Mudder’s Day Brunch Recipes

This year I am not making anything or serving a big brunch, but if I were here a few items that would be on my menu!

Jambalaya

Fried Chicken

Cinnamon Rolls

Grits

Fruit Salad Tray

Mixed Greens Salad

Biscuits

Bellini’s

Kid’s Champagne

You’re probably saying, girl you crazy!!! That’s a whole lotta cooking! Well, I cheat a bit. There are times when I would make all of this from scratch, but there are some cheating ways you can get around this and make a fantastic meal! Remember it’s all about presentation and everything. I make a buffet set up with the food and a bar set up for the drinks. All drinks are pre made and put into pitchers. For Cinnamon Rolls I use Pillsbury Grands Cinnamon Rolls and/or the Pillsbury Orange Sweet Rolls! Super easy and delicious. I am also very quick to use Bisquick mix to make my biscuits. Now I will add some sugar or sweetener and a dash of nutmeg & cinnamon. I cook instant grits. Yes I said it, I use instant grits. But my instant grits don’t taste like instant grits. I add salt and butter to the grits while they are cooking and I stir stir stir!!! On the west coast I use Albers Quick Grits. My grandmother has used Albers, my great-aunt used Albers, my mama uses Albers…so I use Albers!! HAHA! When I was living in Texas I couldn’t find Albers so I used Quakers Instant Grits. But the box or can, not the instant packets. Those need a little more love to get the instant taste out, but they still come out creamy and delicious! Buy a watermelon wedge so you can just cut slices and then buy some of the other fruit pre cut if you don’t have time to make melon balls or cut up a pineapple. I usually will place a mix of berries in a nice ice cream or dessert cup and place in the middle of fruit tray with a couple of sprigs of mint on top for decoration.

Fruit Salad Tray:

Watermelon

Pineapple

Cantaloupe

Plum

Mango

Nectarine

Blueberries

Strawberries

Blackberries

 

Mixed Green Salad

Spring Mix Salad ( I’ve also used Kale, Spinach, Butter Lettuce and Romaine lettuce)

Shredded Carrots

Shredded Zucchini

Shredded Jicama

Shredded Beets

Shredded Cucumber

Goat or Bleu Cheese

Dried Cranberries

Pepitos or Sunflower Seeds or Whole Flax Seeds

~ Dressing: Olive Oil, Balsamic Vinegar, Honey: Mix all the items together. I slightly heat the mixture so that they blend better and then whisk together and toss on salad.

 

Fried Chicken:

Chicken : Whatever parts you like

Safflower or Canola Oil

Rice Flour (I use rice flour. It adds a little more crispness and isn’t as heavy as AP flour. Also I believe it’s gluten-free.)

Black Pepper

Lemon Pepper

Salt

Paprika

Cinnamon

Garlic Powder

 

Heat your oil first. Some people use a skillet or a frying pan. I have a small child so I can’t have the grease popping everywhere so I use a pot. Season the chicken with Salt, Pepper, Paprika, Garlic Powder & a dash of the Cinnamon and let marinate for a while. Pour flour in a baggie or paper bag and season flour with Lemon Pepper, Paprika, Garlic Powder and a dash of Salt and mix. Place Chicken in flour and shake until chicken is covered. Remove Chicken and shake off excess flour then place in hot oil and fry until golden brown. You can season the Chicken the night before.

 

Jambalaya:

Chicken (I use boneless skinless thighs)

Hot or Andouille Sausage (In LA I use Pete’s Hot Sausage in Los Angeles. In Texas I used Earl Campbell’s Sausage)

Chicken Stock (I use low sodium because a lot of sodium and seasoning goes into this dish)

Shrimp (Deveined & Tails removed)

Worcestershire Sauce

White Onion

Fresh Garlic

Bell Pepper (I use a trio of colors. If you don’t want to waste bell peppers, then use the small ones so you can use one whole one of each)

Tomato

Olive Oil

Black Pepper

Salt

Garlic Powder

Oregano

Thyme

Onion Powder

Cayenne Pepper

Bay Leaves

Jasmine or Basmati Rice (You can use whatever type of rice you’d like, I use Jasmine or Basmati)

 

Chop Onion, Garlic, Bell Pepper. Dice Tomato & Hot Sausage. Season Chicken & Shrimp with Salt, Pepper, Garlic Powder and let marinate. Start to cook Rice separately. Oil the pot you intend to cook the Jambalaya in with Olive Oil and brown your chicken (whole filet or piece). Cook mostly through (you will have to continue to cook in Jambalaya mixture. Once Chicken is brown, remove and set aside. In same oil brown sausage. Once brown, remove and set aside. Place Onions, Garlic, Bell Pepper in oil and cook until translucent. Add more Olive Oil if necessary to the trinity. Add Bay Leaf and Tomato. Season with Oregano, Salt, Pepper, Thyme, Pepper, Onion Powder, Worcestershire Sauce, Cayenne Pepper (to your liking). Stir together. Chop Chicken and add along with sausage. Add Chicken Stock. You don’t want to make it soupy, but you want to be able to blend the rice in perfectly. A cup or two should do. Just see how it looks. It depends on how many ingredients you have. Once you add stock, then you can add Shrimp. Stir and simmer for about 15 minutes. Make sure Chicken and Shrimp are cooked. Once it’s all cooked and warmed add cooked Rice and stir & mix.

