There is a writer that I follow on Facebook and his posts have the power to evoke intense emotion! I have been inspired by his writing many times, and I hope someday to have honed my skill enough to tread very lightly in such footsteps.
One of his posts recently was a heartwarming piece basically listing off things that he found inspirational or encouraging. So I thought I would start making my own list of things that give me the feels to help uplift my spirits! Maybe you will enjoy it too, or maybe you can be inspired to go out and create your own list. This is a big beautiful world and sometimes its easy to not see the shimmers of inspiration through the scars of tragedy or doldrums of the mundane.
* The waft of summer breezes through an open window, preferably with the faint smell of freshly mowed grass.
*The color green. Pretty much anywhere. It feels like the color of life.
*Ice cold lemonade served in a glass glass with ice cubes and a sprig of mint or strong hot nutty coffee served black in a thick ceramic mug, depending on the season.
*The smell of my Grandpa's barn. I still catch a whiff sometimes when I climb into my Grandpa's old farm truck that my brother drives now. It smells like alfalfa hay, sawdust, axle grease, and good ol' sweat.
*Morning sunlight through wispy curtains.
*Kitenge fabric. Every time I see it some place unexpected or used in a new and unique way it just makes me smile. I love the kitenge throw pillows on my couch, the kitenge I used to wrap my sweet little Afro-child in, feeling the stiff fabric slide over my skin as I pull on a kitenge dress, or recognizing a fellow sojourner from the motherland by the bright colors they are clad in.
*Fresh sheets.
*Tomatoes, green pepper, red onion, garlic, cilantro, salt, black pepper.
*Tomatoes in general. Mostly grape, cherry, or roma but I'll settle for most any of them.
*Good Mexican food. My mom has the most amazing chicken enchilada recipe that probably has WAY more calories than I should eat in it, but every year for my birthday I try to work out a way to have it because its my absolute favorite. Best beans are from CocoBolos in Manhattan, Ks. (also try their Tijuana Train Wreck, mmmm) Best salsa is the fresh batch I can whip up in one of those enormous metal mixing bowls after lots of slicing and dicing. Best burrito is Chipotle. I used to eat it as my last meal before leaving the US and my first meal coming back.
*Afrojazz.
*Good music in general. You know that kind of music that you can tell the musicians had their eyes closed when they were playing it because it just sounded so sweet. Yeah, that kind. I may be crazy, but I feel like I can audibly hear the passion leaking through.
*Well written poetry that makes you think and feel at the same time.
*Roadside food. I know you are likely to get typhoid... but everyone needs a good colon cleanse every once in a while right? No, but for real. I have met some pretty amazing roadside food vendors that are magicians at their craft. Shout out to my guy in Wandegeya that still makes the best rolex. And the little old lady in Kawempe-Mbogo that insisted that I just call her Mum when I asked her name. She fed me many a supper after a long 12 hour day at the hospital. And not forgetting my original chapatti guy in Kitintale who makes the most airy chapatti ever and kept me supplied with my daily staple when I couldn't afford much more. From samousas, popcorn, and banana pancakes to roast chicken, kikomando, and chips and eggs I've eaten it all and its amazing!
*Brightly colored flowers. Especially in unexpected places.
*Throw pillows. Don't ask me to explain, cause I can't. But I want them all.
*Seeing my husband wolf down the plate I just handed him. There is something super satisfying about seeing your hard work get demolished in such an unceremonious fashion but with such absolute pleasure that you forget that you spent 2 hours on what is being torn apart in 2 minutes. Its a good feeling to be appreciated like that.
*And while we are on the topic of husbands... watching my husband and son from a distance holding hands and trotting off somewhere, talking and laughing to each other. Just about the fullest heart feeling that I ever did feel.
*When a little kid falls asleep on your shoulder. Especially if its your own little kid, but nephews and nieces are pretty close seconds in my book!
*Cheekiness. (a little bit of humor mixed with a little bit of sarcasm)
*and many, many more...
So now its your turn... What makes your heart full? What inspires you? What uplifts your spirit? What feels like your "happy place"? Try making a list and look back at it every time you are starting to feel like life is dragging you down. You'd be surprised how it may help you refocus and remember that life is still beautiful in so many little moments!
