Three Ohio Victims - the Steubenville Lesson

There are three victims in the Steubenville rape case, not just 1.  We examine the lives of misguided youth through a lens that says the boys in this case were wrong.  The victim has been a topic on blogs, twitter and social media - but a quick scan of articles referenced the inappropriate efforts of attorneys to reference her drinking, her choices, her feedback that she did not remember how she ended up in the situation that led to national attention.  I am a mother of three children.  I have a daughter and two sons.  There are three victims in the Steubenville rape case, not just 1.

I am a Buckeye by birth and by heart.  I understand the culture in Northwest Ohio, and I pay attention when Toledo jokes, Defiance voter scandals and Holy Toledo references make mainstream media.  I have long since stopped defending all of the things I love about Ohio - UT College of Business and Innovation, the Toledo Museum of Art, the zoo - as if there is only 1 zoo in the world, Denison, SUA - to name a few.  I explain Tony Packo's, MASH, Jamie Farr, MudHens and a host of other Ohio cultural phenomenons with ease.  I wasn't such a football fan growing up, but I was a Friday Night Lights addict and I have come to cherish sports in unhealthy ways.  In this case, I think Ohio and the "football culture in Steubenville" are far from the issues at hand.

In an earlier post, I shared my feelings about promise unfulfilled and my angst about the verdict in the Kwame Kilpatrick case.  I thought about the decades before his rise to notariety, the infamous details of his life and failures placed on a national stage.  We read about prison terms, the label of being a juvenille sex offender, and the loss of promise and potential with a casual ease that is as disturbing as the crimes that were committed.  I do indeed believe crimes were in abundance for the Steubenville case - committed both by the teens and the adults surrounding them. 

My coverage of the case would have read something like this: 

1. Minors with access to drugs and alcohol make really stupid choices. 

2. Unsupervised teens without a moral compass or value base, or good judgement, make poor choices. 

3. Amidst a bad situation, technology used as a tool to create further harm for Ohio teen. 

4. Violation of basic decency leads to life lessons for youth and parents. 

Instead, I have read that the 16 and 17 year old boys are men who knew better.  The female has been identified as a victim, a girl, youth and young lady - with careful attention to scold the awful ways that she was described by her peers and upset parents. 

No, sport hero, athlete or young man should be exempt from the consequences of their actions based on their potential.  Nor should a 16 or 17 year old young man, teenager, youth - lose the potential of their future, their promise or their contribution to society - based on decisions made at this age.  I am grieved by the situation on so many levels.  I am grieved because of our societal reaction and the outrage of the community, where it has been convenient to take sides but unpopular to recount all of the facts that exist in the case.  I wasn't there.  As much as I love Ohio, I think this situation is one that is played out in beloved communities everywhere.  I think we are quick to judge and quick to place labels, but slow to offer solutions for the culture that we have created.  There are three victims in this case I believe.  Two boys who have been forever changed by their bad choices, and 1 young girl who will live with the impact of her choices for a lifetime. 

As a mother of boys and a girl, I grieve the entire situation.  They collectively deserve a better foundation and a stronger start to life.  Add the quick nature of technology, social media and 24 hour news coverage - and you have an even bigger problem.  I'm ready for the discussions that recognize we need a solution to the violence perpetrated against children and teens, and the thoughtful exchange about the challenge of raising moral youth in an immoral society.  The buck stops here, but I pray to God I never have to read about the failures of my children in blog columns that pick sides without at least an attempt, to propose true solutions.  

What do you think? 

The Mama Sisterhood

MOTHERHOOD is a Club....

and you have to respect the Mama Sisterhood! 

Noah at the Drumline Performance.

There is a good reason why I'm inclined to identify myself as a mother, but I don't often reference being a wife - in many ways they are intertwined.  If you read my posts, you'll know that I have often talked about my wife reality, from Domestic Sexy to things I just don't understand, like the Fear of Laundry completion.  None of those things defines life overall, but I think the reality of being a mother and being a wife are in my life elements of the same story.  I couldn't be the mother that I am without having a husband.  I grew up with a mother who encouraged excellence, set an extremely high bar, did everything she could to give me the advantages of my peers, and instructed me that education was a tool for moving beyond what I could see around me.  She also did everything, in essence, by herself.  In a conversation earlier this week I was reminded of her struggles to navigate a rocky landscape for my brother and I, and the many differences that exist in our lives, and our life choices.  The reality is even in my earliest of days, she was teaching me lessons for the future.

