Painting, Nursery, Baby Shower, YIKES!!!

I have so much to do that its freaking me out. With little over a 1.5 months left to go I wonder how in the starwarsepisodesix am I going to get this all done? We need to paint the baby's room, we need to finish getting the furniture, we need to finish planning the shower, we need to pack our suitcase, we need to shampoo the carpet again, we need to take maternity pictures, and I need to get to the spa -- STAT.

That is all.

Just a vacancy...Sleep don't live here anymore...

I don't sleep anymore.

Well, I guess to be more accurate, I only sleep for about 4-5 hours a night. While this may not seem like a big deal to many of my "night owl" friends, you gotta understand that prior to becoming pregnant, I slept for 8-9 hours a night religiously...since I was about 18 years old.

Initially, I could still sleep in the bed. I would just have to climb over Pat 3-5 times a night to go to the bathroom.

Then, I couldn't lie down directly on my back while in the bed, so I had to use 6-7 pillows to prop me up so I could sleep directly sitting up. I would turn the air conditioner down to 50 degrees and on "high"...and my previously warm and cozy bedroom would turn into "THE NEST" as my husband began to refer to it.

Getting out of the bed for pee breaks became especially cumbersome, so I would end up throwing several pillows on Patrick's head while he slept, and would have to roll over his body, and waddle to the bathroom as fast as I could when Teddy would decide to kick my bladder 3-4 times throughout the night.

Now, I've just given up on the bed. I rest in my one-person lounge chair with my body pillow, my king size pillow, and my fluffy 10 year old head pillow every night. And while it's not perfect setup for a sound night of sleep, at least I can ensure that I will at least be able to get to the bathroom a little faster without waking Pat and Capone up.

But when my stomach and bladder aren't keeping me awake...my mind steps in as the next culprit. I've began to have recurring nightmares that the baby will come and I loose him on bus stops and inside of cabs or random cars, or that I go into labor while I'm sleep and after delivering the baby I freak out because the only place that he can sleep is in Capone's bed.

I don't know what else to say...in fact, I'm writing this very entry because I can't sleep. I would wake my husband up to give me a dose of some "sleep juice" but I'm too afraid that I'd kill him from the weight of my stomach.

Oh well, I guess hot chocolate will have to do for now...

Goodbye Second Trimester, Hello Finish Line!

Praise Jesus, from whom all blessings flow!

I can't believe I made it to my last trimester! How was 2010 everyone? Was it a great year? Since my pregnancy will have gone from January - October, I feel like when I look back on things, 2010 will seem like a dream to me, a dream that was filled with lots of hot turkey sandwiches, plenty of salty chips, gassy nights, and swollen tits. Yet, most importantly, a year where my beautiful sweet son grew from a mustard seed to a watermelon, until he decides to make his big debut in October!

As I enter into my last trimester, I feel like going outside to sing "WOOP, THERE IT IS!" to all my neighbors in my building. While I'm sure that soon enough the anxiety of being a new parent will begin to set in, for now, I am just proud of myself for making it through something that has been both physically and mentally taxing.

It seems like just yesterday when I saw the first sonogram of my little Teddy Graham. With no identifiable body parts outside of his head, tummy, arms, and feet -- there me and Pat saw him floating on top of his lake of amniotic fluid.

Now, 8 months later, I imagine him completely formed, swimming in my belly, kicking his umbilical cord when he doesn't like his meal, and snapping his fingers when we're listening to a song that he particularly approves of.

So my days now are filled with anticipation. I still have so much to do before he arrives but my heart is already completely open to receive him with more love than I have ever known.

Sh*tting in an waffle cone doesn't make it a sundae...(MY ANGRY RANT)

Jesus be a fence...

By now, anyone who knows me knows that I hate my job.

(Sorry Jesus I know "hate" is a strong word but I gotta tell the truth and shame the devil...)

So anyway, as I was saying...I HATE my job. I hate my job recognizing that it is a recession, recognizing that the poor men standing outside of my office would love my job, recognizing that my job is the exact job that I prayed feverishly for 4 years ago when I completed graduate school.

