The Moment They’ve Been Waiting For.

The parents-to-be, Lena and Parker were coming up on their 20th hour in labor. Just a few weeks ago they’d thrown a gender reveal party and found out they were going to be welcoming a princess to the world. They were anxious to meet their new baby girl, they were curious to see who she looked more like, who she would come to be more like and what she’d become in the future.

Through the sweat and pressure from the contractions Lena grew more impatient as the minutes ticked by.  Parker on the other hand hated seeing his wife in so much pain and wished he could take it all away from her.

That was, until she let out a long pained moan.  He didn’t think he could deal with the pain but he was going to be supportive of his wife and make her feel as comfortable as he possibly could.  leaning over he said in her ear “We’re doing good, honey.  We’re almost there.  The doctor said–”

“We?” she cut him off “are you getting ready to push a child out of your body?!”

“uh…no…” he was scared now…

“Are you the one who–” a contraction ripped through body cutting her off mid-sentence, she let out another painful moan “I can’t take this anymore!”

“Honey, I think you should have gotten that numbing thing the midwife told you about”

His wife glared at him.  If looks could kill he would have died twice–or maybe three times.

The doctor came into the room to check and see if Lena was ready to push, he determined she was and then…

Finally their princess had entered the world, on May 11th 2017…

except their princess had a penis…

Parker was thrilled that he would have a little boy to follow him around the house, a son he could play sports with on the weekends, a son who would carry his name and continue the Riley family legacy!

Lena on the other hand was beyond shocked.  “I could have sworn when your sister revealed the gender to us she said it was a girl…”

Shrugging his shoulders, proud smile played across his lips, he said, “I guess she made a mistake, honey”

“But his room is PINK! What are we supposed to do with all of that PINK stuff?”

 

via Daily Prompt: Pink

Pink

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One Step At a Time

Janet sat at her desk and took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  Her fingers hovered over her keyboard as she prepared to write her first novel.  She had all of the characters outlined, she had the story line written out, she had the plot, she had the setting, so why was it so hard for her to put everything together?

Ever since she was a little girl, she’d known she had a knack for story telling and she knew she wanted to share that talent with the rest of the world.  She vowed to one day write a book then another and another.  She wanted to be a famous author.  She even toyed around with the idea of trying her hand at play writing and possibly even producing a movie.  The possibilities were endless!

So, why was it so hard for her to take a step forward?

Was it fear of the prospect of failing that was holding her back? Was it the void she yearned to fill now that her husband had left her? Or was it a sign that she needed to give up and find a new dream?

She sighed and dropped her hands on her lap. They say that the worst of times brings out the best work in people.  She could be wrong but she definitely considered her current situation to be…the worst.  Her husband left her and her kids chose to live with him rather than her, she had a crappy job and a not-so-great studio apartment in the most run down part of town.  How much worst can it get?

Frustrated she picked up her phone and flipped through her social media app,  she came across a live news report of yet another unarmed black man being gunned down senselessly by the police but when she heard the victim’s name and recognized the area where the shooting took place, she felt a heaviness in her gut; she felt rage.  Just then her phone rang, it was her uncle tearfully telling her what she already knew, her cousin was no longer with them.

Her cousin, Leon was more like a brother to her than a cousin and was actually the only person in her life who encouraged her to pursue her dream.  Any time she’d call him he’ll answer the phone saying, “how many pages did you write today?” he’d scold her if she said none, he’d praise her if she said one.  And now he was gone and she was now officially all alone.

With no idea what came over her, in an almost zombie-robotic mode she went back to that blank screen and her fingers started tapping frantically away at the keys.  It was as if the story was just flowing from her soul.

By the end of the day she’d written, edited and revised four full chapters.  Sitting back she looked heavenward and envisioned a telephone conversation with Leon.

“How many pages have you written today, cuz’?”

“Over a hundred” she’d respond

“Awwwwwwwww’right now! One step at a time! Don’t forget about me when you get to Hollywood!”

“You’ll be right there, with me, though!”

