I Wake Up In The Basement I’m So Hungry/ I Must Be Here Sleepwalking

How to explain the unexplainable.

Sunday night I made homemade spaghetti and meatballs with ceaser salad for dinner and the kids loved it. Everything was all good. So I decided to send the leftovers with them to daycare for lunch the next day. I asked Z to get out 2 containers for me to divide it up for them. She made a big deal about her getting the green lid one and Little E said he wanted the green one too, leaving the blue lid unclaimed (seems like a stupid detail but just wait). I ignored them hoping they would forget about it by the morning, a pick your battle kinda situation and just closed them up and made my salad in my own Tupperware, with a red lid for anyone keeping track. Then I stacked all three in the fridge, thinking nothing more about it.

Skip forward to Monday morning when I tell Little E to get their lunches ready and he says there’s only one spaghetti container in the fridge. I yell from the bathroom to look harder KNOWING I just put it in there last night, three Tupperware one on top of the other. You can’t miss it. A minute later he calls back saying it’s not there.

So I’m thinking he’s just being lazy and not seeing something that’s surely right in front of his nose, and I stomp off to the kitchen prepared to whip the door open and prove him wrong and find the green lidded container that had most likely dropped behind something and go one with our day. I open the fridge. I look. I can’t find it. I LOOOOOOK hard. It’s not there. I look in the freezer. It’s not there. I check kitchen cabinets. Nope. I look in the damn garbage. Nothing. I call Z thinking she might’ve possibly hid it in some secret place to ensure she got the green top. She has no clue. I might’ve gone over board on my interrogation techniques, because seriously wtf could it have gone, but I could tell both the kids had no clue, and as a mom you know if your kid is lying. So I let it go as far as them lying went.

Then, since I was running out of options I even went so far as to check to make sure all the outer doors to our house were locked (lol I know) to make sure no one came into our house in the middle of the night and indulged on my fantastic spaghetti and then left leaving everything else untouched. Locked, obviously. So now I’m left with sleep walking/eating? And I’m like 100% sure it’s not my kids since I hear when they get outta bed to use the washroom. Little E is in a metal bunk bed that makes hella noise when he moves let alone gets in and out. And Z just doesn’t understand how to open a door quietly. So was it me? Like honestly did I eat or hide this stupid container? I’m not sure about anything anymore.

So I give Little E my salad since we’re running out of time and I have to get to work. When we got home I started a mass hunt for this thing. I looked through the fridge thoroughly again, under couch cushions and beds. Double-checked all the cupboards and drawers. Backpacks and purses. Everywhere and anywhere I thought of I searched and I can’t find the stupid Tupperware. And I know I used it because it’s not in the cupboard clean. It’s not in the dishwasher. I remember the kids fighting over it.

So we have some proverbial fairy stealing pasta making me go crazy. But I honestly have no idea what happened to it, and I don’t want to find it in a week or two based on the rotting smell coming out of somewhere.

And if someone in my house IS sleep walking? Well that’s just a whole other level of stress I don’t have patience for.

– Alice Cooper / The Awakening –

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I Wish I Could Be Every Little Thing You Wanted All The Time

Last night Z nearly broke my heart.

I was washing her hair, which could be considered a full time job, although we do it on average once a week if I’ve had enough coffee and sleep, when she made the comment that she doesn’t like her hair and wished it was like all her friends hair, which is in her words ‘smooth’.

Z has the most fantastic Afro, which I’ll admit at first I didn’t at first know the first thing about dealing with for obvious reasons, the main being I never had hair like that so why bother learning right? But over the years as her hair grew I realized it was getting more curly and thick and I would need more insight on how to care for her crowning glory to do it full justice, I started researching what the better quality products would be to use. I learned all about a wash n go and wet plopping and deep conditioning which to be honest were all very helpful for my hair as well since I also have curly hair, although not to the extent of Z’s 3c/4a curls. I learned not to use drug store brands that contain sulphates and other harmful chemicals that will further dry her hair out. I learned how to trim her hair myself to maintain it and get rid of dry, split ends on my own without spending a fortune on a hairdresser. I will admit though that I still cannot plait her hair, but I have learned twist outs and how to lay her edges so I’ll just take that as a win for now. One step at a time. 🤷🏻‍♀️