 

Bellini’s

Barefoot Brut, Moet White Star or Veuve-Clicquot (Because of mixing I use the cheaper Barefoot because it’s just as tasty for almost have the price)

Kern’s Mango, Guava, Peach & Strawberry

Sliced Strawberries

Sliced Peaches

Sliced Mango

 

My mixes are as follows: Peach & Guava, Peach & Strawberry, Peach, Guava Mango, Mango & Peach, Mango & Strawberry, Strawberry Guava. I put the fruit slices out next to the glasses so people can put their own type of fruit in their Bellini’s I usually make one pitcher at a time of a certain mix.

 

Kid’s Champagne

Sparkling Water

Grape Juice

Kern’s Strawberry Nectar

 

Mix the Juice together. The water will break it down so you can use ginger ale instead if you want more taste, but I dilute drinks for kid’s anyhow. Add all together in a pitcher and stir. Don’t add ice to pitcher.

 

Happy Mother’s Day or as Jax says, Happy My Mudder’s Day!!!

Living Like You’re Dying

I am sitting here watching StepMom with Susan Sarandon and Julia Roberts. It’s the scene where Susan Sarandon’s character’s comes out of the bathroom from throwing up, laundry on the floor from her dropping it to run to the bathroom, having to call someone to pick up her child from a party and then getting angry as she realizes that her entire world is being snatched for her by a disease. Her pride and anger stand in front of her not allowing her to neither tell someone how sick she really is and feeling and from receiving the help she needs. The fear of dying is crippling her and her pride is killing her.

Sometimes when you are ill with something as debilitating as Cancer, Colitis, AIDS, Lupus, etc. it is very easy to fall into this mood of trying to prove to everyone that you are still the same person you were before you got sick. It literally makes you forget how to find humility and ask for help. It seems like all you ever feel is anger, resentment, fear, confusion and embarrassment. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week of pain, fake smiles and fear…mostly fear. Especially when you have children.

I was diagnosed with my disease and sick before I even met my ex and it didn’t scare me. But there were moments when my body was truly working against me, and all I could think about was making the laundry disappear, the house as clean as it could be, putting a smile on Steven’s face and amazing food in Jaxon’s belly…but I couldn’t even walk out of the bathroom. I felt myself fading away. I would wake in the middle of the night and lay and listen to Steven breathe and snore or sit in the rocker next to Jaxon’s bed and watch him sleep. I was living like I was dying. When I was packing up my stuff this fall in Texas I found all my journals of notes to Steven and Jax, just in case my next hospital visit was my last. On my bad days or my good days I would write down the date and the time and the moment. The moment usually included them in my thoughts, so I wrote down my thoughts. Sometimes it was a memory. Sometimes it was song lyrics that reflected my feeling for them. It was like I was recording for the future. Afraid of missing out and afraid of being forgotten. Everything had to be a memory that neither one of them would forget. I went over the top and out of my way to create rituals, and make everything was an event, taking pictures of every little moment. Everything was sacred and special as if it were the last time.

I wanted Jax to know every moment that he was alive I lived for him. I wanted to Steven to know that every moment we shared together was the best moment of my life. Making my mark on the world wasn’t important anymore. It wasn’t that time was running out, it was I didn’t know how much of that time would be standing up and out of a bathroom. I just didn’t know how much time I had, and most of that time I had I didn’t feel very alive. The way my mother looked at me. The way my friends looked at me. The way Steven looked at me. The way the doctor’s looked at me. It scared me. I accepted my disease in the wrong way. I accepted it to be the end and so I spent my time prepping to die and not enjoying the fact that I was living. I didn’t really know what I looked like, but I know what I felt like and I knew that there wasn’t a way that I could live this sick for very long. I was either going to find a way to get better or death would find an escape plan for me.

I was so afraid of being so sick that I wasn’t able to be a mom and that Jax would grow up and not remember having a decent mother like his friend’s had. I was afraid of him having this image of a pale, drawn in, sickly looking, ugly woman for a mother and not the beautiful girl I was when he was first born. I didn’t know how to ask for help and I ran myself even further into the ground trying to be the perfect mother, the perfect daughter, the perfect sister, the perfect friend,  the perfect daughter in law and the perfect wife while my entire body hurt from the time I awoke to the time I shut my eyes. But had I been honest about just how much I was hurting. If I took a moment to allow myself healing time instead of trying to pretend I could handle it all. I should have said no more, cared less about what I thought people thought and listened to what they were saying. I should have taken people up on their offers more. I took it more as offense when they told me to take a rest, or when they offered to help or step in for me with Jax or cleaning, etc. The disease didn’t isolate me, I isolated me. Asking for help doesn’t make you weak, it shows you’re smart! Know that you aren’t dead yet, so if the doctor hasn’t given you a date, don’t set one. Just live and enjoy! You’re kids will never forget you, you live inside of them! You can’t begin to heal if you’re stressing about dying!