MY REALITY

Music man exploring options.

I love to SMASH - no not just eat good food, but Smash my memories in scrapbooks, journals and the latest of my obsessions, SMASH Books that allow for a more impromptu collection of experiences.  What I have realized, largely because I take pictures on the fly, (and I have yet to start a KickStarter campaign to fund a new camera)....my photos don't tell the full story.  I look at our changing landscape and I fight against this notion of "it takes a village," because I believe you have to be responsible for YOUR own village, before the village can help.  I know that sounds unclear.  Before I realized the need for additional help, and the benefit of quality support, I recognized that it took two to make a thing go right - at least in our household.  I'm not as strong as my mother, as independent as my mother, as well paid as my mother (who had 1 degree less and a wealth more natural talent) or as selfless as my mother. I thought from day 1 - I need long term help, as in the kind that means you are there every day, in every way.   God then blessed us with Aunties, Godparents, Grandma's, Granny's, Women of the Church, Neighbors, Parents of the Kids friends, 2nd Family Members, etc., to round out that support network that allows so much more than I every realized.  You can read my Ms. Eva post to learn more about my circle. 

MY REFLECTION 

This is not a dad high 5 post - although fatherhood is a topic that matters to me dearly.  Sometimes it keeps me up at night.  It is a personal reality check, however.  I can sponsor a Jack and Jill event for 2 age groups to see Drumline, because my husband supports the endeavor and has only a minor cringe when I communicate the cost.  I can be there for the track meet events, because I wasn't there in the morning seeing that everyone made the bus and had breakfast, many mornings he does that.  I can take a kidlet to explore the arts, because the other kidlet is at Basketball practice with his father.  When I was growing up, the equation wasn't so simple.  Heck, this is our life and it isn't simple.  We have gone from man-to-man to zone, and we've been working for 13 years to figure it out.  This Mama Hustle is absolutely no joke, but I am able to be a better mother because I have permanent assistance, in the kind that comes with having a full-time father in the home.

MY REQUEST 

The days I hope I remember always.

It has been an emotional week.  If ever I could have a therapy fund this might have been a good time to use it.  I reflected on the things that I wanted to do, wanted to try, aspired to experience....and I thought of my mother, my aunts, my grandmother doing all that they could to make it so.  I used to be so much more critical of the choices of others - because I just had not lived long enough.  I get it. I get it. I get it.  We all make choices, we all do the best that we can, we all dance the dance of life and navigate the circumstances as they change.  In pursuit of joy, and in an effort to find my joy, today I celebrate children, motherhood and the support network - yes the village - that makes a difference.  I wanted to scream this morning when I had a small self-reflection about how people don't realize what you've done in trying to make a difference in the lives of others....and then I looked more deeply in that mirror myself.  We could all do a better job of recognizing how we, "Make it Do what It Do!"  Motherhood is not a silo experience, not in my world, not in the way my children have experienced life.

So - Willy Wonka has a local premier tonight - got a kid in that.  Divisionals for swimming - got a kid in that.  Studying fractions and echoing short answer questions - got a kid who doesn't even realize he'll be doing that, or no football this season.  More importantly, however - I think I'll hug a little deeper, snuggle a little more intently, smile as I taxi, and say a prayer of thanks - this life of motherhood, I wouldn't have it any other way.  Well, funding that life should be done differently....but that is indeed another post!  How do you make it work?  How do you perfect your mama schedule?  What lessons have you carried from childhood?  How do you do life differently for the sake of your children?  Who would you thank for helping you become the mother that you are?  or are you one of those life altering anchors that makes some mother thankful to have that unyielding support?  If she hasn't said it lately, THANK YOU.

Violence not associated with Indiana Black Expo prompts parental concern

Parents of tweens are often faced with requests to attend the concerts, workshops and events that have built the reputation of the summer ritual known as Indiana Black Expo.  It remains an integral part of the Summer Experience in the greater Indianapolis Community, although news of downtown shots awakens parental concerns.  One might think that this is an issue for Black Expo, Downtown Indianapolis or someone else.  Safety is a universal concern for all parents. 

