seeking... for the days when I'm at my wits end and need that gentle reminder.<br />
<br />
Because I'm not ashamed that my baby needs these types of services because he's been hella successful academically and socially this year.<br />
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Because I'm fully aware that I'm privileged to even be able to have these types of services for Aiden because not every family has access to them.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9vSwDwRlJ9Y/WrPnn5FqtMI/AAAAAAAALlI/CzDe8eE5L0o3onIthtodc_4xpI2qeQcxwCLcBGAs/s1600/15036302_10102762573212932_8542880532057358174_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9vSwDwRlJ9Y/WrPnn5FqtMI/AAAAAAAALlI/CzDe8eE5L0o3onIthtodc_4xpI2qeQcxwCLcBGAs/s400/15036302_10102762573212932_8542880532057358174_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Because August loves to read books and build blocks and knock blocks over and sing his ABC's.<br />
<br />
Because August runs into my arms every morning when he sees me.<br />
<br />
Because the way Aiden roots for August whenever he sings a song or says a new word or does just about anything is the very definition of Big Brother Magic.<br />
<br />
Because my boys are happy and healthy and loved.<br />
<br />
Because I know that that's all that really matters anyhow.Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-7104723078033990312018-03-15T11:36:00.001-04:002018-03-15T11:36:25.300-04:00Why Sometimes I Think I'm Getting This Motherhood Thing All Wrong <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Because August is 2-years-old and still uses his pacifier. And folks keep telling me that it's time for him to give it up, but I don't listen to them. I mean, I know he's not gonna walk into high school with a pacifier or go to college with it so I'm cool with him using it at two. But still...<br />
<br />
Because despite all the books I read to him or all the songs I sing to him or all the talking I do with him, August is still not talking as much as Aiden was talking at his age. Heck, I used to <i>forget</i> that Aiden was <i>only</i> two because little dude was having big time conversations with me and his teachers and everyone around. August clearly understands what folks are saying and he's vocal about his wants and needs. But still...<br />
<br />
Because somedays tantrums and backtalk are at the center of my life.<br />
<br />
Because, speaking of backtalk, what the heck is in the water that these adolescents are drinking? And why the heck didn't anyone tell me that <i>this </i>phase of motherhood was coming down the pipeline? I mean, I know that Aiden is trying to assert himself and trying to assert his individuality (that's <i>separate</i> from me) and trying to find his way in the world that's scary and confusing and so many things. I "get" it. But still...<br />
<br />
Because bedtime battles. 'Nuff said.<br />
<br />
Because bath time battles.<br />
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<br />
Because I got Aiden interested in reading books and now he's excelling as a reader. But then we had to conquer math. And then I got him doing his thing in math and science and all that jazz. And now we have to conquer writing. And every time we get over one hurdle, there's another hurdle waiting like, "Hey y'all!".<br />
<br />
Because it is a "we" thing and not a "he" thing because I'm in this <i>with</i> him. To guide him and cheer him on. Even when it's hard. But still...<br />
<br />
Because it's <i>always</i> hard and never easy, especially if you wanna do this thing right.<br />
<br />
Because there's always another mountain to climb.<br />
<br />
Because once I master one phase of parenting, my kids seem to age-out of that phase and they're on to the next one. (That was a Jay-Z reference.)<br />
<br />
Because I'm always playing catch-up with these ages and stages and phases and no one told me it would be like this.<br />
<br />
Because I'm tired.<br />
<br />
Because yesterday August was an infant and now homeboy's a full-on toddler. And yesterday was Aiden's first day of Pre-K and now he's about to graduate from elementary school and enter middle school.<br />
<br />
Because middle schoolers in NYC travel to and from school by themselves and I'm not sure how I feel about that level of independence. Yet.<br />
<br />
Because I still feel like I haven't told Aiden all the things he needs to know before he gets to middle school yet.<br />
<br />
Because the days are long, but the years are short and I'm <i>always</i> racing against the clock to bottle it all up.<br />
<br />
Even when I feel like I'm doing it all wrong. Sometimes.Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-11711341727188164452018-03-13T12:21:00.000-04:002018-03-13T12:21:30.962-04:00Spring Breaking in Miami and Ft. Lauderdale<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
I'm not a Winter person. In fact, I hate the cold weather with a passion. I tolerate in during the holidays, but I'm <i>literally</i> ready for warmer temps as soon as it hits January 2nd. Which makes Winter really, really brutal for me.<br />
<br />
Also, seasonal depression is a real thing.<br />
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<br />
A couple weeks ago, I was <i>so</i> over Winter that I booked a fairly last-minute trip to Florida for the boys and me. I just needed a few days of sunshine and warmer temps to get me through these last few weeks of NYC Winter (and since it was our spring break, I figured why not.)<br />
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I really wanted to go to Miami, but the flights were too expensive for all three of us so we flew into Fort Lauderdale, spent a couple of days there, and then took the metro over to Miami. So for an hour of our time (how long it took to get from Ft. Lauderdale to Miami) and five extra bucks (the price of the train ticket), we were in Miami.<br />
<br />
Woot!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">can't come to Florida without Mickey</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Throughout our trip, we got to do all of the things that I love to do during the Summer -- dine outdoors, hang out at the playground, go to the beach, take long walks, and just sit in the sun. It was exactly what my spirit needed.<br />
