Dear Grief
I Hope You Dance…
This is the first time in my life that I am unable to pick up the phone and wish my dad a Happy Father’s Day. As much as I know and feel his spiritual presence and understand that he is at peace, it still breaks my heart and makes me feel sad and cheated. It is life on life’s terms. It’s grief and loss and there’s no way to get beyond it but to go through it. Some days it feels like a dream, other days like a nightmare. Some days I just want to be held and some days I wish I were on a beach all by myself. Grief comes in waves and it’s unpredictable, and I am so blessed to have people in my life who may not know exactly how I feel but accept and love me at whatever point I am on the grief roller-coaster.
I expected father’s day to be tough but I really thought yesterday would be more emotional than today. Almost ten years ago my youngest brother Joel, founded Daddy University a support organization for fathers, which has also produced a popular Daddy Daughter Dance for the past five years. I’ve volunteered every year but almost backed out this year because I thought seeing all of those little girls and grown women arm and arm with their fathers would be too emotional for my tattered heart to manage and I didn’t want to have to touch up my concealer all night. But I didn’t know anyone I could count on at the last minute to fill my shoes. I am also intimately aware of the impact the bond fused by this elegant and rare occasion has on the growth and in some cases healing, of relationships between father and daughter, and I wanted to contribute.
I was so stressed during the day that my head hurt all over and I could feel the tension in my shoulders so intensely that I could hardly turn my neck most of the afternoon. It’s amazing how stress can sneak up and almost paralyze you, forcing you to take notice and counteract. I wanted everything to be perfect for my daughter’s first time going to the dance with her dad, yet my body was screaming “what about me???!”. So I slowed down a bit, stopped stressing about the time and her anxiousness and took a lot of deep breaths. When I checked into the hotel near the Convention Center where the dance was held, I started to relax. Just the beauty of the foyer of the Downtown Philadelphia Marriott Hotel caused you to inhale the energy, beauty and life around you. We both dressed for the occasion and she looked just like an angel! Adding the details of the pearls and glitter lip gloss, I almost felt as if I were helping her get dressed for her wedding. I was so thrilled for her and it kept me from getting sad or thinking about the fact that I would never have the opportunity to attend a daddy daughter dance with my Dad. As the evening went on, I helped out and watched the event unfold. One by one, the caring men, gorgeous gowns and dresses and whispers of “daddy can I have…” danced by me and the air was so full of love and excitement that I was swept up into the energy of it all and not once felt sorry for myself. I had expected to have a full-blown pity party, but the opportunity never presented itself. Several times I looked into the dance to make sure my daughter was enjoying herself. She found her way to me a few times and I encouraged her to go back in, enjoy this time with her Dad and dance the night away. I knew that she, like me, felt the fervor and spent most of the night taking it all in.
People say that the best way to take your mind off of your own troubles is to give of yourself and do something for others and that wisdom really rang true last night. As the only girl, my father and I had a special bond. He spoiled me, called me “pretty girl” and tried to give me anything that I asked for. He loved me and tried his best to show it all of the time. He was proud of the woman I had become and even more proud I think of the Mother that I had come to be. He loved to call me his “one and only” and not once, unless he was in the hospital, did he miss sending me a card for my Birthday, Valentines day, Christmas and even my wedding anniversary. And oh yeah, daddy also LOVED to dance.
To a daughter, a father is the first love in their life, responsible for teaching her how she should be cared for and treated by what will hopefully be the last love in her life.
I feel sorry for the last love in my life because he has a hard act to follow.
Happy Father’s Day daddy! I miss you and hope you are still smiling…and dancing! Love, Neet
Watch “Phyllis Hyman’s “Meet Me on the Moon” performed by Kim Pinder-Gardner with poem by Toni Love.” on YouTube
It’s a little dark but Kim Pinder-Gardner is sounding fabulous as always and it’s the first time I performed one of my poems without reading from the paper so I am so proud! It was truly a magical night for me and I can’t wait to do it again. This was performed at the R Lounge in Wilmington, Delaware on April 4, 2013 for Richard Tucker with the Universal Koncept.
Why does being gifted sometimes feel more like a curse?