And he would, every step of the way.

step
Courtesy of Pexels.com

 

Pursue

via Daily Prompt: Pursue

Whoopsie Daisy

 

It was that moment when Maci vowed to never touch her sisters clothing ever again.  She’d been warned time and time again not to “borrow” anything from her sister’s closet.  But when Maci saw that Leslie had made a new must-have-gotta-wear-it top (because you know, Leslie has skills like that) Maci just couldn’t contain herself.  Soon as Leslie left the house for classes at the university, Maci grabbed the shirt and off to school she went.

She flaunted her new shirt that gave a little peek of her naval and loved the attention she received from the guys…especially Bryson Lewis–THE hottest guy in Samsung High–and possibly the entire world.  That was until Kelly Bronson–the schools most annoying girl, announced that there was a little piece of thread sticking out of the bottom of the shirt.

She grabbed at it.

And with little effort the shirt came completely undone.

And there Maci stood in the middle of the hallway lacy red bra exposed for everyone to see–everyone including the hot Bryson Lewis.

As she awkwardly covered herself, just before running for cover she glared at Kelly and wondered if she could plead temporary insanity if she could just get her hands on her.

She ran like a mad lady out the school doors and to her car and to her astonishment she found Leslie leaned up against her car door with a knowing smirk and her phone to her ear. “Thanks, Kelly. I owe you” she said into the phone and to her little sister she said, “I told you not to touch my stuff but you wouldn’t listen.  The stitches in that shirt were only temporary stitches…It’s part of a costume for the play I’m in, ya know, for an easy rip-away?. Whoopsie Daisy, did I forget to tell you that?”

via Daily Prompt: Temporary

Temporary

Bitter

 

She realized that if she kept her anger and resentment bottled up inside of her, she would never find true happiness.  She looked into the eyes of her newborn daughter and promised that she would be nothing like her parents but she knew that in order to make good on that promise she was going to have to forgive her parents.  Forgive them for abandoning her; forgive them for taking advantage of her and putting her in situations no child should ever be in.

She looked at the address that a private investigator had given her.  She’d been looking for her parents ever since she aged out of the system and now at age 30, she’d finally been able to locate them.

Strapping her daughter in her car seat, her husband drove to the location as she sat in silence, milling through her thoughts, trying to figure out what she wanted to say.  She finally gave up and decided that she would just speak from her heart.  Once at the gate her husband gave her hand a gentle squeeze, gazing up into his eyes she took a deep breath and pushed it open.

An eerie feeling crept over her, as did nervousness. It would be the first time seeing her parents in over 20 years.

They sat side by side.  They didn’t say a word to her but she was sure they could see her.

“I forgive you. I realized a little while ago that I needed to forgive you, not for you but for me; for my family…my daughter.  They deserve to have all of me, the real me, who I am inside” tears streamed down her face, she took a deep breath and continued, “what you did to me was not right at all, it broke my spirit, it broke me and it took me years to find and gather all of my pieces again and in finding my pieces I realized there was still one piece missing–the piece where you two should have been.  I hated life because of you, I wanted to die but then I met this wonderful man right here and he showed me that my past didn’t have to define my future and you know what? He was right.  I’m not going to let my past keep me down any longer.  I refuse to be bitter all because you two were monsters, my family doesn’t deserve that, I don’t deserve that.  So this will be the last time you see me but I just wanted you to know that you are forgiven, I have no space in my heart to hate you anymore.  Goodbye”

She turned around, walked away and never looked back.  She walked out of the cemetery feeling empowered, there was a lightness that washed over her, she felt anew.  She had a new outlook on life.  She’d finally filled that void, she was finally wholesomely happy and she couldn’t wait to pour all of that happiness into her daughter.

When faced with the decision to choose between happiness and bitterness she felt she made the right choice.  Before getting back into their car, she kissed her husband deeply and thanked him for being there for her.

Bitter

via Daily Prompt: Bitter

Exposed: A short story

If anyone told her that today would be the last day of life as she knew it, Lisa would not have believed them.  She liked the way her life had order and she knew what to expect when to expect it.  Surprises weren’t her thing.  But today, that just simply wasn’t the case and she would have at least appreciated a little heads up.