Wednesday, June 26, 2019
Tuesday, March 26, 2019
Motherhood
So the other day my Mom asked me a very pointed question about motherhood. Nevermind that it may have been a thinly veiled attempt to probe my openness to bearing any more grandchildren for her. It has bounced around in my head several times since then. I think the main thing that gave me pause was that I felt I should have had a different answer than the one I had.
So what was the question you ask?
"Is motherhood everything that you thought it would be?"
My answer: simply "yes".
Maybe I am just more practical than most and didn't enter motherhood with any stupid ideas of idyllically rocking sleeping babies with my perfectly coiffed hair and satin dressing gown. It was probably just the way that I was raised. I knew what it was like to be a mom. It meant that everybody else's needs came way before yours. In fact you were probably so low down on the totem pole that the only time anyone ever made a consideration just for you was Mother's Day or your birthday, and even then, probably after you had been up all night with a teething or vomiting little one, feel perfectly dreadful about the baby weight and how you can't fit into any non-stretchy clothes anymore, and the last thing you want is people looking at you or giving you cake to eat. (But YAY, here's to you!)
Needless to say, I expected it. (Maybe not the extent of the baby weight, but I expected it). I knew that having a child and being a good mother meant daily laying down my wants and needs and emotions. He demanded that. You can't talk down a fussy 2 year old with your own complex emotions! HA! I'd like to see you try! Nevermind, none of us want to see that... enough evidence in the grocery store check out line. You can't eat healthy and exercise when he's there demanding you read him books and feed him an endless supply of cookies and chocolate milk. And lets be honest, you are going to be too tired for that stuff anyway by the end of the day running after this endless ball of energy. (Mommy didn't get to take a nap today like you, be kind kid!)
Now to be perfectly fair, I may have gotten off lucky with my little man too. He was by no means a particularly hard or fussy baby. He still had his moments when try as I might nothing could get him to calm down, spit up an appropriate amount at in-opportune times, cried when I left him at daycare, spread poop from one end of his room to the other, and the usual. But for the most part he's a pretty chill guy. I would like to take credit for raising him to be a tough little trucker. When he falls down or bonks on something he's not one to burst into tears, especially if he is busy playing. He'll likely just get up and run off for another adventure. Truthfully though, I don't know whether to credit that to nature or nurture.
Is motherhood full of those precious snuggly moments though? Oh my goodness yes!! I CANNOT even tell you how good it feels to snuggle up next to this little guy on the couch while he is watching his Lego Movie for the umpteenth time. The hugs, kisses, and "I love you SOOOO much!" and "Nkwaggala nnyo!" (because our love is so big one language can't contain it) that we say to each other every night before bed. The way he runs up and tackles my legs, yelling a happy, "Mommy!" when I pick him up from preschool. Tickle fights on the floor. Hide and seek/jump out and scare somebody are pretty great too.
I love to see his little mind turning with thoughts and when he pulls a new random word into his vocabulary. He's simply a star at singing at the top of his lungs in the car (I think he got that from me). My personal favorites are "Skinnamarinkydink" (or however you spell that) and when his sweet little voice belts "...I'm a child of God, yes I am" (from Hillsong's Who You Say I Am).
He is the perfect little cheerleader, always quick to say, "We did it!" or "Good job, Mommy!" Although some of that is slightly unfounded (I don't ACTUALLY have the power to change traffic lights from red to green... but we'll let him think that for a little while longer.)
There is also a simply beautiful feeling when I watch my husband being "Papa" to little man. Oh my goodness it nearly melts my heart! The way they interact and laugh together. Them dancing in the living room to Ugandan music beats or running around the yard together. I don't know if that technically falls under motherhood, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't feel that if I wasn't a mother, so we are going to count it.
But even with all that, I felt like I should have said no to her question. Like I should have been expecting something different than what I got. Most people I hear of do. They don't expect to have their lives monopolized by their tiny creation. They don't expect to lose their figure, their sleep, and a strong grip on their sanity in one fell swoop. But I had no such naivety. Perhaps that is why my husband and I reacted so differently to the news that we were to become parents. I knew what motherhood would require of me. I knew that the rewards would be beautiful, but I knew that the loss would also be real.
