The Late Arrival

Advertisements would have us believe a lot of things. That potty training will be a fun experience for parents and kids alike if we use technology to do it. If you've potty trained a child -- or even a puppy -- there's no app, tablet, laptop or gadget that can make it fun. Yeah. An iPad on a potty chair. Fun for everyone! That we'll have wrinkle-free radiant faces after a few applications of the right lotions and potions. Listen, you can butter up your face in every kind of oil, spackle and even acid, but wrinkles will forever be there. Don't ask how I know that. Yeah. Not. Of course, there's more. Achieving a lean, hard-bodied physique after just sprinkling magic fairy dust on food without exercise or change in diet. Irresistible magnetism to the opposite sex because of wearing the right scent, driving the right car or even drinking the right top shelf vodka. I've decided that Nutella should be added to the list too. No, not because of clai...

"I'm Black, He's White - Who Cares" so goes the title of an excellent piece featured on Literally, Darling . But the point the writer makes is that the Who in the title is acutally Her. She cares. More specifically, she's scared. Primarily for her future children - whether they be bi-racial or black. In a way, her fear is justified based on her past experiences -- not being "black enough" for black folk, or confusing to white folk, or having her coupledom visually and verbally demeaned -- none of which is out of the ordinary for any black or brown person or mismatched couple in our pre and even post racial society. Listen, Jazmine (that's her name): I feel your pain, Girly. But allow this black wife who's married to a white guy and who's also a mom to a biracial kid, and most importantly who's twenty-plus-years your senior, to pass on some unsolicited words of wisdom. It's in the rear-view mirror, and you're not backing u...

Iron sharpens iron. Or rather, good writers make the rest of us better. In that vein, the following is written in response to the Trifecta Writing Challenge for a 33-word piece inspired by the Rolling Stone's "Sympathy for the Devil." Related: thanks, Red's Wrap for being the iron that sharpens iron.

It’s 6:00am and I’m awake. The sun and moon are in a battle to see whose light will win the morning. Through slats in the bedroom blinds, I peer out to see the cold, navy hue the battle has cast over our tiny yard. It’s the same every morning when I should be up, not just awake. The sun and moon battling. The sun always winning out in the end. Me being awake, but not up; knowing the extra thirty minutes means the difference between leaving with or without makeup, stress versus ease in wrangling my daughter out the door and on the road to school. Still, I stay awake, but not up. A half hour later, I’m up…and like someone fired a starter pistol near my ear, I’m washing myself, double-checking with her about lunch, knee pads, gym clothes, does the dog have fresh water – and where is the dog anyway? Then we’re leaving and I remember my rings – the one of promise, the one that sealed the deal and the one that reminds me that I’m a mom. Where are they? The starter pistol rings in...

There’s a reason this blog is called The Late Arrival. A few weeks back, my daughter and I went to church. We were a few minutes, well…late. I felt weird stares; and indignantly, hurriedly, I plopped down anyway. Five minutes later, the pastor asked the congregation to rise for the prayer and dismissal. See what I mean? One late night, the call for writing submissions for the Type-A Parenting Conference’s We Still Blog Awards appeared on my Facebook feed. I clicked the link, read the prestigious bios of the people judging the pieces and figured Yeah right, like this’ll happen. Meh…what have I got to lose. At least I can say I tried.  I pressed “Submit” and forgot about it. Until nearly a month later on another late night. An email congratulated me on being one of ten finalists selected. Oh no. Really? This is all kinds of wrong. This can’t be right. Could it? It was. Then later I perused the blogs of the other finalists…and FREAKED. Their websites were beau...