26 Weeks

Time is starting to slow down again.

In the first trimester, it would go SOOOO SLOWLY – mostly because every  moment is riddled with anxiety and nervousness and fear about if you’ll make it through to the 2nd trimester.  2nd trimester goes by at a normal pace.   You’re worrying WAY less… you’ve managed to let off some steam by letting people know the good news (and bad because now you can be all sorts of sick and anxious w/o feeling self conscious).  But then the ramp up to the big show begins.  The 3rd trimester is just out of touch and I feel that I’ve been at this 25 / 26 week mark now for about 3 weeks. LOL  It’s in my nature to rush things along…  I guess ever since I was a little child, plaguing my mom with questions about what it’s like to be a grown up and what it would be like to have my period and what it would be like to get married and move out and have a job and not be in school anymore.  You would think by now that I’d have the time and patience to just wait for stuff.  Trop presse pas fait  jour l’ouvrie. I know mommy.  I’m learning to be more patient.

I had a SERIOUS bout of missing her last night.  My dear sweet godsend of a hubby decided it was time to “tackle the office” – he’s not a pack rat.  AT ALL.  But I am.  And he witnessed how bad it can get by having to help my parents through their packrat-ism.  Or at least my mom.  Dad wasn’t so bad with his… but he also wasn’t as willing as Earl to help mom dig out.  So every month or so, he dedicates a good amount of time to helping me dig out of my own paper grave.  The office has been stacked up with stuff for a while.  Originally, we were going to clear it out to make room for a nursery.  But we cannot, no matter what we do, control the temperature in that half of the apartment.  So the nights that it’s cold… our little baby would freeze.  And summer nights, she would bake to death.  So we’ll have her in our bedroom until we move out.  But he wanted the office to be clear because as my belly gets bigger – it’s MUCH harder for me to scrunch over and do the freelance work I need to do over my computer.  So he dug out the space around my old computer (did a FANTASTIC job) but in the process unearthed some more memories that I wasn’t quite ready to see yesterday.  A small white envelope that has seen it’s share of wear and tear.  On the outside in crude black marker it exclaimed “To My Mother: The Maker Of ME”  This was obviously one of my many exercises in learning to write… so I had to be about 5 or 6 years old.  In my brief homemade thank you card written on a 3 x 5 piece of index card in blue pen I thanked for all that she’d done for me: “making me, giving me life, buying my toys” and professed that she “made life so satisfying”  and that I loved her.  (silly me with my big words).  I broke down.  This is the reason I don’t give cards anymore.  It seems terrible of me.

When grandma died and we had to go through her apartment, there was a huge envelope – you know for those absurdly large greeting cards that they sell at Hallmark.  We’d given her one of those through the years.  But inside that envelope was ANY AND EVERY CARD my brother, my mom and I had ever given the woman.  And in all the years of writing these cards, I never thought for ONE MINUTE that I’d be taking them back.  It warmed my heart to know that they meant so much that she kept them all (i mean ALL of them).  But it hurt too profoundly to have to reclaim them.

So i cried for a good while yesterday, missing mommy with all my heart.  Wishing she was here.  I had way less lonely moments when she was around because she was always available to just chat about nothing.. or let me listen to her watch tv.  But this bottomless feeling is just without resolve.  At the end of the tears and the feeling sorry for myself and the wishing I could call her – there’s no resolution.  I’m still without her and always will be, no matter how many tears or breath taking sobs.  No amount of pain I’ll feel will revive her … or wake me out of this reality where she’s actually still here with me.  And every day, more of her shows up in me that I can’t control; good things… bad things.  All her.

2 more weeks until the 3rd trimester.  Maybe I’ll learn to slow down and document everything happening so that I can regale the little one with tales of her arrival and focus less on the pain and sadness.

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What’s the big deal, Haitians?

As much as I would have liked to ignore what’s going on around me, this is something that caught my attention not so much because of what was said — but moreso because of the widespread reaction as a result.