But when she was upset last night because her hair wasn’t ‘smooth’ like all her friends at school my heart fell into my gut. I can only be so much of a roll model for her in this area. I wear my hair as big, full and curly as possible, because I honestly feel the bigger the better, and I truly think natural hair is better. I’ve straightened my hair maybe once a year since finding out all this information about hair for Z. Little E wears his hair pretty close cut because he just has no interest in keeping a style and prefers it practically shaved, and even when he does grow it out, it’s not as curly as Z’s, it’s more of a thick bigger curl. Her dad maintains a bald head although they don’t see him often (as my regular readers know 3 visits when we went back at Christmas and before that it was February last year). So I guess my point with all these “examples ” is that she has no natural hair role models as far as her hair texture. I’ve shown her on places like instagram woman with beautiful hair like hers and how they wear it even bigger than hers. For reference, her fro averages between 6-10 inches but I don’t fluff it out on the bigger side often. She prefers to style it pushed back with a headband or with a few clips or two pigtail afropuffs. Which is for the best because those are the only ones I can pull off half decently.

Anyways this is a very roundabout way of saying I hurt for her. I want her to be proud of every part of her, but this is a way I can’t directly be a role model for her. Yes, I can wear my hair naturally and I do, but her hair is distinctively different, not only from mine, but from the streets of Kelowna and even where we were before and heck even in a Kenya because of the mix, and others notice. I think it’s fantastic and beautiful and many others do as well. We constantly receive compliments while out about how nice her hair is of which I reminded her last night. I told her that her hair is original and beautiful and she should never want to change who or how she is. I was detangling it and showed her how long it was while wet and stretched out and she was so impressed, since it reaches to her elbows. So after the bath, I did one long braid for her down her back and she was much happier and kept mentioning how long and smooth it looked. Albeit it only lasted about 15 minutes until it was completely dry and shrunk up to her neck but it made her happy in that moment.

I’m just wondering how to move forward from here. I’m WELL aware that my kids should have strong black role models in their life, but if there aren’t any around… I can’t just produce them out of thin air.

My in laws are not an option, her dad is out of the question. The black community in Kelowna is to be honest practically nonexistent (trust me, I’ve looked). But I know that it will be something they need to become the fullest version of themselves they can be.

I guess that’s the most frustrating aspect of this experience. Knowing I can be the best mom I can possibly be. I can make all the healthy lunches and arrange all the play dates and study up on all the hair care and do all the sex talks, to name a few examples, but facts are facts, and facts in my situation is that my kids are half black, there’s no denying that, and I would never want to. And that culture is not something I can provide them, and they desperately need it.

It makes me feel so inadequate.

Knowing no matter what, I’ll never be enough. And I can’t do it on my own.

And what’s worse it that the right people are not offering to help.

***update***

Just stopped at Walmart and saw this ironic and timely display showing Robert Munschs books on display

All had been picked through except the braids book (which Z owns). It’s a book about a girl with hair like Z’s and how she doesn’t like to have it braided since it takes a while and hurts. Etc. But anyways it’s literally just shows how no one in Kelowna has that culture in their life nor is trying to pass it on to future generations here and I’m on my own with my kids. 😑

*Z with morning bed head for reference*


-Dishwalla / Every Little Thing –

Callin It Quits Now Baby I’m A Wreck

2019.

Here I am.

Taken me a while to…. not necessarily find the time to do this recap of the last year of my life, but more specifically find the desire to share what I’ve accomplished and overcome as well as my shortcomings in 2018.

So where to start.

I guess the most obvious place would be the easiest.

I moved. I uprooted my family and moved 900 plus kilometres away to resettle once again, for hopefully the last time. So far I’ve enjoyed the new place. The house specifically I’m not a fan of, but the city is good and the lifestyle is good. The kids have made good friends and are enjoying it here. So I count that as a win.

I lost 50 pounds and then regained 25. So obviously that’s not exciting for anyone who’s interested in getting more fit and not as fat, but it is what it is. And since I can’t hide 25 pounds I might as well just say it like it is, and what it is is crappy. I did start the year with a water fast and lost the 4-5 pounds that I gained over the holidays at my parents but now I’m just back to my plus 25. And really just couldn’t care at this point. No ones looking at my body but me and I’m used to it so it’s not at the top of my priority list right now.

I reached over 1600 followers on this blog, for which I’m really thankful for. I don’t write often now because my minds in a messed up place but I try to keep it real and hope that y’all can appreciate that the way I’m thankful you take you time to read about my life. It still blows my mind that anyone would be interested in someone else’s story, but it helps me continue to write knowing there’s a few of you out there who find it interesting enough.

I turned 31. All alone without leaving my house or blowing out a candle or opening a gift and realized birthdays are a sham.