Worth it?
Definitely.
But not to say that I am ready to do it all over again Mom. That jury is still out. ;)
So what was the question you ask?
"Is motherhood everything that you thought it would be?"
My answer: simply "yes".
Maybe I am just more practical than most and didn't enter motherhood with any stupid ideas of idyllically rocking sleeping babies with my perfectly coiffed hair and satin dressing gown. It was probably just the way that I was raised. I knew what it was like to be a mom. It meant that everybody else's needs came way before yours. In fact you were probably so low down on the totem pole that the only time anyone ever made a consideration just for you was Mother's Day or your birthday, and even then, probably after you had been up all night with a teething or vomiting little one, feel perfectly dreadful about the baby weight and how you can't fit into any non-stretchy clothes anymore, and the last thing you want is people looking at you or giving you cake to eat. (But YAY, here's to you!)
Needless to say, I expected it. (Maybe not the extent of the baby weight, but I expected it). I knew that having a child and being a good mother meant daily laying down my wants and needs and emotions. He demanded that. You can't talk down a fussy 2 year old with your own complex emotions! HA! I'd like to see you try! Nevermind, none of us want to see that... enough evidence in the grocery store check out line. You can't eat healthy and exercise when he's there demanding you read him books and feed him an endless supply of cookies and chocolate milk. And lets be honest, you are going to be too tired for that stuff anyway by the end of the day running after this endless ball of energy. (Mommy didn't get to take a nap today like you, be kind kid!)
Now to be perfectly fair, I may have gotten off lucky with my little man too. He was by no means a particularly hard or fussy baby. He still had his moments when try as I might nothing could get him to calm down, spit up an appropriate amount at in-opportune times, cried when I left him at daycare, spread poop from one end of his room to the other, and the usual. But for the most part he's a pretty chill guy. I would like to take credit for raising him to be a tough little trucker. When he falls down or bonks on something he's not one to burst into tears, especially if he is busy playing. He'll likely just get up and run off for another adventure. Truthfully though, I don't know whether to credit that to nature or nurture.
Is motherhood full of those precious snuggly moments though? Oh my goodness yes!! I CANNOT even tell you how good it feels to snuggle up next to this little guy on the couch while he is watching his Lego Movie for the umpteenth time. The hugs, kisses, and "I love you SOOOO much!" and "Nkwaggala nnyo!" (because our love is so big one language can't contain it) that we say to each other every night before bed. The way he runs up and tackles my legs, yelling a happy, "Mommy!" when I pick him up from preschool. Tickle fights on the floor. Hide and seek/jump out and scare somebody are pretty great too.
I love to see his little mind turning with thoughts and when he pulls a new random word into his vocabulary. He's simply a star at singing at the top of his lungs in the car (I think he got that from me). My personal favorites are "Skinnamarinkydink" (or however you spell that) and when his sweet little voice belts "...I'm a child of God, yes I am" (from Hillsong's Who You Say I Am).
He is the perfect little cheerleader, always quick to say, "We did it!" or "Good job, Mommy!" Although some of that is slightly unfounded (I don't ACTUALLY have the power to change traffic lights from red to green... but we'll let him think that for a little while longer.)
There is also a simply beautiful feeling when I watch my husband being "Papa" to little man. Oh my goodness it nearly melts my heart! The way they interact and laugh together. Them dancing in the living room to Ugandan music beats or running around the yard together. I don't know if that technically falls under motherhood, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't feel that if I wasn't a mother, so we are going to count it.
But even with all that, I felt like I should have said no to her question. Like I should have been expecting something different than what I got. Most people I hear of do. They don't expect to have their lives monopolized by their tiny creation. They don't expect to lose their figure, their sleep, and a strong grip on their sanity in one fell swoop. But I had no such naivety. Perhaps that is why my husband and I reacted so differently to the news that we were to become parents. I knew what motherhood would require of me. I knew that the rewards would be beautiful, but I knew that the loss would also be real.
Worth it?
Definitely.
But not to say that I am ready to do it all over again Mom. That jury is still out. ;)
Wednesday, February 6, 2019
Confessions of a Kansas Girl in Missouri
Jan 29th was Kansas Day and let me tell you, as a proudly born and raised Kansan, I was only too happy to post about it on social media and not be low key for once.
