Scared Sh*tless...

As hard as I try, my imagination will not take me past my 8th month of pregnancy. I literally can not imagine being twice my size, with swollen ankles, anxiously awaiting my water breaking. Similar to when I was "without child" -- the days leading up to my period were anxious ones, where the mere thought of my cramps were enough to make me start popping ibuprofen up to 3 days before it even came. Before you think I am a drug addict, let me assure you that I truly did have the worse cramps on this side of the Mason-Dixon line.

So when I think of labor, I truly cant wrap my mind around it. How in the Barack Hussein Obama does a vagina open wide enough to fit a d*mn head? It just doesn't seem real to me. Vagina opens. Body comes out. Who in the (bleep) thought this was a good idea? (Sorry Father)

So I tried to prep myself by watching live births on birthcenter.com. HORRIBLE IDEA! Before seeing the videos the baby = vagina phenomenon was something that plagued my imagination but now I have had a visual confirmation that it actually does happen! Whoa is me.. Whoa is me! And though these birthing films scare the beJesus out of me, like a horror movie with sequels, every day I search the web looking for more! I've seen natural births, water births, c-sections, drug-induced births, silent (Scientology) births...you name it, it's on the web. None of them seem like a fun experience.

Moreover, I don't know who is crazier -- women who want to bring their children into the world non-drugged or me. The truth is...delivering somber has never even crossed my mind. Not only will I draw a red "x" on my spine so the anesthesiologist will know where my spine is but I may have my sister Karlisa slip my some wine into the hospital and may smoke a joint before I push this baby out. Little Teddy G will come into this world very aware of effects of drugs and liquor and I am sure that he will be a better person for it.

The Pregnancy Glow, Non-Constipation, and the Wolf Pack

Pregnancy really is a miracle. Out of 28 - 31 days in a month, a woman's egg can only be fertilized during a 2-3 days window. And even if a diligent little sperm gets to the quickly dying egg, there's a 50 percent chance that the egg won't fully begin fertilization and a chemical pregnancy, or early miscarriage will happen before a woman even misses her first period. Then when you add on the effects of cell phone radiation, fried foods, smoking marijuana, and using laptops on the ability of a man to produce healthy sperm... it's really no wonder that any of us are having babies nowadays.

So to have a life develop inside of you is truly a miracle...nothing short of an act of God.

During my blog vacation over the past 2 weeks, I have been coming to peace with my ever changing body, my impending responsibility of motherhood, and my anxiety over managing a marriage, motherhood, my dreams, and life.

First, I have accepted my belly. It's nothing against my sweet baby boy but for months my belly represented nothing but gas, gas, and more gas. But now, it represents the home of my little Teddy Graham, who gives me a kick or a flip after I drink a nice sugary drink to tell me that he approves and would like some more. I shine my belly up every morning with Shea Butter like the wheels on a Cadillac. And even when people in the hood say, "Ey gurl, you are fine but you MUST be having twins," I just smile and keep on my way.

Second, word on the street is that I have that "pregnancy glow"! People say it all the time now! I thought it was my 100% Pure African Shea Butter but everyone swears that I am glowing and not greasy. Either way, I appreciate that people think I still look pretty even though I have plenty of days when I feel like Shrek.

Third, I am grateful for the lack of constipation. I have heard horror stories about how pregnant woman get constipation and hemorrhoids and I am glad that God has spared my thus far.

Fourth, my Wolf Pack (previously known as my va-jay-jay) has now given me a reason to go to the spa again! My husband kindly asked that I "take care of my jungle" and I told him that I couldn't see it anymore. Luckily, this was the very excuse I was looking for to go to Bliss a few more times before I pop this baby out.

So life is gracefully moving along for all of us over here. Patrick continues to play golf during his Saturdays off, Capone continues to terrorize the other kids in the building, and Teddy continues to make his mommy eat and sleep several times a day. I am still trying to figure out what I want to do when I grow up buts something tells me that I am getting closer to figuring it out. I try to read my scriptures every day and as soon as I get into this prenatal yoga class - I will be actively working to maintain my mental, physical, and spiritual health. I continue to have my struggles but in those areas I try to at least strive for contentment. And everyday I tell myself two things...1) Life isn't perfect but it sure is pretty good and 2) If God is for me...who can be against me? Amen!

