My sincerest apologies on not providing vicarious adventures

Dear Married Friend:

I'm sorry to be such a disappointment. I know, I know. I'm single, I'm gay, I'm young(ish)--you were really hoping for a bit of vicarious excitement. Again, I'm sorry. I have no lascivious lesbian debauchery to share. In fact, instead, I'd like to vicariously live through you. Please, do indulge me.

Tell me about how it is when you want to get in a workout, maybe a yoga class or spinning and you just do. With absolutely no cajoling, someone else is just there to keep the kids for you--without even the need for you to be hovering on the edge of a cliff first.

Tell me about thinking about moving and being able to have a partner to consider with--to plan, to dream, to budget, to worry, to soothe.

Tell me about there constantly being a warm body in the bed when the temperatures drop.

Tell me about having someone whose job is it is to have your back--who signed up for that and means it.

Again, I'm sorry I can't fulfill your desire for titillation and adventures at the club. I understand there is porn that might help you with that.

Much love and respect,
Your Single Friend

p.s. If you ever want me wax poetic about freedom, answering to no one, doing it my way, paying the cost to be the boss,… I got you.

Laverne Cox is amazing

Katie Couric was interviewing both Carmen Carrera and Laverne Cox. In the first segment she had the audacity to ask Carrera about her "private parts"--after having been graciously deflected with slightly more subtle versions of that question. Then when Laverne Cox came on stage, Couric asked again about transition and got taken to school:

"The preoccupation with transition and with surgery objectifies trans people and then we don't get to really deal with lived experiences. The reality of trans people's lives is that so often we're targets of violence. We experience discrimination disproportionately to the rest of the community. Our unemployment rate is twice the national average and if you're a trans person of color, it's four times the national average. The homicide rate in the LGBT community is highest among trans women.

And when we focus on transition, we don't actually get to talk about those things."

Video available here:
http://katiecouric.com/videos/orange-is-the-new-black-laverne-cox/

Rambling about Naming

I've got a name kink. For real. I like names. I like stories about names. People who say my name the way I say it get bonus points. I really like names and I'm always interested in the whys of choosing names. Names are intensely personal and yet very public. They're one of the first gifts parents give their children, and one of the most lasting.

My name is "They Came Together And United." That might suggest to you that "James" and "Joseph" are not names I considered when looking at baby names. I named my kid "Let Us Be Glad." Though English is my first language and the only one I have ever been fluent in, I've never wanted to give anyone an English name. Instead, I chose a name that contained all the love and hope that I had for my newborn and three years later, we both like it. It may not do much good on a resume, but I've never seen it as my duty to make myself palatable to the mainstream, nor is that a value I would hope to pass on.

One thing I've always wondered is what it's like to grow up with a name that is full of meaning that is automatically understood by everyone in your community…how that shapes how you grow. What if, rather than a dismissive "that's different" or a blank "that's pretty," telling people your name is just straightforward. So if your name is "In the Night" or "In the Hand" or "My Hope" and everybody just calls you that without thinking AND knows exactly what it means, does that lift you up? Make you rooted?

I know someone who chose her children's names to sound like "senator's names." An Illinois senator named Barack notwithstanding, looking at the names of current senators suggests she was right to choose solid English names. A research study confirms what everyone assumed was true anyway--"African American sounding" names get fewer callbacks on equivalent resumes. Which has caused some people to remove race markers from their resumes--organizations, experiences, and even their names. I find this a little heartbreaking.

Outside of considering giving someone a namesake, it never occurred to give anyone an English name. The only two that ever really impressed me were "Excel" and "Sincere." Not sure why, but those speak to me.

Anyway, I've been rambling about this because the first baby born in 2014 in some Texas hospital was named "So'Unique Miracle." That apparently is enough to spark internet vitriol directed at the parents. Which is a bit *odd* to me. Maybe it's because, to me, the name suggests her parents value her. Maybe it's because I'm sure there are many who'd have plenty to say about my naming choices, if I cared to listen. Maybe it's because we're just coming off Kwanzaa. Maybe it's because I remember a baby Miracle from years ago whose name caught me off-guard, but eventually seemed perfect. Maybe it's because being on Team Parent makes me wanna scream "we're doing the best we can, back up off!!!" half the time.

Regardless, I hope all our children take the gifts of the names we give them and benefit from them and rename themselves, if and when they need to.

