Isaiah is half naked with a broom in his hand. The warm weather we had this weekend revived all the flies in Siloam Springs and they are currently living in my front room. Isaiah responded to this by taking off his pants and diaper and grabbing a broom to destroy them…. he gets that from his father.

My son is a wonderment. I see so much graciousness in him, more so than what Garrett and I have. When I see things that I know I couldn’t have possibly done, but they are so good and wonderful that someone has to take credit, I usually just blame it on God. I think Isaiah is who he is because of God. I haven’t completely worked out that line of reasoning, but I know he is so pure and good that I couldn’t take credit for that.

Yesterday Isaiah was baptized. It took less than five minuets but, I am certain, changed my life forever. For our family, Isaiah’s baptism was a recognition of his membership into the church and the acknowledgement that God redeems us to Himself even before we can acknowledge it through faith. Something about that baptism flipped a switch and reminded me that, “WHOA! This is a human life!” His soul has assigned value in Creation, he is a member in the Kingdom of God, he matters, and I am in charge of his care. THAT was a bit overwhelming. I can say, though, I am thankful that I was given this child, and this assignment, but it isn’t to be completed alone. I have Garrett. Garrett is BEYOND awesome as a father and friend. We also have our community. Our church. Our friends. All these people who are willing to link arms with us and help guide Isaiah, in love, toward a life that is his to live…

Stupid tears

This weekend reminded me, in SO many ways, to hold fast to those who are willing to not take the easy way out. Hold fast to those who will confront the hard stuff with you. Hold fast to those who will affirm that there is good in your despite your shortcomings. Hold fast to the piece of innocence in all of us….

It is that mix of dirt and deity. That innocence and love that shows on my son’s face (even when he half naked annihilating flies).

Happy Monday Y’all.

Where have I been?! Lordy! When you actually have a child that is cognizant enough to realize that holidays are actually happening… you have to figure out what traditions you’ll actually keep and what ones you’ll actually pass on… we are still working on that.This is a hard choice for me (since my DNA looks like a meeting at the United Nations).

Isaiah survived. He came out pretty well actually. The Guppy and PopPop (my in-laws) managed to find and purchase the one toy that would induce panic in the lives of my dogs. Noelle and Zoe now run from Isaiah as he screams at them from his Hot Wheels Jeep.

Because what an amped up toddler needs is a motorized something to run into mommy as she attempts to keep balance. Let me tell you, there is nothing better than being 29 weeks pregnant and getting rammed in the back of  the knee by a tiny hard-plastic Jeep. It is awesome beyond awesome. So awesome that I tend to call out the name of the Lord after each lovely encounter (I have been informed that God’s last name doesn’t start with a “D”).

Holidays make me miss my brother (who passed away in 2006) and very nostalgic. With Addsion’s arrival on the horizon I find my mind meandering back to days when Isaiah was tiny (and not  accosting me with Chinese made toys, THANKS A LOT CHINA!!!). For your viewing pleasure: My little bambino with his daddy, during his first snow (he was about 6 months old!):

 Hope your Holidays were filled with peace, joy, great memories, and (most of all) LOVE!

It isn’t me who has been encouraging Isaiah to pee in the sink…because at least, then, he isn’t peeing on the carpet!

My OB tends to think I am hilarious. Actually, most of my friends think I am pretty funny, too. What isn’t funny is being so damn hairy. Now that I think of it, maybe that is why they laugh at me….. it BETTER not be!

The other day, at our routine checkup, the amazing Dr. Crownover asked me how I was feeling. A blush came over my face and I started to explain:

Jasmine: Dr. Crownover, before you see my belly I have a confession to make…

*Dr. Crownover gave a very medical, yet attentive look…*

Jasmine: So…. as my belly has gotten bigger I have become increasingly insecure about how hairy my belly is. In a moment of weakness I decided I would wax my belly.

*Dr. Crownover’s attentive look melts away and he doubles over in laughter*

Jasmine: Seriously! Don’t laugh. I got into the first strip, and I thought, “Who the hell’s idea was this! But then I was already in over my head and I had to finish it… now it is growing back, and I am all itchy. GAW! What is wrong with me!!!!”

