Circus Freak.

So, is she yours?


Perhaps,they are thrown off her bone straight hair and light complexion in contrast to my kinky 'fro and dark complexion.

Brown-eyed babe is 50% African-American, 25% Italian and 25% Irish. But essentially she is biracial. Half black. Half white. However, she is not the one whom people see as abnormal. I disappoint them by not responding, "No, she is just my charge. I'm the nanny." Instead I give them a simple definative, "Yes."

So, she looks like her dad then?


Such a polite way of asking if he is of a different race. To this inquiry I responded quite cheekily, "Yes, she has his ears.", which is the truth.

I hope that her peers are less put off by her mixed heritage. And then there is the whole can of worms with regard to her own sense of identity. It has been my observation that most kids with a black parent identify themselves as black. Not that she has to identify with one or the other, but we all know how society loves to try and place people into boxes. What if I were to enroll her in an Irish dance class, would she be regarded as an outsider due to her darker skin tone? I wish I could just pass these worries off on blue-eyed babe but his sense of race is a bit murky as it is with regards to black and white. When we lived in Massachusetts, I had such anxiety about her only being surrounded by her white family members. I was quite resentful of it actually. Now that the tables are turned, I have anxiety about her not seeing her white family members. I guess we shall cross the racial identity bridge when we come to it. However, that does not mean that I won't be fretting about a possible furture identity crisis in the meantime.

What's the Story, Morning Glory?

It has been ages since my last blog.

Two months later and birthdays are still on the brain. However, this time it is brown-eyed babe's turn. A small family get-together. Nothing fancy. Her birthday is this Wednesday, so I will be getting her a cupcake let her go to town, taking pictures galore of her munching away with her little party hat on. Then this weekend she will be going on her first "Girls in the City" trip with me, my sister and mom. She will be taken on her first truly girly shopping excursion. Bloomingdales and Tiffany's. Oh yes, 'tis the holiday season in the city. We girls will be spending the night in the city and then my brother and dad will be joining us for brown-eyed babe's birthday lunch on Sunday.

Last month, grasshopper challenged me to participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) and I failed miserably. I started off so well. I was so motivated. But inevitably, I crashed and burned. Not as bad as her, though. Haha. Alas, I squeezed a good 3,000 words out of this brain of mine.

I was accepted into the AmeriCorps program. I start next month working at an adult literacy program for the San Jose Public Library. So, I am stoked about that. Between AmeriCorps, my current job and raising brown-eyed babe the law school admissions folk should be able to forgive my dismal senior year grades, right?

And my books, oh my books. This weekend, I finished The Kindergarten Wars by Alan Einsenstock. I found it absolutely fascinating. It made me feel like less of a loser for fretting about brown-eyed babe's education before she has even hit the year mark. I want for her to go to great schools, but I sure as heck don't want to be paying half a million before she even makes it to college. Egad.

In blue-eyed boy news (he is no longer a babe to me), he is planning on arriving next week for a visit. Why after 6+ months has he decided to fly across the country? Because his new girlfriend is paying for it. Yes, his new girlfriend. She is paying for him to come home with her for the holidays to meet her family. So, his trip isn't even about coming to see brown-eyed babe. Visiting her is just something that he "should" do while he is in the town.

I am irked beyond belief.

Party On.

The Party went down this past Saturday and the world did not implode. But was there awkwardness? Oh yes, to the nth degree. I made the gift all spiffy with primary colors. I got a pair of pants and two onesies that I had originally gotten for my own kid but then felt guilty that I was buying brown-eyed babe new things and had yet to pick out a present for Birthday Baby. Therefore I exchanged the pieces for larger sizes, much larger sizes, because Birthday Baby is much much bigger than brown-eyed babe. ( My kid looks like a munchkin next to Birthday Baby and they are only 2 months apart.) I also picked out what I believed to be a fabulously adorable Backyardigans birthday card. I apparently was not the only one charmed by its cuteness as another parent got the exact same card. And their gift was opened up first, meaning the card was opened first and our card was opened second leaving us (me) to look like the loser copycat parent who failed to be original.
But Birthday Mom was nice about it.

One of the activities was face painting. Brown-eyed babe sat still as a mouse throughout the 5-minute process. Then 5 minutes later she rubbed up against me in the process of squirming out of my lap and rubbed the pretty neon pink flower onto my black shirt. Where, I must say it was not as impressive and did not resemble a flower in the least.

Brown-eyed babe spent a hot minute with the Birthday Baby and a couple of her daycare baby friends, but was mostly content to play in the grass, practicing her standing. And I must say that after all my anxiety about the potential awkwardness of the situation I was more than happy to focus on her, trying not to dwell too much on the fact that I was the only black person (not counting brown-eyed babe because she is only half black and under the age of one) and the only one without a mate. I should get over that aspect of my new life as quickly as possible as I am sure that there are many more of these situations to come.

I have popped my birthday party cherry as a new mom. Woot.

Socially Awkward.