She’d gotten off work a little earlier than expected and decided to do something special for her husband.  He was a hard working man and this week had especially been rough in real estate and surely, he was due for some much needed R&R and she knew just the thing he needed.

The drive home was much more pleasant than usual, she beat the rush hour traffic by a good two hours.  So far things were going just as planned and she couldn’t wait to see the look on her husband’s face when he came home tonight.

Upon her arrival home, she made a mad dash to the room which her husband dubbed his “man-cave.” He had just about every single game system known to human–vintage and modern systems alike–hooked up to this 70 inch screen television that was mounted on the wall.  In the center of the room facing the television sat a top of the line gamer chair complete with built-in wireless speakers and a detachable ottoman filled with all of the controllers to go with each game system that her husband had owned.

This room needed to be wiped down and dusted badly but for some reason her husband didn’t seem to notice.  Men.   Being the good wife that she’s been for the past two years, she dusted and moped the room.  By the time she was done it looked and smelled like an entirely different room and this made her proud.

Next on her to-do list was to tidy up their bedroom, clean their bathroom, then get started on dinner.  Her husband was in for a a full course meal, full body massage–and whatever that may lead to–followed by an aroma therapy enhanced bath in their whirlpool tub and to finish off the night, she was going to leave him to his games.

After a rough week, he definitely deserved it.

He was due home in thirty minutes so she was startled when she heard the doorbell ring just as she stepped out of the shower.  She threw on her robe and made her way to the front door.  Looking out of the peep-hole a woman stood too close to the door but she could tell that the woman was upset.  Her deep green eyes seemed to have a hint of fire in them, her eyes were rimmed  with red as if she’d been crying and the dark circles under her eyes told Lisa that this woman probably hasn’t slept very well in a few days.

The woman raised her hand to knock again, just as Lisa pulled the door open.

“Yes?”

“Ugh! I fucking knew it!”

Lisa took a step back, startled by the woman’s not so lady-like language.  “I’m sorry?”

The woman exhaled sharply “Does a man named Richard Wilson live here?”

“Um…No. There isn’t any Wilson here, you have the wrong house, I’m sorry” she started to close the door but the woman’s hand stopped her.

“Don’t you lie to me, bitch, does Richard Wilson live here!?”

“No. I told you there is no Wilson here, we are the Williams’s, I’m sorry you have the wrong house” Lisa’s tone was stern.  Her husband kept a bat in the umbrella rack behind the door and she was fully prepared to use it.

“Richard Williams” the woman said under her breath, “great, is this him?” leaning her shoulder against the door to keep it open she reached into her pocket and pulled out a picture.  In the picture was the woman who stood before her looking much better than she did at that very moment, three small children who looked to be ages, 2, 5 and 7 and…her husband. The man she’d lost her virginity to, the man she’d trusted to protect her.  She fought to steady her breathing and keep her hands still.  Her eyes darted from the children to her husband and back at the children.  They were his spitting images…only a lot lighter.

She met the woman’s eyes then looked over her shoulders to make sure her neighbors weren’t watching her and asked the woman, “How did you get here?, I don’t see any other car out there but mine”

“So, just because I’m stupid enough to get cheated on, I must be stupid enough to park my car near a potential crime scene, too, right?” After the woman saw the instant fear in Lisa’s eyes she clarified herself “No, no, not you.  But, there’s no saying what I’d do once I see that bastards face.” As an afterthought she added, “and I parked two blocks up, to answer your question.  So is that your Richard?” she asked nodding her head to the picture in Lisa’s hand.

“Come in” Lisa ushered the woman into the house.  She handed the picture back and promptly reached up to massage her temples.  She let out a sharp breath “Okay, um…first of all…I’m just…” dropping her hands she gazed heavenward completely lost for words.  “I don’t know what to say right now”

“Well, then let me say, fuckin’ hell, that bastard has you living like a goddamn queen meanwhile he has me and three children cooped up in a little two bedroom apartment on the other side of town!” she spun slowly on her heels with her arms stretched out, palms facing the ceiling, admiring the home “un-fuckin-believable”

For a moment there, Lisa thought to herself that she knew exactly why someone would leave a woman like the one who stood before her.  Aside from their physical differences, this woman had an awfully foul mouth.  But then she mentally kicked herself, this woman had every right to behave the way she was.  And if how she looked on the outside was any indication of how she felt on the inside, then Lisa knew this women was beyond pissed off.  Her curly dirty blonde hair looked as if it hadn’t been brushed in forever, and she looked to be about ten years older than Lisa, even though in the picture, which looked pretty recent, the woman looked a little younger than Lisa.