Here we go. Time for Parent/Teacher conferences, and once again I anticipate hearing the dreaded and extremely over-used words “we need to work more on focusing, and transitioning.” Ugh!! {deep breath} I have to meditate twice as long on days like this because I get so tired of trying to explain to teachers why my kids don’t fit inside their square box. “No, he/she is not like Johnny Appleseed because he/she is gifted/talented”. I get frustrated with the need to defend them and it sometimes gets exhausting trying to compensate for the enrichment that they are not getting in school because everything is so “standardized”. All of the intense focus on testing is torture for their little creative minds and it sends the message to them at an early age that the way they process information is not “normal”. Because of it, instead of teaching and it’s the teacher’s job to spend the rest of their elementary school days helping them to conform to the norm. It makes my skin crawl. But I digress…
Although I was identified gifted in middle school and the gene is reportedly transferred from the mother (though I often feel motherhood slowly reverses my intelligence), I still did not identify the traits in my son. I was told by my pediatrician that most two-year olds, especially male, cannot count to 30, recite the alphabet, and identify all shapes and colors. Really?? It was my first child, and I knew he was ahead of the doctor’s normal checklists, but those Baby Einstein commercials made me think all toddlers could read! Even still, after being tested, identified and accelerated, I was faced with the same comments by teachers who just didn’t get him. And it’s so frustrating for the child and the parent because we know there are so any resources out there and we don’t understand why the teachers aren’t educated about the pros and cons of being gifted and/or talented. He was in preschool reading chapter books and about to start on multiplication tables, yet the school’s director never thought to have him tested. Even more so she received a copy of his IQ test results, and never once mentioned them. She, the founder and Director of the school – an educator – never met with me to discuss their findings and never said another word about it. So, we left.
I am so thankful for the S.E.N.G. http://www.sengifted.org/Organization’s conferences on the Gifted, and the conference I attended on the education of blacks in suburban school districts, because they both armed me with the courage and information I needed to be his advocate and get him the support, effective teaching and curriculum that he deserved and needed. It took a few years of personal and academic success before his elementary school was convinced that acceleration could be effective, even with a male student. When he was admitted into his elementary school’s gifted program, he was the only African-American male in the entire school district who was identified gifted. That’s four elementary schools. How sad and intolerant… and a whole other blog post!
So here we are again. Now my daughter Janai could care less about reading or memorizing sight words, hasn’t been given an IQ test, nor exhibited any academically gifted tendencies (as of yet), but I do believe she has an extraordinarily creative mind and ear for music. James’ strength is visual, and hers is auditory. He has a photographic memory, and she has sensory gifts that even astound her new piano teacher. Janai has more energy than the Energizer bunny and it takes a lot of effort for her to have a full course at dinner without getting up to dance or taking a quick spin around her seat. She is constantly singing, and I am convinced that she hears music in her head most of the time. After all,my grandmother MaryBelle Bumbrey was a trained pianist, and her cousin is Grace Bumbrey http://www.musicianguide.com/biographies/1608000604/grace-bumbry.html , a world-renowned opera singer so it is quite possible.
The other night, after practicing at home to prepare for her piano lesson, she asked if she could play her own composition for me. After she was finished, I suggested she play it for her instructor later that evening, and she did. I adore him because he sees past her age and her occasional spins around the classroom, applauds her creativity, honors her musicality and is going to work with her to fine tune her piece and put it onto paper. After only five lessons, and not quite six years old, she is already attempting to write her own melodies. I don’t know about you but at that age I was making (and eating) mud pies with not a thought about composing music!
And all this from a kid who’s teacher thinks that we need to “work on focus”. Yet when I watch her at the piano, I see nothing but.
And yes I understand the concerns of the educators, the importance of structure, transitioning, and testing, etc. – well maybe not the testing – but I also believe that it’s the role of parents and educators alike to make sure that the two worlds meet. We both need to educate ourselves, seek out the resources that these young, gifted and talented beings need to embrace their truth and ensure that the gift and or talent is experienced as a joy and a pleasure rather than a burden and a curse. These beautiful souls have so much of their world to share with ours if we just let them be perfectly themselves.
How do you support yourself and your children in recognizing and embracing your/their gift(s)?
Sick and Tired; Confessions of a Reformed Junk Food Junkie
I
I will be the first to admit that even with my Ivy League and boarding school education, I did not want to believe that fast food could be that bad for you. It’s not that I grew up on it, because McDonald’s was considered a splurge when I was young – frozen Pathmark beef patties and government cheese was our normal burger fix unless we were lucky enough to be invited to someone’s house for some good old barbecue. My mom taught us early how to drop some frozen fries into the deep fryer and it was as close to McDonald’s and Burger King as we usually got! In boarding school, we had a cafeteria, and at Columbia University, I usually could only afford cereal for lunch or whatever my roommates and I could siphon from the cafeteria during normal dining hours. Fortunately for me, I had a jock boyfriend who loved to cook me steak and eggs for breakfast or we would all meet up at the local diner after hours, so “Mickey Dees” as we affectionately called McDonald’s was not frequented.