Annually in July  a series of workshops, entertainment, health fairs and programs bring greater awareness about African-American culture.    Statistics surrounding the graduation rate, economic stability and healthy life choices garner the attention of community activists, religious leaders and neighborhood elders.  Tweens simply want to have fun.  In it's 40th year of operations a celebration of success has been marred by negative press during the culminating weekend of activities.  Reports of injured young people have taken precedent over articles about increased efforts to educate, train, uplift and engage a critical teen audience. 

Renee Thomas, director of the Purdue Black Cultural Center, was one visible addition to the festivities. Prepared to increase the awareness about Purdue University, promoting the programs and services of the Black Cultural Center and offering teen specific program, "Follow Your North Star" for the teen youth summit, Thomas has spoken openly about the chance to recruit staff, faculty and students. Articles about Purdue's increased presence have been outpaced by reports of 10 shot in Indianapolis.  Although the late Saturday incident has been tied to Black Expo, the three shootings near Circle City Mall were not connected to the event.  The Indianapolis Star indicated that visitors were shocked and disrupted, including those participating in the event. 

Safety matters to parents as we seek to guide and protect our children.  Indiana Youth Institute data from 2006 indicates that Marion County teen deaths by accident, homicide and suicide outpace every other county in Indiana.  These statistics should matter to us all.  Heightened attention should be expected when information about local shootings is tied to the largest cultural event in the Indianapolis community.  Additional investigation shows that the unfortunate incidents were not tied to the event.  Black Expo organizers, community members and parents alike must continue to seek the information that will govern our decisions and directives to youth.  

Our charge is safety, accuracy and guidance.  This weekend featured much more than the random acts of cowardice.  We owe it to ourselves to learn more as Black Expo brings to a close four decades of philanthropic initiatives, support for education, constructive youth activities and numerous opportunities for tweens to set their dreams into reality with access to countless resources. 

The Benefit of the Doubt

The Benefit of the Doubt and other growing pains...       

Benefit of the doubt = to decide you will believe someone or something

With age I'm less inclined to extend the benefit of the doubt.  I'm not sure when it happened, but it has indeed happened.  I used to believe that Barack would be a 2 term president, that Colin Powell would receive the respect that was fully due him, that investing in private education would create benefits that public education could not deliver, that the covenant of marriage would rise in popularity as we saw the impact of raising children in single parent homes.  As I've gotten older I don't have the same energy to compensate when the benefit of the doubt goes wrong.  I'm learning that I tend to simply not give it as much and with what I believe is good reason.


During some seasons I have given myself the benefit of the doubt  - in the belief that I could lose weight while committing to healthier life choices, get my PhD before I had gray hair and land the perfect hybrid between consulting and teaching college courses while my children were still relatively young.  I have always aimed really high and cleaned up for the messes created along the way, even in the belief that I could close the financial gap between my decision to be a non-profit consultant and my natural gifts in math & science that didn't translate into becoming an Engineer.  I tend to ask for forgiveness more than permission, and with wisdom has come a tendency to doubt, not to give the benefit of the doubt.  


Owning your limitations happens at various life stages I assume, but I had brought into the Superwoman model.  Such is life I thought.  Yet, the issue of doubt continues to resurface because doubt can lead to a generally disagreeable disposition I've learned.  Seeing that glass as half empty makes you more often than not a pessimist.  I never wanted to be a pessimistic mommy.  I wanted to teach my children to see the glass as half full.  I still want to.

The holidays always offer a twisted challenge in my world, a choice of living in the past or creating a vision for the future.  Stay with me, it does relate.  On the heels of a ministry peer telling me that I didn't return her text messages, I offered a confused look and a strong stance that I do at least try to respond to all messages received.  I felt a bit unnerved at the meeting as I thought of ways to prove that I really had been attentive to recent communication, only later to find out there is some issue between our two cellular phone companies.  I wondered aloud in that moment, why had I not earned the benefit of the doubt?  Clearly she assumed I had not responded, without considering that I had not received the messages.  