 

Siri & The Toddler

I swear I wouldn’t have believed it if I had not just witnessed it with my own eyes. My 2 1/2 yr old just dialed my mother and texted his father on his own through Siri on my iPhone. He not only intentionally performed both acts, but he also found himself getting frustrated with Siri the same way I do when she didn’t comply with his request! I can only assume he’s learned how to do this from watching both his parents use Siri at some point over the past few months. Kids are full of surprises and parenthood is full of challenges, surprises and adventures. What I wasn’t prepared for is my technologically inclined toddler. I was worried about Tempera paint stains on the carpet, playdoh in my sinks and pacifiers hidden in my shoes. I wasn’t thinking about the little phone, tablet and computer hacker I’ve given birth to.

Yes it’s definitely a sign of the times. We are raising children in the age of social media & news travelling at the speed of sound landing at everyone’s fingertips. Without your knowledge or consent, you’re toddler like mine is proficient at navigating through Facebook. Although you haven’t taught him how, he is using tools to help him call his Nana when he discovers something new on Sesame Street. This is just where we are. Where as I am pushing for flipping pages through our favorite book and tracing letters vs. typing them. I must concede a bit to the fact that my son has given me lessons on how to use my iPad. So now starts the balancing act. Bring in the basics, slow it down a bit while still interweaving the fast paced age of twitter & education apps. Some people feel like hand written letters, taking pictures with film & playing records are a waste of time because the digital age is swallowing us up whole and there is no place for these archaic items. I beg to differ. How can you get to where you are going if you don’t know where you come from? How can you appreciate what you have if you don’t know where it comes from. I remember being appalled at the fact that some students in film school didn’t know that Bins in Final Cut Pro comes from the fact that back in the day film actually use to hang in bins organized in chronological order while editing. Most of the students had never even cut on film simply because people feel that it’s not necessary to teach because we edit digitally now and film is pretty much non-existent. But where is the respect for the craft. Where is the basic history lesson? It actually made me a little sad for these kids who only understand one element of filmmaking. In order to compete successfully in the Global arena, shouldn’t we start creating more well-rounded competitors? It’s up to those of us that remember making real mixtapes with our boom boxes, developing film in the one hour photo at Thrifty’s and using skateboards to get to school and not just for YouTube fame to bridge the gap between analog and digital!!!

Well I don’t know about you, but my little iPhone hacking toddler will be handwriting and drawing a letter to his Nana & Paw Paw this evening after he finishes his Super Why reading app game on the iPad.

My Own Eat, Pray, Love moment

Okay, well maybe I haven’t found the love yet. I have a feeling that is coming for me. But the past few months have been spent with me clocking in countless hours talking to the Big Guy about everything, looking for answers, finding answers and discovering peace with certain things. Life was thrown into perspective in a couple pretty violent and drastic ways, but it’s brought me a sense of clarity and focus unlike I’ve ever felt before. Not to say that I’ve developed a Monk sensibility and walk about in a constant state of Zen, but I have a better understanding of myself, life, love and my purpose. I never knew my own strength. I never gave myself enough credit. I never enjoyed  the things and people around me enough. I didn’t enjoy. I was too busy being sick. And before I was sick, I was too busy trying to make it and work my ass off to prove something to other people. I didn’t do anything for me or because I wanted to. I did for others. Helped others. Believed in others. Proved to others. Not a very good way to live.

I feel like I’ve been reborn. Given a second chance. Time to learn a new life. I’m ready to learn my new normal. It’s taking sometime, some adjusting. Overall, I think life is gonna be beautiful. So I pray. I don’t just pray for things. I pray in thanks. I pray for others and not that they get what they ask, but whatever it is that we need. Everything that we need is not always what we want or even know we wanted. I certainly didn’t want this surgery or this bag, but it’s one of the best things that has happened to me. I didn’t have to travel to India or Bali or even seek out some old catholic cathedral here in the states to reinvent my relationship with God. We just started up a conversation. But this time, I knew what I wanted to say to Him. And it isn’t always a sense of gratitude, I lay down my troubles and grievances with him too. I mean He made me, who else can I really turn to? Faith is interesting. There is no real happiness without it. There is no love without happiness. There is no life without love. So I guess it always comes back to Faith…and God. It always comes back to God.

As far as Eat is concerned…I’ve been doing just that! I believe Caesar, The Conqueror of All (my stomach), has risen from the dead and is ready to take his place at the throne again! LOL! The doctors said something about needing to gain 15 lbs before next surgery and it is has been my pleasure to fulfill that request. For the first time in about 2/3 years I am actually hungry. It’s an amazing feeling! To approach the door of a restaurant and not stress about where the bathroom is, what I can and cannot eat, how much I will be able to eat, not get nauseous at the thought of eating feels like a dead weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I taught myself how to force myself to eat and forced enjoyment…now it comes naturally. It’s a whole new world, a whole new me! Yesterday I went to celebrate a girlfriend’s birthday at Boiling Crab. It was like a rediscovering a beautiful gem. The aroma was new, as if I had smelled it for the first time. The taste was brand new and fulfilling. It felt like a rebirth. I was actually giddy and excited about food again. I hadn’t eaten this much since I was pregnant three years ago! It brought me to silent joyful tears after I was done. I was alive and living to live. I had spent so many years with this disease cramming things in, forcing smiles through pain, trying to record each and every second like it was my last not necessarily enjoying it like I deserved to,  just trying to get through each minute of pain. I was living like I was dying. I now find myself living for life. Enjoying each second as a blessing and looking forward to the next believing that it will come for me and it will be more beautiful than the moment before!

