Posts Tagged ‘mom’

HATCHEDit: Because Mom’s need some help!

I think the last time I was stress-free was about ten years ago. I’ve been juggling so many different hats for so long, with few moments to stop and smell the flowers. Heck, I take the flowers and smell them on the way to the next destination!! Being a young mother and professional, my schedule is jam packed with meetings for work, swimming class, potlucks at school, dentist appointments, trips to the library, and play dates. More than one person has asked me how I do it all, my response is always: I have no idea!
I’ve found ways to help manage and organize the crazy that is called my life, and one of them has been HATCHEDit. It’s a wonderful online family management system designed to assist Moms in day to day planning. HATCHEDit is free (which I love, hey I’m on a budget) and is full of wonderful resources and tools which include an address book, news feeds, a pin board, and family calendar. Those of you who want to share information with Grandma or babysitters – this is the site for you! The site is collaborative giving Moms the ability to communicate important information with ease.
Wanna more about how HATCHEDit can benefit you? Check out the video below:

I’m a Mom on the go and I need something that is going to work with me and my schedule. Technology is a big part of my life, so I love being able to simply login and check information, as I’m infamous with writing an appointment down in my calendar but not updating my virtual calendar’s or my phone which can lead to a big mess and missed appointments! Out with the old and in with HATCHEDit!!
Would you use virtual organizational sites like HATCHEDit to help keep life in order?

Disclaimer: This is a sponsored post by HATCHEDit. All opinions expressed are the blogger’s own views and not influenced by any outside biases.


So, I guess I dont look like a Mom

I was in the grocery store this morning picking up my baby girl so flowers for her preschool graduation. When it was my turn at the register, I brought out my wallet and inside is a picture of her from last year cheesing as usual. The woman smiled at the picture then asked if that was my daughter, I smiled and said yes. She then looked at me and said, oh wow you don’t look like a Mom.


This isn’t the first time someone has said that to me. When someone says this to me I usually roll my eyes and ignore their statement. But this time I replied to the woman, I didn’t realize I didn’t look like a Mom, what does a Mom look like? The woman, surprised by my response, ignored my comment and continued ringing up my flowers. I thanked her when I was walking away, but was kinda upset too.

Since I apparently don’t look like a Mommy, what does a Mom look like? Does she drive a minivan? Does she have gum in her hair and cheesecurl stains on her shirt? Does she have a kid attached to her hip and one in a stroller? Is she White? Does she have a wedding band on? Does she look disheveled and half asleep?

Today I was looking pretty fabulous if you ask me. I put on a little makeup to brighten up my face, finally put some earrings in, and I had on a cute khaki dress that zippered in the front. I was polite to the woman and was not nasty, so why didn’t she assume that I could be a Mother?

Referencing a great friend and mentor, Deesha Philyaw of coparenting101, Ain’t I a Mommy?


Is it harder for black moms?

I recently read an article over on essence magazine’s website titled, “Is it harder for Black Moms” and I of course instantly began thinking about this issue. It’s not something I had ever considered before. That my race, my being a black mother, put me in another lane, another field, another planet. Then I dug a little deeper.

I gave birth to my daughter 4 days shy of my 20th birthday almost 5 years ago. I fit oh so many stereotypes. I was unwed. I was a minority. I was a teenage mother. What do the statistics say? That teenage mothers probably don’t finish their education. That black moms will end up on welfare and section 8. That I’d end up have 3 or 4 baby’s daddies. That I’d just end up being a broke baby mama. These are the messages that are around us.

Its sad, its disgusting, its discouraging, and it enrages me.

So is it harder for black moms? Is it harder for Spanish moms? Is it harder for Asian moms? Is it harder for white moms living in an inner city? Is it harder for black moms living in the suburbs? I mean, we could go on and on and on and on.

I could view my beautiful caramel skin tone as a disadvantage just as many others do. I could blame my complexion on the fact that I didn’t get that job. Could use it to reason why the cop in the store was eyeing me up and down. I mean, if we truly think we are at a disadvantage then won’t be?

I’m a huge huge believer that your future is what you make of it. While I cannot make people do what I want, I can change my reaction to people and situations. Instead of always jumping to conclusions and blaming my race, changing my perception will allow me to see the bigger picture not just what I see through my narrow lens.

I think we as a society need to start taking responsibility for ourselves and stop looking for someone or something to blame.

But that’s just me.


i love my mother, but…

Let me preface by saying I love my Mother.

So, I’ve come across many articles that praise all the wonderful things that women and men have learned from their Mothers. They’ve helped them do this and do that and without them they wouldn’t be where they are. In these articles they often say all the grand things their Mother taught them. Maybe she taught them to be kind and fair. Or maybe she taught them how to cook or jump rope.

I hear these stories and I want to nod my head with agreement. I want to also think that my Mother taught me all these wonderful priceless treasures. But, I always think about what my Mother didn’t teach me. Hooray for being a pessimist.

My mother raised me and my 3 other siblings on her own. She worked tirelessly to provide the essentials for our family. So, a good work ethic, maybe I learned that from my Mother.

I don’t remember cooking in the kitchen together or making mud pies with my Mom. I don’t remember her helping me with my homework or teaching me how to ride a bike. I don’t remember her helping to show me how to be a Mother my first night home from the Hospital.
What I do remember is her leaving. Her being too busy to show a true interest in my interests. What I do remember is her being upset for having to drive me home from the Hospital with my 2 day old daughter and then leaving as soon as I got my baby girl out of the car. What I do remember is thinking what the hell am I supposed to do. What I do remember is missing my Mother, missing a Mother when I was growing up.

I wish I could list all the wonderful things I learned from my Mother. How she is my ultimate role model and without her I wouldn’t be where I am. I am thankful that she gave me life and taught me morals and values. But it almost seems like she got to the point where she gave up on us. It’s almost like she threw in the towel and called it quits with parenting. I can remember one birthday in particular, I came home from school so excited to see my mom. But the house was still. Her car was gone. I dragged my feet up the stairs with my head down. On my bed she left an outfit and a note that said Happy Birthday Alex, I’m at XX (her boyfriends) house for the night. No words could describe the pain and the hurt I felt. It’s a feeling I’ll never forget.

Again, let me repeat I love my Mother.

I wish she could have been there with me the first night home from the hospital where I was scared out of my mind with a newborn. I wish she would have showed more interest in me and not her boyfriend. I wish she could have hugged me after my first love broke up with me. I wish she could have taught me how to cook and shared her cooking tips.  I can wish for things to have been different growing up, but it won’t change what happened. And I wouldn’t want it too. And while I may be a little dysfunctional in the most fabulous way for not having a more attentive Mother, I think this is how I was supposed to be.