I also thought about a request that I made to a friend to pick up and deposit a check into my account from an out-of-state client.  She ultimately opted not to complete the favor because of concerns that it was somehow inappropriate.  A different friend within the same state completed the task in about 1 hour and indicated that she was happy to help.  I'm not sure how much impact we have on other adults and their "benefit threshold", but as a parent, I think our impact is primary and paramount.  I feel obligated to teach my children that they can extend the benefit of the doubt, because their life is and has been, different than the circumstances that shaped me. 


What leads us to assume the worst instead of assuming the best? How do we get past the lingering impact of disappointments and what do we do to balance the benefit of the doubt with intuition and good sense?  I have come to understand the "Benefit" of the doubt is as much about your threshold for pain as it is about the choice to believe freely.  I still come up on the losing side of the debate when I suggest that Chris Brown deserved more benefit of the doubt than he received, and that he too was a child when his actions led him down a difficult path of public scrutiny and becoming a domestic violence poster child.  By virtue of gender and leaked photographs we gave his girlfriend at the time much more benefit, put her on a few more magazines, wrote a few more stories about her and said as loud as our voices would carry that Chris' behavior was unacceptable.  True.  Not the entire story though in my opinion - I am a mother of both a daughter and sons, and I think there are lessons to be learned on both sides of that situation.  


My children are incredibly loyal to their father and discerning for their ages.  Whenever I suggest that they play favorites (I get picked for book reports and homework assignments, rarely for fun and games) they share a nervous laugh and ask, "When is Daddy coming home?" They ask about his whereabouts like the FBI and they tend to measure their future happiness based on what they believe is his present state of play - they expect that dad is equal to fun.  For our children past experiences guarantee benefit of the doubt, and as their mother I get taught the most basic lessons of unyielding trust by watching them.  My husband says, they are growing up differently than we grew up.  I believe they are living in a whole new world. 


The benefit of the doubt I've learned doesn't last forever, and after a lifetime of disappointments even an adult can cry uncle.  Benefit is really the equivalent of making a choice, a decision to believe when all factors point in a different direction.  For decades, I gave my father the benefit of the doubt that he wasn't capable of understanding the impact of his absence in the lives of his children.  We're cordial at this point, and as a grandfather he can be thoughtful and attentive.  What he cannot be, however, is the father that I aspired to as a child.  My children and I have been blessed with male role models, mentors and friends that are tremendous.  I should be more appreciative of that.  40 years later I still see the generational legacy of my father's choices as a lingering failure that I cannot fix.  In myself, in my mother, in my siblings and in my decision to intentionally parent differently, I carry that difficult legacy.


Giving him the benefit of the doubt has often meant disappointment that cuts to the bone and resurfaces at the most inconvenient of times.  Like holidays.  Even a choice to act and behave in a different manner doesn't erase the impact of the memories that linger.  I can hear Dr. Laura saying get over it, you cannot make people what you want them to be.  In most instances I would even agree with her.  Yet, I think its natural to give family members the benefit of the doubt, even when that ship has sailed, and time for something different has come and gone and come again, one too many times.  


Somehow as 40 approaches with little discretion I have resolved that it is difficult to teach what you do not know.  Difficult but possible.  My ability to teach the benefit of the doubt is a true work in progress, requiring a value system orientation that is not my own.  We are not just raising Jesus children out of habit or obligation, but out of a clear understanding of where our values come from.  Fellowship with the Father promises to be the only anchor when issues with my father persist.  My children have the benefit of an engaged and committed father, even though he too did not learn at the heels of a phenomenal father son relationship.  He has simply made a choice to life in a way that guarantees that his children extend the benefit of the doubt, because in most every situation, the ability to rely on his availability, attention and affection are guaranteed.  That alone is worthy of being a covenant keeper in my book.


I'm not sure what happens in the world of adult to make it so much harder to believe and trust in what people say or demonstrate as their intentions.  I do know, however, that children who are raised intentionally should learn as much about hope, faith and belief in the greater good of people as they learn about the barriers that we create for safety, protection and sanity.  They come here naturally reliant and trusting and willing to extend courtesies that as an adult have to be earned, demonstrated or even merited.  I look to them as teachers not just students, and I celebrate the use of instinct to make choices based on what they experience.  I remain thankful that for those closest to me, their grace has extended me the benefit of the doubt.  Wisdom has taught that not everyone can benefit from it.

