Single Mommas Do It!

While there are a lot of things going on to celebrate being a women – March 8, 2013 was International Women’s Day – many feel that the government and secular authorities have declared a war on women.  These attacks range from empty rhetoric to trying to enforce policy changes that would seriously impact healthcare options that many women need and depend on.

But we as women are resilient and strong on many accounts.  For instance, by now everyone knows that the divorce rate everywhere is staggering.  Additionally, even though the number of teen pregnancies has decreased, particularly for the US, the number is still high.  As a result of these and other factors, there are a lot of single-parent families – many of them headed by mothers.

Can single women raise children successfully?  In this economy?  With this job market?  These questions have caused many to wonder.  So I took the question to task and asked two single mothers – let’s call them A and J, of whom both are career women who’ve raised both sons and daughters – and this is what I found out:

Initially, single moms probably had no plans of parenting alone:

A:            I saw my mom with all her children and it was so hard  so I didn’t want children before I was married because I knew it would be harder for me to make it.  People look down on you if you were not married and had children.  Children poke fun at other children without both parents.  But I [knew that I] could end up in divorce if my husband was not being a good provider nor (caretaker) of my children and me.  I would not stay in a marriage as I felt my mom did just because my dad was her husband and father of her children – although I’m sure she loved him.  Sometimes it is better for the children if you don’t stay with the father/husband.

J:             It never occurred to me that I might become a single mom.

Most single moms don’t let setbacks hold them down:

J:             It is never too late to achieve the things you want to accomplish in life.  Being a single mom is hard, but you must never give up.  You may not be able to do all the things you want, but with prayer and the help of the Lord you will be surprised at the things you can achieve.  Even the goals you set before becoming a single mom you can achieve.

Many single moms develop a strong determination and fortitude that have helped to brave hard times:

A:            Take one day at a time.  Prioritize at all times with bills and the children’s needs.  Just do the best you can each day and let it go.  Children won’t always understand why you don’t have or why they can’t get what they need at that moment.  Explain as simply as possible.  Be positive at all times.  Stay prayerful and take out time to access things.  Write it out.  Try to do something with the kids – go to the park, find out about some free activities for them and/or play games with them.

Regardless of past mistakes or mishaps, single moms can always look back at something that makes them smile:

A:            [What makes me smile is] when I was bold enough to leave home although I was very afraid.  I believed God would take care of me and my child.

J:             The thing that makes me smile is that I raised my children and they are good, hard-working children.  Later, I got the chance to go back to school and get my degree in accounting.

So, can single moms do it?  By all accounts and based on the information above I think the words best to answer that question is – done and done.

Thank God I’m Not Crazy…It’s Just Menopause!

We’ve all been educated about the common symptoms of menopause – hot flashes, night sweats, irregular periods and vaginal dryness.  But what about the “other symptoms” that some of us experience?  Although less research and mention is done of these conditions, they certainly merit attention.

Below are 10 common and uncommon symptoms (as listed by 34 Menopause Symptoms), which after discovering, gave many a sense relief.  In general, people appreciate being in the know and learning that they are not crazy, alone in their experience or have some other dreaded disease.  Instead, it empowers them to now feel and know that their experience is natural and just part of being a woman.

10 common complaints of menopause or perimenopause:

Hot flashes or flushes
Night sweats
Loss of libido
Vaginal dryness
Mood swings, sudden tears
Difficulty concentrating, disorientation, mental confusion
Disturbing memory lapses
Weight gain
Incontinence – especially when sneezing, laughing
Hair loss or thinning – head, pubic or whole body but increased facial hair

10 uncommon complaints of menopause or perimenopause:

Dizziness or light-headedness, episodes of loss of balance
Increase in allergies
Change in fingernails – cracking/breaking
Rapid heartbeat
Panic disorder – feeling of dread, apprehension, doom
Breast pain – pain or soreness in one or both breasts
Burning tongue or roof of month
Electric shock sensation under skin or in head
Gum problems – increased bleeding
Itchy, crawly skin
Tingling extremities

Ancestry.com is the Bomb!

 

Before I start, let me just say that I am not or have I ever been an employee or paid advertiser for Ancestry.com.  I just love their product!

Just think of it, you can access records that you’d probably never could before but due to technology, it’s totally possible.  And ever since watching Dr. Henry Louis Gates, Jr. on PBS’ Finding Your Roots, I have always wanted to do this.  I thought surely it’s too much for me to afford.