Heart to Heart with a MOFO/Jesus Take the Wheel (Part IV)

After much prayer and meditation, I had began to find some resolve working with MOFO. While he still isn't my favorite person, I've began to feel a great deal of pity for him because he seemed, at his core, to be clueless to the world around him. When he walked into a room, what would be apparent to the average person was oblivious to him -- due to what I suspect is an over-sized ego that has disabled him from seeing anything but his inflated perception of himself. So things at work had been manageable until a Board meeting where I realized that MOFO was out of his pure African-American mind.

As he sat around a table of 12 Board members he rammed his fist down and said, "You all do not do anything! You serve no purpose! I have to run this organization by myself!"


He continued, "I've had to beg my Program Manager [that would be me] not to quit because you all are not doing anything!"

I sat across the table from him during this 25 minute rant and tried to dream of a place far, far away.

After the meeting, I could tell that MOFO was pleased with himself and all I could think was that "this guy really doesn't get it." Moreover, a number of things about the meeting had ticked me off but I had decided to blow if off because the fact of the matter was that I didn't care that much to mention it anyway.

Sunday night, as I began to mentally prepare for work, I decided that I would have a sit down talk with MOFO because he clearly had no idea that he was an asshole. As I contemplated this talk, I felt confident that this was something that I had to do because perhaps this was the sole reason God had placed me in his path? Maybe it was I who was supposed to give MOFO a glimpse into the dungeon called his soul or at least give give him a head's up that he was making alot of enemies on his way to the "top".

On Monday morning I waited patiently for two hours for MOFO to walk in so I could ask him if we could talk. When he wasn't in the office by 11:00 am I decided to write him a letter. After a quick prayer and a glass of hot chocolate, I began to write my thoughts...

Dear ["MOFO"] –

I wanted to touch base with you about a few things from the Board meeting (and general matters) that were on my mind. These are simply my reactions and opinion for you to consider but I felt that I should at least share my perspective with you.

On Chastising the Board:

While I understand your desire to move the Board to action, I think you must reconsider your current methods. To date, I have observed you chastise the Board, individually and collectively, on several occasions and I must say that I think that is the wrong approach. At its core, you must remember you are speaking to adults and not children. A heavy handed approach will not provoke people to act, complaining will not provoke people to act, passing the blame will not provoke people to act. Essentially, I believe you have to meet people where they are (and as Marty appropriately pointed out) inspire them to act. I have some thoughts on how to readjust the working groups projects and will share them when we meet.

On the Work-plan:

During the Board meeting you emphasized that you put together the work plan “singlehandedly” by yourself. I was surprised to hear this considering I worked 3 days on it. Nevertheless, it’s something that I bring to your attention because you have done it several times in the past. While it may not be intentional, I hope that in the future you become conscious of it because for better or worse, when people give you their work product they take pride it in. This isn’t as much an issue of giving credit as it is about not miscrediting work products.

Moreover, the work plan that was reviewed by the LISC and the Board comes with parameters. Much of my frustration and hesitation in putting one together is that I did not want it to be an exercise in futility. We have set strategic goals, had the Board approve strategic goals, but in the end --- still operated in a chaotic state, picking up projects that we don’t have the capacity to implement. My hope is that the work plan that was put together will be respected and adhered to. All that should be left for “us” to do it was put a timeline and staffing needs to the actions. But if a project isn’t listed on there – it shouldn’t be picked up. I understand this may be difficult with the Alderman’s expectations of the Consortium as his campaign revs up but I think that is something that you will have to work very hard to manage. If you don’t, then I think capacity and frustration will continue to be an issue, whether it’s me that you are working with or someone else.

On begging me to stay:

I really thought it was inappropriate to discuss any misgivings I have about this job with the Board. Not only did it compromise their perception of me but in the short term it could potentially compromised their perception of the organization to effectively do its work. Moreover, any decision that I make to leave or stay with the Consortium will be because of my personal feelings and professional goals – not because of the Board. To make them think it would be because of them was a little disingenuous.

On women:

Many times you come off as chauvinistic. Many times I have seen you over talk women, disregard their opinions, and minimize their professional input. I bring this to your attention because I don’t think that you are aware of it but would be more than open to talking to you about this whenever.

So I apologize for putting all of this on you on Monday. Mondays are definitely bad enough. However, I believe that I owe it to you to be as honest as possible during the time that I am working for the Consortium. My intention is truly not to frustrate or anger but to give you some things to think about as a professional and as the person running this organization.


