Boo to Child Free Zones

So I am going through my normal routine of getting ready for work this morning when my ears are bombarded by what I can only describe as logical ignorance. Have you heard of these so called "child free zone" seats airlines are doing? Apparently for a little extra money you can purchase seats in a special zone guaranteed to be free of children and all the "headache" that comes along with flying next to one. You know the headaches:

1.                  Tantrums

2.                  Kicking of the seats

3.                  Incessant crying

4.                  Parent and/or child constantly getting up or switching seats

5.                  Food/Drink spills

I get the headaches and why people want to avoid them. As the parent of the child I want to avoid them too. I mean if you think your headache is big after dealing with any of the above imagine mine. I called this whole idea or new offering logical ignorance because as someone who has flown on a plane and as someone who has had to endure the incessant crying or tantrums I don't know anywhere on the plane you can go and avoid that. Now I believe the biggest plane I have been on was the Boeing 767-the one where each of the side aisles seat two to a row with the middle seating three to a row. I felt it to be a fairly nice size plane. Even on that plane I could hear the crying and there wasn't a child near me for rows. Children have mastered the shrill and ain’t no escaping it.

Now this is what really threw me for a loop and sent me off the deep end: the wider seats and extended leg room. I forgot to mention that earlier but apparently this zone comes with slightly wider seats and extended leg room. If anyone should need wider seats and extra leg room it would be the passengers flying with small children. I’ve flown with my toddler and I would've paid a little extra money to have both of those. It would have made for a more comfortable flight which in turn could have made for a more enjoyable toddler. Instead we were both cramped into what is already space designated for slugs. Oh and for those that do not have children do you know how much extra stuff you have to lug around with you to appease your toddler. I had so much stuff crammed under the seat in front of me I thought the person sitting there was going to lose it. Who cares if my son isn't kicking your seat when you have the mother digging under your rear end all flight to retrieve diaper bags, blankets, snacks, and movie videos.

So airlines I say to you that what would have been smart and the most logical route was to create parent safe zones. Maybe the seats could be colorful and decorated like a pediatrician's office. Maybe you give out kid friendly snacks in those zones and have special kid appropriate movies. Maybe that zone comes with blocks or little toys to entertain the kiddies instead of a pillow and blanket. I don't know because I can't speak for all parents. So why don't you survey some parents and hold some focus groups to see how you can make our flights more comfortable which in turn would make EVERYONE's flight more enjoyable. I don't know it just seems to me you are solving the wrong end of the problem.

Falling out of Love with Curious George

Don't we all just love this guy

One of PBS Kids' headliners and most loved characters is Curious George. Even those of us without kids know that banana yellow hat and that big smile that belongs to the curious adventurous little monkey lovingly called George. When my son first began to gravitate to this little guy I thought "This show is harmless, why not". We even have a Curious George story collection book that we read from at bedtime. The little cub is quite taken by him and I am sure we will have a Curious George themed birthday party this year.

Problem....I am falling out of love with Curious George. The more I watch this show with my son the more I am certain that little monkey is responsible for the mischief of my not yet two year old son as well as his affinity for making monkey like noises in response to my questions. I'm putting Curious George before the court of public opinion.

Charge # 1: Teaching Children that Mischief Leads to Rewards

I'm not sure how much of this show you have watched but in each episode George does something mischievous that he absolutely should not do. Somehow this mischief always results in something positive and the show ends with George being the hero. In real life disobedience or mischief rarely leads to something positive. Not a good real life example.

Charge# 2: Delays Children Speech

George does not use real words. Of course he doesn't; he is a monkey. Instead George makes a sound that is similar to Uh huh and Ahhh. Well now anytime I ask my son if he wants something or if he likes something he makes the EXACT same sound as Curious George. Problem here...my son used to say yes and actually use his words.

Charge# 3: Bad Example of Parenting

George is not the only one setting a bad example. That Man in the Yellow Hat leaves George alone frequently. Now I am not sure how old George is supposed to be and I do realize that he is a pet monkey so like all pets he can be left alone. My issue is they liken this monkey to a child in every other sense and he appears to be close to preschool age and unless I'm missing something preschoolers should not be left alone. Also, someone needs to child/monkey proof that house. Half the reason George can get into everything is because EVERYTHING is accessible.

What say you parents? Is Curious George a harmless, delightful, educational program for our little ones or...is he a mischief teaching, speech delaying, poor example of parenting program that well...who I am kidding. The cub loves this show. Did you catch that we are having a Curious George themed birthday party this month. Watch out for the pictures and stay curious.

 

Cub Free Weekend

I believe that somewhere along this blogging journey I have shared that I have an amazing support system. If I have not then let me say it here and now; I have an AMAZING support system. My cub is almost two years old and has never been cared for by a stranger or sitting service. Why? Because anytime the husband and I have needed some grown up time, his myriad of aunts and his loving grandparents have stepped in and cared for our wonderful boy in our absence. This is definitely something that I don't take for granted as I am well aware of the poor couples out there that rarely have a date night or a moment to exhale.

Well last week was hectic to say the least and by the middle of the week I felt overwhelmed. God immediately came through for me in the form of my awesome mother. She called me, on her own I need to stress, and said "I want Tony to come to my house and stay over this weekend". What did she just say? You don't need permission to do that. Just tell me how long to pack for. OK don't judge me. I am a four months pregnant over worked woman right now. So, the plan was for Tony to spend the ENTIRE weekend with grandma and his cousins while momma bear and papa bear did ___________. I shall fill in the blank. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. That's right people. Our cub free weekend consisted of us:

1. Staying up late watching nonsense television (Well, the husband did this. I promptly passed out on the couch some time after 10:00 p.m. as is customary)
2. Sitting on the couch watching nonsense television.
3. Eating like college students and letting the dishes pile up like one too.
4. Sleeping past 7:00 a.m. ( I actually slept to 9:00 a.m. on both Saturday and Sunday).

Oh the absolute joy. I really did need the mini-break my mother afforded us. I can't stress enough the importance of what others call "me time". I don't really call it "me time". I prefer to think of it as time to just exist. We play so many roles throughout the day-mother, wife, friend, sister, daughter, employee, employer-that we forget to just be Cassandra. Yes Cassandra is all those things and they are just a part of me but there is also a part of me that exists that doesn't want to think, plan, execute. It simply just wants to be. It wants to lay in the bath tub surrounded by bubbles and not a care in the world. It wants to pick up a violin and strum a melody while every thought in its mind is silenced by the sweet music. It wants to paint and sip wine knowing that it doesn't matter if its understood. It  just wants to exist. So I got to do a a lot of that weekend given that football season is cranking back up. I left the husband downstairs with our college buddy and I went to my room where I did nothing but exist. It was a great cub free weekend.