As an independent mom, I found myself the past few years relying on the fast food restaurants way too much. It was so easy as we rushed from one after school activity to another to just drive through somebody’s window, order, and shovel it in, in the car on the way to the next place. My kids loved it, and I’m not sure if they were more addicted to the food or the toys. I had a lot less dishes to wash, and could spend more time with the kids, so it seemed like a win-win situation.
I think Facebook can ruin relationships, and a lot of people use it for their own promotion and sometimes vanity, but I can say that the one good thing that has come out of Facebook for me is exposure to healthier ways of living, thinking and eating. I’ve reconnected with old friends ; some from childhood, some from college and in-between and started reading a lot more about juicing, organic foods, exercise, yoga and meditation. I started to put two and two together. I was getting tired of the same old fried and dyed foods and I saw the scale slowly inching further and further to the right. Each day I vowed to get to the gym, and even with the gym, it hardly nudged. I was always sick and tired and every time I went to my doctor’s my blood pressure was high. She mentioned the words “if it continues to stay at this level we may need to talk about medication”, and my heart stopped. Diabetes and High Blood pressure runs rampant in my family. So far I had escaped the gene and I did not want to succumb to having medication regulate my body if I could help it, so I bought a juicer. And I joined a Facebook group that supported a healthier lifestyle, and I got honest about my eating habits, my exercising (or lack of), and I started to do what they suggested, even if I didn’t believe it. I started replacing my Wawa egg white, sausage, egg and cheese sandwich with a fruit smoothie, and I couldn’t believe the effect on my energy level! I felt instantly energized by the powerful antioxidants and vitamins that I consumed and the pounds started dropping like water rolling down an icicle after the temperature starts to climb.
I stopped having a desire for fast food. If my kids had a taste for burgers and fries, I would make them myself from scratch, add a salad and if they really wanted the latest toy that the fast food chain was offering, I found out that I could purchase it from the store for $1 and everyone would be happy.
This all started last summer. I am now 15 pounds lighter, my blood pressure is back to normal, I am not dragging through the day, and I honestly cannot stomach fast food any more. My FB group told me this would happen – the body will reject what is bad for you, especially if you are feeding it all that it needs – and I honestly didn’t believe that my french fry addiction would ever be challenged, but it is indeed true. I had an incident recently where this theory was tested. I was STARVING the other night. I had one of those busy days and didn’t get a chance to have dinner before I headed out for a night on the town. By the time the festivities were over, every restaurant was closed except for McDonald’s. I have to honestly say that if I ever get that desperate, I can usually get to a Chick Fil A and have at least real chicken, or a yogurt or carrot-raising salad, but this was the ONLY place open for miles. So I ordered – I figured I’d try to consume the chicken strips since it had no pink slime. All i could smell was the grease, but I dug in, peeling the layers of fried whatever off the top and going in for the meat. After a few bites and a few fries, I literally felt nauseous.
I was starving, and yet I couldn’t take one more bite. I was shocked that my body was turning on me and not just lost its appetite, but was rejecting the food! Luckily I had water and couldn’t wait until the next morning to have a hearty, healthy breakfast!
It really made me think about how important it is to feed my body and soul with good, wholesome things. I can’t say that I eat perfectly all the time, that I do Yoga consistently and sometimes I can go a week before I realize that I need to take time to meditate, but knowing made one big change that extended the days I will have here on this earth, I feel damn good about myself! I still love some fried fish, but I make sure it’s wild, it’s fresh and it’s made slowly, with love and care by ME!
The time is now friends. We don’t get another body in this lifetime. What are you feeding yours?
Frustrated – Original Poetry 12/6/05
I am so tired of living among a passion-less people
So exhausted, so full of excuses
of why they don’t have time to
or don’t have the energy to
Can’t fit the struggle into their schedule of Pilates classes,
after work affairs and the nine to five
Complaining about the lack of, the need for
and their people being so poor
Can’t wait to put down their fellow-man, their president and the unending war
What my brother, my sister are you fighting for?
Is it the last seat on the bus?
The most popular item at Toys R Us?
The raise that’s been denied you for years
or just fighting to hold back your tears because of the bonuses that were given to your peers?
What are you fighting for?