Kirstin


I didn't think before I pressed "send". Although I had promised my close friend Joy that I would run every confrontation email by her since 2003, I knew that I had to send the letter at that very moment. I was less worried about getting fired than I was about grammatical errors. I would hate for him to miss the points that I was trying to make because my touch of dyslexia was kicking it. Nevertheless, I sent it and just prayed that he would receive it with an open mind.

Once MOFO finally came into the office, I was on my way to a meeting downtown but was sure to tell him to check his email. Once I returned to the office he asked if we could meet to discuss the things that I had written.

After much justification for his actions, MOFO said the only part of the letter that he couldn't appreciate was the "Chauvinistic part". I told him that if there was one part of the letter that I felt that I had to write that it was the "Chauvinistic part". He looked like was going to cry and at that moment I began to feel really bad. But just when I was going to apologize for the harshness of my letter he said, "I think I understand...I think...I think I just need to be MORE of a politician."

All I could do was shake my head.

It wasn't my job to judge him -- only to give him a glimpse of how many perceived him -- but I surely wasn't going to hold my breathe for him to change either.

And B is for....Boy!

The night before the ultrasound I was cool as a cucumber. I had always wanted a girl but I have such a crush on my husband that I had been hoping that it would be a boy. As much as he gets on my nerves sometimes, when he acts right he really knows how to melt my butter, so the thought of TWO of "them" in my life made my heart smile.

The following morning, we slumbered around the house taking bets on whether the ultrasound would reveal that the baby was a girl or a boy when suddenly my intuition told me to call to confirm my doctor's appointment. After trying to reach the doctor for 20 mins, at 9:20 am we were finally connected to her assistant.

"Hi ma'am. I'm calling to confirm my appointment with Dr. Song. My name is Mrs. Smith and I believe I have a 10:00 o'clock appointment."

"Oh no, dear. Your appointment with Dr. Song is at 10:30 but your ultrasound is in ten minutes! Can you make it down here because we are booked solid."

"Oh no!!! We will be there in 15 mins! I promise. Please don't reschedule us. We are on our way!" I replied.

Pat stood nearby shaking his head when I yelled, "Get dressed we have 10 mins to make it downtown!"

As I jumped in the shower I thought of all the disapproving looks I would get from my mom, my dad, my sister, my friends, and my in-laws if I couldn't tell them if my baby had a penis or vagina.

"Surely, she's not ready to care for a child if she can't remember the most important doctor's appointment of her life," they would think.

20 minutes later I ran into the doctor's office and went to check in.

"I'm sorry. I'm SO very very forgetful. I'm so sorry for being such a bootleg patient. I know that I'm 20 minutes late but please don't send me home."

Luckily the receptionist was more forgiving than the ultrasound technician.

"Ju know...we are booked BERRY BERRY tightly. It is BERRY diffi-cult to con-duct a comprehensive exam when Ju are late. It pushes EVVVEERRYONE else back," the Hungarian technician told me over and over again for the first 15 mins of the examination.

Finally, she said..."Do ju want to know what ju are having?"

Excitedly, Pat and I both said "Yes!"

"Dere is dis penis and dere is dis testicles," she said as she quickly pointed to cloudy image on the screen.

Pat did a double fist pump in the air and I only had time to say "yay! I knew it!" before the technician continued on with the exam, measuring the size of my placenta and uterus.

So there I lay on the table contemplating what it means to bring a little boy into this world. I simply prayed, "Jesus, let him be strong and wise, smart and caring, compassionate and healthy. Most of all Jesus...Let him grow to be like my daddy, my husband, and my brother...and not like MOFO. Amen."

The Day Job Lounge and the birth of the Sister Circle)..

Two days after my birthday, I found myself at dinner with several other couples to celebrate my husband's business partner, Ozzie, birthday. Despite living in Chicago, all of my husband's closest friends are southern boys who have each have been "transplanted" in Chicago in the name of love (IE. their wives). So there we sat around the table talking about everything from taking out the trash to picking up strip clubs in Vegas - the normal "Venus vs. Mars" debates that happens when we all get together.