Toddler Language

It's funny how the onset of a toddler forces you to realize your own little behaviours that you NEVER noticed before. For example my son will burst into a song out of nowhere and will walk around performing little tasks while humming some melody I have never heard and can only assume he invented. So I made the mistake of saying to my husband, "I don't know where he (the cub) gets this spontaneous singing from". Almost 30 minutes later I am doing something,  I can't remember what, and my husband says "Really, you don't know where he gets it from?" Apparently, at that exact moment I had burst into a random song that I'd invented based on what I was doing at the time. Thanks Husband for impolitely pointing out to me that the cub gets that behavior from me. There has been others and each time it has been very funny to realize that he does what he see us do.

Over the past months the cub has been discovering words and basically creating his own language. I mainly fault......

                   This book                                                  and                                              this man



Here are my reasons why.......

Bedtime consists of us bathing the cub, reading a book, and saying our prayers. The cub's latest favorite book is Brown Bear, Brown Ber What Do You See. This is mainly due to the fact that the husband makes animal noises for each of the animals as he reads the book. The cub LOVES this. Well, here is a list of names for the each animal according to the cub:

Bear                    Roar
Cat                      Meow
Dog                     Woof Woof
Fish                     Blurp Blurp ( it's a bubble gurgling noise that fish make in the water)


If you say the real names he understands you mean bear but anytime he sees a bear he calls it Roar. All dogs are woof woof except our dog Pancho who is lovingly called Dog by the cub. Oh and the snack food Goldfish and the movie Finding Nemo are also called blurp blurp.

Other words mysteriously formed on their own.
Blanket                              Bla
Clean                                 Wash
Bathe                                 Wash
Grandma (maternal)          Nanny    (this is only interesting because we call her Nana)
Grandma (paternal)           Mommy  (perhaps because the husband calls her this but we call her Abuela most of the time)
Mommy (me)                    My mommy

Then some words makes sense
Uncle                                Tio (spanish for uncle)
Pot Pot                              Training Potty
Light                                  Light or Luz (light in spanish)

The inspiration behind this blog happened this morning when my adorable little not yet two year old son said to me "bla wash". Well, he has learned the art of commands. So, before I left for work this morning I placed bla in the washing machine. He was right it was time for a good cleaning.

Cub #2 On Board

So I finally shared with the world the news that cub #2 is on board.

 

This delightful news was a surprise and has made for an interesting pregnancy. With Antonio the Husband and I had been trying to conceive for a while so when we learned he was on board there was immediate excitement and relief. Excitement to finally be blessed with a baby and relief from the fear of infertility.  We weren't planning this current pregnancy and we were actually trying to wait just a little longer. Our finances are not where we need them to be to start Antonio in childcare, which is necessary if we have a second child, and given my cesarean from the first pregnancy we wanted to give my body time to properly heal. We began to suspect we were pregnant while on vacation in Cali, Colombia. Then we were given reasons to believe we weren't pregnant. It stunned us both that we were a little disappointed that we weren't expecting. Funny because prior to the trip we were both adamant that we weren't ready. We got home and I took a test just to be sure and it was positive. I took another one for good measure and it too was positive. I immediately called the doctor, booked an appointment, and confirmed the good news.  I think our logical minds had suppressed the fact that emotionally we were ready even if the bank account wasn't.  This reminds me of a funny episode from Friends. I thought I'd share the video. Start at 5:07 to get straight to the point but if you  LOVE Friends like I do why not watch the whole thing.

 Now a couple things about second pregnancies and being pregnant while raising a toddler.

 

1. Each pregnancy is different is an understatement.

 This pregnancy has been NOTHING like the first. First pregnancy-no sickness, no energy in first trimester but after that I was the energizer bunny, stretching and round ligament discomfort in the second half of the pregnancy, no swelling anywhere including feet ( I still wear the same shoe size as always), no skin discoloration or bumps, no heart burn-I think you get the point. I had one of those dream pregnancies. Ummm so this pregnancy-nausea nausea nausea. I don't know how I managed to leave the house and go to work each day with all that nausea. I can't eat most foods I like and routinely eat. All I want is seafood, steak, and sushi. So judge me if you want to but I have caved and eaten sushi. Not raw sushi the fried cooked stuff. Now I am in the second trimester and the nausea did miraculously leave but I have headaches all the time. My belly ballooned out and I was visibly pregnant at like six weeks. What the heck. It's not fair to already need maternity clothes and have people tell you that there are two in there or that you are not going to make it. Oh and smell aversions! I've had to run out my office suite A LOT. I don't know what those people are heating up or eating but my goodness does it reek.

2.  An almost two year old could care less that you are pregnant.

The cub doesn't understand or seem to care that I am pregnant and therefor have no energy, am sick as a dog, uncomfortable, and fragile. This is evident because when I am lying on the couch battling nausea he insists that I get up to kick the ball with him, play Legos, pillow fight, etc. His new joy is to make me lay on the floor while he uses me as a ladder or step stool.  Have I shared that my child has an affinity for violence? Not sure why or where he is getting it but he likes to sword fight (we don't own any swords. He turns the vacuum cleaner tools and kid toy golf clubs into swords). He loves wrestling which usually includes him jumping onto you while you are laying down. He gets a kick out of this. I don't know why he is so rough. I guess boys will be boys. But the problem occurs when I tell him I can't wrestle or play that game with him. Oh he loses it. So, I have concluded that my being pregnant is far removed from my cub's cares or concerns.

My Favorite Part of Me

I've shared how blogging has opened up this other side of me and the joy I find in typing out my story/journey then releasing it to whoever. There has been something both therapeutic and enlightening in this. Well, I've only recently been opening myself up to other blogs. One of my favorites is Momastery, not because I think she says anything profound or just downright truthful, although she often does to me, but because I feel like what she is sharing is honest. Only in my adult life have I come to appreciate and understand the value of honesty. We always say we want honesty and we want someone honest in our lives. But do we really? What I've witnessed is that more often than not we want someone to make us feel cozy and warm on the inside. We want someone to wipe away the bad things in life and paint pretty pictures. We want someone to help us cope with brutalities. Well unfortunately honesty sometimes is the opposite of cozy and warm and the picture isn't always pretty.But I think as we mature we begin to understand this more and more. So, I find myself gravitating towards honesty. I like when a person can share without fear that she isn't always the best mother or wife, that she sometimes neglects her husband or children in search of her own solace, that she is confused to the point of insanity and can't tell you which way is up. Am I saying these are good things, NO, but they are honest things. Only in our honest moments can we begin to address what is happening around us, embrace the present, and begin to live for the future. I say all this to say that in one of Glennon Doyle Melton's posts on Momastery she said something that stuck out to me.