I wish I could go back and live among the passionate folks
before our community was numbed with pipes full of dope
and silenced behind bars where our men are afraid to pick up the soap
with women like Angela Davis who feared no one
And the Black Panther Party protected every young black son
No one sat around waiting for assistance
We fought for justice, excited by its resistance
Black play writes brought home Tonys
and didn’t settle for gospel-comedy baloney
What are we fighting for?
Our babies are dying in the street
and we’re afraid to stand up on our own two feet
Too afraid that they’ll keep on killing?
Hell, they shot Martin, Malcolm, Treyvon and Lincoln
We’re letting our children get abused
wasting our money on liquor and more concerned about the right pair of shoes.
What the hell are we fighting for?
It’s nice you donate to the poor
Cause you’re making millions off of them buying your CD while you’re turning them away from you door
Is there room in your mansion for ten more, senor?
Then why hire them as maids when you could teach them to do so much more
Tell me Mister Mogul – who are you fighting for?
Taking money from our community so you can walk hand in hand with the Barbie doll you purchased from the store
Tired of all the talk and no action
I remember the days sleeping on a cold concrete step, risking my Ivy League education for South Africa’s poor
An education that most can’t even afford to get anymore
So many poets talk of change and raising us up
But when are we gonna do more?
Toni’s Room Blog – 2012 in review. Thank you for visiting!
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
The new Boeing 787 Dreamliner can carry about 250 passengers. This blog was viewed about 1,100 times in 2012. If it were a Dreamliner, it would take about 4 trips to carry that many people.
But for the Grace…
I know there’s been so much that’s already been said about the senseless killings of the Sandy Hook Elementary School children and staff, and so many early judgements about the killer, his family and why it happened. But I feel like I need to share the fear that came up for me and maybe for someone else who is reading this. It scares me that it could have just as easily happened at the elementary school across the street from my home where my daughter attends school, but what scared me even more was the profile of the shooter. This young male was described by his classmates as nice, quiet, didn’t talk much, didn’t say anything bad about anyone…obviously brilliant…parents had recently divorced and he lived with his mother in a quiet town and no one would have thought in a million years that he was capable of such a thing. They were describing my first born word for word. Quiet, brilliant, keeps to himself and maybe quietly stuffing emotions that a “tween” experiences as a result of separation or divorce. It removed all judgement from my heart when I realized that but for the Grace of God and awareness on my part, this could have been my own son.
And if I didn’t pay attention to his emotions, if I didn’t keep the communication between us open, if I didn’t try and keep positive role models (especially male) in his life, encourage him to stay involved in sports, show care and concern about what concerns him- even if I think it’s senseless – and hug and kiss him every chance I get even when it embarrasses him, there but for the Grace of God would he be.
I don’t assume to know the family dynamics, but it did confirm for me that I was doing the right thing just hours before the news broke.
Because my Ex is dealing with his own childhood trauma (or rather, not dealing with it), he has begun to distance himself from our children’s lives. This type of abandonment can be devastating to young children, and has shaken up our lives a bit. The ironic thing is that just an hour or two before I heard the news I was on the phone with my son’s former and my daughter’s current Guidance Counselor. Fear and shame keep a lot of people, especially in our culture, from seeking outside help for family and emotional trauma. And there are some who have told me that just loving them is enough, but sometimes it isn’t. I have always been open-minded and willing to choose support over suffering, even if I had to fight through the shame. It takes a lot of courage to expose your most sensitive and private thoughts to a stranger; but if it meant that it would save my son from suffocating in quiet pain and anger and my daughter from seeking unhealthy sources of love and comfort in their tween/teens, then I was ready and willing. Sometimes as a parent you have to be proactive.
After the uncomfortable phone call I felt a little more encouraged, supported and equipped with the knowledge and resources I could utilize to support my kids. They say “things happen for a reason”. I pray these lives were not lost in vain. I pray comfort for all of those heartbroken. I pray this country will make a serious effort to keep our kids and communities safe. I pray that it will bring a global awareness that will save our country and all of our children from suffering in silence. I know that just one parent will be doing a little more than just hugging her children a little tighter at night. It’s time for Action – for all of our children. What are you willing to do?