I’ve prayed. I’ve eaten. Now, I’m open for love!

Delish Chix Recipe~ An oldie but a goodie from my BrooklynBites Blog

This was a recipe I made up on the fly one night, late at night, pregnant with a hungry man staring at me from the living room! I jumped into action, threw something together and he pretty much ate ALL the wings in the pan… two packs mind you! I remember it being quite good, so I decided to share this on my BrooklynBites blog the next day. Here is the original post. Hope you enjoy!!

So last night I threw some chicken together at the last minute and it was gooder than good!! I decided to share my little throwdown (mommy’s fav word) recipe with you all. If I had known how good it was I would have taken a pic. Now a warning… I never measure. I guess that’s the southerner in me… I eye ball and taste it out, so I’m just gonna give you the basics.

ingredients:

chicken wings
salt
black ground pepper
garlic powder
paprika
dried lemon peel
onion
nectarines
balsamic vinaigrette
rosemary
lemon
honey
olive oil

Lots of ingredients, I know… but so worth it! So, here’s what I did:
Place the wings in a mixing bowl. Add a little OLIVE OIL and mix into wings. Season the chicken with the SALT, PEPPER, PAPRIKA, LEMON PEEL & GARLIC POWDER. Add a few stalks of ROSEMARY. I break them slightly at the bark to let some flavor out. Drizzle a bit of HONEY & BALSAMIC VINAIGRETTE over chicken and mix. Cover and place in fridge for a couple of hours to marinate.

Preheat oven to 400. Slice up 1/3 of an ONION and a whole NECTARINE. Add a bit of WATER and OLIVE OIL and LEMON JUICE to the bottom of a Pyrex dish. Add sliced ONION and MARINATED ROSEMARY STALKS (from the chicken bowl) in water and oil mix. Place CHICKEN in on top of ONION AND ROSEMARY. Place NECTARINE slices on top of wings, drizzle HONEY and LEMON JUICE on top and cover with foil. Keep in oven until its cooked thoroughly, basting every 5-10 mins. Once it’s completely cooked, uncover the dish and allow chicken and nectarines to brown on top.

Really easy. Great for a date or just something to whip real quick! Enjoy!!

Just Another Ordinary, Extraordinary Day

Today was the first time in about five months that my son spent time with both of his parents since our break up last September. There have been uphill war battles, flat land war battles, air dropped bombed war battles, nuclear war battles and few days of peace in between. Needless to say it hasn’t been the easiest of transitions for all three of us. Wednesday, my ex came into town to come and spend a few days with Jaxon after not being able to see one another for four months. Seeing the way the looked at one another Wednesday night when said Ex walked through the door melted me into a puddle of goo. Through it all, one thing has always been constant, their bond has been unbreakable. The distant has changed it for sure, but that is to be expected of course.

My nerves and guard were completely up of course because it wasn’t too long ago that Steven and I had one of our emphasis blow ups. It amazes me how we can butt heads like we do in some a ferocious way and then be okay. It’s always been this way. Arguments turn into blow ups and then we go back to normal. It’s not healthy, it’s not fun and I can’t figure out how to stop. And since we’ve broken up, it’s only gotten uglier. The problem is that we never made an effort to create a good communication flow that we were both comfortable with. We left a lot unsaid for the sake of peace or we just ignored a lot. Now it seems every little thing that irked us about the other is coming out. But it’s actually just three major things on both sides, and it seems like no matter what the other seems to do to fix the issue, the other person refuses to see it. I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve seen improvement in certain areas that bothered me, but when he pushes my buttons I will ignore it and hit below the belt. He does the same thing. So you see why I was nervous?

Now all was not bad. Actually most of our relationship was great. We were like Cliff & Clair Huxtable. Lucy & Ricky. Sinclair & Overton. Bonnie & Clyde. Milli & Vanilli! We started off dating, but as a romance bloomed so did this passionate, truthful, free, trusting friendship that was the base of our relationship. It started that way because to be honest, Steven and I are a lot alike. It was very hard for me to admit at first because I didn’t really see it. I actually saw him as my polar opposite. He is calm, where I am fiery. He is structured where I am artistic & creative. He is conservative where I am free loving. He is easy-going where I need a plan. I over-communicate, he doesn’t communicate at all. But the things we loved and are passionate about, are aligned like the stars. And the way we love, the way we guard from love. Our stubbornness has kept us toe to toe. Our love for our family and loyalty to our friends bridged us closer together. Our passion for politics, music, cars,art,  God, community and laughter harmonized us. Then there was/is our love for food and all that is delicious! I would cook and cook and he would eat and eat. He was the easiest person to talk to, and became the only person I could talk to that understood me and vice versa. We learned each other through words and sometimes it was as if we could read each other’s thoughts. We fell into a quick sync, joined at the hip without even realizing it and finishing each other’s sentences. Creating characters like “Rich Eccentric Steve”, “Retired Steve” & “Retired Brooke”, “Eccentric Producer Brooke” and other classics. We entertained ourselves and each other with the silliest things. We had created our own world and people loved to come in and visit. How did we fall apart? Colitis and mood swings/responsibility/misunderstanding of the disease and all that goes with it, miscommunication and too many distractions. Also, we both got lazy and just stopped trying. It happens to a lot of people. Sad, but true… but I digress! That’s a whole ‘nutha post on why we need to step our relationship game up when after we decide to have families!!