"This morning I was prepping the kids’ lunches and dancing in the kitchen to the Grateful Dead. I was happy. I am always happy when I’m about to take the kids to camp.

And I sang this part really loud: “first one’s named sweet Anne Marie, she’s my heart’s delight.” I love that line. Heart’s Delight! Anne Marie! And I started thinking about what a precious name Anne Marie is and how much I just LOVE everyone in the whole world named Anne Marie. And then I said a prayer for all the Anne Maries in the world. That they’d have a few brilliant moments today in which they’d feel wildly and completely loved.

That whole Grateful Dead/Anne Marie thing took about five minutes. That five minutes made me so happy. There was a THERE there. Because that was my soul, there dancing and praying for all the Anne Marie’s in the world. I love that wild, nonsensical part of me. I need some time to get back in touch with her- to invite her front and center again because I want HER to lead me through this life. I choose HER- even if she makes no sense to the world at all."

The link to the full  post is here: Momastery: Goodbye Internet.

To me what stood out is the part highlighted in yellow and it made me question my favorite part of myself. I don't think I ever stopped to realize what I love about myself. Now that I have I would definitely have to say my honesty. Over the past years I have struggled with learning to balance being honest with being humble and sensitive. I'm still learning but I can honestly say that I love this part of me. People always say they know they can count on me to be honest. This part of myself is challenging and I don't think I even fully understand it. But it's also the part of me that I want to always remain and to to shine brightly for the world to see. I think we should all find that part of ourselves that we love and want to be front and center in all that we do. So thanks Glennon for helping me connect with my favorite part of me.

Potty Training....What do I do

One of the things I learned fast as a first time mom was to trust my instinct. It has served me well and kept my stress levels somewhat low. Well there comes a time in life when you run into a wall or stumbling block. Basically something that challenges the world as you understand it. My latest wall has been potty training. What the heck am I supposed to do to get this kid that absolutely loves running around in his stinky diaper to realize and learn that he must now go to a potty. Oh and when I say loves to run around in his stinky diaper I mean just that. My son for whatever reason hates diaper changes. We have to fight with him and chase him down to change his diaper. So this potty training thing. Where do you start? When do you start? How do you start? I had absolutely no clue. I asked around and read a few items here and there. Every one is doing and saying something different. It's like each person has her own scientific experiment going as to how to potty train. Shall I share some of the advice I've gotten....

1. Take off his diaper and let him run around naked. He'll go to the potty because he won't just use it anywhere. 

WRONG. I was told similar advise for house training the dog that they won't go in their crate. WRONG AGAIN. It must be me because with the dog and with the cub they both did exactly what I was told they wouldn't.

 2. Get him a potty and familiarize him with it, let him play with it and understand that it is specifically for him.

Sounds OK right. Well in my case the potty turned into the cub's lounge chair. I kid you not. He took the potty and dragged it into the living room and plopped it in front of the TV. End result-we had to get him to understand that the potty is not that kind of chair.

3. Take him to the potty whenever you go. He will learn from you.

This I felt I can do so every time I went to the potty I would say "Tony, mommy is going to use the pot pot. Do you want to come and use your pot pot too?" Of course he did and I would sit him on his potty then I would proceed to the grown up potty. End result-the cub now tries to wipe mommy and wants to assist ME in pottying.  

Now none of these are weird or bad advice....well maybe the naked thing. That one was weird. Other than that though I think my experiences have just been comical. We have only been "officially" potty training for a little while now and have had some success.
1. The cub no longer thinks the pot pot is a lounge chair and actually attempts to potty.2. The cub has used his pot pot several times now. Not on his own of course. We have been managing to catch him when he actually had to go.

I'm begining to see that this is a definitely a process. I expected it to take time but truly other than that I didn't know what to expect. I still don't honestly. Oh how I wish my instinct would kick in and I come up with some miraculous solution.

OK so it has been an eternity since I've written about the precious cub. I keep saying that I will do an update post but truly life is very busy right now. First things first....the cub. I recall sharing our adventure with the good ole temper tantrum. Well, those suckers have gotten WORSE. I don't even know if I can call the ones at 15 months tantrums. The new and improved ones definitely challenge my patience as a parent and it doesn't help that he has them daily. More and more he is like the sour patch kids....naughty then sweet. Oh and now that he is speaking all I can say is help me.

The funniest thing that has come out of the past few months is the relationship between the cub and the dog. Now I have heard the saying a boy and his dog but I never really understood until now. Not only that but I didn't expect a true relationship to blossom between those two until the cub was like four. Boy was I wrong. Those two act like siblings. They argue over toys, the window, the couch, and daddy time. As usual no one cares about mommy time, everything is about the daddy. The cub is usually the instigator in the baby puppy wars. He doesn't seem to understand that like him Pancho has his own set of toys. So...anytime Pancho plays with his squeaky ball the cub gets excited and takes the ball to throw it. Well...Pancho doesn't feel like playing fetch so he interprets this as the cub taking his toy and he just sits there upset. Then...the cub gets upset because the dog didn't chase and fetch the ball. It's hilarious as I write it but in action this is a full on sibling rivalry happening in my house. The window. Both the cub and the dog like standing up in the over sized chair by the living room window and looking at the cars and people passing by. Well....when Pancho does this he usually barks at everything that passes our window. Due to the fact that Pancho rarely barks the cub is always frightened when he does. Add the close proximity to the dog and you have a completely freaked out toddler. Toddler starts to cry which in turn freaks out the dog. The only time this doesn't happen is when the cub comes and evicts the dog from the chair. He has learned that the word "down" commands Pancho to get down from the couch or any piece of furniture. So...the cub now yells down to Pancho quite often but especially when he wants the over sized chair and window all to himself. How do I teach the two of them to share? The cub calls Pancho two things, dog and woof woof. Whenever I come home from work and ask the cub about his the words dog and woof woof are repeated several times during his rant. He is apparently telling on Pancho for doing something.