In Search of Game

My little people are far more athletic than I have ever been. I love that about them. They are not moved by the fact that every tae kwon do, gymnastics, volleyball, swimming or sports experience is filled with many lessons we can't quite relate to. But, I've got one son who loves basketball. I mean, he practices outside in shooting hoops in my neighbors rim, for as long as you will allow. It isn't our natural thing.

We are amazing at teaching story problems, fractions, vocabulary words, writing prompts - and he's got the grades to prove it. After a long and drawn out teasing his straight A grade card was neither that exciting or that hot of a topic - he just does what he does without much fanfare. I attended one of his few basketball games last week and that experience was not the same. I tell you, check out moms action stop. Do you see that form. Concentration. Focus. And do you see that it looks like he's running a sprint and not playing ball. How much of having game is nature? How much is nurture?

Our kids have inherited a tendency to do better at solo activities while they struggle with team experiences. This child, however, tends to do well at both. In the heart of Indiana where basketball is beloved by all, I can't help wish that my father was more invested in teaching and training. My father was the coach of all coaches when it came to basketball. He taught inner city hoops with flare and substance, did much better than he did in parenting. There are students that still credit him for their growth and development. No comment there. Just wondering though, can you teach a Suburban Black kid with little basketball instinct to play ball.

At a dinner party recently I had friends suggest to us, "you need to enroll him in Black Ball." Really. I don't care if its politically incorrect, they cautioned me about the "recreational league" that I enrolled him in. I indicated it was just about the basics, no stress, no future Lebron aspirations. And they uniformly responded, you better get him in Black Ball soon.

At the ripe old age of 7 I'm starting to sense he's behind the curve. I laughed on Sunday because I was sure he was close to a foul everytime he tried to snatch the ball from his opponent. When I looked at the pics that make a moms heart smile, I couldn't help but land on this one. I started thinking, what are we running to and what are we running from. We're happy to be in the Suburbs, but I miss some of the things the kids would naturally learn from the neighborhood I grew up in. Down the street he could have learned to play ball nearly free of charge, extra bandaids and some non-Walmart tennis shoes, and he'd be set. It wouldn't have been a big deal that he didn't have his own basketball court - few kids did. The only guy that I knew with his own court, couldn't play and tried harder to makeout near the swings than shoot hoops. I digress.

In search of game really speaks to the double lives children of color lead. I'm not even going to write about the Suburban clubs that spend more time eliminating potential young ladies than creating a place to nurture them and expose them to peers who share their experiences. I'm not quite over it, but I'm getting there. Living in the suburbs has brought better schools, better property values and more diverse issues. I need a second job to teach my boys how to have game, while I'm teaching them to navigate this game that we chose.

Watch out world. The best scientist that can ball is coming your way soon. He's not in search of much but his personal success, and he's well on his way.

The Truth About Back to School

(Fond end of school award rituals captured from years gone by...)

The time honored tradition of back to school holds a variety of emotions for most people I know. With a strong belief that a good education is the key to a better life, we dutifully prepare children for the schedule and routine that will dictate the next nine months of their lives and ours. We do everything that we can to make their life ready for learning - or do we? Today I ponder the truth about "Back to School."

Our entire family was not ready to go back to school. My Real Simple magazine highlights the ritual of one group of mothers who collectively toast the start of a new year, but most of my friends dread it. Literally, at the last possible minute we're cross checking book lists, supply demands and uniform codes - as if life depended on it. Doesn't it though? For our children to be prepared, don't we have to ensure that all of their needs are met? Well, common sense tells me yes. Snarky end of summer blues tells me no.

I secretly look at every person in the mall and wonder if their children can read or write. I know that they will be dressed to meet a fashion standard regardless of uniform code - but I don't know how much this has to do with true learning. I believe in being prepared to learn but I've come to resent the need for new tennis shoes, a new fall wardrobe, or the inevitable list of supplies that could teach a small village I'm sure. My resentment may come because our finances are so tight, or maybe because I hear the coded language that follows the observations that I share. Sometimes I share the observations - wondering is it racism, a matter of class, or both.