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<br />
Except for when it got rough and I got tired of my kids and tired of being "on" 24/7 and tired of being the only one they could talk to all the time.<br />
<br />
And tired of August's tantrums. I mean, it got to the point where I only fed him Pirate's Booty or cheetos because he would throw a tantrum for them and I was over it. But at least he had water and fruits, right?<br />
<br />
And tired of Aiden's backtalk. I mean, is there something in the water for the pre-teens nowadays?! Dude's got a response for everything! Pray my strength and patience, y'all.<br />
<br />
There's a reason that people go on trips with kids with more than one adult.<br />
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<br />
After a while, I needed a vacation from my kids. Comes with the territory, I suppose.<br />
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Needless to say, when we got back to NYC last week Friday, I sent August to daycare, sent Aiden to his bedroom, locked myself in my bedroom, and binge-watched TV shows while laying in bed and eating snacks.<br />
<br />
Woot woot!<br />
<br />
Talk about the perfect way to end my week off of work.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">happiness is... </td></tr>
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Don't get me wrong: getting a little sunshine was exactly what this delicious momma needed to make it through these final weeks of Winter, but recharging after being "on" for so many days straight was also important.<br />
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Self-care y'all. Self-care.Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-58042053288631425232018-01-08T13:32:00.001-05:002018-01-09T12:11:44.744-05:00Four Things I Learned at Date Night with Yvonne Orji<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This past weekend, HEB and I had our first date night of the year by checking out Yvonne Orji (best known as "Molly" in the HBO series <i>Insecure)</i> at Carolines on Broadway.<br />
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Y'all.<br />
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She is <i>so</i> funny and we had such a good laugh and a great time!<br />
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And, in true <i>Mommy Delicious</i> fashion, I walked away with a few gems from the night. In no particular order, here are four things I learned from Yvonne Orji's stand-up act:<br />
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<b>Have fun.</b><br />
HEB and I had fun because she was having fun. Homegirl (can I call her that now?) came onto the stage dancing, she ended her act dancing, and she just starting dancing in the middle of her jokes. She laughed at her own jokes, and laughed with -- and at -- the folks in the audience. She was up there, all in her element, living her best life, and having fun while doing it. Definitely something to aspire to.<br />
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<b>Own it. </b><br />
Yvonne was born in Nigeria and she owns her roots like it's nobody's business. During her act, she gave several shout-outs to the Nigerians in the room and rightfully so! She switched seamlessly from her American accent and her Nigerian accent in the middle of her jokes and it made them even funnier. She knows that her Nigerian heritage is what makes her who she is and she owns it. Confidently. Unapologetically.<br />
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<b>Connections matter. </b><br />
Yvonne not only gave shout-outs to the Nigerians in the room, but also folks from all over the continent of Africa. She also gave shout-outs to the other Black women in the room (because: #blackgirlmagic). She told jokes, but also created moments where the audience was all like, "Yes, girl! I know what you mean!" She created so many moments like these throughout the show -- so many "me too" moments -- that the audience felt connected to her, connected to her stories, and invested in the entire show. Bottom line: connections matter. And telling your story matters. Which brings me to my next point...<br />
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<b>Speak your truth. </b><br />
During her stand-up act, Yvonne spoke candidly about the fact that she only <i>recently</i> became able to enroll in auto-pay and reminded folks that auto-pay is not for convenience, but for the gainfully employed. (Word!) I remember reading an article in the <i>Times </i>a couple months ago about how she'll find a 2 Bros Pizza whenever she's in NYC to have a slice of pizza because there was a time in her career where she couldn't even afford that same $2 slice of pizza. She's not afraid to open up, speak her truth, and show people who she really is.<br />
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This is something that I try to do over and over again in this space because "highlight reels" don't get people through tough times. Only sharing the "good stuff" doesn't help other folks figure out how to make it through. Transparency is so important. It's like Mother O said, "What I know for sure is that speaking your truth is the most powerful tool we all have."<br />
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Word.Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-38594881346378574492017-12-31T16:45:00.000-05:002017-12-31T18:10:58.776-05:002017 Taught Me...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Happy New Year's Eve!<br />
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2017 was a lot of things to so many of us, but regardless of how we feel about the year, here we are. We made it. We're making it. We've survived the worst days and soaked up the best days. And for that, I'm grateful.<br />
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I started the year off working on getting Aiden to be whole and making sure that everything is in place to help him be successful. That meant including a family therapist and psychiatrist to our village.<br />