Today seemed like one of those days. For a day we were tag teaming parents, laughing old friends, caring old friends…in fact I think “Rich Eccentric Steve” paid a visit this afternoon after lunch. My son was at his happiest and Steven and I, well, we were in sync. Not one argument or disagreement. Not one dirty look or nasty word. No disrespect. No distractions. No discomfort. It was like any other day for the three of us. It was amazing, almost extraordinary if you consider the last few months. I mean dare I say that I enjoyed today? Dare I say that I enjoyed the company of my ex? Yes, I do and did. It was actually nice to have my old friend back. To not have uncomfortable forced conversations. To just be able to say something to him and not have to think and over think my words. To be at ease with what seemed to be an old friend. To see my son so happy and comfortable was a great feeling. To see Steven relaxed and back to who he use to be with me was good. It was nothing less than just another ordinary, extraordinary, awesome day!

Do I think we can be best friends again, I don’t know. Wounds have just started to scab over and emotions still run high. Would I like to be friends? To be honest yes. I miss my friendship with Steven on most days. I do miss our family dynamic, but that will always be, just in a different way. As far as me and Steven separate from being parents, I do miss him as a person. He’s a great person at heart and he is someone who I enjoyed having in my circle because he brought great things to the table. I hope that today was a jump off of whats to come. I hope that we can grow from this point, this day and start anew. Start listening more than yelling. Stop being so defensive. Stop pushing and pulling. Stop hurting one another…for no reason. We can co-exist as parents and as people. Brooke & Steve, the buddies came out today. It gave me hope that all is not lost. That there is no hate residing deep in his heart or even in mine. It gave me hope that we can co-parent and allow our son to feel secure and loved by both of his parents. It gave me hope that maybe, just maybe we don’t have to live with this guard up against each other. That maybe, just maybe our love has grown and moved into a different kind of space, but that the love is there.

I think it’s going to take some time. Like I said, scabs just formed. But I have a feeling things will be brighter, lighter and easier for the three of us. We have to just take the time to work at it. Cultivate it and want it! If not for ourselves than for our son. All hope is not lost!  Today was truly an awesome day, and the kids are gonna be alright! From the bottom of my heart, thank you, God! Thank you!

Mom, No, Mommy, No, Ma, No Mommy, No, Mom, Moooommmeee, NO!

Sometimes I feel like the toddler stages are spent with you looking at your child wondering why they are acting like the kids on nanny 911. And then wondering why they are acting like the kids on nanny 911. You aren’t the type of parent who has the kids on nanny 911. I know I am not the parent who would ever have kids like those on nanny 911. Yet I have found myself having stare down contests with my two-year old. Then there was that time we were walking in the mall and suddenly his hand slipped from my hand and when I looked down he was on the floor throwing his body around screaming incoherently. Or what about that time he laughed in my face when I spanked his little hand for hitting the dog? Or this constant NO he says to EVERY THING!! REALLY SON?! You’re just gonna say No to everything? Where did I learn that word? And where did he learn things like, “I won’t” “Not today!” “I don’t want to” “I don’t like it” I mean I want my kid to have an opinion, but I don’t even know if this is an opinion or him just being stubborn. Sometimes I wonder if he even knows that the word, Yes exists. I swear when my kid isn’t saying my name over and over again, he’s saying No over and over and over again!!!

The hippie in me screams out, “Don’t shatter his spirit. Only use positive reinforcement. Let him express himself!” Then the sleepless mother with a headache from the No scream-a-thon is looking ferociously for the time out chair. And then there is the southern mother in me who looks him in the eye ball and in the lowest calmest voice I don’t even recognize, I hear myself say, “Boy if you don’t shut your mouth right now, I’m gonna give you something to say no about. Now find a book to read and chair to park your boom boom in. I don’t want to hear another word, you hear?!” The sad part is there are days when all three of these personalities lose! There isn’t one rule to stand by when disciplining because every situation is different. You can’t always let things go, Time out doesn’t always work, talking it out isn’t always the solution and spanking  doesn’t always get a result. So you do the best you can with each situation. One thing I never do is punish without explaining why he is getting punished or spanked. But then of course you get hoodwinked with the super sweet I’m sorry and shower of kisses before he takes off to cause more havoc!