1. Why does a child who needs tennis shoes from the donation program get picked up in a Lexus?

2. Why does the backpack drive come complete with parents who have a fresh manicure, pedicure and hair appointment within the last 7 business days?

3. Why does a child who can go 3 weeks without duplicating clothes not carry books home at all? (He did indeed attend the event in #2)

4. Why does a child with free or reduced lunch get dropped off in a late model car?

5. Why are there voucher programs accepted signs now proudly posted on every store I shopped at in the last month - where the average home value is $300K?

You can tell me about the stereotypes I'm making if you want to, but the conversation is starting to bother me too. My neighbor is a school administrator and sighed in disbelief after he told me story after story of the child that they helped...when it seemed as if the parents had not made a better decision - that they could have easily made. Maybe its because I had to listen to a woman tell me why she understood my private school decision because of the lack of "serious rigor" in my Suburban School district that had evolved from "working class people to the west." She was surely serious as I looked at her clueless behind with disbelief. Hello...I would be one of those working class people. The local school performs well, but the lack of diversity just grieved my spirit for my children - couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it. It either makes me really dedicated to their education - or a fool for buying what I could get for free. The later is real high on my list some days.

We didn't buy all new school shoes this year - we worked with what we had and supplemented the obvious gaps. We brought new backpacks because the old ones had holes, not because we were excited about this years' selection. We scrambled like crazy people today looking for the components of the "dress uniform" which is worn one day a week - and why you might ask. Because the children who have clothes rolling out of their drawers and closets - have 1 dress uniform each, because we paid 3 sets of tuition in the last month. And although they have what they need to make it through each day - school started on August 11th. We have yet to make the shift from sun and fun to "back to school" - we managed tears with less than a full week of homework completed. Transferring to a new school means new uniforms and countless clothes without a purpose nowadays. Sigh. Hiss. Sigh.

Although no one has come forth to organize the mother's social for my peer group, our networking has begun. Can you pick up the children next week? Can you feed mine on Thursday of this week? Will you tell me the assignment from last Friday? What time is the PTO meeting and who had the audacity to think the dinner hour was smart? So as I see the umpteenth request for donated school supplies, or I see the line at the check out counter for back-to-school essentials, it isn't lost on me that this is only one aspect of preparedness for learning. What about listing good parental guidance and common sense on the list - can we get some of that? I doubt it. Last year I dealt with bullying, mean girl syndrome, racism, and a boatload of things I thought my private Christian school would handle better. Nope. In a true false test you'd be in trouble I tell myself.

1. Breakfast - did I make it? Will they eat it?
2. Sleep - are they showered? How fast can they get in bed? How many hours did they get?
3. Homework - is it written down? Is it completed? Is it correct? What needs to be studied?
4. Activities - are they relevant? Is the time commitment reasonable? Am I asking too much of them? me? husband?
5. Clothing - does it fit? Is it where it needs to be? Is it in the closet, drawer, basket, washing machine, dryer?

I'm astutely aware that the Back to School ritual means different things to different people. I've started my own snarky observations of those around me. School for some is daycare at best. I'm concerned at the core for latch key children, followed by my own reality check that if I'm not careful I'll have kids splattered around the city in aftercare. (Also known as no care in many mom circles.)

As we set the course for this year, ever so slowly, I've got to wonder what will we all learn and what will we all accomplish by the time June rolls around. We do a lot of busy work - but are we teaching the skills, values and lessons that we need to? I feel it every time we put gas in the van, assess the soles on those tennis shoes, write 1 of 3 checks for the privilege of learning...but the real preparation, is that financial at all? Just maybe we should be teaching high expectations, study routines, and cooperative parenting 101, while our children are sent off to learn the state mandated concepts we so aptly do in the few waking hours they have now that Summer is officially over. The Truth about Back to School .... it is starting to appeal to my cynical side for the difference between being "prepared to learn" and capitalism 101, fashionetta 214B, and remedial priorities.

Moving beyond "the Box" - A fight with conforming

So I have fallen in love with this Keyshia Cole song and video, and I just need to admit it. I believe in honesty and transparency and from time to time I can be a little snobby about my taste in stuff. I don't want what everybody has, and I truly don't want to respond to the society hand fed meal of what you should have, buy and like...I fight it all of the time.