On that last account I was blissfully wrong.  How much?  A little under 200.00.  Wow.  So I gladly paid my fee and in a few weeks I received my DNA analysis kit in the mail.  I had to spit in a vial and close the lid down on it.  When I gave the required amount, I repackaged it (packaging included) and sent it back off.

Once again, I thought:  Well, this is going to be a minute.  But in just several weeks my results were back by email.  (At that particular time, the DNA analysis was being offered with a six-month membership to Ancestry.com).  Talk about ex-cit-ing!  I was 84% West African which includes the countries Senegal, Mauritania, Mali, Niger, Nigeria, Cameroon, Ghana, Gabon, Congo, and various other nations along Africa’s west coast, from The Gambia to Equatorial Guinea.  Great, but no surprise there – many African Americans are from there as well.  But interestingly, I was 6% Scandinavian (Norway, Sweden, Denmark), 6% Southern European (Italy, Spain, Portugal) and 4% uncertain.  Although this was a pleasant surprise, I would have guessed anywhere but these areas.

I thought the rest of my DNA would show up Native American.  I know, right?  It’s a running joke (especially in black families) that somebody in yo’ fam’ly was a full-bloodied Indian!  But then, this leads to the question, what was the 4% uncertain?  According to Ancestry.com the 4% uncertain was determined when “small traces of a specific genetic population may have been found in your DNA, but the probability levels were too low to pinpoint to a specific ethnicity.”

My interest was piqued.  Brain storm!  Get my mom’s DNA tested and I might fill in some of the holes.  Since my paternal grandfather was mulatto according to birth records, I was pretty sure the Scandinavian and Southern European part came from dad’s side.  So naturally mom will be sending her DNA off soon.

What did I really learn from all of this?  How did this make me feel?  How does information and knowledge make anyone feel?  You are better for knowing – always and without a doubt.  A puzzle piece had been snapped in.  Because as many are aware, most African Americans can’t list their complete family tree due to slavery.  Even though I didn’t feel forlorn about this fact, it did make me wonder from time to time what was in my history or my bloodline. 

And as you may have guessed by now in honor of my new-found heritages, I requested that my friends, family and coworkers call me by my new names, Dita Fatou Sidsel Adalina.  Of course they pay me no attention.  Peasants! Clearly, this discovery has brought excitement to my life that kept me talking all that weekend when I first received my results, and will no doubt make me smile when I think about it from now on.

So in the end, it’s worth it.  Believe me.

 

 

Thank you Ms. Hurston

I love the Harlem Renaissance.  I even like the way those words sound.  Harlem Renaissance.  The Encyclopedia Britannica defines this period as “a blossoming (c. 1918–37) of African American culture, particularly in the creative arts, and the most influential movement in African American literary history. Embracing literary, musical, theatrical, and visual arts, participants sought to reconceptualize “the Negro” apart from the white stereotypes that had influenced black peoples’ relationship to their heritage and to each other.”

Of course when I think of this time, writers like Countee Cullen, Claude McKay and my favorite poet, Langston Hughes automatically come to mind.  But you know who I really appreciate and feel a kindred spirit to?  Zora Neale Hurston.  First, let me spell out the facts:  she was born in 1891 when black folks did not have too many rights or freedoms and basically were treated like second-class citizens.  Additionally, Ms. Hurston was a double minority – black and a woman.  But despite it all, soon after her mother died, at the age of 16, she joined a theatrical company which took her away from her Florida home, and consequently, landed her in New York during the Harlem Renaissance.

She attended Howard University initially but switched to Barnard College after winning a scholarship.  After graduating from Barnard she continued her graduate studies at Columbia University.  And being keenly interested in anthropology, it’s no wonder that many of her works captured what she knew firsthand – the ways of black folks.  She wrote plays, novels, short stories and even an autobiography – most of which were well-received.  Whew!  I often wonder where people get the strength to do what they do when they do it.

My favorite book by Ms. Hurston would have to be Their Eyes Were Watching God.  I am still struck by the slow and sad, soft and romantic way this book pulls you into the story of Janie Crawford.  Authors like her helped me find my voice.  It makes me ever so grateful and ever so determined.

So thank you, Ms. Hurston.