The cub has also began defining our roles. It was always clear that daddy's role was playtime. This is even more evident now that the cub is running a talking more. He and daddy sword fight. Now the cub doesn't actually have any swords so this game is usually played with his toy golf clubs or the tool pieces to the vacuum cleaner. We don't know where he learned this game but it's one he loves to play. Mommy's role is obviously to kiss scrapes, remove boogies, and watch movies. We always read a book with the cub at bedtime. The tradition was to alternate readers each night. Well....the cub only likes for daddy to read Brown Bear Brown Bear. Apparently, he likes the animal noises the daddy make better than the mommy. So...no more alternating. The cub usually picks the book then picks which parent he wants to read it. Toddlers are hilarious. There is just no other word for it other than hilarious. Anyways, stay tuned for more updates ;) and enjoy the little video clip. I trimmed it down from a longer video just so you can see the cub terrorize the dog then the beginning of a tantrum because he wants the dog's toy.



The Mother of an African American Son

With the whole divide, anger, and just overall emotions swarming the Trayvon Martin Case, I have remained silent and a bit of a recluse if you will. Why? Truthfully, I don't like engaging in conversation that is divisive. I hate rhetoric that doesn't lead to solutions or in this case rhetoric that will lead to further division. I honestly have very mixed emotions about the race issues in this country; emotions that in moments such as the Trayvon Martin incident only become more confused and muddled. I usually shrug my shoulders and continue in the thought that the best way for me to fight these types of racial issues is to continue to be the best person that I can be and to embrace all God's people with love and compassion. I still stand by that but today as I listen more and more to the language and the thoughts and beliefs of people surrounding this case, I find myself thinking about my almost two year old son.

I must say I have been angered and saddened by the fact that our nation can't hear past some of the noise in this case and connect with the fact that one a young man died and two he did so because of the actions of someone else. I can't understand for the life of me why it's ok to say that George Zimmerman overacted or was maybe too ambitious but it's not his fault that a young boy is dead. I would hate to think that one day something I do, even if it is well intentioned, leads to the death of an innocent person. I also can't understand why George Zimmerman has the right to defend himself if threatened or attacked but Trayvon Martin doesn't have the same right. It pains me to hear people refer to Trayvon Martin as a thug. When I hear the word thug I think of someone in a gang, a drug dealer, a menace to society, someone that has a criminal record. None of these things were true of Tryavon Martin so why is he a thug? It disorients me to hear that George Zimmerman was a racist. I don't believe this to be true either. I do believe that he racially profiled Trayvon Martin but I believe he did so because according to what he understood there were young black men allegedly breaking into homes in his neighborhood. I do also believe prejudice played a part but not racism. These two things are very different to me; prejudice and racism. I believe the jurors had some prejudices. To hear the juror say that Ms. Jaentel wasn't creditable because of poor communication skills and poor education is sad to me. Does this mean an autistic child isn't creditable? A known charlatan, liar, or thief isn't creditable. Someone with a poor education can be very creditable to me.

These things trouble me deeply because I have an African American son. It hurts me deeply to think that I will one day have to explain to him that he will be judged not because of the content of his character or because of his actions but because of the color of his skin. Let's be even deeper, because of the amount of melanin in his skin. It pains me deeply to think that my son could be innocently walking home one day, make the mistake that a lot of children make and cut through a backyard (the kids in my neighborhood cut through mine all the time since the bus lets off right behind my house), be viewed as suspicious, feel threatened so he attacks his attacker first (if this is how you believe it happened), begins to win the fight against his attacker, and then end up dead on a sidewalk. I can't describe to you how my hand is shaking as I type and my heart is racing. But what frightens me even more is that the community of people that I work so hard to connect with, will not be able to see past the race and how they feel about which stories receive media attention, and how black people kill black people every day but want to holler the race card in any other incident. They can't see past this to connect to the human tragedy of the story then work together to make sure that something doesn't happen like this ever again-for both the Trayvons and Zimmermans sake. None of us really know what happened. We are all trying to piece together the evidence and let's be honest we will all do so from different perspectives. Why? Because we will each relate to a part of the story and the evidence based on our own experiences. That's why the verdict isn't what angers me. What anger me are my peers and the language I've heard from EVERYONE-white, black, grey, yellow, tan-surrounding this tragedy.

I want to be able to tell my son that the world can be a scary place but the people in it are working every day to change. I want to tell my son that as long as he does what is right he will always win. I want to tell him that he can trust his fellow man. I want to say these things to him and they be true. More importantly I just want to be the mother of a son. But it's times like this that I realize the world in which I live won't let me remove that descriptor African American. Why? Because it can't seem to stop making race an issue.

Airplanes and Toddlers

At the Airport About to Check-in

As we prepared for our trip to Colombia, the Husband and I have had nightmares about how we will manage a long travel day with the 18 month old cub. We immediately started securing everything possible that we thought my placate him throughout the day or hold his attention for a spell. I got over "being that parent" quite some time ago. You know "that parent". It´s the parent that all other non parents look at with shrewd eyes and judge and question why they can´t control their child. Early on I spent too much of my precious time trying not to be "that parent". Then it hit me one day; parenting is difficult enough without me trying to please people that honestly don´t matter. When it comes to parenting the only beings that I need to please are God, my children, and my husband. Now, I could care less about being "that parent". So yes that was me at Babies R Us the other day thumbing through swim wear while my son ran up and down the aisle singing and saying hello to everyone that passed by. Yes that was me at the Walmart who continued to check the label on a pack of snacks ignoring her son while he threw himself to floor, kicked, and screamed. I ignore this behaviour, so should you.This brings me to all the preparation for the travel plans. We packed everything possible that would help us prevent any tantrums. The reason being tantrums are downright draining. Travelling is draining enough; add hours of toddler tantrums and you have officially entered the sixth circle of hell. Needless to say we came with an arsenal of things prepared to entertain and calm our son.