“Okay, wait…um. First off, I’m Lisa, and you are?”

“Gonna kill that bastard when I see him.” Her eyes were locked on an antique vase that sat on one of the end tables in the living room.  She let out a dry chuckle and shook her head, “Yep, my name is Maryanne and I’m going to jail tonight, that fuckin’ bastard.  You see that vase right there? My mother left me that vase in her will…it’s a family heirloom for fucks sake!” she laughed sarcastically “he told me it was stolen! I filled out a police report and everything!”

The vase had been an anniversary gift from Richard for their second anniversary, this past June.  Now, thinking back on it, it was a little weird how it didn’t come in a box of some sort and when she asked where he got it from he was evasive about it and told her not to worry about it.

Now she wondered what else he had lied about.  Two whole years she thought his name was Richard Williams and now she finds out its  actually Wilson; two whole years she thought she’d been his only wife, but here stood his other wife and she was white, Richard stressed that he didn’t find white women attractive; and then he had the nerve to have Children! Three children at that!

Lisa always knew how to keep her emotions in check just like her grandmother had taught her when she was a little girl, but Lisa was angry now and didn’t see the use in covering it up.  She wanted to curse up a storm.  She silenced her grandmother’s voice at the back of her head that chided her “Now remember Lisa, little lady’s don’t use profanity, that’s for trashy women”

She silently apologized to her grandmother for the things she was about to say, Grammy was just going to have to forgive her.

Lisa eyed the oversize clock above the couch in the living room. Richard was expected to be home in fifteen minutes.

“Look, that fuckface is expected to bring his asshole home in fifteen minutes.  We’re not going to kill him but we are going to get him where it hurts and make him wish he never fucked with us!”

Maryanne’s eyebrows nearly touched her hairline.  “Yeah, you don’t do the whole cursing thing, do ya? You kinda said ‘bring his asshole home’ and that kinda threw me. But anyway, what are you suggesting?”

Lisa grabbed the bat from the umbrella rack and beckoned the woman to follow her. After grabbing a hammer from the kitchen draw, she lead her to Richard’s game room.  “Let’s have some fun, shall we? Pick your poison”  The woman selected the Hammer.

“I think I like you.  When You first opened the door I thought you were one of those snooty types but you’re kinda crazy, I love it.  So, where do we start?”

The women grinned at each other and worked the room. Once they were done they were laughing like a couple of school girls and it was safe to say they both were feeling better.

A sudden thought entered Lisa’s mind.  “Richard comes home every night, except for one week out of the month when he travels for his alleged Real Estate conventions, I assume he’s with you during that week, so where do you think he is all that time?”

Maryanne scoffed, “Real Estate? That little dick bastard told me he was a traveling sales man.  But then I thought about it…what the fuck is a traveling sales man? Where could you possibly have to travel for so long to sell?”

Lisa rolled her eyes heavenward.  “I can’t believe this.  But here’s the plan…”

Lisa quickly got herself ready and made extra sure she looked her best.  She opened her robe just enough to give him a glimpse of her laced bra, she brushed her long kinky hair up into a puff and put on some red lipstick, Richard’s favorite.  She was there to greet him when he walked in.    Needless to say he was instantly turned on.  She ushered him into the dining room where his steak dinner awaited him.  He finished it with the quickness, oblivious to the fact that Lisa hadn’t even touched her food, she just sat there staring at him.

“You’re not hungry, baby?” He asked when he finally noticed.

“Mmm, no, I’m not hungry for this kind of…thing” she bit her bottom lip and winked for visual effect.

“Damn, baby, say no more…whatever you want, I got you”

“No, baby, I got you” oh, he had no idea.