Rare Disease Day – February 28, 2013

provided by RDD Campaign

There are well-known diseases such as diabetes, cancer or arthritis.  And then there are rare diseases in which the names alone could take up a whole line.  Try saying trimethylaminuria (TMAU) three times.  TMAU, although reportedly not fatal, can be crippling due to extremely unpleasant symptoms like foul breath and body odor due to the body’s lack of ability to break down a certain common chemical found in food. 

Not a problem you say?  Try being a nine-year-old kid that stinks to high heaven while going to public school.  Not fun.  And yes, this condition affects young and old.  There is no cure.

Maybe you’re one of many who like to look at shows about strange disorders and diseases.  We as humans have a never-tiring fascination of strange medical conditions that people may develop or are born with.  I can remember watching a show where a young man was growing tree-like warts all over his body.  Another time there was a lady on a program whose legs were so swollen that movement was almost impossible.  Both of these conditions baffled the medical community.  Myself, I was stunned to learn of such ailments.

But it wasn’t until I was personally touched by how rare disease can alter your life that I learned that you not only should feel something, but should do something as well.  That’s why Rare Disease Day, February 29, 2013, is so important.  The US Rare Disease Day website states:

“Rare Disease Day is an international advocacy day to bring widespread recognition of rare diseases as a global health challenge. The day is celebrated on the last day of February every year.  In 2013, it will be observed on February 28^th.  Learn more about the History of Rare Disease Day, Past Successes or the Goals and Plans for this year.

Anyone can be involved in Rare Disease Day and there are many suggested activities. The day has been established as a grassroots advocacy day and we encourage everyone to participate in some way!

This website focuses on Rare Disease Day activities in the U.S. To learn what’s happening around the world, go to the global Rare Disease Day website at rarediseaseday.org.”

If you are suffering with a rare disorder or know someone who is, then this event was created for you.  Additionally, for those who are moved to do something and even if you can’t do much, just do what you can.  NORD, the National Organization of Rare Diseases, will accept donations as low as a dollar.  Hey, it all adds up.

Remember, Alone We are Rare.  Together We are Strong.

Roller Coasters, Tea Parties and Hot Flashes

I remember when I was 17 years old.  I thought that I was young and would never die.  I thought I was witty, good in a pinch and a sound, quick thinker.  I did things in a hurry but I did them well.  It was a talent and I relished it.  Now, it’s a different story.  I’ve entered a different phase of my life, people. 

I’ve heard some use derogatory terms like mental pause.  Others refer to it in more graceful terms such as the change or the change of life.  One of the names it probably should be called is, “Whatcho say?” Why, you ask?  Because that’s what you ask just before going off and just after your nerves click.  Generally though, it’s known as menopause.

Before I start, I want to publicly apologize to my mother.  I remember when only a teen, it was so funny to see her suddenly sweat profusely for seemingly no reason.  I giggled with delight when she ran through all of our names (there are four siblings in my family) when I knew full well she was talking to me, especially since I was sitting right next to her at the time.  Yeah, I know.  I admit it, in retrospect, it was a little mean spirited, and for that I apologize once again.  But mom needn’t worry, life has paid me back – or in other words she who laughs last is the one still laughing at you when you get hacked or something like that.

Let me explain.  A few years ago, I suddenly got hot.  It was like a wave of heat from the middle of my back to the top of my head.  Hmm…was this a flu symptom?  I asked around to see if anyone else was hot.  No, no one else was.  I pulled off my sweater.  You know it was rather big and bulky anyway.  I continued to sweat and overheat. 

Right after that someone joked that I was having a hot flash.  Then it hit me, I really could be having a real, live, honest-to-goodness hot flash.  I say it that way because before my surgery a few years prior, my doctor gave me a certain medicine that threw me into fake menopause.  Thereafter, for three months I had induced hot flashes.  So I knew full well what they felt like.  They felt like what I just was feeling.  I sat there contemplating what that meant or could mean. 

For some reason I thought of roller coasters.  When much younger, I used to let peer pressure force me onto roller coasters.  Let me preface it this way:  I absolutely hate roller coasters.  You know how people smile, laugh and hold their hands up over their heads when riding?  Well, not me.  I dug in, white-knuckling it all the way.  I kept telling myself, “People do this all the time.  You won’t die.  Just hold onto this really wobbly bar.  That smoke from the wheels doesn’t mean a thing.  Close your eyes and dig in!”  I was completely miserable, but honestly, I could have either learnt to enjoy the ride or simply chose not to get on.  Either way I still could have made a better choice.