On Friday morning, I got a text from a few of my Haitian comrades stating that Rosenberg of the HOT97 morning show had made a statement to the tune of “I’m HIV Negative because I don’t mess with Haitian Girls.” I’ve worked in radio too long to believe these kinds of things at face value. I’d worked at HOT97 too long to believe everything that came across my blackberry or email. I asked my friend if SHE actually heard him say this. She responded, “No, but 3 of her friends heard it and wrote to her immediately.” After making a few calls and asking some well placed questions, the truth came out that something was indeed said – by Cipha Sounds, not Rosenberg. Here’s exactly what went down in that few seconds. K. Foxx was talking about a benefit she attended where they introduced Sir Richard Branson’s new condom, designed to bring awareness and stop the spread of AIDS in Haiti and that she brought them some of the condoms from this function. A quick chuckle and under his breath (but into the microphone) Cipha quips (this is the actual quote people…) “Well, I don’t mess with Haitian girls, so I’m fine”. Immediately his co-hosts reprimand him for being disrespectful, Rosenberg makes a joke about the condoms themselves and everyone moves on.

Now, having worked there for many years and having interacted with Cipha Sounds, I know that he was just doing what he thinks he does best – being the class clown. What he doesn’t realize is how very old and painful a wound he stuck his salty finger in and twisted in that moment. So in case you’re reading, Ciph – here’s why my people are seriously enraged at what seems to only have been “a one-liner”.

Flash back to the 1980s (I’ll do a truncated version because I know how the attention span can go pretty quickly). AIDS awareness is on the rise and is striking fear in many a good red blooded American’s heart. They’re trying to pin the blame for AIDS wherever they can find it. And it seems most logical to pin the source and nexus of the disease on the places that seem to be most heavily affected. Back then, various countries in Africa and my dear homeland, Haiti. It was widespread in the news and media that these were the places to place blame for this scourge ravaging our planet (oh, and Gays. right). Well – who doesn’t believe what’s in the media? Or at least – how much less was it questioned back then. In 1989, I attended St. Francis Preparatory HS (GO TERRIERS) and there was a massive blood drive. 13 years old and excited to do something to help my fellow man, I had my parents sign off on the permission slip and marched proudly into the auditorium where they had me fill out another form before sitting down to submit my donation. The form, in triplicate was about 8 1/2 x 14, mostly demographic information and 2/3rds of the way down the page there was a section that stated “Ethnicity”. First question in that section: “Are you of Haitian Decent?” Me, back then? I PROUDLY checked off “YES”. I was never NOT proud of my heritage. But I was also a little slow on the draw. When I finally got up to the nurses they shared every reason with me why I shouldn’t give blood. “Oh… it looks like you’re coming down with a cold.” “Your blood iron is a little low.” “You seem like you’re feeling under the weather, maybe you should sit this one out.” I almost thought nothing of it until my friend Jean came and told me they said the same thing to him… and a handful of other Nouveau Haitians (1st Gen American Born) stated they got the run around too. Then it made sense to me. We had been “profiled” by that little question on the form. It was so ingrained in the masses minds that we were to blame that it had made it on to a form that designates willful giving to help save lives. I was so hurt, I vowed NEVER to donate blood in this country ever again.

In another instance in my life that burns this sentiment deep in my heart, walking into my building one day, I saw a man talking to someone outside before entering the building. I caught a hint of a familiar accent, but I’d never seen this particular man before. The Haitians in my building were all “family” – everyone watched each others kids. As far as we were concerned, all the kids were “cousins” and the moms and dads were “aunts” and “uncles”. I figured he was coming up to see one of our families. We both got into the elevator alone and as the doors closed, I asked him shyly and with respect “Hello sir, are you Haitian?” His reaction will never leave me. He started to back into the corner…. as if I was going to do something to him. I had to quickly allay his fear, “No, no no…. I’m Haitian too…. I heard your accent…” Immediate relief washed over him and he said ‘Yes! yes I am! Oh, wonderful – where are your parents from, do you speak Kreyol…. ” all the regular parts of the conversations between countrymen.

