My Life

Every morning I am up before dawn, sometimes at four am sometimes at five, but the point is that I am awake. After taking a quick shower, I make a full, hot breakfast that is waiting for the children I was blessed to have.  I pack their lunches, and check their homework.  At five, I'm waking my oldest, at six thirty I'm waking my second and third oldest and at eight thirty the younger oldest's and I are at their school. I make sure to take my time putting on my "mom gear". The kids are always proud to have me escort them in the school yard.  It's important for me to not embarrass them.


By nine, I am in the playground with my baby boy, exploring, playing on the swings, eating a picnic breakfast and reading stories. At nine-thirty, I am back in my house, puffing on a cigarette, hitting the shower again, changing the clothes, putting my 'game face' on and kissing the baby goodbye.

I always have a big day.  Every second that I am not in this house is a second that I have to learn something, teach something, help someone, or work. Since the second week of my Welfare to Work program, I've been hustling to find a 'day job' while learning how to network and how to build my home based business as a computer consultant.  I also write, and try to sell my writing.

So far, I've sold one story since August. An extreme bondage story I am ashamed to admit that I wrote. But the money spends the same. I dress the part of a success, hoping that by dressing it and projecting it I will eventually become it. By ten o'clock, I'm at the corner store buying two bottles of water and a pack of smokes. Then I wait for the trolley with my theme music in my ears.

By the time I've reached fortieth street, I am in my mode. I walk up and down the street, stopping at local restaurants, watching people, striking up conversations.  I go to the 'geek dwellings' to learn new tips/tricks or techniques. To commiserate with my people. I walk around, never spending money, but always going where you need to spend money to be.

I walk all the way from fortieth street to thirtieth street in my heels. I like them, my legs look good in them and I hate sneakers.  Some days I give out fifty business cards, some days I get fifty numbers.  By noon, I'm ready to go to whatever I have planned.  A networking event, a place to garner information for a story or article, someone's home to pick up a computer, someone's office to do the same.


Of course, during the course of my day, I find people who need something other than what I intend to give. Sometimes, I get tapped to read some poetry, or to give a speech, I'll get tapped to fill in as a volunteer to do administrative support. A few weeks ago, I worked at a butcher shop for a day, shlepping orders back and forth to customer's cars, because the owner was a friend of my father's and asked me to help.

Sometimes I have to tend to my biological dad.  I never asked for him to live with me, and I certainly never asked to be responsible for him, but he and my big brother both expect me to do right by him during his last few years. So, regardless of my personal feelings, I do it.  I take him to his doctor's appointments, his welfare appointments, his hospital visits, I got him off Crack. I get his medicine and I feed and clothe him.  On top of my children, he is an additional responsibility.

I always am careful to arrive to my Welfare to Work program at around three or four.  I do this to check in, show them my times, consult with my job developer. Get a quiet moment before I have to return to 'mom' mode.  Anyway, I'm usually out around four thirty and back on the trolley with my 'heading home' music blaring in my head.

Twenty minutes later, I am walking up the block stopping to chat with my slow neighbor, to help my elderly neighbor with some house work, I answer phone calls about friend's who's lives are in chaos, I chat with some other neighbors.  Then I walk into my house.

In my home, I am a rock star.  To the kids.  My youngest girl and boy race to wrap themselves around my legs after screaming in excitment, "Mommy's HOME!!!". The littlest girl babbles about her day, the babyiest boy just babbles. I smile and give out hugs and kisses. I yell at my biological dad, who's losing his hearing, to turn the bloody television down. Change from my heels to my flip flops, talk to my oldest boy about life and girls and whatever else he wants to talk about.  I pull out food and cook dinner.

By seven we're eating, homework is being done, chores are assigned and we're talking about our days.

Until ten o'clock, we are all about each other.  Then it's bed time. I change my clothes, kiss my babies and head to my 'office' (read dining room) to check my messages, mail, email, surf the web for technology stuff and sign in to take my free MIT classes.  Around midnight, I'm outlining my stories, turning notes into articles, creating poetry, blogging, facebooking, tweeting and planning my moves for the next day.

I call my pastor, we pray, I join my prayer circle online.  I fix whatever computers I have, run my books, pay my bills call my nightowl friends.

Around three am, I'm usually ready to lay down again.

It's fulfilling, being me. I do everything in the course of a day that God wants me to do, that my family needs me to do and that I want to do.  But it is a lonely existence I lead.