And is it just me or is it like completely over night that your sweet toddler who does everything you say turns into Dennis The Menace?! I literally feel like one day, Jax woke up and became the spokesperson for the The Terrible Two’s. I can honestly say that while I was a babysitter/Nanny I don’t ever remember it being this scary. It’s like one minute I have this sweet amazing brilliant funny little guy who dances, asks cute questions and smothers me with kisses. And then in a flash when he realizes things may not go his way, I feel like I’m either being punked or on an episode of Nanny 911. I have become one of those parents I would look at and wonder, “So you’re gonna just let you’re kid carry on like that?!” Perhaps this is God getting me back for being so damned judgmental and not having walked a day in their shoes. Well I’m in their shoes now and, well… HELP ME NANNY 911!!!

Someone told me the other day that 3 can sometimes be worse than 2……BUT… It doesn’t last forever! No, it gets better. They start to understand consequence and punishment. They start to like saying yes instead of no. They enjoy pleasing you and helping you around the house and being around you. Then…they turn 13…. Damn!

Ps. Your parents are laughing at you! I know my mom is for SURE! She giggles something about payback or something. Yea…Yea…

Talking Myself Out Of A Pity Party

So in a little over a year I have moved to a different state, lost the partner in my non-profit, enrolled my son into preschool, lost my boyfriend, moved back to my original state, become a single mother, become unemployed, moved in with my mother, almost lost my lost, lost my colon and gained an ileostomy bag. Now I’m not one for a holding a self-pity party, but damn… can a sista get a break?!

Since coming home from the hospital I have gone through a cycle of emotions. The overwhelming feeling of gratitude toward God for giving me a second chance at life has been the main one. But there are moments when anger, frustration, resentment and despair and anxiety kinda take over. I mean it sounds so ridiculous for me to ever say or act anything other than grateful for this surgery and they way it happened so fast. Unfortunately the human side of me takes over when I have to look at this bag, or empty this bag or when the fifth day comes for me to change this bag. I almost have to take myself out of the equation and act like it’s not my body. Like it doesn’t belong to me. Maybe it would be easier to accept this Stoma and it’s bag, but why should I? It’s not me! And after the latter part of this year, it won’t be attached to my body. So why should I accept something that is only temporary? Accepting it makes it real. And to be honest I’m not sure if I want it to be real yet.

See I’m ready to accept the great stuff. The fact that the colitis is gone and will never come back. I can accept and celebrate living pain-free. I have accepted being able to be a normal mother and partner and not having to take pain medication and supplements all day long just to be able to go have dinner out with friends. What I haven’t accepted is having a fake colon or no colon at all. It’s so weird to think that something I never really gave a second thought about has left me feeling like there was something ripped out of my body. Even though it was killing me, it still feels like they stole apart of my soul. Sounds silly, I’m sure it does. But this is definitely something I can say you can’t really understand unless you’ve been there. Not being able to do a simple bodily function like pooping from your butt is pretty crazy if you think about it. I mean you don’t think about it, so to not do it just doesn’t compute…until you can’t. And you’re left feeling like alien lady with a bag on your pelvis that no one can see but you, but you feel like everyone can see it! I’ve been told you can’t see it…uh, okay, sure.

Sometimes I allow myself to believe that I am brave for making the choice or brave for living with this thing on me. Sometimes I even applaud myself for getting through a leak or a ripped bag or a change or a cleaning. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I shake and breathe in so deeply I swear I’ve sucked all the air out of the room. Sometimes I shut my eyes and try to remember what my stomach use to look like before the bag, before the baby…when I was beautiful. Sometimes I just sit and stare at it and think nothing at all. It’s a strange thing, life. The shit it throws at you and expects you to take. But you take it and you roll with it. Sometimes you stumble over it, but you figure out how to pick it back up and keep going. Yesterday I damn near passed out on the nurse as she tried to help me change this thing. I don’t know why. I thought I was getting use to it. I guess not. After she left I felt like I had been in a battle. It was like my body was in a battle with my mind. But no one won, they both raised their white flags and yelled out, “I surrender!”. Everyone keeps saying its a process, but all those folks seem to still have their healthy colons attached to their rectum. Nevertheless, I suppose they are right, it’s a process. A process of what and for how long, I don’t know. But it’s a process. Although I have a funny feeling that by the time I’m okay and comfortable with this damn thing, it’ll be time to reverse it. Then it will be nothing more than a distant memory.

So I think I’ll give myself about five more minutes of this pity party and then let it go for now until the next leak, ripped bag or someone treating me like a freak of nature occurs. I mean at the end of the day, it’s never going to feel all the way okay. It’s just not! It’s a freakin’ bag that holds poop on my lower hip/pelvis and I’m missing a colon! Wooo-saaah! Wooo-saaaah!! AGAIN, it’s not forever. The fake colon goes in in July. Bag comes off about 2-3 months later. By 2013 your girl will look and feel like a brand new person! But today… oh today was not a good day. Somedays will be like that, I guess. Tomorrow won’t, though! And that my friends is a reason to smile.

I’m Alive…Yes, I Am…I’m Alive

It has taken me a week to begin this post. Part of it is the fact that I am still trying to wrap my brain around the entire event and all that has happened over the past 3 weeks. Part of it is a bit of shame and embarrassment. And then part of it is I’m still trying to understand it all. But at the encouragement of my mother, I’m going to use my little platform to share my story. She made me realize that I could be helping someone else make the decision…maybe someone else won’t feel so alone.