We weren’t always on Eastern Parkway waving our blue and red on Labor Day (think about it – those of you who’ve been around long enough). For a VERY long time, Haitians on a whole were ASHAMED because what the media had pinned on us and we kept to ourselves. I hate to hear that Haitians only come out now because Wyclef made it cool to be Haitian. We come out now because America’s memory of the pain they inflict is a short term one. And we were finally allowed to just live and be proud of who we are and where we came from.

My post is not directed at Cipha, really. I don’t agree with what he said, but I also don’t believe that he understood the magnitude. My post is more so to those who have reacted with “It was just a joke, get over it.” My question to them is – then when is enough enough? At what point do a people rally against insult and injury? When they start to stone us in the streets? Burn our houses? Bomb our land? Then? Then is it alright to rally together to tell the world, “HEY – STOP IT. WE ARE A PROUD PEOPLE and will NOT stand for your slander.” No. I think this is enough for us to be angry. And now, those of you who read my blog know why. Especially after the year we’ve had. Truly in poor taste to kick a people while they’re down. But… some places have a history of that.

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Separation Anxiety

My dream-self got left again.
It happens every so often. I drift to sleep- sometimes even in my Earl’s arms only to awaken in Dream Vicky’s nightmarish reality. This time it seems some Reeney character had made her way into the house and into Dream Earl’s heart. And while he vehemently denied doing anything, she draped her self all over him with words and actions. Saying that she loved him and needed to be with him and there was no other for her and the time they’d spent together meant the world. Dream Vicky was chasing this girl around yelling like a crazy person for her to get the fuck out and don’t ever come back and stop breaking up my home and what the fuck bitch. Only at the end, for her to saddle up behind Dream Earl and wrap her hands around his chest — like I do in reality to the real world Earl — and hold him tenderly…. and he did nothing to attempt to break free. Dream Vicky looked at the two of them and realized… SHE wasn’t the one that was wanted in this situation. And spared no time reacting. The argument was taking place in my mother’s old bedroom and Dream Vicky stormed into my old bedroom and started pulling out Louis Vuitton luggage (nice goin dV) to begin packing … all the while wondering where she’ll go. Who’ll want her now? How will she start over…..? Have all the years meant nothing? There’s so much more to leaving now, isn’t there? What about the 22 dream embies on freeze? What about the fact that dreamE doesn’t want to even try? NEVER MIND WHO he decided to leave me for…

What will it all mean?

I finally woke up from it but replete with all the heaviness and sadness of a real fight and real separation. The real Earl came to comfort me and reassure me that he’s not going anywhere and that it’s me and him for life. And while that was good enough for Real Vicky – I worry about my Dream self. And what she’ll do now… It ressurrected this sensation in me from a post years ago. A picture that I found postsecret.com in 2005 that resonated with me then…and seems to resonate with Dream Vicky now…

I think there are negative contrails out today… everyone is feeling… down.

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Gotta have it…

Again… nothing much. Just trying to stay in the habit of blogging regularly Bear with me while I make this a positive habit again.

Good song. Great words. It’s nice that they kind of put the advice out there for folks sometimes. It’s all just a matter of listening.

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Takes me higher

Nothing really to say. Song was just stuck in my head this morning. Figured I’d share with the world.

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36.

I try to post every single year on my birthday. I’ve done pretty good. I’m also human and sometimes it’s up — sometimes it’s down. But I love that I can go back and read how I felt in that moment… know what was happening to me then… and get some perspective on what I’m going through now. How I became this woman that stares in the mirror every morning. 36… feels a touch empty. 35 was supposed to have been the precipice of motherhood…off of which I was going to jump and never look back. However, I find myself at 36 still teetering on said rocky cliff looking at the road down and wondering if it makes sense to hope so much anymore. I know its just the moment. But it feels truly empty. My regular midnight call from Mom to wish me a happy birthday is seriously lacking. I’m in my own head more these days (as referenced by the last post). And I wonder what else there is… besides here… a lot. I’m sure Ill look at this post upon turning 37, juggling children and formula and bassinets and just laugh and shake my head at where i was at mentally.