I don't like Missouri really. I mean, CoMo is okay, but for the most part I just roll my eyes at everything here. Mold and pollen allergies are worse here, though dust and goldenrod are slightly better. The landscape is dull. It gets uncomfortably hot without a breeze and ridiculously cold. We got 17inches of snow the other weekend. I wanna go back to Uganda!!
People in Missouri can't drive worth a cow fart. No really, I looked it up. The death rate for road traffic accidents in Missouri vs. Kansas, Missouri was over double. DOUBLE! Kansas is right next door. And we take our tests with the grumpy lady from the DMV. Missourians take their driving test with a highway patrolman! How do they end up driving worse??
People smoke here. A. Lot. I hate it. My nose finds it offensive. My lungs are repulsed by it. My asthma nearly chokes and dies on it.
The only really good thing that I can get behind is their hate of KU. As a born and raised K-Stater I fully endorse a good honest dislike for all things related to Jayhawks. As they say, "My enemy's enemy is my friend."
And in a few non-Missouri related confessions:
I get unnaturally paranoid about telling people about my husband in relation to my son. If I say "my husband" it sounds like he isn't D's dad, but if I say "his Dad" it sounds like I have nothing to do with the guy! I know this paranoia is just a residual effect of being a single mom for that long year and a half, but still... Is there a good compromise besides saying both and sounding like you are confused or redundant?
My kid has become increasingly aggressive at preschool and I don't really know how to handle it. Part of me wants to pull him out immediately and keep him with me so I can preserve my sweet little boy!
I drove across town with a giant art piece on top of my rather small car last night. Not the brightest move. I didn't realize it was sprinkling until I had already walked out of the building. Thankfully I had a spare old blanket in the car to wrap the piece in. Then with the help of some spare rope to tie it down and an improvised elastic cord from the trunk to try and keep the blanket in place we set off. I had to stop probably 3 times to readjust the thing and couldn't go more than 30mph for fear it would fly off the top of my car. I made it home, but I really need to start thinking more before I do these crazy things!
In other news, the new art looks great hanging in my husband's den!
I don't like Missouri really. I mean, CoMo is okay, but for the most part I just roll my eyes at everything here. Mold and pollen allergies are worse here, though dust and goldenrod are slightly better. The landscape is dull. It gets uncomfortably hot without a breeze and ridiculously cold. We got 17inches of snow the other weekend. I wanna go back to Uganda!!
People in Missouri can't drive worth a cow fart. No really, I looked it up. The death rate for road traffic accidents in Missouri vs. Kansas, Missouri was over double. DOUBLE! Kansas is right next door. And we take our tests with the grumpy lady from the DMV. Missourians take their driving test with a highway patrolman! How do they end up driving worse??
People smoke here. A. Lot. I hate it. My nose finds it offensive. My lungs are repulsed by it. My asthma nearly chokes and dies on it.
The only really good thing that I can get behind is their hate of KU. As a born and raised K-Stater I fully endorse a good honest dislike for all things related to Jayhawks. As they say, "My enemy's enemy is my friend."
And in a few non-Missouri related confessions:
I get unnaturally paranoid about telling people about my husband in relation to my son. If I say "my husband" it sounds like he isn't D's dad, but if I say "his Dad" it sounds like I have nothing to do with the guy! I know this paranoia is just a residual effect of being a single mom for that long year and a half, but still... Is there a good compromise besides saying both and sounding like you are confused or redundant?
My kid has become increasingly aggressive at preschool and I don't really know how to handle it. Part of me wants to pull him out immediately and keep him with me so I can preserve my sweet little boy!
I drove across town with a giant art piece on top of my rather small car last night. Not the brightest move. I didn't realize it was sprinkling until I had already walked out of the building. Thankfully I had a spare old blanket in the car to wrap the piece in. Then with the help of some spare rope to tie it down and an improvised elastic cord from the trunk to try and keep the blanket in place we set off. I had to stop probably 3 times to readjust the thing and couldn't go more than 30mph for fear it would fly off the top of my car. I made it home, but I really need to start thinking more before I do these crazy things!
In other news, the new art looks great hanging in my husband's den!
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