Now you’re probably like, What the hell is she talking about? Well, as most of my readers know I suffer from Ulcerative Colitis, specifically left-sided colitis. I was diagnosed a little about five years ago and after I had my son my disease took a drastic turn. I began to have joint issues, my hair fell out, my skin would become sensitive to touch and the sun, etc. I had extreme pain most days in back, my side and stomach. I had frequent bathroom visits that mostly consisted of bloody diarrhea that left me feeling nauseous and in pain after each visit. These are some basic symptoms, unfortunately for me with no more health insurance because of my pre-existing condition and just not a lot of knowledge of the disease itself, my colitis got out of control. When I say out of control I mean it took over my life completely. I was unable to be really social. I was unable to work. It took a toll on my ex and our relationship, and eventually he left. I suffered from depression and had more emergency room visits than I could count. In 3 years I’ve had 3 in patient hospital visits, 2 miscarriages and I went from a healthy 128lbs to 106lbs. Colitis was killing me.

Now through all this I found a way to have a baby, move to a different state, provide homemade baby food for my son & daily dinners/lunches for my ex. I started a foundation and worked on building its programs. I did birthday parties, dinner parties, Disneyland trips, home-schooled my son and worked a few different part-time jobs. Don’t ask how I did it… I truly don’t know. I guess I didn’t feel I had an opportunity to really be sick, so I just acted like I wasn’t and lived. But I wasn’t living. I was dying. And it finally caught up with me about three weeks ago when I finally went to see my Gastroenterologist after having a flare up for about 5 weeks. I was hardly able to sit up, let alone stand. I had been taking prednisone for 5 weeks without any improvement and the Vicodin seemed more like a low dose of infant Tylenol! I was weighing in at 106lbs and was severely dehydrated. He took one look at me and told me to he was calling across the street to Cedars Sinai emergency room to make sure that I would be admitted. And so my grandmother helped me across the street where I find myself in the worse pain I had ever felt in my life. Imagine someone taking shards of glass and raking them up and down your back while simultaneously stabbing you in your side while your insides feel like they’ve been set on fire. Between the pain and the nausea, I was left in tears while I waited for them to call my name. This wasn’t the first time colitis pain had brought me to my knees sobbing like a child, but I had made up my mind that this would be the last time. I had decided that it was time to look into long-term treatment, Remicade.

Remicade was something that had been brought to my attention a few times by various doctors and other IBD patients. I had watched my younger cousin with Crohn’s Disease  go from constant flare ups to a normal existence in a matter of months. All I kept hearing is, “I got my life back!” As I laid on the gurney thinking about the last two years of my life and realizing that I could count on one hand how many months I was in remission than flare up, I decided that I too wanted my life back. When I was admitted, a plan went into action with a team of doctors to try to figure out where to go from there. I assumed that they would be the first to jump on my Remicade bandwagon! I mean it seemed to be the hit miracle drug for IBD patients who were finding themselves in constant flare up. But after a few days of no change in pain and no response to the heavy steroid dosage, a new plan was presented to me. Colectomy! My head started swimming! Colectomy? Colectomy as in that surgery where you remove my colon out of my body, forever?! As in I will not have a colon anymore?? WOW! Wait, what happened to Remicade?! The last time someone presented the idea of a colectomy to me was when I was diagnosed with UC. My doctor told me my UC was not that bad and that a surgery like that was a long way off for me! Like a long way off! In fact he said something like, we’ll discuss it when you’re 40 and done having children. Well, I’m not 40! Hell, I haven’t even turned 30 yet and I’m certainly not done having children! So, wait, huh?! Don’t you think we’re jumping the gun here. Then there was that thing about the pouch on your hip that you have to poop into because you no longer have a colon to hold it for you. So, you’re telling me that I am starting off my newly single life with a freakin’ pouch on my hip that will hold my poop, I may not be able to have children and I’ll be colon-less… all before I’m 30?!

I shut down. I stopped listening to what they had to say. My ears started to ring and I found it hard to breathe. In the past year I had moved from Los Angeles to Texas, virtually halting my whole career, my boyfriend had left me, I had to move back in with my mother, I lost so much weight I couldn’t fit into my clothes and now, now they wanted to take my colon and replace it with an ileostomy bag! Clearly God was angry with me! Clearly. I begged that the surgery be the last option, let’s just give the medication a chance to work. Well within 7 days the brought the surgeons in to talk to me. What I didn’t realize is that I was basically a ticking time bomb of internal bleeding. My colon was beyond repair. Trying to do anytime of fusion intense medication only had a 50/50 chance of restoring my organs and saving my life. The medications needed two weeks to get into my system and apparently there was a very good chance that my colon could perforate in that time and then medications don’t matter because we are talking, lights out! So, I’m listening to this surgeon make his case for the colectomy. It seemed that there was a lot of advancement in the five years since it was first presented. Turns out, the colon is replaced with something called a J-Pouch. I still will have to have an ileostomy bag, but for only a few months and not a lifetime. I also will still be able to have children, it will take careful planning, but it’s possible. Okay, so it no longer sounded like a death sentence, but I still wanted to see if we could keep me intact and try the medication. They agreed…….until, the results from my second colonoscopy came in. Apparently there were parts of my colon where the tissue was so thin, they were surprised I hadn’t had a perforation yet. The doctor told me I had a good solid two months at the most to live in the condition I was in. That it was all up to me how I wanted to handle it. I could definitely still try the medication route and wait to see what would happen. I’d continue to be hospitalized, and they could keep trying to help me manage my pain as best they could. And in that waiting to see if the medication begins to work I could also have a rupture, bleed out or have to get a feeding tube because I was very malnourished. OR I could just get the colectomy. And then they left me with my thoughts.

