• LittleRockMamas.com
• Forums
• Register
• Log in
• 

He Still Wants Mommy, Sometimes

I took lunch to school for my son, Friday and ate it with him in the cafetorium. I was a little nervous since he’s now in the fourth grade and considered an upper classmen by elementary standards. I was fearful of embarrassing him in front of his classmates, so I bought his favorite, Pei Wei’s honey seared chicken with a lemonade and an orange wedge. His eyes lit up when he saw me sitting at the kid-sized lunch table, an island to ourselves. As his classmates and other fourth graders chowed down on soyburgers and brownies, Kouadio enjoyed his mother’s company and his favorite meal, golden chicken pieces slathered in honey sauce with perfectly steamed vegetables over a bed of fried rice.

Fourth graders might want to seem like the big kids sometimes, but this one wanted his mommy still, even if she did bear honey chicken to get him to perfer having lunch with her over his friends.

My New Niece

Weighing in at 4.16 and 33 weeks gestation on her Aug. 7 birthday, my new great niece, London Cora Adams, has made it out of the danger zone and is headed home to join her mom, my niece Lori, her Dad Cory,  and sister, Lauren.

Simply lovely!

Miraculous Peace

Volleyball Anyone?

My daughter’s volleyball season opened tonight at Parkview High School. My nephew and i went to the game. Aya   played well. They defeated Parkview.  Central has a new coach and he’s a jewell, Chris Henry. I liked his style with girls. No yelling, but sincere coaching. He’s a teacher in the district, and this is his first time coaching high school girls.

Good luck team. I’ll be working the concession stand at the home games. Let’s go Tigers!

Homebound Too Long! Ready to Go to Work!

That’s it! I’ve had it! I can’t stand me, myself and I any longer! It’s time to get out of this house and share my gifts with the world again. I’ve been working from home, alone as a freelance writer, grant writer, grant finder and grant submitter for a almost a year now, and I can no longer take the isloation and neck cramps for holding the phone to conduct business. While the world outside hustles and bustles about, I feel trapped in my home office with nothing but the whirl of the washer and dryer to keep me company. My kids are at their Dads. I want them here, but they have school, now.

 Don’t get me wrong, I like the work. I just detest the isolation. I’ve got a great relationship with my mail woman. I give her popsicles just to get a little human to human contact.

I’m looking for out for work that gets me out of my house. Here’s the classfied ad: Lonely, grants manager, writer and editor of anything written or proposed (including cereal boxes) in need of assignments that place her in the company of several human beings who can take themselves to the bathroom, preferrably drive, and engage in coversations that allow for open and genuine authentic exchanges of ideas, visions, dreams or missions. E-mail me at shareesekondo@ymail.com to extend offers. Meanwhile, I’m headed to Barnes Noble Bookstore with my laptop and -empty tea cup. I need an Earl Gray and people-watching fix. Maybe I’ll get into some neat conversations too with fellow homeworkers.

Twas’ the Night Before First Day of School

The Night Before School

‘Twas the night before school started
When all through the town
The parents were cheering.
It was a riotous sound.
By eight the kids were washed
And tucked into bed
When memories of homework
Filled them with dread
New pencils, new folders,
New notebooks, too,
New teachers, new friends-
Their anxiety grew.
The parents just giggled
When they learned of this fright
And shouted, “Upstairs!
GO TO BED! IT’S A SCHOOL NIGHT!”

Yeah!

By Someone on web. I didn’t write this.

Barefoot in New Shoes?

I love trying new things, but barefoot-like running? Not so sure this would work for me. I bought a pair of Vibrams, five-finger shoes instead of a new pair Newtons, my standard running shoes. The Vibrams were $75 cheaper.

I wore them around the house for two hours and my toes begged for mercy. Not all of my toes are straight and the baby toes begged to return to their normal curved in position.

I complied and let them have their freedom for a about 45-minutes.  But I had to stick to the mission and break-in a pair of new shoes even if they did make my feet look like monkey feet.  So I put the shoes back on. Ran five miles in them and felt no pain other than two large blisters on the bottom of my big toes. I felt the heat of the pavement in 100-degree temps. Newtons never caused blisters. Ugh.

Other than that there was no stiffness, aches, soreness or anything else.   There might be something to this barefoot running phenomena! Let’s see how things go on longer runs.

Family Visit

My parents, oldest brother, Joe, and oldest sister, Tammy “Big Chief” are in town from Detroit.  My sister-in-law Shareena, is also here with my niece, Kayla who drove up from Houston. Love having family come to town. Too bad they can’t stay longer.

