Dela

Two years ago I was offered a teaching position in the YABC program at my school. I began working for an AP that was described as an “old school administrator... one of the few great ones left in the system”. I quickly learned she was that and more. She was real and didn’t sugar coat anything. There was no middle ground with her. It either was or it wasn’t. She either liked you or she didn’t, and whatever it was you would know!

And so, we hit it off. One night as I was leaving work she noticed my Frida Pin, loved it, and asked me where I got it from. It was around this time last year, so I told her I would get one for her. I figured I would throw the pin in with her Christmas gift from the staff.

I came home that night with a mission to order the perfect pin! She loved Frida, but she was also a big fan of Diego and she was so New York... gritty and raw. So when I finally saw the pin I ordered, I thought, “mission complete!”

It was supreme: Frida and Diego together in one pin. Frida had one arm on Diego and her hand on his shoulder. At the bottom, in a ribbon, it said “Gon’ brush yo’ shoulders off”. The pin is poetry. I immediately got it and was patiently waiting for it to arrive. I received confirmation and was charged, but I hadn’t received the pin. Worried that it wouldn’t arrive in time for Christmas, I started to send the company emails regarding the status of my pin. It was a small business, so I was emailing the woman who ran it and after many rude back and forth emails between her and I, I placed a stop payment on my card and although she had claimed that she had already mailed the pin, I never received it. I ordered another regular Frida pin from urban outfitters (or some place like that) and that was the end of it.

I gave my AP the new pin I had purchased and never mentioned the story to her. The truth is I was still pissed as hell because the new pin didn’t compare in quality and the one I originally wanted was just so kick ass... like her.

About a month later, she passed away. Suddenly. It was crazy. Everyone was shocked and hurt. I never saw people grieve like I did for this woman. Her wake was packed! Students came, staff from all her years in this career came, her family and friends... there was a line to get in to view her. It was a manifestation of the effect she had on the people lucky enough to know her.

I still feel horrible that I didn’t get to know her for longer than those few months. She said to me once, when I shared with her that I was expecting (I had recently found out that I was pregnant with my third child, Baby K), that one day we’ll share a drink and she would tell me her story of being a young mom and making a great life for herself when everyone was doubting her. I was upset and still am that we never got that opportunity. Still and all I have my few memories and my many presents from her (She took care of her teachers! And since she knew I loved Frida she shared some goodies with me that I will keep forever).

Last week as I opened my mail I had a registered package with a return address I didn’t recognize. Feeling a bit puzzled and curious I opened the package only to find the pin I ordered a year ago for my dearly departed boss.

There was no note. Only a pin with Frida, Diego, and a touch of Dela who I’m sure is in Heaven brushing her shoulders off, as she should.

My First Two Weeks With You

Magic.  These past two weeks have been pure magic.  Baby K, you are so absolutely perfect: your soft skin, your eyes: so alert, each of your long ten toes, the birthmark under your left eye, your daddy's chin, your mean ol' grill, the way you hold your hands to your face or fold your legs up by your abdomen, just like you did in my womb, it must be, for that's how we saw you in all of our sonograms...your smile when you sleep, your soft short hair, your cute little pout...We are all so in love with you. 

We are all blown away by you.  

But First...

There are some definite givens when Kenny and I go on vacation: They’ll be lots of beach time, we’ll eat at a restaurant that was researched or recommended, and definitely Yelped, we catch a sunset, have a few margaritas at a nice bar, and, most recently, we added that we... must find a great coffee shop!

This last week in Florida, we came across Ella Cafe and Thank Baby Jesus we did!  The coffee was delicious, the snacks were super tasty, the staff was friendly, and the vibe was so chill.  We absolutely loved it!  I really wish we could’ve gone more than once, but if we’re ever in the area again we will definitely stop by for seconds! And if you find yourself in South Florida, anywhere near Plantation, FL, do yourself a favor and go order a cup of Joe and a treat at Ella Cafe.  

(I ordered a cappuccino and their lemon poppy muffin. Kenny had a red eye and their blueberry zucchini muffin.  We ate, drank, talked, took a few pictures, recorded a few videos, and definitely shared a few laughs. <3)

Ella Cafe, Feb. 2018 

Self Love is the topic this week cuz, damn it, that shit is hard sometimes! 

It is especially difficult in the era we live in, where everyone is always so airbrushed, surgically enhanced, and “perfect”.  Or so we think, right?

Well… Let me tell you the story of a young girl who got pregnant at 18 years old, had her first baby one month shy of turning 19 and was left “scarred” for life…Or so she thought.  This girl saw the loose, saggy, wrinkled skin and the stretch marks on her stomach and thought her life was ruined.  

This girl is me.

I hate(d) my belly. I would never show it to anyone.  After having my baby, all of my bathing suits became one-piece, no more crop tops, and during sex my shirt was kept on or the light must be off!  I had (and still have) serious issues concerning my post baby body image.  And this is on top of the normal everyday insecurities: skinny legs, bump on nose, not enough booty, etc, etc.  I don’t want to sound like I suffer with low self esteem because that isn’t the case, but we all have insecurities and some days they’re louder than others.  Some days you can’t focus on anything other than their chant.  My “ruined tummy” was loudest of them all and has haunted me for years.