At that moment I swore I heard Jax say, “Mommy!” and I knew there really wasn’t a choice. I needed to live. I wanted to live. Colitis had taken two years of my life and had stolen a lot of things from me…I wasn’t going to let it rob Jaxon of having a mother. And, I just wasn’t ready to die! So colectomy it is! And on April 7th, the amazing doctors at Cedars Sinai removed my colitis infected colon from my body and made me a stoma. And in an instant I became colitis free! The crazy thing is how amazing I felt just in a day. I mean aside from the surgery pain, I felt better than I’ve felt in 5 years. All of my symptoms disappeared over night! It was as if I was a totally different person. For the first time in a long time I felt healthy! I felt human! I felt alive! My incision pain felt like a paper cut compared to what I had been living with for the past few years. I started to wonder how I even lived like I was living. How was I able to function like I did on a daily basis in that kind of pain? Living colitis free for those first few days was an almost an out-of-body experience. I had forgotten what it was like to not wake up in pain from head to toe.

So why am I broadcasting this? Well, for one I’m a little tired of being embarrassed about my condition. There is nothing to be embarrassed about! Having any kind of autoimmune disease or IB disease is hard to live with, because for the most part people can’t really understand what you are going through. Half of the time, they don’t understand your condition. It leaves you feeling ashamed, embarrassed, alone and frustrated. I would spend hours online looking for online communities or stories of mommies who were walking in my shoes and I couldn’t find any. And I know someone is out there right now trying to make the decision and it’s a very scary one! A VERY SCARY ONE! But if this is the best thing! A few months of an ileostomy bag is better than the pain you are feeling now. Yes I have my days, and it’s still very hard for me to look at. But I know it’s a means to an end and it’s temporary. IT’S TEMPORARY! And you are not alone.

All I know is I’m alive, I’m colitis free and my son is trying to learn how to ride his scooter… I’d say I’m pretty blessed!

Born A Suspect

I am a 5’4″, 114lbs, 28 1/2 year old stay at home single mother of a 2 year old toddler who is educated, volunteers & donates to charity, works in entertainment, has started a non profit for education, a registered democrat, a tax payer, God fearing Catholic who lives in a Los Angeles suburb. I also happen to be black.

You know I didn’t realize how scary or threatening I can be. Every time I wear a hoodie when it’s raining or I’m working out or it’s cold, I suppose I should wear a sign that lists how American I am so that I don’t scare people. Perhaps I should carry a bracelet like a Medic-Alert that has all of my non threatening information on it, assuring folks that I am one of the good non threatening young minorities. That way when I’m walking down the street where my hood is covering my head from the cold, but my brown hands are exposed, the white man I pass on the street doesn’t fear me. Or maybe I should just not wear a hoodie anymore. Maybe I shouldn’t wear my hair naturally and curly. I should make sure to never stroll down the street with my hands in my pockets.

Geraldo made a statement that African American & Latino parents should know better than to let their children walk around with hoodies on because people will fear them. That’s the hood will give people cause to arrest, frisk and/or harass them. He actually stated that the hoodie was as much to blame for Trayvon’s murder as is Zimmerman. Yes, you read that right! This fool not only said, but then he tweeted it! Okay, well guess what? Zimmerman is not a police officer. Trayvon did not need to keep his hands and face in plain view of Zimmerman. Zimmerman sought him out and approached him. Trayvon didn’t put his hoodie on until he felt someone following him. Before that he was a teenager walking down the street in a sweatshirt on a cold rainy night. Unless the boy was picking a lock or peering through someone’s window, I’m not sure how he falls under a suspicious category. So its actually NOT the hoodie’s fault…it’s actually the ignorant vigilante’s fault this boy is dead!

People are very quick to tell us that racism doesn’t exist. They are quick to remind us that WE are all Americans. But those people have never walked onto a bus and had people clutch their purses when you pass by. Those people have never been followed around a store. Those people have never had to worry about their son’s being harassed on the way home from school because they wear their pants a little loose. Those people have never been THE only person of that race in a neighborhood or classroom or town. Yes WE are ALL Americans, and so we have a duty to make sure that we all FEEL like American and not strangers in our own country. People are living in ignorance out of fear. Fear is getting children killed.

It’s time to take a stand! If you’re in Los Angeles be at City Hall Park TODAY at 4 pm. Hoodie up and take a stand. It’s time to be heard and move toward real freedom and equality once and for all. We shouldn’t have anymore Trayvon Martin’s!