Brown-eyed babe recieved her very first party invitation on Monday. It is a first birthday party for one of the brown-eyed babe's baby buddies at daycare. This shall be the first soiree that is geared toward her. Exciting for her. Scary for me. This means that I will now have to actually interact with other mothers. Egad.

Oh, the anxiety.

I see brown-eyed babe's baby buddy Monday through Friday, but I have never seen the mother. She is not my friend. She is not even technically an acquaintance. But our daughters are "friends". By no choice of their own, and babies aren't very discriminatory when it comes to their peers.

Therefore, thanks to the fact that brown-eyed babe is a budding social butterfly I must get a gift and sit with strangers for two hours. All in the name of babyhood. The gift. What to get? I have no idea. Should it be a toy? Or clothes? It's not like a baby shower where there is some sort of registry.

Plus, there is the guilt I feel for all the moments that I compared brown-eyed babe to her baby buddy and found my child to be cuter, smarter, etc. etc. Not that she necessarily is, but it's a knee-jerk reaction. I can't help myself.

So here is to a socially awkward situation that is most likely all in my head.

Not Ready to Make Nice Part II

Brown-eyed babe's father was none too pleased when I informed him that I had sent in the paperwork.

Note to self: When potential suitor is neglecting to pay child support for his first child, do not expect for him to willingly pay child support for the child the two of you may one day have.

He is dead set on the illusion that he was this great guy. Sadly, I think that he really believes it. But the fact that he could not keep his fists and rude comments to himself kind of negated the flowers and candy in my book.

But...

I am a wuss, and continue to hope that he will be struck by lightening (figuratively of course) and realize that he needs to step up to the plate and be an adult. It probably won't happen, and I will be completely bitter and jealous when 10 years down the road he finally gets it right with some other woman.

What is it with women and feeling like we can change a man? If he wants to change, he will change. Blue-eyed babe has been having people make excuses for him all his life. Sure he's knocking on 30's door, but why should he suddenly take on an responsibility when all the women in his life are bending over backwards to make things easier for him. I was a member of this crew and I still kind of am, sadly.

Yet, I must fight this feeling. What the heck am I protecting him from? Me? What point is there in feeling the wrath if I am going to shield the person it is directed toward who is more than deserving of it? All it does is cause a great deal of heartache for me while he is like Teflon.

My heart and my brain are at odds here.

Hello, grasshopper.

Happy birthday, grasshopper!

Today is my sister turns the big three-oh. She is officially no longer a twentysomething. Congratumalations, you fantasmic chica, you.

Not Ready to Make Nice.

This morning I placed the big brown envelope in the big blue box. I mailed my paperwork requesting child support.

Big moment.

For the past 5 months I have held out home that blue-eyed babe would realize his responsibility and voluntarily contribute to the financial responsibility that is brown-eyed babe. I recieved one money order for $50 back in early May and nothing but empty promises since.

I want for things to be amicable between us and he took great advantage of that. It saddens me. Alas.

No more Ms. Nice Ex.

Mother, the gatekeeper, has yet again proven that she is always right. She was right about the car, she was right about the job, and she was right about blue-eyed babe. I should listen to her more often. Smart lady.

Everything is A-OK.

Introducting Abby Cadabby, a 3 year old fairy-in-training and newest resident of Sesame Street. As a parent of a baby girl, I must say that I am extremely excited for this development. I am all for fairies and magical things. Imagination should be something that is celebrated, not stifled.

"...Susan Linn, co-founder of the Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood, calls Abby's introduction a blatant attempt to compete with the gigantic Disney princess market.
'The last thing little girls need is one more pink fairy,' she says. 'My understanding is that she's a little incompetent with her magic, too. I'm concerned that now even the Sesame Workshop has bought into the girlie, girlie commercialized image of what it is to be feminine. They could have had an Asian girl, they could have had a girl who's really good at math. They could have had someone who's just more complex.' '' - San Jose Mercury News, 8/30/06

Ummm.... she's kidding right? How complex and competent is a 3 year old supposed to be? And did Ms. Linn had a problem with Zoe being a monster? Abby can hardly be compared to the Disney princesses. I mean her mom works for the princesses, right? Plus, she is implying that it is impossible to be feminine and smart. Feminine does not equal ditzy, Ms. Linn.

But hey this is coming from a 23 year old college graduate who is obessed with The Gossip Girl Series.

Apparently, girlie/girly is an offensive term referring to nude or scantily clad women. Well, ya learn something new everyday.

The Mighty Mighty Red Sox

Father, the furniture guru, and I shall be attending the A's v. Red Sox game this evening. I am extremely excited as I loves me some Red Sox. I used to be completely anti-baseball. It was boring. But the Sox changed all that. Johnny Damon changed all that. He has now since been drawn to the Dark Side that is George Steinbrenner's organization but he can forever hold credit for making me a Believer. A lifelong Red Sox fan.

Update: They lost 2-1, but it was fun times. Red Sox Nation was definitely in full force.

Drunken Babies and Anglophile Mommies

Brown-eyed babe had a bottle. She held it all by herself. Downed the thing like her life depended on it. Glassy eyed, she tossed the empty bottle to the floor with remnants of milk dribbling down her chin. She looked positively intoxicated. She promptly dozed off. The kid parties too hard at daycare.