Anyhow, lets fast forward to 10 years after birthing my first son.  Ten years of the “you can’t see my stomach” show.  At this time I had met my lover and soon after I found myself in a relationship with a man that slowly helped me realize that I should look at my beauty differently.  He couldn’t see how I could focus so much on the things I didn’t like and ignore the “best parts”.  It took a while and it is still something Im working on, but being able to see myself through his eyes shifted my opinion of myself.  It made me a lot more comfortable in my own skin.  Here we are now 14 years after the birth and I don’t know how my lover managed to do it in these l4 years, but his love, his compliments, the way he looks at me, makes me feel like I’m the most beautiful girl in the world sometimes.  Add on the fact that I have grown older, more mature, have awaken and, as a result, have developed a deep respect for a woman’s power and grace.  What women are capable of, especially when we are carrying life inside ourselves is phenomenal. Every single one of us is a Phenomenal Woman, indeed.  

I am currently expecting my third child and last week we went on vacation, but as usual, I was planning on wearing one-piece bathing suits.  I’ve grown, but I’m not cured.  The bathing suits I had ordered didn’t fit right at all, so the idea of wearing a two-piece bathing suit came up as we packed because it would just be easier and more comfortable, but how could I?  As if! In addition to the past scars, I now also have a “disgusting bulging hernia”!  How could anyone suggest that I wear a two-piece bathing suit, I thought.  He must be crazy!  

Once again though, I don’t know how exactly, but his words assured me, comforted me, and helped me realize that I am carrying life, that I am beautiful, that I don’t have anything to feel self-conscious about and that I should “strut my stuff”.  

And so it happened.  Fourteen years after giving birth to my first son and after saying goodbye to my beloved two-piece, I found myself on a beach baring it all.  I showed my baby bump adorned with “ugly” stretch marks and the “disgusting” umbilical hernia, but I felt beautiful and powerful.  

At that moment I knew my belly was and is beautiful in that it is a reflection of all that is great: God, Love, and Life.

Bare.  Stretch marks, umbilical hernia, life, love, and beauty.

Dealing with Death and Grief

I consider myself extremely lucky to be able to say that I never lost someone close to me.  I’ve lost distant family members of course and I’ve been there for my friends when they have lost members of their family, but I personally haven’t experienced the death of a parent, grandparent, sibling, or close friend.

Then this year began and I lost my nephew. 

January 4th, I woke up to about 5 missed calls from my mother and assuming she hadn’t called about anything serious, I opened up my Instagram and read the news on my feed instead of calling her back.  On there I saw my niece’s post: The one that said that my nephew was dead. I was in shock, thought I might’ve misread.  I remembered the missed calls from mom and called her back. When she confirmed tragic news, I broke down sobbing. My mother was on the other end of the phone trying to calm me, but I couldn’t stop crying. 

It was nonstop crying for about 30 minutes.

The weird thing is that I wasn’t “close” to my nephew. The sad truth is that I hadn’t seen him in years. I hadn’t spoken to him either. My family can be rather distant and we were never taught that it is imperative to keep in touch with family. I was also so young when most of my nieces and nephews were born that I’ve always felt that I could never have or play that authoritative aunt role. 

None of that mattered though. I felt his death and it struck me and took my breath away.

That entire morning I thought of him. I remembered him as a baby living in the apartment next door to me with my brother and his mother. I remembered how his little arms would go up in the air when he would see ME walk through the door so that I would pick him up from his playpen or crib. I remembered his smile as a baby and I immediately thought of how much he always looked like my brother. 

He was my brother’s twin.

I felt pain because his life was taken and I never got the chance to share those memories with him. Regardless of the distance, I always loved him. I always will love him. He’s my nephew forever. We share the same blood, the same family, and the same ancestors.

I felt pain for my dear brother, whom I love so much, because as a parent I can’t imagine the pain you feel when you lose a child. I felt pain because I know that for him this death, like it did for me, must’ve also reminded him of time lost.

During this time while my family and I are still grieving, each of us, in our own way, I received more bad news.  Twelve days after the news of my nephews death, I learned that my assistant principal from my night school job passed away. Let me start by saying that she was more than a supervisor to her staff and more than a principal to her students. She was a friend to her staff and a second mother to most of her students. She was as real as they come, super thoughtful, caring, supportive, giving, helpful, and positive.  Many people broke down when they heard the news of her untimely death. 

During grief counseling we all shared stories about her and laughed and cried together. It was extremely moving to see and hear the effect this one person had on so many people.  One colleague began to share that the news of the death of a loved one brings upon varying reactions from people. She reminded us that we all grieve differently and that no one should tell another how they’re supposed to feel or how to react. This resonated with me because people would say, in fact, I know some people did say and some did think that the distance between my nephew and some of the members in my family should have affected our sentiments.  They thought that the distance somehow made our feelings insignificant and less worthy. 

It didn’t.  I can only speak for myself, but I felt his death deeply. 

We must be reminded that we all love differently and that we are all affected by death differently. Each of us is entitled to feel however our heart feels and grieve as we need without the judgement of anyone.  

Lets be kind to one another and lets show our love to our family and friends.  Lets forgive often and lets give the flowers to the people who matter to us while they can still smell them.