I finally got divorced. Again all alone, but it was a somewhat momentous occasion for me as it had been years in the making and when it finally came it was a weight off. I won sole custody (duh) and it’s just good to know that won’t drag on forever.

I stopped fucking around. To most of you that’s not a big deal, but for me, who used guys and let guys use me, it’s phenomenal. I haven’t had sex in too long and see none on the horizons but I’m somewhat ok with that. It just wasn’t as valuable to me as it used to be, and no longer brought me any joy whatsoever. So I stopped messing around. It’s like a double-edged sword, but I think it’s best for me, both for now and probably long term.

I realized I don’t really like my job. I mean it’s fine and all, but definitely not something I’ll want to do long term. I’ve been doing some soul-searching as to what steps I could take and what direction I want to take my life, but my dilemma right now is that I can’t feasibly get an entry-level job in the genre I’m considering that’s anything close to what I make now. So I’ll just wait it out right now.

Other than that…. I’m still the same old C.

Divorced, overweight, mom of two. Working only to pay the bills, and chilling at night alone.

Do I have goals for the upcoming year? Not in particular. I know me. I know when I set goals, I never achieve them, I have no self-discipline to follow through. But if I end up just doing something in the spur of the moment, then damn I’m so proud of myself instead of being disappointed for not doing something.

2018 in the bag. Whatever that means.

2019…. I’m not looking forward to you, but to be honest I’m not looking forward to anything these days.


-Subflower/ Post Malone & Swae Lee-

My Mind Runs Wild To Comprehend What No Mind On Earth Could Understand

1,652 days from the day I got married and the day I decided to leave E. (Better than 72 days but still not impressive by any means)

1,762 days from the day I left and started this whole divorce process until yesterday, the day I got that email I thought would never come saying:

Divorce

In blue writing, emoji’s and all (yeah… millennials lol).  My divorce took 110 day longer than my entire marriage lasted.

Anyways, I was at work when the long awaited news, and I can honestly say I got overwhelmed. I experienced more emotion in that single moment then I did on my wedding day, or either day I gave birth. I had to leave work right away because I was tearing up so I sent a quick imessage to my boss and J saying I received a personal message and would be back in an hour, and left without waiting for a reply

I couldn’t even make it to my car. I, Me, C, stopped and had to sit in the stairwell to cry. Until this moment I thought people who did crap like that were just overly dramatic, like for real get your shit together. Until I couldn’t even form thoughts coherent enough to get one foot in front of the other and be confident I wouldn’t fall down the stairs. So I dropped. And sobbed. Until I heard the door above me open and thought my coworker or A had followed me out to make sure I was ok and so I rushed down the stairs to my car. Thankfully it was just another patron of the building, probably wondering what the hell was going on in the stairs lol. By the time I had gotten to my car, I had pulled myself together a bit and decided to drive down the block on the off chance anyone from work did walk out to check on me.

I parked a little ways away and the need to tell someone washed over me. It was like this was a milestone that needed to be observed and when that happens it should be noted by others, at least I thought so. So I called my mom. Wasn’t really my first choice, but it was my option in the moment. I asked if she was busy or if she had a moment to talk, and since I don’t call often ever during the day she said she was just leaving the neighbours house, but go ahead. So I let her know that my divorce was final and to be honest I can’t remember how she responded, since I was trying to suppress tears that were threatening to rise again.

She asked if she could tell the neighbour, who I grew up with and know very well, which I was fine with and she passed along the news, and then as she walked out the door she asked me how I felt about it.

Which I thought was weird. I kinda assumed everyone else would assume I would feel great about it, so the question would be unnecessary, and never asked of me. But when she asked, I realized, I didn’t feel great.

I felt like I had given up hope. I felt like this was something I’d resigned to the fact of never coming to fulfillment. I felt like E had won this forever since everything kept going his way even though his way was ridiculous. I felt like this battle had already been lost and why bother fighting anymore. So I had stopped a long time ago to preserve myself and my sanity.

And now to have it dropped in my lap…. A victory as such? I honestly didn’t know how to feel because I hadn’t prepared for it in anyway. I had only prepared for the opposite. In every way shape and form I had settled on the fact that this divorce was going to take the rest of my life and I would be stuck with E in this way forever. Caught in limbo, with each turn becoming a dead end. With each path I pursued leading me to more desolation. It no longer occurred to me that there could still be a finish line, let alone one that brought me such a decent outcome being sole custody and child support, which may not seem like much to you, but after all this time its everything to myself and the kids.

So to be shocked with this. This end. This end that provided me with something I had not planned for, was almost frightening. An end that set me free from E?