Did this epiphany immediately lead me to some amazing life changing plan?  Truth be told, no.  Sure I realized that I a needed a plan, but I needed a little more time to wrap my head around the fact that menopause was in the offing.  Meanwhile I began to experience crawly skin.  Next, I started having mood swings and a foggy memory.  Now that last symptom shook me to the core.  Was I going crazy?  Of course to the doctor’s office I go.  Although my doctor is a great doctor in many ways, he was no help here.  You are too young; you still have your ovaries!  Blah, blah, blah.  That still did not explain why I was hot, had crawly skin and was irritated to the ‘enth degree.  You know the homeless people who come up to you swatting, scratching and poking at themselves?  Yeah, that was me. I was fanning, scratching, rocking and talking to myself.  Someone should have put me on a park bench and placed a cup next to me so at least I would get paid for the show.  Sigh.   

Finally, I drug myself to the person I was sure would know, my mother.  As I explained my symptoms, I could see her fold her arms slowly, sit back deeply in the soft couch and try to hide the smug look just underneath the corners of her mouth.  I tell you her eyes twinkled.  They sparkled mind you because at that point, yes, at that point she knew.  She knew full well what I was in for and she loved it.  Pay back sucks.  Let me tell you something else that I have not told a soul until now.  If you don’t remember anything else from this article, I want you to remember this.  At that point when I saw her expression, the smugness, and sheer delight across her face…I wanted to pinch her really, really hard.  But needless to say, hormonal I am, but crazy I’m not.

In the end, through help from Mom (who ran a household, buried a husband, a brother and a son during the change), personal research and practical life changes, I have to say I’m doing pretty well.  Yes, stickies are my friend now and I leave myself voicemails on the regular.  And so what if I easily get distracted in mid-sentence? That just gives me a second chance to rethink what I was going to say to the repair guy who showed up four hours late.  And so what if I forget where I was going mid-step?  It gives me the opportunity to stop and look at that lone hawk circling the sky – right in downtown Memphis.  If I was in my twenties, I would have zoomed by and missed that miracle for sure. 

It starts with getting over the fear of the unknown and telling yourself, “Now unclench.  Lift your hands over your head and enjoy the ride, lady.”  Actually, after the first few incidences, I only have mild pre-menopausal symptoms anyway.  But it was a jolt.  It was probably the jolt that I needed to make me clear away clutter and pave a way for my new type of life that honors my being.  Instead, now I feel like I’m in on the joke.  I can and do laugh with other women about this uniquely female phenomenon.  It’s like a private club, an exclusive tea party but without those ridiculous hats. 

Getting Back on the Wagon

I am serious about trying to lose weight this time.  Uh hum too.  As a matter of fact, I’ve started out very well.  I’ve kept to my exercise schedule.  Yeah, yeah I know it’s just January 27^th and I did only restart January 1^st.  But it makes me wonder…when did I begin to loooooooooove food?  When younger, I liked food.  I even had my favorites – pasta and breads.  But you know, I’d eat and then go off to do whatever.  Now, after one meal, I’m thinking feverishly about what I’ll eat next time!

How big am I you ask?  I’ll bite – no pun intended.  I’m the size of most women in the U.S. – size 12-14.  But lo’ and behold, I’m the height of 5 foot 3!  Sigh.  So this is going to be it, huh?  A steady battle with my frienemy food.  It’s so funny because in the past, I would try trick myself too.  Sometimes, after I’m so bad, guess what I’d do?  Honey, get on the treadmill and drink four cups of water!  Ha!  How’s that for living?  Bet that will cancel all those bad boy calories out!  Don’t laugh, it’s all I got.

Anyway, yes I love me and I love my body.  So there, it’s not that.  I don’t think a person’s IQ goes down as their poundage goes up.  If that were the case, I would have a serious problem.  It’s like this; I don’t want to be Skinny Minnie.  That was never a sexy look to me anyway.  I just want to be able to tie my shoes without my breath being cut off.  Or not have a waist that jiggles so much that it looks like I’m dancing when I’m just walking.  But most of all, I guess I think about my father.  I want to do better than him.  I don’t want to die at the early age of 53 brought on by severe complications from diabetes.

This year I’ll be 44.

So, here I go.  Again.  Gettin’ back on the wagon.