Judging Bad Parenting

This week, I had one of those days when "I'm a bad mother" was echoing through my head. Normally I feel like I do a decent job of parenting and my family is pretty darn wonderful. Most days I believe that. That day, drained by several days that were filled with 16 hours in the car and three work meetings, I was not at my parenting best. I was not quite calm and  objective in handling a three year old who soaked a car seat in urine while taking a four hour nap in the car, who attempted to unbuckle the seat belt as we traveled 70 miles per hour on the highway, and who managed to pull out of my grip and dash across the parking lot after we went picked up our dog who had been boarded while we were away.

Not my best day ever.

Watching that chubby body run away in a parking lot filled with cars reminded me of the case of Raquel Nelson. In 2010, she was coming home from shopping with her three children. They were an hour behind schedule because they had missed their bus. Rather than add an extra half mile to her journey by walking to the out of the way crosswalk, she planned to cross the street at the bus stop which was directly across from her apartment building. While they were waiting, other people began to cross,  which encouraged her four-year-old to slip out of her hand and start crossing. She followed. She, her son, and her daughter were hit by a drunk driver and the four-year-old boy was killed. The drunk driver who killed the child--and was guilty of two prior hit and run incidents--served only six months of a five-year sentence. Raquel Nelson was tried and convicted of second-degree homicide by a vehicle, crossing roadway elsewhere than a crosswalk and reckless conduct. She had faced up to two years in jail. Somewhere along the way, common sense was injected into the case and at her retrial, she pleaded no contest to the jaywalking charge and the other other charges were dropped.

Luckily, my Boobaloo is slow enough that I was able to recapture that little hand before circumstances conspired against us. The three of us made it home, safely. The car seat cushion had finished washing while we were gone. No one, other than me, attempted to judge my parenting for something that happens all the time. My family remains whole and healthy and safe and mostly sane.

Gardening Progress

I am not nearly as good a gardener as I was four years ago. Weeding is a haphazard affair. I am less vigilant about watering. And yet, I still persist. And I am excited to see growth. 

I find that gardening, like relationships, require faith. Faith that my efforts are not wasted, that eventually there will be a harvest. My young tomato plants look a little silly, currently dwarfed by their tomato cages. I have faith that those cages will eventually keep the plants from toppling over when they are huge, covered in ripening tomatoes, and wanting to sprawl.

I have six Brussels sprout plants. Honestly right now, without the tags, I'd be hard pressed to differentiate between the Brussels, the collards, and the broccoli. I am excited for when they grow enough that I have no doubts. I've never grown Brussels before and while they're not my favorite vegetable, they're Booba's. There is something very powerful about growing them for him.

Also in the garden, we have lettuces. Which is a little odd since I typically only make salads using spinach, but lettuce is soooo easy to grow. Still, with what I spend on spinach, I should definitely be making yet another attempt to grow it and not be so deterred by the creatures who insists on munching it before I get the chance to.

Toddler Food

I am lucky. Some people have children who are picky eaters. Their children refuse to eat anything other than chicken and pasta. Or the kids will only eat breakfast then pick at food the rest of the day.

My child will eat anything and a lot of it.* I guess my first hint should have been at 9 months: my Boobaloo crawled in lap and demanded to sample my ginger tea. It was home-brewed ginger tea and it was STRONG. I shared a sip, figuring it would be the last request. After a tiny sip, he tried to get the cup again, insisting, "Mo'! Mama, mo'!" Anyone who can appreciate the spice of a properly made fresh ginger tea is not going to be a boring eater.

I decided that slathering artichoke-spinach hummus on a tortilla and topping it with a slice of tomato sounded good. Booba agreed and gobbled that up, along with walnuts and strawberries, for lunch.

Life is good.

* So far, he's turned down arugula and has picked the rosemary leaves out of his alecha. Everything else seems to be on the good list.

What is Detroit spending money on?

"Mommy, why they putting the concrete in that dump truck?"

I really don't know. Apparently, our city--which is on the verge of bankruptcy, where the state-appointed emergency financial manager is threatening to liquidate art work and any other public asset to creditors, where we cannot keep the street lights on consistently--is replacing driveways and sidewalks in my neighborhood.

Some of it would seem to make sense…probably some areas do need to be replaced. They ragged and uneven and I can't imagine someone in a wheelchair navigating over them:

Though my neighbor wanted to know why they aren't grinding up the stumps before replacing driveways like this one. The workers, of course, said the inspector makes decisions on what to replace before they come out; they just do the marked areas.

Other areas are cracked, but flat and not stopping any movement:

Or driveways that are ugly, but functionally fine:

I find it especially odd since the sidewalks and driveways have been like this for *years*.