Tag Archives: teen mom

Bars! Back in The Days When I Was Angsty and Poetic

Soooo all over the interwebs it’s throwback thursday. In the spirit of this weekly holiday I’ve decided to go back to the archives of a young Raki, back when I used to spit bars. Sort of. Not really. I just used to write a lot. Writing has always been the best way for me to express myself and it’s usually the most honest version and most vulnerable side of me that I can show. After digging around a bit I found my folder of poems. The one below was written many moons ago. My son could only have been a few months old if that. This poem gives you a big peek into what I was going through, from discovery to delivery.

FLUSH

Remembering that night,
Tossing and turning,
Thoughts were churning,
Something just ain’t right.
Felt a little uneasy,
Stomach feeling kind of queasy.

Now I remember that day.
Just as clear as water is blue.
1 line means you’re not
Another line means you’re through.
I saw two.
Then Flush went the E.P.T.
And all my hopes and dreams.
My pride was pushed aside.
That second line,
Had changed my life.

Tumbling,
Stumbling,
Humbly,
I came to you.
Had no one to turn to.
If I had only known,
You were a wolf
But sheep’s clothing you owned.
I cried out my soul,
But your eyes were so cold.
And
Slowly I began
To feel the crush
Then Flush
Went my sole support
You wanted to abort
Mistakes were made
Now the price has been paid
And then came that day…
All those months I’d spent crying
Emotionally dying,
My shame the whole world could see,
My protruding proud pregnant belly.

In the morning,
So early it was dark,
At the door to my womb
I felt a knock,
Then another
And another
3-4 minutes apart
This is the start of the end.
It is finished.
It begins.

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Is This The Little Boy I Carried?

A Cake fit for a Being

A Cake fit for a Being

Well, this is what happens when you let him decide what goes on the cake. *sigh

In a few short hours I will be mother to a teenager. Y.I.K.E.S. We held his birthday party yesterday, saturday because Monday would have been too hectic.  There will never be another moment like this, literally, he’s 13, and I’m the converse: 31… and it’s 2013.  It’s just a cool little coincidence, and if I played the numbers I’d play 13,31,13 in that order. I still can’t believe my kid is a teen, and I feel like he’ll probably go to sleep, and out of spite grow an inch tonight so that he can be taller than me in the morning just to prove a point. The past year was pretty tough, this time last year I was in the midst of trying to abate a nervous breakdown and losing the battle.  I’ll tell you guys more about that later, but now I’d like to take a few moments to extoll the awesomeness that is David.

David rides around the neighborhood in snow boots and shorts, on a vintage BMX Mongoose bike with a bow and arrow strapped to his back wielding a 2 ft long Nerf sword. I love that about him because he really is a kid who does what he wants and doesn’t let pretense keep him from enjoying himself.  He still gets excited about stuff, he’s not “over it” as so many teens and preteens are these days. There’s an awesome sense of wonderment that I wish I could preserve in him forever although I know that, along with his estimation of my coolness, that too will begin to fade in the years to come. I just pray that he knows that no matter what, I love him with a vulnerability that’s hard for me to comprehend. That’s what parenting really is, it’s vulnerability, it means loving another person so much that self becomes secondary.  I’ve learned a lot about the resiliency of this kid, he’s surprised me with his maturity and tenacity even as I sit here watching him repeatedly stick his finger into a container of slime making it expel pitch perfect fart noises (the sloppy kind).  I took for granted the roundness of his face, and almost missed the sharpness of his mind. A fact I should have noticed years ago when at an early age, drawing on his superior sense of reasoning and observation: Dave posed the question:  “Mom, do I have utters?”

I could really go on and on about the joy my boy brings me. He makes me happy though not in a dependent way that can be sappy and is sometimes an unfortunate consequence of single parenthood. Yeah, he can get on my nerves and frustrate me to the point where I need to take a time out, but thankfully, those times are rare.  I delight in him and enjoy being his mom and wouldn’t want him to be any other way.

Happy Birthday Dave!

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The Fellowship of The Nigerians: By J.R.R. Tosin

(Tosin is a Nigerian name meaning God is worthy to be served)

I’m going to let you all into the truly fantastical and imaginative way that I experience the world and the unconventional scenarios in which I more than often find myself. I don’t know if this story will translate exactly how I experienced it but if I somehow manage to communicate this without completely going down the rabbit hole, I will count it as a resounding success!!