I should have taken a picture.

Alas, I did not. And I now find myself watching BBC America. David Hasselhoff is on Kumars at No. 42. Why is Mr. Hasselhoff an international superstar? *Sigh*. Kumars at No. 42 is an Indian family that interviews celebrities. Cheeky. However, the grandmother is obviously younger than all other members of this "family". Very Vicki Lewis. BBC America. Interesting concept. It exists purely for Anglophiles such as myself. I should probably be using my time more productively, but cable is just too appealing right now.

Once Upon a Mattress

I am a horrible mother.

I have not had this new bed for a whole 24 hours and brown-eyed babe has fallen off of it. This was not a short tumble from the pathetic stack of dilapidated mattresses I called a bed prior to the acquisition of a Stearns & Foster pillow-topped full (thanks to my father, the furniture guru). The dropoff on this thing is amazing. And she experienced it this morning as she crawled over me in my grogginess and promptly went over the edge. Thud. Deargod, I broke the baby. To make matters worse she's been feeling under the weather since yesterday morning. So I rescued the snotty wailing baby from the tiny space between the bed and her playpen. I calmed her down and laid her back on the bed to do my proper motherly inspection. No scrapes,bruises, or bumps. I'm really not the one to blame for this debacle. It's my mother's fault. She has gotten a new bedroom set, which resulted in the subsequent mattress shuffle. I hope that I haven't traumatized the kid. Is she going to develop fear of heights or quality mattresses?

...And then there were two.

Newsflash: blue-eyed babe was no good for me, or brown-eyed babe for that matter.

I have moved back to the Bay Area. Rather haphazardly. I am kicking myself for letting things get so out of control. I have fallen into that pattern out here as well, as I now have to accept that I am in financial ruin. While I must admit that it was exhilirating to quit a job that I was beginning to abhor, it did bring in a steady income that I was able to support my family on. Now I work part-time and while I make more per hour, there are less hours. My money goes to childcare, diapers, baby food, and transportation. However, there are a gigantic stack of bills that have been accumulating since I made this move and have yet been addressed. Not to mention, I have a SUV marooned at an autobody shop back East that I have been trying to have transported nearly all summer, and now the transportation company is giving me the runaround and the car is on the verge of repossession. Therefore I have come to the conclusion that I suck at life.

I am a coward and try to run away from things, while sticking around for things that I really shouldn't. I am a very worn-out doormat. It does me no good to think, "Well if I hadn't paid for his [fill in any number of countless expenses that were not my responsibility whatsoever] then I wouldn't be in this situation?" Because it doesn't make my money reappear. It does me no good to think that I did things for him believing that he would do for me in the same situation. Because I was wrong.

I am suprised that brown-eyed babe still likes me. Sometimes I just feel so incredibly incompetent. I suck at life, so how could I possibly be good at motherhood. But she seems to still like me regardless of my shortcomings.

So at this point I have become a hybrid of my former selves. I am a working professional-single mother.

Flying by the seat of my pants.

...And then there were three.

On December 13, 2005,exactly three months ago, I went from being a single young professional to working mother. At the age of 22, this was a very depressing thing. Suddenly I went from just being a someone's girlfriend to being someone's partner. Just add water and boom, instant family. I never pictured it this way. Of course I was supposed to be married before I got pregnant or at least in a stable relationship. Of course I was supposed to be established before I got pregnant, owning my own home with a solid career. That all went out the window when I became involved with an emotionally unstable but very charming Bostonian with sparkling blue eyes. Love greatly impairs one's judgement. This wasn't our first pregnancy either. I had an abortion 9 months before Annabelle was concieved. I know, I know. I am one incredibly fertile idiot of a female. So now this blue-eyed babe is a stay-at-home dad to our brown-eyed babe. This means he brings in no income. Not that he was consistently to begin with prior to Annabelle. This frustrates me to no end. Honestly, it would just be cheaper to pay for childcare.
I had many great aspirations prior to these chain of events. I was supposed to become the first black woman President of the United States (this was prior to my knowledge that Condi Rice existed). I wonder how these past two years of my life will play out with the voters? Time to get back on the straight and narrow. Though I don't see marriage anywhere in the near future.
I aspire to be (not in any particular order mind you): a lawyer, writer, businesswoman, judge, professor and supermom. So at this point first on my list is law school. I was dead set on track with this when I was side-tracked by the blue-eyed babe. *sigh*
I have a feeling that this first entry is coming off a bit bitter. I am not completely disgruntled. Annnabelle is the light of my life. I want her to have the very very very best in life. Private schools and the whole lot. I just don't think her dad and I are on the same page regarding that. I am very much in love with him but our backgrounds are just so completely different. I had a better upbringing than him both financially and emotionally. I think that is why the main word I can use to sum up our relationship is "frustration". Regardless, I plan for my child to be the eager beaver overachiever just like her mommy, aunt, uncle and grandparents.