In Real Time For the First Time


I'm a dreamer.

The type of dreamer who prefers her dreams to real life because I'm damn good at dreaming...reality has never lived up to my beautiful expectations. It's a blessing and a curse. Yes, I'm easily and always entertained by my imagination, but I also, more often than not, find myself disappointed when things happen IRL.

Exhibit no. 1

I dream of driving a car for two years. When I finally get a license and a car it is nothing like I imagined. I wasn't cool like Brad from Teen Witch. Or Cher with her white jeep. I drove a Cougar to and fro my job and I was good and terrified for a damn year. I never had my moment of cool behind the wheel.

Exhibit no. 2

Motherhood...I always imagined motherhood would be super easy for me. I bossed babysitting. I was Kristy, Claudia, Jessi ALL OF THEM and then some. I knew kids. I was open minded and full of ideas about what would go down and how cool my daughter and I would be. I'm shaking my head while typing this mess. Yes, I was naive as hell. Mothers probably wanted to strangle my dumb behind when I talked about it pre-baby, but that's all in the past. Basically motherhood hasn't been a cake walk. I eat crow and humble pie on the daily.

The idea of motherhood has really thrown me for a loop, y'all. I just never had a moment (even now...with a 1 1/2 yr old) where I started feeling like a bonafide mom. I don't feel like a mom. I honestly expected this new mother energy to physically plop down into me (much like ghosts did to Whoopi in the movie Ghost) I just never got possessed by the holy mama. Isn't there supposed to be some magical moment where motherhood will seep from my pores and I'll rock mom jeans and identify as Mother Earth incarnate like a G? (G for Gaia...can I get a high five for that awesome word play?!)

I didn't have that. I mean, I definitely do mom things. I mother the shit out of my daughter, but if you ask me to describe the inner me I'll tell you I'm a 14 yr old kid who still appreciates a good poop joke.

I digress.

I haven't felt consistently mother-like at all. I sometimes get twinges...

I did have a moment, though. Yesterday Beyonce's Blue came on. It's the song that played when Z was born. I had the whole room tearing up when that song started to play. I swear the melody started and the labor and birth came rushing back.

I had an epidural which wasn't what I dreamed so you can imagine how it went down. I sat there, not feeling any of the things I had envisioned and/or seen in the movies...but then, even with my spine tapped with the good good, I started to feel her pushing her feet into my ribs and trying to kick her way out and the disappointment faded. In that moment I connected with her in the sweetest way...and let my unborn child do all the damn work.  I hardly had to push. I just helped her stubborn little independent self come out.

The song reminded me of that moment...and that's when I realized I had to let go of that ideal mother image I had created. The way in which my child entered the world was the perfect metaphor to teach me to let go.

I'm trying to get comfortable being the kind of mom who just rolls with the punches and learns as she goes. There are sooo many women out there whose butts will twitch reading that. There's a whole crew/sect of mothers out there who live to judge other moms. (If you don't believe me join a mommy facebook group. I dare you to get on one and say you co-sleep with your baby. Get on another and say you breastfeed and drink coffee and eat gluten. Get on another and say you cuss with abandon in front of your child. They will eat you alive.)

Letting go is the only way I'm gonna survive. Hopefully when she gets mad and spazzes out whenever I offer to help I'll remember that she pushed her way into this world (with me helping just enough to feel like a punk) and golly damn it she'll be just fine. I don't have to worry that there's no Motherhood For Dummies  for women like me. No pictures for reference...of what I'm supposed to look like as a mother or how I'm supposed to act. Winging it and totally allowing myself to learn as I go. No room for disappointment when you're experiencing the surprises in real time for the first time.



Poetry is a matter of life, not just a matter of language. People wish to be poets more than they wish to write poetry, and that's a mistake. One should wish to celebrate more than one wishes to be celebrated. ~ Lucille Clifton

...As for my writing: I've been averaging a paragraph a week and it's killing me. 

I have this story I know needs to be told, but I get so caught up in the fear. 

...The fear of being a screenwriting novice. I freak out trying to figure out how to share it once it's completed. I've shared what I have so far with women in the industry whom I respect. I  haven't heard anything back...which terrifies me. Does it suck that much?!

I have a story to tell. I have no plans to be the next Lin-Manuel Miranda, but I do have a story that I know a lot of women will relate to. I don't wish to be the next poet of the people, but I do have some thangs on my mind. 

That being said I still write despite all the logistics I haven't figured out. 

I get these random little emails each morning from "The Universe". Today's email pokes holes in the theory that the early bird gets the worm. The Universe would like the world to know that the late bird and the bird in-between gets the worm, too. "Because, by design, there are always more than enough worms. In fact, the only bird that doesn't get a worm is the bird that doesn't go out to get one." 

I'm gonna role with that today and hope the fear that has paralyzed by ability to break through the writer's block takes a hike. Just gotta have faith there's a worm or two out there for me...Ms. Late Ass McGee. 

type, type, type

Food for Thought


...Because I hate saturating my page with a bunch of links.

Eyes and Ears

Damn it. Now what do we use? Paypal owns Venmo...which supports the Orange Goblin

This gave me hope and terrified me simultaneously The White Flight of Derek Black

My favorite podcast..that I will continue to pub and pub and pub Woke with Kids

One Drop of Love


I have so much admiration for Fanshen. (Which is good since I named my kid after her.) 

This is a great play to see. Go see it!

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