She went about the rest of the evening just as planned–except she held off on the sex. She was not letting that creep enter her body. She led him to his game room and let him do the honors of opening the door and watched as instant panic crept up on him from the sight that lied before him followed by the instant jolt of surprise of seeing his wife Maryanne standing in the middle of the room, smacking the hammer in the palm of her hand.  He spun around on his heels surprised to find Lisa mimicking the same stance with her bat.

“How does it feel to be exposed for the fraud that you are?”

“How….what…Listen baby, I don’t know who that is or what you think is going on, but I’m not a fraud”

“Are you sure? Because my friend Maryanne here–your wife–called the place that you claimed to have worked and you know what? they’ve never heard of you…they have no record of ever hiring a Richard Williams…or Wilson”

His glance over his shoulder was met with Maryanne’s fluttering fingers and tight smile.

“So, Richard, you have five seconds to get your ass out of this house before you get your skull cracked open”

He gasped “Baby, your language”

“5”

“Please don’t do this” he pleaded, tears welling up in his eyes.

“4”

“Oh and don’t worry, you’ll be hearing from my lawyer very soon. And the police since I see some of my stolen things…were actually stolen by you” spat out Maryanne

“3” continued Lisa “2….” she raised the bat but before she could get to 1, Richard scrambled out of the room and out the front door.

The women laughed “And where exactly is he going with only a pair of boxers on?” asked Maryanne.

“Beats me. But I know the police in this town have a thing about indecent exposure”

The women burst out laughing again.

If anyone told Lisa that today would be the last day of her life as she knew it she wouldn’t have believed them, but she also wouldn’t have believed that the first day of the rest of her new life would be filled with nothing but pure happiness.  Happiness that she thought she’d known.  And she got to experience it with her new friend Maryanne by her side.

via Daily Prompt: Exposed

The stronger Sex?

All throughout history we’ve heard about how such great men have helped shape the world and everything we know.  We have heard about how men have fought in war and men were stronger by default simply because they are…men.

But if you really take a closer look you’d have to ask yourself, are men really the stronger sex?

Sure, physically, many men may be a wee bit stronger but what about every other aspect of life?

As of recently, men have been ticking me off, pissing me off, disappointing me and letting me down.  I have been really been walking around with hooked eyebrow.  What in the world is going on with our men?

In the celebrity world, we have T.I. stating marriage is a distraction and I’ve actually saw a man on my Facebook post the same exact thing stating, “I want a relationship but they are a distraction”

From what I heard Carmelo Anthony stated that LaLa has been married but he’s been single all along.

I can’t help but think, these men are bitches. Or maybe I should just say, these men are…men since calling someone a “bitch” implies they are weak and the word is also associated with women.

How could you go out and embarrass your wife like that? How could you publicly hurt her feelings? How could you ask a woman to marry you, have children with you (which puts our bodies through hell, by the way, with all of the changes and motions), support you and maybe even catch a case for you and you STILL have the nerve to hurt her? Men are supposed to protect their women, right? So what the hell is going on?

It’s taken me a while to finally put my thoughts into words because almost daily I’m baffled by the things men do.

The Facebook Killer. I mean what the hell?

Through the weeks I have probably thought of a 101 scenarios which can prove that women are more than likely the stronger gender  so forgive me if I forget some of my points but from the top of my head I’m going to list what I can. And yes, this list will be all over the map, because I’m upset and confused and desperately need to jot my thoughts down as they come.

So here it goes:

When a man cheats, he expects a woman to forgive him and take him back with no issue, but when a woman cheats, the man cannot do the same.  Why is that?

I am aware that there are men out there who are rape victims but they don’t come forward because they think it’s weak that a man should ever be raped by a woman because after all, men should want sex at all times and it’s unmanly to turn down sex with a woman, it’s “gay” if you will.  But I believe true strength comes from admitting you were violated and seeking justice.

Admitting there is a problem is a sign of strength, isn’t it?

All throughout history men have had to put women down just to prove they are stronger/ better.  Women had to fight for their rights and even when we were given equal rights, men felt so insulted and still cannot view women as equals.  Why is that? Are they afraid that a woman just might be able to do the same things they could only better?