*Garrett interjects*

Garrett: I told her not to be insecure about it. I told her that her body was normal.

Jasmine: Shut up Garrett! You don’t get an opinion! You shaved your face into a trucker “stash” …. people who look like that don’t get opinions on what is normal.

*Side note: Days before Garrett shaved his beard into a handlebar mustache and decided that he loved the trucker look. I laughed at him every time I looked at him. THEN he thought it was an awesome idea to wear it to my appointment. Because, ya know, that look is cool? What! No! It isn’t cool. All he needed was a cut- off flannel shirt and an “I love mom” tattoo… geez!

Dr. Crownover: OH! I didn’t even notice your mustache Garrett, I like it… I like it *Up until this point I believed my OB was a great honest man, now I believe he is a filthy filthy liar!*

My belly itches like an S.O.B and the little red bumps from my shirt rubbing the hair that is growing in is not very pretty… it is actually worse than being hairy. Because now I am hairy/bumpy/red. A dead sexy combination.

*Fast forward to today*

After a vigorous step aerobic workout Sadie and I decided to go to lunch. We talk about a plethora of things. Sadie is smart. She is a real brain. But today, she looked at me with all seriousness, she, “When we get closer to having the babies we should go get our nails done, and then make someone wax our lady parts so we will look all nice for the delivery…”

I evaded the remark. I was having flashbacks of a couple of weeks earlier where I got that dumbass bright idea to wax my belly. I don’t think Sadie and I can be friends if she starts suggesting things like this. Next she will ask me about anal bleaching….

Apparently all you need is a highball glass and a black maid to impress my husband;

Garrett: I think I miss the era of the 50’s and 60’s.

Jasmine: Why? You wouldn’t be able to legally marry me!

Garrett: No just the way they dressed… I watched Mad Men last night.

 I guess I need to NOT let him watch shows or movies later than the 60’s. Next he is gonna want me to call him “Mista”  or “Boss” while bringing him a Mint Julep *YUM* and commanding  me to mop the porch in my Mammy outfit. Garrett and I are not only from intensely different families, we e are different cultures and races that are light years apart. Garrett is a beautiful, kind, and open-minded man… he just…haa a vivid imagination. Movies and TV shows and books, sometimes, get him a little carried away.

(After watching Crooklyn, the movie)

Garrett: Did you ever live on a stoop?

Jasmine: I did grow up in the hood… but I am from OKLAHOMA not BROOKLYN.

Garrett: Well I was just wondering. Sounds like “stoop life” would be fun…

Jasmine: Yeah, I mean, since Brooklyn is the natural habitat of the black person? What the hell Garrett!

(When Isaiah, our son, was born)

Garrett: He has such smooth hair! Will this stuff fall out and then the nappy lamb’s wool stuff grow underneath.

Jasmine: NO Garrett! Jesus! He is PART African American… and “nappy” is a rude word!

Garrett: Well I know it is… but I am talking to my WIFE, and you knew what I meant. I would never say that to someone else.

Jasmine: Uhh yeah, because it is rude.

Garrrett: No, because they would probably have a knife or a gun!

Jasmine:…… I can’t even believe you.

(later)

Jasmine: Children who are biracial usually have smoother hair, but it isn’t a guarantee. White people have different textures of hair also, you know.

Garrett: I guess our different textures just aren’t as noticeable. So I am gonna have to learn how to “grease” his hair?

Jasmine: Yes. And if we ever have a daughter, you’ll have to learn how to braid too.

Garrett: I will leave that up to you, ya’ll are naturally good at corn rows.

Jasmine: WHAT! It isn’t a genetic disposition!

Garrett: Nooooo I was just saying that African Americans all grew up braiding and beading each other’s hair.

Jasmine: *Blank stare*

(After seeing an ethnic hair commercial)

Garrett: Can we Afro Isaiah’s hair! Oh my God! PLEASE! Can we!

Jasmine: Afros are only worn because our hair is so hard to manage. They aren’t REALLY fashion statements anymore! Afros, I think, are only cool to white people….

Garrett: OR we could totally cut his hair short and then cut lines into the back, like Chris Brown or Kanye West!

Jasmine: He is a two year old… he isn’t a performer. I swear! Next you are gonna request him a Gherri Curl!.