We left our house at 6:30 am to go to the airport. This is an hour earlier that my son is accustomed to getting out of bed. I was prepared though for....nothing. He wasn´t cranky or irritable. Next was the long line to check-in. My son hates being held when there is an opportunity for him to chart new grounds and explore new surroundings. Still nothing. He patiently stayed in our arms and we successfully checked in all our bags. By now I´m thinking it´s just early. He will be in full mode soon. We made it through security and still no fussing, demanding to get down an run around, or tantrums when told no. We had a little wait before our plane departed so we ate breakfast and toured the wonderful Hartsfield Airport. The cub was allowed to roam around now. He had so much fun. It´s like all the airport staff, including security, were there to assist him with whatever he wanted. One security woman even flashed her lights and let the cub play with her little scooter bike ( I don´t know what those things are called). He got all the attention he could want plus extra. Now it´s time to board the plane. I´m nervous. A toddler, and my toddler at that, sit still for two hours in the same space. Oh and the ear popping thing. How do you handle that with toddlers. He sat in the lap of his uncle by the window. The plane took off and he loved it. He absolutely loved watching the plane take off and he looked out the window with great amazement. We were finally in the air with nothing but clouds to see and what does my cub do. GO TO SLEEP. He slept through the entire flight. So to all you non parents out there that looked at me with judgement and inwardly cursed the fact that you would be stuck in a confined space for two hours with a toddler shame on you. I know what you thought. I could see it in your glances as we sat at the gate and you listened as my son spoke with his outdoor voice. I saw the fear as you watched me chase him around the lounge area while he squealed with delight. You thought all this would happen on the plane too. Well shame on you! Who am I kidding....me too. I had those same thoughts and fear. So ignore the DVD player, headphones, games, music, junk food, books, toys, and Benadryl in my carry on. So sad, I was prepared to take the cub down by any means necessary. The layover and second flight into Cali, Colombia was just as amazing and smooth. He went to sleep AGAIN. The woman that had the fortune of sharing our aisle said my cub is the most tamed and wonderful child she has met. Proud mommy dance time. Who knew the cub would love to fly.

Answered Prayers

A coworker asked me to pray for her the other day and added that God answers my prayers. This caused me to pause briefly. What does she mean? What does that mean? I was truly taken off guard. The sentence rattled in my head the rest of the day and even the next morning. I woke up, read my daily devotional and boom there it was, "God answers your prayers". What does that mean? I couldn't wrap my head around it. Why couldn't I wrap my head around it? Honestly, because I felt it wasn't true. I automatically began thinking to myself that she must see something that I don't see in order to derive that God answers my prayers. Do she see me as blessed or privileged. If so, she obviously isn't paying close attention because my life is always hectic or always troubled by something. If I were to do a quick synopsis of my life right now it would go like this...

 my father, a hemophiliac, is having surgery on his knee soon, my mother has some underlying issue going on with her-most likely stress induced-that the doctors haven't found, my mother-in-law keeps having little health scares that thankfully have been minor, my brother is in jail, my job hasn't decided what direction to take with my position, my husband's car is on the fritz, the oven, washing machine, and air conditioning all stopped working at the same time, my bank account is dismal, I don't know how we are going to expense the much needed trip to Colombia and still stay above water, we need to put the Cub in childcare soon if we want to have a second child because that is way too much to put on the mother-in-law, I keep gaining weight and the scale frightens the daylights out of me, I need to replace my sofa but the bank account is still dismal, I can't sell my house without owing the bank my first born, and I'm in need of a pedicure.

OK I threw that last part in there because it was getting too heavy. Now this is just the surface stuff that I can share. The more personal stuff that involves other people I won't share-not because I am ashamed, my life is an open book, but I must respect the privacy of others. All that being said, what does she mean?

I had an epiphany a few months back that I never shared in which I realized that God has done so much in my life. The problem is I couldn't see it because of all the other stuff that was still unanswered or unresolved in my life. Sure I gave thanks for each hurdle or obstacle I'd overcome, but like any runner in the race I didn't pause because up ahead was the next hurdle. No runner stops in the middle of the race and celebrate jumping the first hurdle. No. You celebrate once you cross the finish line. I haven't crossed the finish line. Well...so I thought or felt. Then she made that statement and I stopped. Apparently, I had crossed the finish line and several at that. She had witnessed my triumphs, mainly because I share everything. I share my life because I always think to myself that others could be where I am or where I was and it is my moral duty to impart the wisdom and lessons learned to others. It may not always apply to that person's life but it gives perspective and insight. Isn't this why we have adversity and trials in life? So we grow and help others to grow. So we learn to lean on and trust in God. I'm still learning to lean and trust.  

My last thought on answered prayers. I gave my rant of the challenging things happening in my life right now. I've prayed feverishly for resolutions to these items. A friend shared a devotional with me that again floored me and changed my perspective. I've always felt like a lot of people lean on me or look to me for answers. I often feel burdened and tugged on but I do my best to be there for people. Lately, I began praying that these burdens be removed from me. After all do you see my list. I have stuff too. Well this devotional spoke to Jesus and how along his travels people would stop him and rely on him for encouragement, healing, etc. It spoke to the fact that the disciples leaned on him. All in addition to the task that God had for him. It then spoke to the fact that Jesus never complained and always made a point to be there for every one that sought him out. The scripture focus was Psalm 41:1.

"Blessed is he who considers the weak and the poor, the Lord will deliver him in the time of evil and trouble".

That day my prayer changed. It became clear to me that I didn't need to pray for my burdens to be removed; instead I needed to pray for strength to handle all that God had laid before me and to understand how God would like to use me in the lives of others. Talk about answered prayers. I still have my moments where say when is enough enough or hey this plate is getting a little full. But in the end I now know that people are watching and seeing the God in me and how is moving in my life. I'm working everyday to be a good reflection of Him. Key word...WORKING.

Women and Mothers Unite

I've never been one of those women that championed other women and viewed us as a collective. Truth be told rarely do I view myself as a collective of anything and I've done this deliberately. Mainly because I feel that we create divisions as a people when we add identifiers like woman, black, christian, mother, etc. My rationale was always that these identifiers make it appear as if another person can't relate to me or my story if they don't share those same identifiers. For example a white or Latino woman can't share my joy or pain because she isn't black. I've always fought this idea because I honestly believe you can learn from anyone and relate to any story. For this reason I've challenged and stayed away from anything that had divisions like that.

Lately, I've been reading a lot more blogs and opening myself up to the journey and ideals of people I don't get to encounter in my every day life. This has helped me in several ways. First, I'm learning that we are all very different and very same at the same time. This duality is so intriguing to me. How can something be the same yet different? But it's true. We all have the same fears, the same hopes, and the same struggles. We have different packaging as to how we approach and view those fears, hopes, and dreams. I'm learning that my struggle or journey is not unique to only me. This has been empowering because I know for me it's difficult for me to see outside my situation when I'm in the midst of managing it. It's nice to read some one's journey that mirror my own and see that there is light at the end of the tunnel. Even when there isn't light and there appears to be no answer or solution other than tough it out and endure, it's comforting to know I'm not alone. Lastly, I've learned that we as people aren't as detached as one would think. I'm always hearing that technology has ruined us socially and families don't communicate, communities aren't connected, and the world is going to hell in a hand basket. I'm seeing something different. We want to connect. We want to share. All these blogs and social media prove that.