I wanted to help build communities. I wanted to build resources into underserved communities. Heck, I wanted for Black folks in Chicago who make a decent living to be able to shop in their neighborhood instead of have to drive 30, 40, or 50 minutes to the northside, west loop, south loop, north suburbs, west suburbs, or south suburbs for a decent pair of shoes, a healthy meal, or a yoga class.

I wanted to see a diversity of investment in communities on the southside -- commercial investment, residential development, open space, walkable communities, green technology, assessible and safe transportation.

But this job - this stanking little two person non-profit, funded by the premier community development corporation in the country, chaired by an alderman that "GETS THINGS DONE", and "supported" by consultants who supposed advised everyone from Obama to Jesse Jackson - has shown me that most of public service is merely an illusion.

I would elaborate on my evolving thesis of why most, if not all politicians and public servants are full of spoiled mozzarella cheese, but I'll save that for my book, "Bullsh*tters Anonymous: Why Chicago and Illinois Politics Won't Change."

So for now, I focus on the depth of tom-foolery, and coonery that takes place on my job -- for no other reason that to vent into the abyss of words called cyberspace.

For those who may believe I am just complaining, understand that there is simple logical explanation for why I do not like my job -- a phenonmenon that economists would call "a lack of rationale incentives". The one person who works over me, "MOFO", is a person of high aspirations and absolutely little to no competency to achieve anything. As a result, there are over 20 big idea plans that "MOFO" has set as a priority for his two-person organization (ie. everything from fully redeveloping a historic park to mimic Central Park to holding a world-wide architectural competition to set the standard for design in a community that he doesn't live in) -- Yet whenever the rubber hits the road and ish needs to get done, he stalls, redirects the project to me, and moves on to another assinine idea.

But this only makes me dislike my job.

What makes me ashamed to be an employee of this organization is that I have seen how people -- from the most powerful in the State to outside powerhouses with no investment in the community in which we work -- have enabled this fool to operate in a manner that will ensure that the organization where I work will not survive another 1-3 years and where all of these people have no issue community is the last entity to benefit from his initiatives. After almost two years of existence, there are no standard operating procedures for anything, the organization has overspent its budget twice in one year -- yet, like George W. Bush told Mike Brown after Katrina, people continuously look at "MOFO", shake his hand for the cameras and say "I SHOLE THINK YOU ARE DOING A GREAT JOB [MOFO]!"

But that only makes me ashamed -- its not what truly makes me hate this job.

What I hate about this muthasucking, the devilisaliar, stumpthedevilout, sholenuff'niggery filled job is this...

...after doing all the work, taking a $20,000 paycut to "do good in the hood", seeing someone else continuously take credit for my work, and not getting the support, compensation, or assistance that I've been continuously promised - the corrupt, narcistic, sexist, and incompetent "MOFOs" that I must report to continuously sh*t on a big sugary waffle cone, sprinkle it toffee, oreos, and m and m's and try to convince me that this sh*t is a d*mn coldstone chocolate sundae deluxe.

Through poor attempts of munipulation, they try to convince me that I SHOLE SHOULD BE HAPPY THAT I GOT THIS JOB, forgetting or underestimating the value of my past work experience working for people and organizations that knew that the (BLEEP) they were doing. Unfortunately, they misunderstand my politeness (or more honestly my "dontgiveaf*ckness") for naivety and in their ignorance they don't realize that I'm only there to perserve my healthcare, take 3 hour lunch breaks, and only work 3 days a week.

Whew...sorry Jesus and Teddy Graham but momma has been holding that one in for a long time. I'm counting the days until the day that I can submit my resignation, crash the computer, and burn that beyotch down.

On being alone...and vulnerable

I always prided myself on being fairly independent. Correction: I've always prided myself on being extremely independent. I've always liked my share of "me" time and often found relaxation shopping by myself, driving by myself, eating myself, and even drinking by myself after work (although my mother would say that only infers that I was a teetering alcoholic).

So the first time my husband left to travel out of town, you can imagine how surprised I was when I found myself pouting on the couch most of the day because I didn't have my BFF there to eat Chinese food with on Saturday night.