The men call themselves the "Four Guys" and they refer to the home of the only single guy as the "Day Job Lounge" or "DJL" for short. The "Day Job Lounge" is a bit of a neighborhood men's cave, or a "safe haven" for any of the guys when they need to get out of the house. When I once asked what goes on at the "Day Job Lounge," Pat only shook his head, got a distant look in his eye and said, "We just talk about life."

So there we were, having dinner and the "Four Guys" began to discuss the need for the DJL.

"Sometimes, we SERIOUSLY just don't understand where ya'll are coming from and we need the perspective of somebody else who's been there."

"Sometimes, we need to just vent...without anyone judging how you feel."

"Sometimes, a man just needs to go somewhere where he doesn't have to be anyone but himself."

As the wives sat around the table and listened to their husbands talk about the camaraderie that they have, we all felt a pang of jealousy -- not because we didn't want them to appreciate friendship with other people but because we recognized that it was something that we missing in our own lives.

So that night after dinner, we all coordinated our Blackberry Calendars and decided to form the "Sister Circle."

Sidenote: It's funny how sometimes you don't realize what you are missing in your life until you experience it. As women, I think it's easy for us to get into the routine of "making everything work" that we oftentimes negate that part of ourselves that needs pure, unadulterated, and uncompromising fellowship with other women. It wasn't until that night that I realized how badly I needed to "let my hair down".

When the "Sister Circle" gets together, it truly is a time where we all feel like we can say anything, ask anything, shout anything and no one will think anything of it the next day.

We've talked about everything from ways to get out of sex when you feel that poke in the middle of the night to how add spice to a sex life when it suffers due to work, a baby, and stress. We are simply friends due to shared and common experiences which is the exact reason why it works. We don't spare any words when it comes to advice but no one is invested in being "right" or someone being better than the other. We only come to together for the purpose of eating, drinking, and talking smack.

I am grateful for the introduction of these women into my life because as a soon-to- be-mother, there are so many things that I don't know and so many things that I can't begin to anticipate once a baby enters my life and marriage. I can always defer to a magazine or website on matters such as diaper rash or onesies, and I can always defer to my mom on matters such as easy dinners and life insurance, but until now, I had no one to turn to when I wanted to know whether my size E's would have ever shrink back to a manageable size or to ask whether Pat was horrible for not rubbing my feet after I made dinner.

So thank you Sister Circle for your honesty, your candor, and your unbridled coonery on all matters pertaining to marriage, motherhood, and womanhood :-)

My birthday and why I love it...(a random shout out to my one and only)

Oddly enough, one of my favorite things about myself is my birthday. Every year, my birthday stands at the entrance of the unofficial start of summer, Memorial Day Weekend, and I am able to celebrate outdoors with sun, drinks, and fun. For many people, being outside is probably no big deal, but for us Chicagoans - summertime is our little piece of heaven considering our 6-9 months of rain, snow, wind, and frostbite.

Despite my love of my birth-DAY, the celebration of my birthday has always been very tricky. From the age of 0 - 18, my mother and father made sure to make birthdays special. My mother would buy balloons, my father would buy a plant (he's from Mississippi and doesn't believe in buying flowers) and they would sing "Happy Birthday" with a cake until I blew out the candles. Then they would top it off with a card full of money ("full of money" could mean anything from $20 to $300 dollars, depending on how much they liked you at the time).

Eventually I became "too cool" for balloons and preferred to set my own agenda for my birthday which came to include clubs, bars, and parties. While this phase of my life was lots of fun, I soon recognized this to be a hazard because it meant that my "special" day came to depend completely on the inclusion or willing participation of other people. After enough disappointments, I decided to always make my day special, even if it only included me, because it is the only day that I have to celebrate myself and I didn't need anyone else to do that for me.

So for many years on my birthday, I would simply disappear. No parties. No clubs. If you found me, I would be at a spa getting a massage, at a restaurant having a cocktail, or in a park reading a book. It would be just me -- enjoying myself.

But then someone came along who MADE ME let them make me feel special. And every year, despite my insistence otherwise, he reminds me that I don't have to make my happiness by myself, but that he is there to make and share happiness with me. And despite that fact that I tell him every year, I don't think he will ever know just how much I appreciate that mere effort that he puts forth to make me feel special and to show me how much he loves me.

We are far from rich, in fact our student loans probably will outweight our assets for the next 50 years...nevertheless, every year on my special day in May he makes me feel like a million bucks. And though he is not perfect, he is perfect me for and that is the best gift I could ever have asked for.