It seems as if naturally women are more forgiving than men whereas men would rather just burn a bridge and never look back.  Isn’t forgiveness a sign of strength? Isn’t avoidance a sign of weakness?

A woman can work full-time, come home and cook and clean and make sure the children do their homework, are bathed and put to sleep, but it seems like most men are only wired to just work, eat and sleep, why is that? I need some answers.

A woman can be a stay-at-home-mom with four children under the age of five–which means she’s constantly moving around tending to each child, trying to establish a schedule, making meals, trips to the park, or other activities to keep the kids entertained–but the moment she asks her husband for a break so she can get me-time, most men would become overwhelmed at the mere thought of having to take care of four children at once. They may busy themselves with other things and the women possibly never gets that break, but when she snaps under pressure and stress, the man has the nerve to be confused as to why she did.

Are we not human? Are women robots or something?

Oh! And my favorite scenario! A man can lay up in bed with a woman, get her pregnant be aware of this pregnancy and still walk away from his responsibility claiming he didn’t want any kids in the first place or the kid isn’t his, or his day-to-day life doesn’t allow him to make room for a family.  Excuses, excuses, excuses.  So the responsibility of raising a child falls on the lap of the woman and often times when she has that responsibility she goes above and beyond to ensure that her children are well taken care of, yet she’s still considered weak because she may need government assistance to make up for the absentee father.

A man would belittle a woman based on her outer appearance then turn around and get upset when a woman decides she doesn’t want to be with a certain man.  It’s as if their ego can’t take rejection but they could dish it out with no problem.  I’m confused.

I was on Facebook the other day under a thread under an article posted in TheShadeRoom regarding the Carmelo Anthony and LaLa situation and a woman commented saying “My father told me don’t think a man can take what he dishes out because he can’t” and I was lost for words.  One, because a man knows this is true about men, and two, because a man knows this is true about men and most men aren’t doing anything about it.

Our generation of men are the most easily influenced group of men that I am aware of.  If a celebrity says they should call their wives and girlfriends, “Bitches” then our generation of men would do just that; if a celebrity states that a certain type of image accurately portrays beauty, then our generation of men would become bobble-heads and stop at nothing to destroy a woman’s self-confidence all because she doesn’t have a big butt, big boobs, long silky hair, light skin, “chinky” eyes and full lips. Then if a woman pays to get work done in order to fit the bill of men’s image of beauty, she becomes unworthy because none of her is “real”

Um, I think a lot of men have a lot of nerve.  They are never satisfied.  They complain if a woman is independent, they complain if she relies on government assistance; they complain if she works long hours, they complain if she doesn’t work at all; they complain if she works as a stripper to make ends meet, they complain if she would rather keep her clothes on and collect government checks to make ends meet.  All of this complaining and judging, ugh, aren’t those signs of weakness?

Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t the saying go, “behind every good man is a strong woman”? or something to that effect? Which therefore means a man needs a woman and not the other way around?

Why are men so freakin’ selfish? Why do men expect women the stroke their egos day in and day out? Why are men so insulted by a woman’s strength to the point where he has to belittle her in order to feel good about himself?

I need some answers and I am open for a debate because I find none of this fair at all.  Women are supposed to take blow after blow and still be strong but if a man steps on glass he falls apart and it’s okay for him to.

I might add more to this should something else come to me.  But sound off, please, I am interested in hearing your opinions.

 

Broken Pieces

I remember being a young girl, just starting out in the dating world.  I had an idea of my ideal husband and our family, I had an idea of how I wanted the relationship to be.  I envisioned a man who protected and provided and told me what he loved about me.  I envisioned a man who openly expressed his feelings and wasn’t afraid to let me know when something was wrong.  I envisioned happiness sprinkled with an occasional issue because if I was going to be realistic, there is no such a thing as the perfect relationship.