I don’t know how I feel. But I know I will know be able to spend the rest of my life discovering the new me because of it.

The new feelings and new emotions that this freedom has brought.

Because now, after many long long years, I feel I have truly lost my chains.

I, C… She has been set free. From my paranoid schizophrenic physically, mentally and emotionally abusive husband yes, but from so much more.

Where this freedom takes me is COMPLETELY up to me and only me.


-Hillsong United/Here Now (Madness)-

I Can See Clearly Now, The Rain Is Gone, I Can See All Obstacles In My Way Gone Are The Dark Clouds That Had Me Blind It’s Gonna Be A Bright (Bright), Bright (Bright) Sun-Shiny Day.

Z got glasses.

Wow.

They did a little pre-screening in her Kindergarten classroom and recommended that she go for additional testing, so I took her in a few weeks back. Yep turns out she has terrible vision.

So the glasses arrived at the clinic yesterday, and I got the call at work they were ready to be picked up. When I got the kiddos from daycare and gave them the news, she wouldn’t stop chattering on and on about how excited she was about getting them. Z is my little miss fashionista, and to her, in that moment, this was just one more accessory for her.

When we got to the optometrist office, she had a seat and they pulled out her brand new  purple pair of glasses. Which she had picked all on her own, after trying on about a dozen other pairs that just weren’t up to par. She put them on, and promptly pulled them off, got straight up off that chair and walked away saying “I don’t like them/I’m never wearing those” and refused to put them back on. I think it had changed her perception and vision so much, that it was shocking and quite frankly scary to her. The employee pulled up her chart noting that it was quite a large prescription and so the adjustment would be a big jump.

Imagine living your whole life thinking how you currently see/hear/smell/taste etc, was the best/only way to do it, and now… BAM there’s more!?!?! Is is better? In that moment all you know is that it’s different. You don’t understand that what you were experiencing before wasn’t “good enough” since it’s everything you ever knew, so to you it’s perfect. Until now. Now, there’s something that’s different with these fancy purple glasses. And up until now, every pair of glasses you had tried on was a fake dollar store pair of sunglasses at best. But these? They make you rethink/resee everything.

Scary is probably an understatement. So I did something I don’t think I’ve ever done in over 8 years of parenting. I bribed my kid with McDonald’s. 🙁   In that moment I just wanted it to be a good experience for her, and I just wanted her to try the glasses on again, and to be ok with seeing her entire world from a new perspective. Something most grown ass adults are afraid to do (I’m not talking glasses anymore, catch my drift) So I told the employee I’d work with her a bit and maybe be back to have them fitted later.

We walked out the door and as we were getting in the car I convinced her to put them on for the drive to Micky D’s, just to try. I felt awful because she had a few tears rolling down her face, but she agreed. As we drove I asked her what things she could see and could tell she was slowly getting used to them since she kept them on, but she stayed silent. I ended having to stop for gas and she asked if she could help, which I said yes too. Heck at this point I probably would’ve said yes if she asked for a pony, so let’s just be glad all she wanted was to pump gas. As she stood by quietly while the pump did it’s thing, she finally said “Mom, I can see the mountains.”

My heart broke.

I was so hurt that she had lived all this time without enjoying the beauty I take for granted everyday. Then she continued. “I can see the trees on the mountains. I can see to the back of the store, I can see the lights” etc. It was fantastic to see her discover everything that we normally discover over years, all in the span of 5 minutes. And the smile on her face was more than could ever be described. She mentioned that they were falling off, so I explained that that’s what the lady had wanted to fix back at the store, and asked if she’d be ok going back to get them fixed. She was, and I could tell the idea of wearing them more was growing on her.

So 15 minutes after we left, we were back at the optometrist with Z skipping into the store. She had them adjusted to fit and we were off to McDonald’s for my aforementioned dinner bribe.

This morning she was a little nervous to walk into daycare and asked me to go in with her (normally I just drop the two of them at the door) so I went and there was one other older girl (about 8) getting her boots off. Z didn’t want to get her coat off and stay, and the other kids made a comment along the lines of “it’s ok, no one is going to tease you” and so I said, “She wasn’t worried about kids teasing her until you mentioned it, she’ll be good.”

Z literally doesn’t know what teasing is, as I’m sure is the fact with every kids, until they are taught it (along with everything else, but that’s too much for today). She just needs to be treated the same, told she looks great, and everyone move on with their day.

Anyways. Z was cute before. But she’s even more adorable now.


-Johnny Nash/I Can See Clearly Now-