Honesty is ugly sometimes

Sitting at the table in the living room typing this post and watching Black Girls Rock on BET…this is hard y’all. Intensely sensitive but this is what’s on my heart today so I’m being honest about the ugly in my life.

We live in the same house. We eat the same food and love the same child. We never talk though. I mean, outside of what has to be said about my son and their daily needs. No, this is not a post about my partner and I. This one is about my mother and I. Things have not always been this way. I remember being in high school, getting in the car and talking a mile a minute about what happened at school that day. When I no longer lived at home we’d talk every single day. We used to be so close and then. I don’t know what happened. I would call but she’d only call me if she needed a ride to work or some money, or to run some errands. It didn’t take long for resentment to set in but I’d still do whatever she needed. Then, I got pregnant and she’d call all the time. I didn’t want to talk anymore. I tried to be sure and involve her in some of the fun stuff. I took her with me to do one of my registries and to do a little shopping for the baby. I hoped it’d break the ice and get us talking again. It didn’t. It was almost like being a cousin I’ve never met or that I’ve seen only once or twice.

This is hard. And to be honest I haven’t talked with my mom about it. I don’t want to. I feel like I’ve been robbed of a relationship with my mother. And to add to that my dad too. See, I’ve been spending months and countless hours researching my family history. I know my 3rd generation grandfather and his wife Anna Norrington lived in Morgan county Georgia. His name was Felix Norrington. Felix was a boot and shoe maker and could not read or write. I love my family. I want to know them all by name. Sounds like a contradiction. I want to know my family history but am not willing to work on relationships with the family that here with me, literally.

Thanks for reading.

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Fly Mom, The Resolution

I found her at the end of myself. She was standing there, leaning against the wall fly as ever. She confidently stood clad in some fresh skinny jeans, a fitted turquoise tank with a fly head wrap. She didn’t wear any make up though, save mascara. And, yes, she stood 4 inches taller in a pair of dope stilettos.

When I looked and realized who she was, our eyes locked. We reconnected immediately and that made us both smile. I ran to her and embraced her. I was so glad to see her again. She looked at me and said that I looked different. She could tell I had gone through some things and had grown a bit.

I let out a slow sigh of relief. Although I had forsaken her, she had not forsaken me. She had been patiently waiting for my embrace; she’d been waiting to be rediscovered. She was sure that I’d embrace her again, confident that I’d return.

So, there I was looking at myself, my “Fly” self. I hung my head in shame because I had neglected her. I separated her from my “mommy” self. I didn’t know how they could exist harmoniously. She reminded me that I should be gracious to myself. She insisted that being fly is much more than what I wear

In fact, there are few things more fly than being a mother that loves and nurtures her child…

The time will eventually come when my son sleeps through the night. I will resume regularly treating myself to dinner, rocking out at Starbucks, hanging out with the girls and enjoying some degree of spontaneity. But, today I will enjoy every moment with my son. I will hug him as often as I’d like, kiss him as many times as I’d like, and play with him for as long I’d like. He will be confident that he has a mother and a father that loves him more than he can imagine.

So, I will take her advice. I will be gracious to myself and allow for shapeless dresses, flats, sweats and t-shirts. I won’t feel shallow or less than a devoted mom when I do pull “sexy” out of the closet. I will get my nose pierced again and have my hood piercing done over. This is just the beginning of my journey as a mother, but I’m determined… this is and will be my resolution: Skinny jeans or not. Stilettos or not, I am Fierce, I am Beautiful, I am a fly MOM!

-Ouijella