After years of dating and trying to find my mister right, I ultimately found my husband. Our union started on Facebook under a picture of a mutual friend of ours and our first conversation was an argument–a playful one at that.  Two days later he actually added me on Facebook–two whole days later. Ya’ll,  he was thinking about me for a whole 48 hours before he worked up the nerve to add me on Facebook.  We spoke through Text messaging, BlackBerry Messenger, and even though I was nervous we had a brief conversation on the phone.  Before that conversation, however, I stressed to him that I was Deaf to which he seemed genuinely confused.  Not because I was deaf but because I thought it was an issue for him.  In my mind I thought it was pretty much common sense–if I’m deaf, how will we speak on the phone? But in his mind it was pretty much common sense that if I could speak then I didn’t have to listen to anything I could just talk and he would do the listening.  He flat out told me “I don’t give a f***, you can talk right? Okay, cool, I’m calling, now” and before I had a chance to protest his name popped up on my caller ID.

I was nervous and of course let the phone ring a couple of times–half because I was thinking about not picking up at all, and half because I didn’t want to seem to eager and answer on the first ring.  I eventually answered and lord his voice was smooth.  It had been my first telephone conversation in years and I really felt like a fish out of water. My thing was texting, it almost seemed weird that people still spoke over the phone.

We had a little conversation about I don’t remember what, but I do remember it was an on-going conversation because I remember thinking to myself “how is it possible that I understand this guy over the phone? I’m Deaf damn it!” I took it as a sign.  We were meant to be, simply because I could understand him over the phone.

We eventually made arrangements to meet in person and I strangely didn’t feel scared; I didn’t feel like I needed to bring a friend along, ya know, just in case.  It felt right.

On March 5th, 2011 I laid eyes on my husband–in person–for the very first time.

It was like a scene out of the movies.  Or at least it was for me.  As a white limousine taxi drove by in slow motion (I swear it was in slow motion!) I looked at him from across the street, standing there wearing all black trying to look intimidating.  I heard the words “Oh, my God, I just met my husband.” Once the taxi passed and the moment was over I realized that the voice was mine and I truly believed it.  March 5th 2011 at approximately 6pm, I met my husband.

We walked to the check cashing  place, talking like we’d known each other for longer than a few weeks.

He was trying to act tough but it was a little off-putting because he wasn’t making and keeping eye contact with me.  I started to think he didn’t like me and I started feeling so sad.  But you see, I was a 20-year-old and no longer a teenager so I wasn’t going to keep my thoughts to myself so I told him, “I don’t think you like me.” The look on his face was what I would later be able to dub as his “well, that’s stupid” face and he said, “and why do you think that?” I looked up at the side of his face and replied, “because you aren’t even looking at me, you’ve barely made eye contact since I’ve been here”

Insert “Well, that’s stupid” face here and I deserved it because, well…at this point we had just met in person twenty minutes prior.  But this guy wanted to make me happy so he looked at me and didn’t take his eyes off of me.  Talk about awkward.

We went to his house and engaged in conversation and I’m not quite sure how it happened–I probably may have rested my head on his shoulder and asked him to look at me…I don’t know, because what happened next had me forgetting my own name.

No, we didn’t have sex, I’m not that type of girl. Insert hair toss here.

But our first kiss was…magical. There was passion, there was fire, explosions if you will.  It was everything. It was kind of scary having such burst of emotions but at the same time it felt right.  Meant to be.

And that was it.  I didn’t have to look any further, I had found my husband and the father of my children.

I thought that he was perfect for me and he was.  He was literally a gentle giant.  Just by looking at him, one would assume he would crush skulls if someone so much as stepped on his toes but as the months went on, I quickly learned that looks were very deceiving in his case.  That’s how he’d gotten by in life; people were scared of him but I wasn’t.

So soon in the relationship there was so much passion and we often talked about what we wanted out of life and the steps we wanted to take in order to get where we wanted to be.  We found out that we’d been in a bunch of the same places all over New York City but we’d either missed each other or been there at different times.  We also discovered that we had a lot in common.

He never really had a fight before, me neither; he’d never been arrested, me neither; he’d never been to jail, me neither. He liked to laugh, me too; he was the oldest sibling out of his mother’s children, me too; he had dreams and aspirations, me too. But then there was that thing that set us apart. He liked to sweep things under the rug, rather than face them–wait, I couldn’t and can’t do that.