As a new mom I've been more inclined to read the mommy blogs and it's amazing to me to read how other women view motherhood and embrace the day to day challenges that come with that role. It's also amazing to me the automatic support women give other women the moment they say I'm a mother. For the first time I began to find myself embracing my identifier and allowing myself to be a part of collective. Not because I believe that non mothers can't identify with me or understand what I am experiencing but because I had found a safe haven. I had found a voice that mirrored my own. As I read the words of these other mothers, my spirit dances and celebrates the pure simplicity in having someone that just gets it. Oh the just gets it is so important. To not have to explain. To not have to feel judged or criticized. To not have to share my story with the nagging voice asking should I really say that. It's liberating. As people I think we need that. I think we need solace and we need to have a place where we can go and truly be free. It's like the theme song to Cheers, "I want to go where every one knows my name". I think we all want to go where everyone knows our pain, our joy, our story and just get it.  I'm not saying that I'm ready to start my own version of the He Man Woman Haters Club. But, I finally get it. I just get it.

Death to Growth Charts

So the cub had his 18 month check up recently. I'm always excited to go to these check ups and see how the cub is progressing and nag my pediatrician with my myriad of questions. The cub is a true trooper and is never irritable from the shots, so all in all it's a positive experience. Well, here is where I flashback for a quick moment. Over the past six months my cub has not gained any weight and his height barely increased. I haven't fretted over it too tough because he looks healthy and nothing else has been wrong. You don't really notice it until you dress him and realize he can still wear his 9-12 months clothes. Seriously, my 18 month old can not wear pants for 12-18 months kids. They literally fall off his waist. I've been waiting for him to catch up or grow into his 12-18 months clothes, which he finally is, but now he should be transitioning into his 18-24 months clothes. This is what prompted me to bring up the weight concerns to the doctor during this last visit.

The doctor agreed that he looks fine and completely healthy, but after taking all his measurements and then charting them she too became a little concerned. His growth has definitely plateaued. Seeing the chart totally put a damper on my spirits. These charts illustrate more than just a slowing down but almost a complete halt  in his growth. The doctor now wants to see him in three months for just a growth check up. She tries to reassure me that there isn't anything to fret over and that we just want to monitor his growth. I don't know what to make of this except now I HATE growth charts.

I was that parent bragging about my cub's percentiles and I admit that it felt real good to see how he measured up to other kids his age. That is when the numbers were good. I've spent the last few days reassuring myself that my cub is happy and healthy, reassurance that I didn't need prior to those stupid growth charts. I think I am most mad because I didn't realize how I'd let the growth charts influence me. I didn't realize that I was using my cub's development as a type of competition if you will. I'll try to explain better. You ever been to a mommy and me group where somewhere along the conversation you realize each mommy is just trying to one up the next mommy. Here is a typical conversation:

Mommy 1: Jane started sleeping through the night at 2 months. We really used the self soothing method and stuck to a strict schedule.
Mommy 2: Well we used the musical stimulus method and Jack started sleeping through the night at 2 weeks old.

OK so these methods and time frames are completely exaggerated but hopefully you get the point. Those mommy communities can be brutal and more destructive than helpful.   Each parent and each child is different thus the journey is different. All this competition and bragging between parents is unhealthy. This is the source of my frustration with the growth chart because I feel I allowed a similar toxic situation as the mommy and me groups to occur. I just want my son happy and healthy. At the moment my mommy senses are telling me to let it go. I mean he definitely seems happy to me.



The Biggest Evil, The Tantrum

There isn't a super villain I can think of that is stronger, more evil, or devastating as the tantrum. My 17 month old cub has discovered and I think mastered the art of the tantrum. His sweet angelic face twists and morphs into a face of anger and dare I say hatred. Gone are his soft curls, rosy plump cheeks, and wistful eyelashes. Who new something so small and cute could curdle the blood in your veins and hurl you into the blackest abyss of frustration? I was informed that I wouldn't have to deal with this until two years of age. I mean that is why it's called the terrible twos. WRONG people. Don't drink the kool-aid. Apparently, this little phase starts once the child is able to express himself. Or at least that is what my pediatrician said during my cub's last doctor visit. I get the impression the doctor thinks that this is something fantastic or wonderful because he said it with the biggest smile on his face. All the while my cub continued to "express himself" throughout the doctor visit.

So, what are mommy and daddy doing to address this behaviour. We've done the reading and the advice seeking.

Action: Ignore him when he displays an undesired behaviour. Allow tantrum to happen and ensure he is in a safe place.
Result: Increased volume of the shrills and heightened flailing of body to the floor and kicking.

Action: Place him in his crib/play pen and say "Antonio this is not how we behave when....(insert undesired behaviour)".
Result: Increased volume of the shrills and intensity of the crying.

Action: Use a soft calming voice to soothe the frustrated toddler. After all most tantrums occur because a toddler is frustrated because of his lack of ability to express/communicate desires.
Result: If not already crying, then crying which can lead to high shrills, kicking, and flailing of the body.

Oh by the way that last one is bull larky. My toddler has no problem expressing or communicating his desires. He makes it very clear what he desires and he makes it very clear that he is not pleased when that desire is not satisfied. This brings me to the last suggestion.

Action: Remove tempting items that may lead to a tantrum if toddler is not allowed to have it.
Result: Things that you would never imagine would be tempting to a toddler becomes tempting. Toddler finds new items to explore or want. I am about to remove every item and piece of furniture out of my house.

So, here is my advice. Having a toddler is like being on a roller coaster ride. It can be exhilarating, adventurous, and down right out boy I'm glad I chose that ride. But along this ride are the scary hills, loops, and dare devil stunts that you have no choice but to throw your hands in the air and let it take you. Just don't close your eyes....toddlers move fast.

Cub Update

So, it has been a while since I gave a cub update. Life is in a bit of a whirlwind right now so I haven't had the time to put the fingers to the keyboard and pound out an update. Life with mini person (what I lovingly call toddlers) is ever changing, challenging, and adventurous. The cub is developing at lightening speed. Every day I wake up to a different kid. Some things I've noted about my offspring so far....