I’m a nerd, I read too many books The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit are some of my favorites.  So it should be no surprise that the following events played out the way they did in my mind.  So I got pregnant with no plan B (lol), pretty much all I knew was that I was having a baby. My kid’s dad is Nigerian, born and raised.  I’m half Nigerian also.  The Nigerian side of my family actually lives in Nigeria (my father included). I was born and raised on the good ol African American southeastern coast of VA. At 18 my experience with my African roots was more embarrassment than cultural awareness. Imagine growing up with cousins taunting you in feigned staccato African accents saying  “YOUR DADDY LIVES IN A HUT AND PLAYS WID DE LIONS” … yeah they were the worst.

I had never met my kid’s Dad’s family. The Dad and I weren’t exactly an item when we decided to procreate and there was so much turmoil going on throughout those 9 months, being introduced to the family never seemed to be on his to-do list. So finally it was D-Day and after 22 hours of labor and temporary paralysis from a misfire with the epidural needle, little D had made his way into the world.  The next day I found myself by myself in my room. Baby was with me and I was just kind of worn out. I was still in very much pain from the delivery and had managed to sit gingerly, when just as if Ricki Lake her self had given an invisible off camera cue,  the doorbell rang…

I hoisted myself up and was managing to make my way to the door by doing this kind of shuffle stiff legged walk not unlike Fred G Sanford.  There was more impatient knocking adding to my apprehension, because I was NOT expecting any visitors.

Finally I opened the door and there they all were. Standing there. Stuffed in the door like the dwarves in The Hobbit when “They all fell in “

 

I refer you to this passage from the Hobbit

“Someone at the door!” He (Bilbo) said blinking

“Some four I should say by the sound,” said Fili. “Besides, we saw them coming along behind us in the distance.”

            The poor little hobbit sat down in the hall and put his head in his hands, and wondered what had happened, and what was going to happen, and whether they would all stay to supper.  Then the bell rang again louder than ever, and he had to run to the door. It was not four after all, it was FIVE.  Another dwarf had come along while he was wondering in the hall.  He had hardly turned the knob, before they were all inside, bowing and saying “at your service” one after another. Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, and Gloin were their names; and very soon two purple hoods, a grey hood, a brown hood, and a white hood were hanging on the pegs, and off they marched with their broad hands stuck in their gold and silver belts to join the others.

 

It was the dad’s family!!! They had shown up at the hospital unannounced. I had never met these people before. He didn’t tell me they were coming I was overwhelmed by people I didn’t know, speaking in languages I’d never heard before. HE. HAD. SET. ME. UP BIG TIME!! I was by myself with no warning AND wearing a rear vented hospital gown!! NOTHING in this world makes you feel more vulnerable than having on mismatched ankle socks and an open back hospital gown.  Forget being swollen and unable to move around (and 8 months shy of my last perm #blackgirlproblems). This whole scene reminded me of when the dwarves came to Bilbo’s house in The Hobbit especially because Nigerian Yoruba names sound a lot like hobbit/dwarf names.)  I hope that the following visuals will aid in my attempt to help you envision my predicament…

Caught Unawares

Caught Unawares

The Gathering

The Gathering

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Playing the Dozens

Oh, You Got Jokes?!

HE GOT JOKES Y’ALL!! What started off as an innocent question quickly turned into a rapid fire battle of Wit and Foolery. Last night my son and I were hanging out it in my room. My mom, who’s visiting was there too. He asked me about what appeared to be a speck glitter on my face and the following is what ensued:

DAVE: Why is there glitter on your face?

ME: It’s because I’m a rainbow inside.

DAVE: No, You’re a THUNDER STORM!! (cackle, cackle)

ME: You’re a Monsoon!

DAVE: You’re a Typhoon!!

ME: WHAT? You’re a mudslide!

DAVE: YOU’RE AN AVALANCHE

ME: AND YOU’RE A DROUGHT, NOW GO PUT ON SOME LOTION! #POW

iWin

My mom who’d watched this exchange in awe was laughing so hard. She’s like there’s no way I could have kept up with you guys with those comebacks. I must say I’m quite proud of the kid for his speed and agility. My cousins and I used to joke each other ALL the time. You had to have thick skin to roll with the best. Playing the dozens is an art form, especially in the black community. Welcome to the family son, you did good!

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