This is our main issue.

Imagine listening to a song that describes your life and problems perfectly.  Imagine feeling each pluck of the guitar, each key of the piano, each blow of the horn and the singer on the track has a voice that embodies your spirit in a way that words can’t describe–oh, it’s getting intense now. Now imagine the song getting to the hook and it just becomes too much to bear, this song is stroking heart-strings that you haven’t learned to use due to lack of security in your past.  Instead of facing the music, hearing it out until the end and learning to use those feelings that it evokes you just mute the song–while it’s still playing.  You so stubbornly sit in the silence, put the song out of your mind and pick another song from the playlist–this time a song that is least likely to evoke such feelings.

Are you frustrated yet?

My husband would much rather throw himself into some sort of work than to sort through the pain that he is obviously carrying.  It’s more important to him to appear strong and together than to admit that he needs help.  No matter what I try to do or say, if he’s not ready to receive it, it goes in one ear and out the other.

But nevertheless, my husband was brought up to value the importance of family.  And I love me a family man but his inability to face his personal issues has made him seemingly too scared or insecure to make decisions where our children are concerned. In his eyes I know what I am doing so his response to everything is “ask mommy.” I have reasons to believe that he is afraid of causing damage to our children but little does he know, all parents make mistakes–I make them daily–but it’s all about acknowledging when a mistake is being made and seeking a solution–a healthy one at that–so you and your children can grow and your children can become normal functioning adults one day.

I don’t think that he would ever be able to shift his focus from himself and the family he was born into, to the family he has created until he faces some of his childhood trauma that varies from family issues to cheating ex-girlfriends.  It’s funny now that I think about it, I used to say to my husband how much I liked his ex-girlfriends because if it hadn’t been for their eff-ups he would have never been able to find me.

Ha! I don’t feel that way anymore!

Even through all of this, I can’t help but feel a little selfish like, I want him to myself sometimes.  Am I wrong for that? Am I wrong to feel like he should put me and our girls before the family he was born into more often than not? After all we aren’t the ones who caused him any of the pain he continues to bury.

Oh, don’t let me forget about my husband’s inability to slow down.  He has a huge issue with putting too much on his plate at a time and then biting off more than he can chew.  He also has a huge issue with shifting his focus often to match his current situation.  In short he’s always overworked, overwhelmed and desperately trying to make everyone happy and often times I don’t feel I’m part of that “everyone.”

When I first met him, he was all about music.  He was DJ, he was a rapper and he loved everything about music, you could hear it in his voice when he spoke, the passion he had for music.  He had a dream.

Over the years, however, his focus has been shifting quite often.  Almost as if he is still trying to find himself.  As if he isn’t sure what he wants anymore.  As a result, I imagine how much pressure he probably feels he’s under, being 26 and married and having two small children under the age of five.  His younger brother claimed he wasn’t happy living in New York City so my Husband–having his superman complex–jumped in and offered him a place to live at the same exact time our youngest was born.  It’s crowded.  Anytime there is a conflict in his family he is the one who is called on to be the mediator.  In their belief, he’s the man of the family now following the untimely death of his grandfather; in my belief he’s supposed to be the man in our family and he hasn’t been the man in their family since he became a father.

He has all of these strings pulling him in so many different directions that I feel forgotten.   When I have an issue it seems like it’s too much for him to bear; he seems too unavailable and wrapped up into his world to even notice when my stress is eating me up; he doesn’t notice when I’ve lost some weight or when I’m in pain.  If he does, he doesn’t deem it important enough to mention it to me.  When I want him to make some time so that we can talk, he disregards it claiming there’s nothing to talk about.  So me being aware of his burdens, his pain and his lack of focus I keep a lot from him and have to deal with a lot on my own.

I can easily take his baggage and sort through them for him if he would just hand it to me but my husband is broken, and I don’t know how to fix it.

Am I wrong for wanting to help him to clear his plate and start taking smaller bites so that he could have time for our family? Am I wrong for wanting him to myself sometimes? Or am I being unreasonable?