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Then I took some time to reset and work on myself. I started individual therapy again and I'm happy to report that I've gone faithfully every week (except when one of us were out of town).<br />
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I've put in a lot of work and spent a lot of time getting to know (re-know) myself this year and I've learned so much about what I need to feel grounded and good and loved and... <i>whole</i>.<br />
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In 2018, I plan on holding on to that.<br />
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I moved in with HEB and learned that home decor is kinda my thing. I'm slowly fixing up (see what I did there?) every room of this apartment to make it look fly. I love that I'm flexing these creative muscles in ways that I never knew I could and I'm living it up as the Property Sistah (see what I did there?).<br />
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I've learned so much this year and I'm grateful for all the things 2017 taught me. Like...<br />
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To show up for myself. Always. In all ways. Because no one else is responsible for putting mr first except me.<br />
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To continue to find my happy place and fight like hell to stay in that place. Because no one else is responsible for making me happy except me.<br />
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To do more of the things that I actually want to do. And less of the things that I don't want to do.<br />
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To remember that "No." is a complete sentence. No explanations needed. "No." would suffice.<br />
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To fear less and to be fearless.<br />
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To stretch myself in ways that I never thought possible.<br />
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But to know my limits and to know when to say when. (I'm only human and, sometimes, I need to take breaks. And that's quite alright.)<br />
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To apologize when I've made a mistake.<br />
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But to be unapologetic when I know that I'm doing what's right for myself and for my children.<br />
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To continue to be resilient in love and life. And to keep going through life with equal parts grit and glitter.<br />
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Here's to more blessings, more lessons, more time with friends and family, more adventures, more healing, and more love.<br />
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Just... <i>more!</i><br />
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Here's to <i>more life</i> in 2018.<br />
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Onward!Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6031615612874115797.post-2034229850783875562017-12-13T13:15:00.005-05:002017-12-13T13:15:55.740-05:00Oh Twodles: Celebrating Two Years of August<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bubbles Galore!</td></tr>
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I've been Mommy Delicious times two... for two years, y'all!<br />
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Last weekend, we celebrated August's 2nd birthday with his favorite character in the world -- Mickey Mouse! I've been all in my feels these past two weeks because I can't believe that I've kept the boys alive and safe and well and... happy! It's hard going from one to two kids because, like, they both have needs.<br />
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All the time.<br />
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At the same time.<br />
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And it's my job to show up and show out and make sure that they're needs are met.<br />
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I'm happy to report that, even with bumps along the way, I've been able to rock it out these past two years. Needless to say, it wasn't just a celebration of August and his awesomeness, it was a celebration for the entire family.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#bros </td></tr>
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We gathered some friends and headed to The Little Gym on the UWS, where the kids were able to run, jump, play, and flip out. Literally. The best part was seeing everyone love up on August.<br />
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A great time was had by all... especially my little Mickey obsessed toddler!<br />
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And because I'm <i>obsessed</i> with giving you the non-Instagram-worthy-highlight-reels version of events: Some folks cancelled either because of the snow or cold weather or life in general; We ordered way too much food and I've been eating the leftovers for lunch all week because I <i>refuse</i> to waste the money spent (silver lining?); At first, August was super scared of all the equipment overwhelmed by everything and super clingy to me, which, as you can imagine, was stressful; And I felt like I could have just bought a doggone bubble machine, set up shop in my living room, and watched as the little boy went to town with them because he basically played with bubbles the entire time. #ImJustSaying<br />
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Fantasy is what you want, but reality is what you need. #YeahISaidIt<br />
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And, of course, we all wore Mickey t-shirts. Because, why not?!<br />
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Happy birthday to my baby boy! Mommy super loves you!Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17286253462703793396noreply@blogger.com1