ENOUGH!

This has been the WORST WEEK EVER.

In one week, there have been two police shootings caught on tape, which was outrageous enough. Then today I woke up to the news that there had been a sniper-like attack on a dozen police officers with five of them killed.

As we mourn publicly the senseless loss of lives, the sadness I feel is compounded by the resignation that this will only polarize us into camps of black lives versus blue lives versus all lives versus gun control versus gun rights versus whatever else is out there to make the world worse than it already is.

ENOUGH!

I am a mother now, and something strange happens when a little life enters the world with half of your DNA. You see everything with new eyes. You ask different questions of yourself. You look upon this little person with his/her emerging personality and wonder about the future. Your reactions to events is much more emotional. You realize your shortcomings and pray that in twenty years or so, the therapist will be kind.

So when I wake up every day this week to one tragedy after another with my baby girl sleeping so peacefully next to me, I am at a loss. Some of you have to explain this to your babies; luckily I do not, but one day I will and it hurts. Because she will ask me why and what will make it stop, and I will have insufficient answers.

Yet we do have the ultimate answer inside of us if we are willing to ignore the anger, the hate, and the fear. We can choose LOVE. We can decide that not just for the children we have been given, but for all of the children we will choose LOVE. Choosing love allows us to feel compassion for the families of everyone who lost someone this week. Choosing love allows us to participate in peaceful protest with police protection with the expectation that our legitimate grievances can be met with policy that serves all of our best interests. Choosing love is not choosing to value one life over another. Choosing love is to disagree about the means, but to agree that the end is certainly not more senseless death.

Live and LOVE.

Sick of Lemonade

When life keeps giving you lemons...I mean, how about an occasional lime so that I can make margaritas or mojitos?

I recently had another BIG Busy Black Woman meltdown over a slight that I could have overlooked, but chose otherwise. The details are unimportant, but let's just say that the Hub will might think twice before forgetting to text me the full details of one of his half-baked, last minute plans involving the Babe.

Yet, the real reason for my meltdown was not the Hub's sin of omission, but the postlude to time spent with my mother. We had such a good start to the day that I was lulled into a false sense of satisfaction, then shit went awry. Add to that the fact that I was hangry and probably operating on maybe four hours of sleep...so yeah, I unleashed a category 5 Busy Black Woman Hurricane.

So just know that there are days when I am not hearing the life and lemons speech because I have had enough lemonade. I am too through with trying to make the best of a fucked up situation. I am not feeling any motivational memes or biblical truths about adversity making me stronger or hardships setting me up for something greater. Screw that.

Sometimes when I catch myself wondering whether this is all really happening, and then reality bites to prove that yes, this shit is real, I fantasize about the Glamorous Life. You know, that blissful, unapologetic existence of perpetual self-involvement. The freedom from guilt or anxiety for choosing to do for myself instead of everyone else.

I get it though...I invented this persona, gave it a name, and have proven time and again that I really do have superpowers. It is the ability to handle everything even though there are plenty of other able-bodied and of-sound-mind folks in the vicinity.

Besides, you would not be reading this if I were a Busy Black Man (unicorn).