Then, when it was time to go to sleep, I found myself checking the doors three and four times to make sure that no one would come in and try to kidnap me and Capone in the middle of the night.(Yet, when I woke up at 3 o'clock in the morning on my couch I was sure that I there was a shadow of a monster sitting on my couch.)

And finally, when morning came and it was time to eat breakfast, I unconsciously found myself looking at the week's top ten plays on Sports Center because I missed my husband.

Finally, I paused during a commercial and thought, "How in the BEJESUS did this happen?" I wondered. How did I become such a freaking cupcake that didn't like being alone - after 28 years of doing just fine on my own?

What I soon realized is that in the corniest sense, I have come to think of my husband as my teammate, my partner, and the person that I look to for safety, protection, and companionship. Yet, with this understanding of why my husband's absence felt unnatural to me I also was faced with the revelation of my own discomforts with my new found vulnerabilities.

"Hot dammit," I thought...how in the world did I become so vulnerable?

The truth of the matter is that in the loneliness that exist in my house when Patrick isn't around, I've realized that this thing that's become my life doesn't flow as easily without him.

Yet I must admit that being vulnerable does not come easy to me, nor does dependency under any circumstances. And there may always be a struggle between my belief that "what God put together, let no man put asunder" and and insuring my own independence even if that means making sure that I can always stand financially on my own two feet, that I can always kill the spider above my headboard if I need to, and ensuring that the luxury and blessing that I appreciate by having a life partner never supersedes my ability to take care of myself and my child.

I don't believe that this perspective diminishes the faith that I have in my husband, because again -- I realize that this thing called "marriage" "life" and surely "parenthood" will not make sense without him by my side. However, I do think that as a wife, I only strengthen to foundation of my marriage if I work to ensure that I maintain the strength, independence, and sensibility that my husband was attracted to in the first place.

"As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same"

A random bit of inspiration from my favorite author, Paulo Coehlo:

"It's the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting......Before a dream is realized, the Soul of the World tests everything that was learned along the way. It does this not because it is evil, but so that we can, in addition to realizing our dreams master the lessons we have learned as we have moved toward that dream. That's the point at which most people give up.... [At this point] Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams, because every second of search is a second's encounter with God and with eternity."

Pregnancy Survival Kit

First and foremost, despite all of my jive talking, I recognize that I have had a wonderful, blessed, and low drama pregnancy. The changes that my body have endured are likely not substantially different from 99% of women across the world who have given birth and for that I am grateful.

Yet...let the record show that out of all of the women that I have known to "cross these burning sands" into motherhood -- I'm a little ticked off that none of them have kept it real and said,

"Girrrrl -- pregnancy is beautiful but it will make your feet grow a shoe size, make your breast feel like heavy african watermelons, make you loose your a**, take away your sex drive, give you gas, give you heartburn, give you carpal tunnel syndrome, give you vaginal headaches, give you charlie horsesin the middle of the night, make you forget where you live, drive you to consider murdering people, will leave you out of breath even after just thinking about exercising, and in the toughest scenarios will give you diabetes, high blood pressure, low blood pressure, anemia, constipation, hemorroids, or an urinary tract infection."

So while I celebrate the wonder and beauty of life growing inside of me, I also want to say that carrying a child is the beginning of a life of sacrifice that you cant fathom until you go through it. And while sacrifice is certainly the name of the game for 9 months -- there are somethings that every woman can do to equip herself to get through this time with your sanity, spirit, and body in sound shape.

1.) Pregnancy massages - with all of the aches, stretching, and growing that your body will endure, you owe it to yourself to have some big, muscular, Black/White/asian/latino/eskimo man to stand over your body and rub those knots out of you. Carrying a baby plus a set of overweight twins (your breasts), and swollen feet will take a toil on your body in ways that you can't imagine -- so trust me, this is certainly a treat that you don't want to skip.

My recommendation: BLISS SPA at the W: Great Expectations Massage every three months

2.) A body pillow - if you sleep in anything larger than a twin size bed then you have the space for a body pillow. Around your 6 month of pregnancy, your growing tummy will make it difficult to get comfortable sleeping. And because you can only sleep in certain ways to preserve optimal blood flow to your baby, you will begin to have many sleep deprived nights. But with a body pillow, you will be able to support the four most problematic areas of your body(your back, in between your legs, under your stomach, and your neck) at one time without having to take all of the other pillows from your husband.