1) He has a weird sense of humor

My son laughs at injuries and fart sounds. I'm sure I could have used a better word or said gas but I need to capture that it's the really disgusting sounding ones. He enjoys it more when he produces the noise. Mommy of course does not respond properly to these situations so he prefers when Daddy is around because undoubtedly my husband will delight in it too. I don't get it and I chalk this up to one of the many things I'm sure I will not understand due to my estrogen levels.


2) He is a thrill seeker

If it's not dangerous, he's not interested. Why is my not even 18 month old son trying to jump off the back of the sofa. He just squeals with delight. Even the husband gets a little squeamish at some of the dare devil stunts the cub pulls. Needless to say I have added the Aflac hospital supplemental insurance to my plan.

3) He is a social butterfly

This one I should have seen coming. I mean I am his mother after all. My son literally goes through the mall, store, and almost anywhere waving to everyone and saying the two words he has mastered flawlessly, bye and hi. If the person responds then it is full on toddler talk. Oh and don't get me started on body language. Hands, shoulders, head nods and all. He is so animated when he talks. Apparently, shyness is not a factor. Whenever we go to Barnes and Noble or any place where children are freely roaming my son will just walk up to the other children and begin playing or initiate a conversation. Most children don't respond to him but it doesn't seem to bother him.








I have my hands full with this one.

Feeding the Spirit

I've always read God's word as a means to gain understanding regarding a topic, to learn what the bible says about this topic or that. Recently, I began a daily devotional not in search of anything in particular but as a part of me building myself in Christ and strengthening my relationship with Him. 

Along this journey I've had several Ah Ha moments and felt led to share them through my blog. But I'm a child and unfortunately my lack of follow through resulted in disobedience. We'll this morning I want to be obedient.

 

"That according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being"
Ephesians 3:16 NIV

 

Through my obedience to these daily devotionals I've seen so much growth in myself. I hear God's voice more clearly and am able to see the behind the scenes work of God in my life. Some of the vices I struggle with are becoming easier to control and behavior/traits that is pleasing to God but have always been opposite my character are manifesting. I have often prayed to God for patience, asking Him to increase my patience or show me how to be patient. I don't know why we pray to God to do things or make things happen that we are empowered to do ourselves. Well, that patience never came. Then I deluded myself into thinking it wasn't meant for me to be patient. The other day a colleague referred to me as patient. I was blown away.

 

Last week I clearly heard God instructing me to have a much needed conversation with a coworker in which I was to apologize to this individual. Prior to God speaking to me I didn't know or realize that I had behaved in a way that required me to apologize to this person. Let me shed light on the magnitude of what God was leading me to do. Cassandra doesn't apologize even when I know I've done wrong. Admitting I'm wrong and saying sorry are two huge problems I have. So, to ask this same person to apologize when she doesn't feel she has done wrong is monumental. Of course God revealed my actions to me which despite being harmless were not Christ-like. Well, I committed that I would be obedient and yesterday I initiated the conversation and apologized. I could feel both my heart and spirit swell; it was powerful.

 

When I came across the scripture I provided earlier it all came together. My spiritual growth has been a direct result of my daily bible devotional. The revelation I had is that as I feed my spirit it grows. More importantly as I feed my spirit nutritious food, God's word, it grows. Such a simple concept that although I've heard a thousand times in church I never fully understood until my devotional this morning. Yes, study the word so you know what is says about marriage, fornication, etc. But more importantly, study to feed and strengthen your spirit so it will have the power over your flesh, so it's voice is the loudest in the room, so it's light can shine for others to see. If you are a child of God and this is not the case for you-what are you feeding your spirit; are you feeding your spirit? Don't let it be malnourished.

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Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Goood, Very Bad Day

So I've highlighted on our family nightly routine in a previous post but for those that are unaware our night usually goes something like this...

1. Husband and  I come home to either an excited little cub or a frustrated one. Toddlers I am learning have serious mood swings.
2. Husband and I sit and eat dinner. The cub joins us more as a formality because he has usually eaten earlier with his Abuela. (The Husband and I are carpooling right now so we get home way too late but that's a story for another day).
3. We all spend the next hour chasing the cub through the house, kicking the ball, or dancing to Elmo.
4. Around 8 p.m. we take the cub upstairs to begin bath time. Bath time consists of more chasing the cub around the house to undress him, then the bath.
5. Cub splashes in the tub and use his toys to pour water on the bathroom floor.

6. Husband takes cub out of the tub and goes into his room to put on PJs while mommy mops the bathroom floor.
7. Cub eats Vaseline and lotion while mommy and daddy dress him for the night-don't judge us. Having a toddler has also taught us to pick our battles. Playing with sockets we are willing to fight. Eating the Vaseline...not really worth a fight.

Once the cub is dressed for bedtime we usually read a book to him. Now that he is more vocal and able to express what he wants, we usually let him pick the book. His favorite book is one titled "The Boy Who Wouldn't Share" but lately he has been enjoying my favorite childhood book "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day". Although the Husband and I usually try to alternate reading to him, I always read this book because one I love it and two the Husband hates reading the long books. Well, last night the cub picked the book and took it to the Husband to read. We have both been battling a cold the past the few days so needless to say the Husband's rendition of the book was lacking the fan fare the cub appreciates. He allowed the Husband to get halfway through the book when he started advancing the pages to skip ahead in the story. A few pages later he closed the book signalling his desire to end story time. The Husband reopened the book attempting to finish the story only to have the cub close the book again, and as if to make sure we understood that he had enough he then said to the book "Bye-Bye" and waved it away.

Playtime with Daddy

One of the more recent things that brings a smile to my face is watching my cub and his father play together. It is the most precious thing in the world. It's funny. When the cub was a small baby it used to frighten me to watch my husband play with the baby. I'm sure all mommies know what I'm talking about. Men don't seem to have the same worries as women do when it comes to playtime. I felt like my husband would hurl our cub into the air. My heart would literally stop beating. It didn't matter that my son was giggling hysterically and absolutely loved that he was being hurled into the air. I believe that is now why his favorite play person is daddy. My cub absolutely could care less about playing with me. That's not what mommies are for evidently. He doesn't bring me his ball to kick around with him. I can't carry him around on my shoulder.These are special for daddy. Oh and when he does give mommy some charity playtime the giggles are not the same as they are for daddy. Were talking on a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being giggles for daddy, mine are a 2. If you are sensing a little bit of mommy jealousy you're right. There is a little drop of green there but it's always erased by the joy it brings me to watch the two of them. Yep one proud mommy over here.