I hope… that I do.

2000 – I aimlessly spend my days and nights searching for attention. I just want someone to notice me. To the point where if the little cat on my screen for my Office 2000 meows at me… I get happy. She smiles at me and I feel like someones paying attention.

2003- Birthday calls have been coming in since 9:00AM. I really feel loved. My mom looked at me last night with this look of … Wow… my baby is all grown up and it felt really amazing. Thinking about it makes me tear up because the same way she’ll always look at me and see her baby… is the same way I’ll always look at her and see how shes always been my world.

2004 – It is a GLORIOUS FALL DAY, just the way I always love my Birthday to be. I am all tingly this morning. I just feel really good and happy and loved and blessed. Whatever this day brings, I know it will be FABULOUS! I cant wait to see what it yields. And I look forward to tonight. Whatever my baby has planned. He’s wonderful. Called me at midnight to wish me a happy birthday. EVERYTHING I prayed for. GOD does certainly answer prayers. Just in HIS time.

2005 – going on a drinking binge for my 31st – hopefully will come out the other end alive. celebrated my baby’s 31st – tried hard to make it festive. sad that I had to try hard. learning more about myself and how others perceive me every day.

2006 (this one merited a full repost… LOVE what I wrote) -
Dear 32 Yr Old Victoria,
Welcome!! All the previous years have been waiting and preparing for you. We never thought it would all happen in one year, but we know that you’ve always been ambitious so, it’s no real surprise.
This milestone… The making of this 33rd year in your life signifies so much. This is truly a new beginning. A new life awaits you just beyond this date. A new husband. A new home. The very real and welcomed possibility of motherhood. All the things we’ve prepared you for. Many years of schooling and life experience…. Years of mistakes and heartbreaks. Years of successes and disappointments have brought you right here. Right where we had always hoped to be. It’s scary… We know… But luckily, you’ve never let yourself be held prisoner by your fears (‘cept when it comes to bugs).
Year 23 remembers an important lesson – “Growth only happens when you are out of your comfort zone.” And you quickly took to a “get it over with” attitude that propels you forward. Year 13 taught you that not everyone will like or appreciate you and your personality, but as long as you did for your self… That’s all that mattered. Year 27 taught you to assess situations with more than just Passion… But with a modicum of practicality (that’s how you found real, true and lasting love) Year 24 taught you the art of introspection and shed the fear of listening to yourself and what was going on in your heart. Years 6 – 8 taught you to love the Lord, love the sky, love the sun endlessly and until the end of your days. Year 26 gave you the hint of cynicism that took the edge off of your ever present naivete without hardening you completely.
And now you’re ready. Welcome. We’re happy you made it.
Lovingly,
Years 0 – 31.

2007- Happy Birthday to Me! Im dedicating my year to living in the now… in the name of wonderful memories Ill extract from them to take with me when I go. Now is all we have. Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow – we only have a marginal say in what happens. All we can really control is NOW. Happy 33 to me…

2008 – *sigh* so much on my mind… I just cant recline

2009 – THANK YOU LORD, THANK YOU MOM DAD! THANK YOU FAMILY FRIENDS!!
For giving me light. For giving me strength. For giving me hope and teaching me lessons. For guiding my hand and assuring my step. For loving me tough when that needed to happen. For inspiring my heart and enlightening my mind. For showing beauty where I though it was lacking. For soothing me with peace and animating me with joy. For standing by quietly and giving me backing. Forgiving me. For holding me close or walking away. Even the hurts have helped me to grow. This life I live; this “intenseness” I feel; the skip in my step; the glow in my smile….
I feel because every day you allow me to be me and love me deeply… ANYWAY!!!

Here’s to looking back and laughing. On to the next.

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My eyes are Green… ’cause I eats a lot of vegetables…

It’s really good to recognize something for what it is. Even if it may be shrouded as something else.