My recommendation: The Boppy Body Pillow

3.) Sports Bras - Trust me...Underwires and large breasts + fluid retention DO NOT mix.

My recommendation: Any sport bra made of breathable material...Stinky sweaty boobs are not cute!

4.) TUMS - Gas and Indigestion are REAL.

My recommendation: Chewables! They will begin to taste like candy after a while.

5.) Comfortable Shoes - With swollen and growing feet and increasing weight on your legs...a good pair of comfortable shoes are a must.

My recommendation: Shoes that will allow your growing feet to stretch and breath.

6.) A favorite meal to give you something to look forward to at work.

My suggestions: A chicken TBM melt from COSI (add the onions) or a melted Turkey and Cheese Sandwich on an Everything Bagel from Au Bon Pain (add the lettuce, onions, honey and dijon mustard). Plus salt and vinegar chips. Plus Lemonade and Peach Ice Tea (mixed). Plus chocolate chip cookies. Thanks.

7.) A mind distracting hobby - Writing, Reading, and Reality TV watching were my activities of choice during the work week.

8.) A scripture to rebuke the hormone devils that will surely push you close to homocide.

My recommedation: Romans 8: 28-39

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, whohave been called according to his purpose. 29 For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. 30 And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified.

31 What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? 32 He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? 33 Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. 34 Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus, who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. 35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? 36 As it is written:
"For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered."

37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

I have a headache THIS BIG...in my vagina (Round Ligament Pain)

Random body change # 2,001,999: Vaginal headaches

Beginning around the 20th week of pregnancy, most pregnant women begin to experience one of the most uncomfortable pains of pregnancy - the pain that I like to refer to as "the vaginal headache". The medical term for the "vaginal headache" is "round ligament pain" and it is the result of your uterus expanding and putting pressure on the bones that support your pelvis and hips. But to me, it's more appropriately called the "vaginal headache" because similar to normal headaches - they come out of nowhere, will make your pooch throb with pain for an hour (and not in the good way), and oftentimes nothing - not Tylenol, warm compresses, or bags of frozen vegetables - will help.

Often times this pain comes after long periods on your feet and just when you find a place to sit down and relax - POOF! Here comes the vaginal headache. Other times, it comes after long periods of sitting and just when you decide to get up and stretch - POOF! The vaginal headache is back. Ironically enough - stretching does help but I have found that even when I stretch for too long -- POOF! Here comes that beyotch the vaginal headache coming back for more...

After several futile attempts to find something that would help (i.e. sitting on my yoga ball, doing the tootsie roll, and putting frozen peas on my crouch), I resorted to purchasing a "maternity belt" - an apparatus that resembles a bullet proof vest for your belly. The "maternity belt" straps across your belly in three different ways and the idea is that it will transfer weight from your pelvis more evenly across your legs. While the jury is still out of the "maternity belt" -- I think I am starting to have a bit of a placebo effect cause as soon as I complete the 5 min process it takes to strap it on, I feel ready to go to run a marathon -- or at least walk around the block...

I'll keep you posted on whether this thing is working but either way, I'm keeping my stash of Tylenol, frozen peas, and my hot water bag close by.

Going "home" to Louisiana...My In-Laws

- A quick funny story -

Little Kerry looked up at my stomach perplexed.

"What's that?" he asked pointing directly at my protruding belly button.

"It's a baby Kerry! It's your little cousin in there!" I replied excitedly.

(Kerry stares at the floor.)

"How'd da baby get in there?" He asks.

(I stare at the floor and begin to stutter nervously.)

"Well, well...that's kind of a long story. Let's just say it was magic!" I reply hoping that he'd "buy" my explanation.

(Again, Kerry stares at the floor and looks up at me with sad eyes.)

"Why...Why'd you eat da baby?" he finally asks, having concluded that his new auntie ate his little cousin in a rage of hunger.



In-laws.

