1. Wearing white high heels/flats with anything that is not a wedding dress. Just…NO.
2. Wearing apple bottoms when you possess little more than a crack. They’re called apple bottoms. I suppose it makes sense if you think of an apple with a huge bite taken out of it.
3. Wearing flip flops in the rain and/or freezing cold. I wish I could say this was a Portland thing, but Santa Barbara had a lot of this going on too. Am I the only one whose feet are always cold? *looks around*
4. Wearing crocs or tevas in any weather.
5. Driving with a dog in your lap, the dog’s body practically hanging out of the window. What IS this all about? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen this.
In other news…I’m still on the hunt for the perfect boot. I like the Frye “Heath” and the Corso Como “Sadie” , “Sandra” and
“Sasha” . Argh! When will my search be over?
Old news to some, but that’s never an excuse to keep my mouth shut: People are using Barack Obama’s white heritage to connect with ignorant fools/racists in order to get their vote. And to that I say: FAIL.
The fact that people are stooping to this level to try to find a “common bond”? Speaks volumes about where this country is at in terms of race relations. And if he didn’t have a white mother? What then? Would he be a lost cause? Does that white blood save him from being a savage? Yes, that’s it exactly. Because of who they’re catering to, this kind of bullshit is deemed necessary and acceptable.
Although people might take my marriage to a white man as a sign of some kind of longing for acceptance, I don’t need to produce light skinned children in order to get someone to see me and mine as basic human beings. Simply put, if you can’t deal with me, I can’t deal with you. My child(ren) being lighter than a paper bag doesn’t please me, it scares me. Race is all about perception. When I look at Z I see me, thus, my child is black (Mixed race when I’m being technical). But what will other people see? My fear lies in the fact that people will draw on his “whiteness” to establish his worth. “You’re one of the good ones.” “Well, you’re not really black.” These are things that were said to me, based on the way that I spoke and carried myself. I was “trying to be white”, see, just by speaking in a coherent sentence.
Who I am has largely to do with the color of my skin; my experiences as a black woman have colored (excuse the pun!) my view on a good amount of things. To some I am a bitter black woman, refusing to let things go. I prefer to think of myself as aware. Not a day goes by without some reminder that I am different from the majority of the people around me, especially during this election. People can be ugly and cruel individuals when it comes to dealing with change or difference. I am not naive enough to think that my children won’t have to deal with all of the profundities of race like I have even as they straddle the barriers. I just hope that they will have pride in who they are no matter what others might perceive them to be.
Z is slowly starting to get the hang of turning speech sounds into actual words. He’s a champ at saying No (what fun for me) and said Hi several times last night while taking a bath. He also says (i.e. gurgles) Zuri, kitty, doggy and Daddy. He finds no interest in the term Mama; it’s quite upsetting. According to my in-laws Andy started speaking at nine months and was using complete sentences by the time he was 13 or 14 months. I can’t even imagine being able to communicate with Z on that level, our conversations are all about miming something or trying to decipher which grunt means what. What? Are you pooping? Do you want a banana? Do you want me to stack blocks so that you can knock them down? I have no clue. Help Mama help YOU. I’m actually starting to sound like Gambit, I speak in the third person so often.
Oh! And have I mentioned the dancing? Z is a dancing FOOL. He hears a melody, and starts headbanging. It’s hilarious. It started with his toy train that plays a song every time you put the conductor in her seat. Now it’s EVERYTHING, me singing the ABC’s or even humming and he’s off! It’s yet another thing that makes me want to crush his face with love.
This past weekend we headed off to the lovely Eugene to visit our friends Meg and Andy, who we don’t see nearly enough. We finally got to check out their new house, which is adorable and cozy and has a great leather couch that Zain can drool on to his heart’s content without causing any actual damage. Meg made us incredibly delicious meals (I really need to learn how to cook like a grownup) and we discussed everything from politics to genetal herpes. Just kidding about the last part. But I love our conversations, Meg always manages to crack me up. I miss those crazy kids already.
While we were there Meg and I got to talking about what this next birth will be like (more like what I HOPE it will be like). I want to have a natural birth this time and it scares the shit out of me. But, I feel it needs to be done. I don’t feel right about drugging my newborn child before he enters the world. I remember getting the epidural with Z and feeling NO PAIN (Oh God it was amazing) but I freaked out soon after because his heartbeat went waaay down and all of a sudden we were discussing the possibility of an emergency c-section. And after all that, it wore off on one side. Not to mention the fact that I started running a really high fever (either due to my OB breaking my water for me or the epidural…I really have no clue) and both Z and I ended up needing antibiotics. So while it scares me to death to think of all that pain, it scares me more to think of something happening to Fetus. Meg suggested that I watch “The Business of Being Born” to get more info about natural births, home births, midwives, etc. So I did…and I ended up crying about 5 times. Give or take.
I have, as of today, switched to a midwife. It all feels so strange, like I broke up with my OB. Oh Lord, I broke up with my pregnant doctor. Am I silly to think that she’ll care? That maybe she’ll sink down into a chair and put her head in her hands whispering, “I never saw it coming…”? Maybe just a bit. Anyway, I had my consultation today and my next appointment isn’t for 3 more weeks. I feel like I’m headed in the right direction. And! The midwifery clinic is a part of a hospital, so that is a sort of “security” for me, instead of jumping straight into a home birth.
Corso Como Cannon boot. Will have. SOON.
Tano Tribal Master bag. Crazy name aside, who knows when I’ll get my hands on this yummyness. Andy pointed out that I have enough bags already. *scoffs* You can never have enough.
Filed under shoes, Shopping
Zain is going to have a little brother come March (didn’t you LOVE my cheesy title?)! Andy and I are very excited. I had been having daydreams about having a little girl lately, though…you know, the dresses, the tights, the little mary janes. This is strange because I never felt like I wanted to have a little girl and then all of a sudden BOOM. Couldn’t stop thinking about it. Andy, of course, can’t wait for one (yes, we are going to try again…several years from now). I even started looking up girl names and found the perfect one. We’ll use it some other time. And although we’ll have to wait a little longer for frilly things, I’m very happy. I can’t wait to see this kid. I mean, Andy and I already know we make good baby! 😛 So this one will be amazing, no doubt. And I’m glad Z will get a playmate so close to his age, plus we’ll save some money on clothes and shoes. 🙂 We’re still going over names (it’s Andy’s turn to come up with a first name…he takes FOREVER), but there are a few that keep coming back up.
The odd thing is: all of my sisters have boys, and all of my brothers have girls (except for one whose second child was a boy). So it seems to be a trend here. I may end up the lone female in this household!
Andy caught him mid-stride. He likes to drag around his alligator xylophone. He looks so determined!
He poses for the camera now. His preciousness KILLS me.
And here is me, 18 weeks preggers.