I walked into the lobby and pushed the arrow for the elevator.
The metal doors slid open and a black man was standing inside. He had baggy pants on, dreads and a flat-billed baseball hat.
Eyes wide, I quickly scanned the situation.
Is he grabbing his waist band? Does he have drugs on him? What about a gun? Or a knife? What’s he holding in his hand? Do I want to be stuck in an elevator with this man?
My mind raced. My heart nearly thumped out of my chest.
As the metal doors
Dear Random Lady at the YMCA, You eyed my baby from the moment we stepped out of the locker room entering the pool area. You were swimming laps and smiled at my son, mouthing the words “he’s so cute.” I naively thought this would be the end of our encounter. I was wrong. Shortly after my middle boy eased his way into the cold pool, and the baby and I settled on the bench to watch him practice; you approached with a smile. I obviously smiled back, but you had something else in
Anxiety is something we hear about often, and in the majority of cases it is being used improperly as it seems to have become a trendy thing to say that you have. Anxiety isn’t something to be ashamed of, but it also isn’t a diagnosis to try on for a while if you don’t truly have it. I have anxiety. I was properly diagnosed with anxiety in 2009, and for the most part it has been easily manageable, until this past year. Most days before this year, anxiety was like a silent pas
I’m tired. I’m tired all the time. The only time I have energy is after my morning coffee has kicked in, and even then it’s only for about four hours. I suffer from what many moms suffer from, the superwoman syndrome that has plagued society for the past 20-30 years. We come from a generation where it was drilled in our heads that we women could literally do anything and everything. Maybe our parents had good intentions with these ‘I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar’ speeches, but the
My ex-husband and I co-parent very well, and have since our separation and subsequent divorce. This isn’t to say that we didn’t have tense moments, hurt feelings, and hard heads. The difference is that we didn’t let any of these personal issues interfere with our parenting or access to the children. Parenting is hard. Being a single parent is harder. Being a single parent while you’re bitter or in the middle of an ugly custody battle with no end in sight is probably hardest o
Help. Me. Help me, please! It has been a while since I’ve had to negotiate with a tiny chubby faced terrorist, but I can assure you they have evolved their tactics over the past 10 years. I was lulled into a false sense of security thinking I had won the battle of sleep training. Insert uncontrollable, but maniacal baby laughter while he rubs his dimpled little hands together. A few weeks ago I wrote about the struggles of sleep training, but relishing in the fact that I only