These two words can invoke feelings of love, anxiety, and heartburn in anyone. How you approach your relationship with your in-laws is always a delicate matter and for anyone about to get married the only advice I can give you is BE YOUR GENUINE (INSERT ADJECTIVE) SELF from the very beginning.

I have observed that much of the stress that comes from in-law relationships comes from the tension or pressure that the new family member feels "to be ...(insert adjective)".

I explained to my husband a few days ago that if I was the biological daughter of his parents I would undoubtedly be the "Black Sheep." While his family is pretty laid back and quiet, I am fairly verbose with a slight touch of ADD (or to use my mother in-laws words when she first met me....I am a "big ball of energy"). Then when you consider my "city-girl ways", I surely wouldn't fit in under normal circumstances. My mother-in-law (who was a Sunday school teacher at the time) asked me during our first meeting why I had "gone and marked myself up" clearly disapproving of my tattoos (that is...the one tattoo that she could see - smile).

(Little did she know at the time that one of Patrick's first objectives upon moving to Chicago would be to get his first tattoo on his shoulder!)

Nevertheless, five years later my in-laws embrace me for me and love me for me and that is something that I am truly truly grateful for.

So going to visit Louisiana always feels like a trip home. Since we only get to visit once or twice a year, my father and mother in law make sure that we get our full helpings of crawfish, softshell crab, oysters, shrimp, and catfish. Needless to say, outside of seeing my family, going to Louisiana to eat is one of the things I look forward to the most.

More than that I have gained two sisters who I love, along with five nephews and two nieces. My son will have much to look forward to on his summers to Louisiana while his cousins show him how to play baseball, football, basketball, and chess.

My first superman....

If my husband is my heart, then it's fair to say that my father is my carotid artery -- as his influence in my life has had the largest impact on how I think, feel, and see the world and people around me. In my mind, my father symbolizes everything that is good, right, and wholesome in the world and no matter how hard I will ever try, I don't think that I'll ever measure up to being as good of a person as he is.

Early on in life, my father drilled two things in his kid's minds: 1) To always treat people the way that we wanted to be treated and 2) "To always put the shoe on the other foot" which was meant to be the foundation of compassion, empathy, and understanding, all virtues that he wanted us to extend to other people. In me these lessons came to fruition in various ways -- as a teen and young adult I often found myself cursing people out when I felt as if they were treating others unjustly. But as an adult, these principals continue to guide everything from the career that I pursued, to the jobs that I have taken (even the bad ones), to the friends that I choose to hold close to me.

So what makes my father SO remarkable?

My father is the type of person who literally would give his last dime, last drip of sweat, last once of energy, or last breath for his family or a friend. But this isn't what makes him remarkable...it just makes him freaking AWESOME.

What really makes him remarkable is that my father didn't become this way from the example that he saw in his father - but it was a conscious decision that he made -- to be the BEST father and person that he could be - despite the example he saw in his father.

Now don't get me wrong, from what I knew of Grandpa Johnny, he was an okay father - one who I'm sure did the best with what he had and with what he knew. Nevertheless, of the things that I do know about him, I know that my grandfather was detached, unemotional, and lacked the ability to provide an emotional and nurturing environment for my father -- which led to him moving from Mississippi when he was 19 to live with his mother.

But you would never know this by meeting my father. He has acted as a stand-in father for more friends, neighbors, and cousins than I can reasonably recall. He has co-signed for more cars for people than Donald Trump -- even when he drove a broke down, rusted Ford Aerostar.

When I was a little girl I would drive with my father in his brown Dodge RAM as he went to complete carpentry jobs. My favorite memories are of when we would turn wide corners and he would yell "Hold On Kirt!" and I would hold on to his big muscle-man arms so I wouldn't be tossed across the front of the van. Even as a much older adult, this idea of my father as my superman, the one I can hold on to when things get shaky, or rough, or uncertain has never really faded away. He always has been and always will be my superman.

After overcoming a close call with lung cancer, beating death with a traumatic brain injury, and dodging a scare with colon cancer I know that once he gets to heaven the angels will give him the nickname "Clark Kent."

Love You Daddy,

The Little One