So one of the games my cub loves to play is chase. He absolutely loves being chased around the house. It usually goes that one of us will hide behind a door or an object and once the cub is near we pop out and say boo. The cub laughs hysterically then starts running. We chase him pretending it 's difficult to keep up with him then we finally catch him and hug him, more laughing. When we release him we turn and start running (more like pretend to run) until we can hide behind a door. When he enters the room we pop out and say boo and I think you get it. I've included a clip of the family fun.

Small Moments=Big Impact

So, Valentine's Day is always supposed to be a big deal. You're supposed to really wow your significant other with luxurious gifts. The bigger the bear, card, flowers, or box of chocolates the better, right? Oh and make sure the restaurant is at least two stars above your normal dining selection. If said criteria is left unmet on Valentine's Day then someone failed at properly celebrating the event. This has never been true for me and not because I couldn't find a chap willing to do that and more. I realized very early in my life that the small things matter most to me. My Husband is the type of man that usually makes a decision on what to get me the day before the occasion. For example, my birthday is Christmas Eve. The Husband usually has a eureka moment on December 23rd. The same is true of anniversaries and oh yes Valentine's Day. But I must admit, although last minute, it's always amazingly the perfect gift. I used to think to myself, "He has it easy. I'm the simplest girl to please". You can buy me some gummy life savers, starburst, and a card and I am over the moon. I think in my simplicity I may actually make it difficult. It's hard to wow someone year after year, 10 years now, with small moments. Well, once again the Husband managed to bring the biggest smile to this little lady's face.

The advent of the cub has seriously changed our dating and outing routine. Heck, our budget too. Thankfully my mother-in-law agreed to watch our little one so we could celebrate Valentine's Day.  The Husband found this small family-owned Mexican restaurant not too far from our house. I LOVE Mexican food. Shout out to the Groupon people. I was excited. Date nights are spread out right now in the Lawrence home, so this was a much needed night out. The food was incredible and we were loving the ambiance. Suddenly, a voice came over the music announcing free Salsa lessons right there in the restaurant in just a few minutes. My insides exploded into Fourth of July fireworks. I have been nagging the Husband to take Salsa lessons. All the Latino blood flowing in his veins and he has an aversion to dancing in public. I mean let's be stereotypical for two seconds....you are Latino. You are supposed to love dancing. I gave him my puppy dog eyes and begged. Useless! He wasn't budging. We continued eating and began laughing as the older couples made it to the dance floor and attempted learning Salsa. I'd settled in my heart that we would not be joining them and continued to enjoy my evening. Well, didn't I tell you my Husband always manages to wow me. Out of nowhere he says let's join them.This small gesture, not luxurious or flashy, meant more to me than anything on any shelf in any store in the world. I knew the internal price he was paying for the smile on my face and believe me I plan to wear this smile proudly.

Been gone for a minute....

Well, it's been quite a while since I've sat down at the computer and blogged. My cub wasn't even one yet in my last post. Life got a little hectic for me. I've had so many topics I wanted to share and life lessons I've learned. Some are still lingering in my thoughts so hopefully I will share them soon. In the meantime. Here is a photo update of the cub. After all he is the only reason you pay my blog any attention.

Racist or Not...This is Dumb

So it has been quite a while since I posted and to think that my first post from my hiatus will be about an ignorant, at least in my opinion, blog I had the opportunity to read is a little depressing. The problem is I felt so moved by what I read I couldn't think of anything but taking fingertips to keyboard and pounding out my thoughts. Those that have the privilege or misfortune of knowing me know that I believe every one is entitled to his/her feelings, beliefs and opinions. I hate when someone tells another person how to think or feel because there is a reason that individual drew the conclusions they did and those experiences and feelings should not be undermined. This, however, does not mean that the feelings and beliefs of others don't anger me because if that were true you wouldn't be reading this post. So, below is the link to the upsetting blog that prompted my need to post.

http://dailykenn.blogspot.com/2012/12/how-to-manage-black-communities.html

The first few sentences sum up the gist of the blog:

• The best way to manage black people is through family planning.
•  The objective isn't to control blacks, but to create a black community that is self sufficient, relatively crime free, and not dependent on white people.
• Aside from our national neurosis that compels us to embrace denial as a high moral attribute when applied to America's black culture, the obvious fact is that black Americans, as a whole, have a difficult time taking care of themselves.

This person honestly believes that we can fix the black community by limiting their reproduction to only the "intelligent". I won't even comment on the list of black people provided as examples of intelligent people that should be allowed to reproduce. Now, to this person's merit I did note that the post was ended by saying this can be applied to other races.

What I find most upsetting is I know this person's thoughts are shared by many and that is disheartening. The black community is not full of thugs, low lives, and degenerates like the media and it's champions like Neal Boortz would have you think. To address the community as one that needs to be treated like you would treat a rodent or pest infestation is abhorrent. My second problem is this individual would reply to me and say' "I wasn't speaking of you because you are obviously one of the intelligent ones". Dependency on government resources and aid (not dependency on white people as stated by this person) is a poverty and education problem. Not only a black community problem. I won't delve into statistics, trends, and studies. I will say that the problem is multi-layered and must be addressed on various levels, starting with education. To me everything stems from education. You know better so you do better. When you do better you feel better. When you feel better you produce better. To do this every child needs access to a quality education. I can assure you there are huge disparities between schools even in the same educational system.

Now, I am both too "intelligent" and insightful to associate this person's beliefs with every non-black person. I attended "predominately white schools" and shared experiences with people that I know in my heart looked to me as a peer and friend and cared nothing about the color of my skin. My community was so nice that I actually grew up thinking racism was a thing of the past and that the few ignorant people that were out there were few in number and some radical crazy group. When I read posts like this one it shows me that we are further from being a unified people than I thought. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr had a dream that one day little white girls and little black girls will walk hand in hand and play together. I have a dream that one day little girls will play with little girls and all these descriptors that we place on each other-- White, Black, Latino, Muslim, Catholic, Baptist-- will disappear. We use these titles to identify ourselves but the only thing they seem to do is divide us. People commit crime; not races or religions or sexual orientation. Find solutions to fix poverty, crime, hatred, and disease and stop worrying about fixing "the black community".

 Lastly, since when did intelligent people stop killing and committing crimes?