Last night wasn’t actually a bad night. Just some not-great things happened in it. I got home after an extremely productive day at work and the Hubby was cooking dinner for me. Sweet and thoughtful and wonderful. He made chicken patties so we could have a little picnic dinner. I ate them… They were delicious. But something didn’t sit right with me ultimately. I got a horrid tummy ache and felt out of sorts. I wasn’t my self. At 9:00PM I was contemplating turning in for good for the night. Which I did, but I didn’t stay down. The tummy got worse and so did my demeanor. I was just miserable. Eventually the hubby made me some hot tea which I drank quickly and I sniffed some Peppermint oil and was able to stay down for a while. Part II of the torture came in. Remember that Drake obsession? Well, I’m now convinced that there is something subliminal in the music. Because it’s haunting me. No matter what I do – it’s the only music I hear in my head. I listened to nothing but Gospel yesterday (Help – everyone who knows ME? knows it was for work — it’s just not my cup of tea). And somehow the long tones held for the Lord couldn’t scrub my brain clean of Drake’s music all night… it was juggling between verses with Nicki Minaj or duets with The Dream. It was actually KEEPING me awake. Which is a sure sign it’s time to put that album AWAY. But… the night doesn’t stop there.

Part III of the torturesome night comes in the form of a dream. When I finally did close my eyes long enough, I found me and my hunny strolling through the streets of some town. Just chatting. At one point, we sat down on the steps of a town house. Pretty house but was old school… needed some repair. Outside, there was a great big Yellow valance hanging down from the outside of the topmost window down around the entrance. The house felt familiar and comfortable so we sat on the steps talking. In the middle of our discussion some people come out of the house — looks like they’re going for a night on the town. They look familiar… but I think it’s my mind playing tricks on me. The lady passes by and I smile at her and she smiles back. The gentleman passes and gives me a huge hug and continues on his way. I don’t find it to be strange at all. Just some friendly people in this dream realm. We decided to walk into the house and make ourselves at home (I know right?) but they left the doors open. We sat in the parlour room and watched tv and chatted over beverages. Suddenly I hear the chatter of children and I look up. There’s a man standing there in an orange sweater and blue jeans and another man in a white v neck long sleeve and jeans. They are assessing the house. I look down next to my hubby and there’s a woman sitting next to her with the eldest of what looks like 2 baby girls. The youngest one is cradled in the orange sweater man’s arm. He finally turns around and it’s JC. I gave him a most evil stare and said, “what are you doing here?” and he flippantly responded “I’m in the market for a house.” “Not this one,” I returned, “It’s not for sale.” And he frowned up his lips in assessment and mumbled “they need to….” I glanced at the babies… I couldn’t see their faces… But they looked happy and sunkissed and perfect. I glanced at the hubby and he was gone… I stood up and walked out of the house and asked them all to please follow me out – the house was now closed. JC shrugged and gathered his family and friend and left. Almost sucking his teeth at me on his way out. The bile bubbled up in my stomach and woke me.

I know I’m only footsteps away from the things I want in life. The things I’ve been chasing. But I’m only human. I guess deep down inside… I’m envious of people who seem to have things … I must think they don’t deserve. It’s not my place to decide those things. But… I’d be denying a very real and essential part of me if I tried to pretend that all of me is okay with it all of the time. I am slowly realizing my dreams. It’s happening. But every now and again, when I look into my dream mirror… I allow myself to feel what I suppress in my waking life.

It’ll be funny to reach back and read this post when all my dreams are fulfilled. I’ll think… “How silly was I to ever doubt….”

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Light It Up

“I live for the nights that I won’t remember… with the people that I won’t forget”
-Drake

Not much to say here. Had a really amazing weekend (half of it) and the other half recovering. But the awesomeness of the first part makes up for that.

I’m hoping for a productive week of keeping my word and banging some stuff out of the way so I never have to think about it again. I’m Drake’d out – but it’s a good thing. I haven’t enjoyed an album like this in a long time. Got ready to it on Sat…. rode through the city to it to our final destination. And it’s STILL on my mind.

LORD… September is almost over??? *smh*

Here’s to another week meriting a weekend that awesome!

Today’s Song… Show me a Good Time

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