From Whence Cometh My Help…
I don’t know why I thought of my grandmother MaryBelle this morning, but her face popped up in my head when I awakened to start my day. I am up at 6:30 am each morning now that my first-born is in middle school and the bus arrives at 7:15am. I am not a morning person, but I’m glad that he is, because he is up, dressed, fed and on the bus in 40 minutes! I hate getting up so early, but it does give me some quite time for myself before my little firecracker of a kindergartner awakens. These past few days my little one has been sick with some type of stomach virus, and even though she’s the one who’s ill, after a few days it tends to take a physical and emotional toll on me. With no parents or grandparents to turn to, I start to feel so alone doing this all by myself. My ex chooses not to help me since he supports financially, so that door is closed. And though my friends are so kind and helpful, you really can’t ask a friend to sit around and clean up your child’s vomit all day while you run off to work. Sometimes when you’re sick, you just want your mommy. I know the feeling. The really difficult part of being an entrepreneur is that your clients are but only so understanding when you’re unavailable day after day and there’s no one else to replace you. I don’t get much sleep, I’m doing way more laundry than normal and it’s tough trying to juggle work and a sick child, while still recovering from a mild concussion myself. After the day is done, I sit down in exhaustion and look around, and there’s no one else there, and it’s tough not to have a pity party.
So I guess my grandmother (we called her Mom-Mom) showed up to help and to keep me from partying alone. I made it to Whole Foods yesterday to buy an Organic, whole chicken to make home-made chicken noodle soup. Now, this is something I’ve never done, so why I even embraced the idea is beyond me. Must have been Mom-Mom in my ear. After my daughter left her lunch on the floor of the supermarket and we headed (quickly) for the cash register, I went home to start my project. And yes, I did tell someone there was a cleanup in aisle four! 🙂
For some reason once I started cooking at the stove I turned into someone I didn’t recognize. Now I must say I think I am a great cook, but there are still some old southern recipes that I haven’t yet mastered, and home-made chicken soup is one of them! The chicken smelled so good and as I put away some of it to freeze and use later, the thought came to me to leave some in the pot to make gravy and serve it over biscuits and rice. I then reached for the yams I just purchased, put them in a pot and started making my list of herbs and other items I needed and added a bag of black-eyed peas to the list of things I would make for dinner.
It was as if I were channeling my ancestors and that they had taken over my thoughts and were helping me to take care of my daughter and to remind me once again that they are around. I had to smile and think that if anyone would show up to give me a cooking lesson it would be her. Mom-Mom was the one who showed my mother around a kitchen when Mom was a new bride and soon to be mom at the young age of 19. Mom-Mom was such a small, quiet woman of few words, and I miss her. I used to wash and braid her silvery hair until she left this plane, and I always enjoyed our girl talks and moments alone. She gave me such full seeds of wisdom and was the most compassionate woman I knew. And I’m thankful she’s still around sharing her wisdom. I am still exhausted, still wishing for Supernanny to come do my laundry and wash my dishes, but when I put the chicken soup, candied yams, biscuits and gravy and black-eyed peas on the table for my family to eat, I will smile and know from whence cometh my help. Thanks Mom-Mom.
Do you ever feel your ancestors near?
My inner child..
Sitting in the warm Fall sun, watching my five year old on the trampoline, I felt as though I were looking at my inner child. My children have had so many experiences in their childhood that I never had, and I just realized today how healing it has been for me to participate in their joy. I think of the excitement on their faces when I surprised them with a trip to the beach just before Labor Day weekend. They spent hours playing in the waves and making sandcastles and it forced me to release my inner child into the waves as well! I can’t ever remember experiencing the ocean first-hand or having the opportunity to play at the beach during my childhood. The tides have such strong energy and peace at the same time and it’s so important to me to have them connect with that.
I spent so much of my youth trying to be the perfect child, that I didn’t spend much time just getting caught up in the sheer joy, imagination, wonder and timelessness of childhood. So I am giving those things to myself now, disguised as motherhood.
Last week I went to a thrift store looking for a practical dresser for my daughter’s room. Sitting outside was a thirteen foot, round, never been used trampoline. Most this size go for $300 or more yet this was only $50 as part of an estate sale. Little Tonita said “get it, it’s going to be so much fun and I’ve never jumped on a trampoline!” The mother, Toni said ” but you really need the dresser – you didn’t come here for a trampoline!” So we compromised. I looked all over the store for a dresser. I didn’t find one that I liked. When I came back outside and no one had bought it, I told the cashier “I’ll take it. ”
My kids were so excited once we got it installed, that they have been on it every day, several times a day, and I love seeing the smiles and sheer freedom emanating from every bounce.
I haven’t been on it with them due to the weight restriction, but one day this week after the kids are all off to school and I have an hour before I need to go to work, my inner child will have her way. It’s never too late to experience joy. Who’s coming over to play?
Toni's Room 