I had this experience with perfume lately too. I saw a fragrance by P. Diddy (Unforgivable Woman) and I rolled my eyes. Then, I smelled the perfume and was mad about it - I thought it was just beautiful. Largely because I have 3 children and I think our media obsessed society (with a jones for fame and creating entertainment icons) is bad for the soul. I try to teach the kids to have their own style and taste and to ignore what the media says you have to have. I am recovering from a mutual love of all things formulaic - but lately my guard is down.

A few weeks ago I listened to this song and decided I was having a Mary J moment. I didn't start truly listening to MJB until I was good and grown and now, I'm a big unapologetic fan. Same for Keyshia, who shares a name with my sister, and I can't help thinking about her every time I hear her music or songs. When I first started hearing about her - I shook my head and thought about all of the women in RB/Hip Hop with forgettable careers. I have been saddened, both by their music, image and plastic surgery.

I tell myself I really don't care for the Pop Princess antics of our society, which tell us the type of music and people we should like. But, I'd be lying if I didn't check out the blonde hair on Keyshia and smile...as I just started experimenting with highlights. (I'm dang near 40.) I fight against too much megahit enthusiasm from Disney, High School Musical and Camp Rock to ensure that my daughter has some images before her that are reasonable. As Christians, we find some songs we like and try to ensure our children are surrounded by life affirming lyrics. But... I've also had to introduce KeKe Palmer, The Cheetah Girls and Raven to ensure that Miley doesn't take over the thought processes of an otherwise wonderful little lady. Here's where it gets a bit tricky though...I'm liking a few of the things that are mainstream and the lyrics to Heaven are just one example.

That being said, I hope Keyshia Cole has more songs that grown adult women can sway to without being boxed into a hiphop era which is uninspiring at best. I have always been a little slow and methodical about my music taste - but I admit this one threw me for a loop. All the radio favorites I can skip, I think Keyshia was singing out of the box with this choice. I purchased this single and a few others from Itunes, and I'm just living with that decision as I realize "they" the mediagods, got me. As for Unforgivable Woman, I'm still spraying my testers...but I just might have to move beyond my box, and buy a bit of that too.

The Blues

On vacation we were at the hotel restaurant having breakfast when the lights went out. The local thunderstorm created 5 or 6 brown outs, and we ended breakfast by candle light. I actually enjoyed the experience. My children were weirded out. Their comfort came from daddy's answers about the experience. They felt safe because of him.

When I think about blues, there are parts of my childhood that ring with a bit of disappointment. I was saddened by the stereotypes of being a product of a single parent home, made worse by having my father be an attractive teacher and coach within the same local community. This isn't a father bash post - it isn't even about my childhood.

The blues that are my favorite photos are shots of (or taken by) my husband with our kids. Whether its a blue business shirt, a family reunion shirt or the water of the zoo in the background - the most important thing for me is that my children have a family unit that is just plain normal. Not storybook beautiful, just normal.

They have a father that loves them and shows it in his everyday actions. We both had challenges in role models for father figures but we are living our version of the American Dream in so many ways. We have struggles, I have a potty mouth, I can even be prone to seeing the glass as half full. I think that fact that I recognize that is half the battle as I see that God is capable of extending grace and mercy, even when we know not what we are doing.

No blues here. (Well, in the pictures.) But in general - my children will not know the pain of parental distance and adult choices. We surely will give them much fuel for therapy, just not based on our efforts to establish a family unit they can rely on. I am in awe of single moma's, I think about my childhood and youth - and my husband's too, and I know that our mothers both aspired to give us all that their hearts could hold. I am so thankful.

I am most grateful that my children find travel, vacation, hanging out, day trips, school, bed time, dinner time, grocery shopping, etc. very mundane with their very normal family. There is something great about creating the future you want for your own children, based on the dreams you had as a child.

Baby Blue. Periwinkle. Navy. Royal. Crayola. Doesn't matter to me. I just like seeing those kiddo's and dad.

If you want to see the power of pictures or a different take on the blues, collaborate with the ladies at Crazy Hip Blog Mamas. If you want to see a cool picture with the zoo in full glory, be my guest. (As I sing Beauty & the Beast in my head....)