Garrett: Why do you ruin all my fun?

Jasmine: Because your fun is stupid- and stereotypical.

(Upon meeting my friend MiMi, who was born in Africa)

Garrett: So do you speak the African clicking language?

MiMi: *Blank Stare*

Garrett: No seriously, you know what I am talking about right? The one where they click to talk *imitates clicking noises*

MiMi: Jasmine! WHAT is he talking about I went to a private school…. WHAT is he talking about?

Jasmine: I guess he assumes everyone from Africa lives in a hut, just ignore him.

Garrett: OH MY GOD YA’LL are RUDE. It is not like that was even a weird question to ask someone from Africa!

Here is a game we can play. You won’t win a prize, a giveaway, or shenanigans like that. You’ll only have the beautiful gift of feeling, for a brief moment, what it is like in my life.

Here are your clues:

1. I couldn’t find Isaiah

2. I found him in the towel closet

3. He piled up blankets

4. He pulled down his pants

5. He took off his diaper

6. When I asked him what he was doing he closed the door on my face and declared, “…..”

Tell me. What do YOU think he declared?

Give up? He screamed, “Close door mom! POTTY!!!”

Uh yes son, what was I thinking… I potty in the towel closet all the time! Someone want to come clean up my towel closet?

If you pee yourself… It is better to do so while at home being tickled by your son. It is also difficult to explain to said son how big boys don’t pee on themselves.

♥Jasmine

I am starting a new job on Monday. I am super excited. What I am not excited about is the fact that they don’t know I am pregnant. I am still wrestling with how/when you tell or if you even do. Yesterday I decided that I needed to grab some work worthy maternity pants (Read: Black, khaki, navy) and attempt to find a top that conceals my ever growing bump. YES I am only ten weeks along. YES I look like I am 5 to 6 months along; thank my son for destroying my abdominal wall.  SO. HELP ME! Should I just stop trying to tent myself and walk onto the scene all, “yeah that is right- my belly button is about to pop…how’dya like my belly shirt!”

When do you tell your employer?

Am I an evil troll for concealing the pregnancy so they would hire me?

Am I an even more EVIL troll for making them pay for maternity leave in less then 8 months?

How do you even cover up a belly?

When I do spring it to them, do I just hand them a baby onesie with a wink?

 HELP ME!!

♥ Jasmine

(Isaiah talking to our dog, Noelle)

Isaiah: “Hey Nell! Mommy has baby penis.”

Jasmine: “No son, Mommy has a baby in her belly, in my uterus…girls don’t have penis. Well most girls.”

Isaiah: “Zayah penis!”

Jasmine: “Yes! YOU have a penis because you are a boy, women have a vulva and a vagina. The baby is growing in my uterus… can you say vulva?”

Isaiah: (weakly attempts  to pronounce vulva…sounding a lot like “Bulba”.

(Isaiah looks at Noelle and slaps her on the head) Isaiah: “BAD! Bulba!!!”

In the 60’s there was a huge movement involving dream interpretations. People clamored to buy dream journals and jot down there detailed dreams as soon as their eyes popped open from their nighttime adventures. Psychologists (I am using that term VERY loosely) touted the ability to diagnose the psyche of their clients based on the workings of their dreams. If you dreamed you were flying it would mean____________. If you dreamed you were a man it would mean_____________. The fad has continued into 2010, but more as an “alternative psychology” approach. It is interesting the effects that neurotransmitters have on dreams. Pregnancy hormones, in general, effect the body in such interesting ways it is hard to create a baseline for the masses. While one woman may have tender breasts, another woman may ravenously crave Goulash, and yet another will experience no symptoms but the occasional strange dream.

 Pregnancy dreams, possibly because of the flood of hormones, can also become highly sexually charged. I wonder what that means about the psyche or if that is only biochemical?For example, if you were pregnant and you dreamed that you were having sex with your boss, but your boss was actually your husband… what would that mean? And if this dream was SO friggin’ amazing, because the sex was out of this world, that you woke yourself up…what would that mean? AND if when you woke yourself  up you realized that in your dreaming state you had LITERALLY initiated sex with your sleeping…what would that mean? Hypothetically, of course.