Family visit

Dreams of hearing “Run, Mom, Run”

It may not sound too glamourous but I’m looking forward to running in Detroit this October. It’ll be cold, windy and perhaps a little scary along some of the course, but home is home.

 I’ve got 10 weeks to complete my training for the Detroit Free Press Marathon and so far things are going pretty well. This is the first time I’ve trained with a partner, Adrea Coley, who will be running her first full marathon. She’s 23, ran cross country for ULAR and ran as a one of my relay partners in the Little Rock Marathon this year. We’re into full training mode and she’s running like a champ.

Unfortunatley, though, we’ll miss the Little Rock Race for the Cure. It’s the same weekend as the Detroit Marathon, which by the way is the only international race in the country. The course takes you across the Detroit River and winds through downtown Windsor, Ontario for a few miles. This is the only race where you application literally calls for  proof of your citizenship. I’ve got my passport, will get new shoes and head home to run. Don’t know if the children will go with me yet. I hope so. It would be nice to see them along the route with my siblings, parents and hometown friends, yelling out, “Run, Mom, Run.!”

U.S. or Canadian Citizens:

If you are a U.S. or Canadian Citizen and you register for the marathon, half marathon, or team relay online or by mail, your entry is submitted to the Bureau of Homeland Security, , CBP for clearance. Effective June 1, 2009, U.S. Customs and Border Protection tightened security measures for international travel. In order to maintain the privilege of crossing borders, ALL participants must show up in person to receive your race number and packet.

Those participants crossing the United States/Canadian border (Marathon/Half Marathon/Relay Legs 1 and 2) will need to present proof of identity and citizenship. For the majority of participants (U.S. and Canadian citizens 16 years of age and older), this means a passport, passport card, enhanced drivers license or other travel document approved by the Department of Homeland Security. U.S. and Canadian citizen children under the age of 16 will be able to present the original or copy of their birth certificate or other proof of U.S. citizenship such as a naturalization or citizenship card. For additional acceptable documentation,  click here. There are no exceptions.

Salazar: A Shell of a Lesson

A lesson in a shell

Interesting how life shows us what’s true. It’s kicking my ass, but I’m learning that this truth is all around me and always present. Seeing these truths, however, is entirley up to us. We don’t always notice the things our eyes see. We have to bring some truths into focus in order to see what’s really there — or might I say “here.” I recently took a trip to the Mississipi Gulf where I accidently found a hermit crab. I had intentionally grabbed a variety of loose sea shells to bring home as souvineers. After getting back to my Uncle’s condo, where I was lodging, I dumped the shells onto a table to see what I had found. Out from my oblivion, I discovered what I had missed — the hermit crab which would now become a gift  for my son. He named him Salazar.

Salazar rarely moves from one spot to another, and like a healthy hermit crab, he confines himself to a limited space. This closed-quartered crustacean is teaching me some things. In many ways, I can feel kindred to this idea of being alone or being withdrawn. Being a divorcee without custody is full of epiphanies of solitude. I try to turn solitude into solidarity. When I succeed, I see life and its beauty. When I fail, I withdaw into my own shell of misery and victimhood.  It’s my first full summer of absolutely no visitation.  I think there is a hermit crab at the other residence as well. I have no idea how to crack that shell. Alas, I am reaching for an open mind so I can see what’s been hiding all along.  

These words from my Personal Pastor beckon me to look again and reconsider what I have been seeing:

Learning to Let Go

“You made him cry.” This is what she,  my daughter, said to me in an attempt to cojole me with guilt. It’s simple really. Children think effective parenting  – loving parenting – is always, I mean always, saying yes to them. I guess in some ways my no’s are yesses. No to what is wanted is often times Love’s way of saying yes to what is needed.   This has been my ongiong lesson to self. I said yes when I could have said no but chose to be accommodating instead. I’m a better Mom now because I’m letting go of the guilt associated with leaving and letting go.

 One year after the divorce being final, I ache for the love of my children.  What an ideal… They are still learning to love. (Aren’t we all?) I’m supposed to be better at it than they. What nerve of me to hold them to such a profound harvest. No longer confused by my love for them, I’m changing my views on how they should or should not treat me, want me, or love me.

This is what is changing or reshaping — getting to know what is true. With no advocate, no real partner in parenting, I have to realize that I’m on my own in this process.  Absence does not render me irrelevant. Where I used to think I had been replaced as my son’s mother, I’m learning how necessary it was for me to make space to see and be a mother in a way I did not know how to imagine. No longer infuriated, I have given up the reigns and my ego, though fuming, is no longer in control.

A Dirt Angel Let's Go!