Do you remember your first kiss? The anticipation. The will she/he or will she/he? I do. It was the most scariest event of a lifetime. It was the moment of total truth. I AM WORTHY OF THIS MOMENT kind of moment.

I am nearly 50 years old this November. All of my life I compare special milestones in my life to the moment of my first kiss. Did I mention my first kiss was at age 15 with my mother peering through the window, and it occurred not on my lips but on my cheek? Who cares? It was mine! It was my kiss! Never to be repeated as first. It was a kiss provided by David Grayson after watching Star Wars and ice cream. He presented me with a huge white teddy bear with a pink bow........and then that kiss! Really quick, nervous, and to most non descript. But to my 15 year old self it was eureka!

All my life I compare moments of truth to that that first kiss. I try to no avail at times to duplicate that jubilation but I try. 

So in my maturing self, all special romantic moments must at least measure up to the David Grayson kiss on the cheek. That's the bar. Did this experience compare to my first kiss (which I told the world was on the lips) on the cheek!?

It has worked well for me. I am constantly trying to recreate that first feeling of exhilaration. It is not too much to ask or too much to live up to. SMOOCHES! On the lips that is.

He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not! The more in the moment you become, it is easier to believe he loves you.


But you must present yourself loveable.

It is not everyday we meet someone where things all around you just click into place. This click happened with me about six years ago. I forged a new and lasting friendship with my dear friend Damla. Damla is a wife, mother of two, entrepreneur, and all around fantastic human being. 

I met Damla because we were neighbors. Our boys fast became best buds. I learned a lot about Turkish culture from Damla. We spent hours along the way trading stories of our varying cultures. Though she lives in the US, I visited her in Istanbul in 2013 where I experienced first hand her life as she grew up. It was magical.

Though my friend Damla is 14 years my junior we are bonded in friendship based on a bundle of shared values. We both are in love with our husbands, children, family. We are both no nonsense strong women who are quick to speak our mind, defend the under dog, and share our point of view with care and purpose toward reconciliation.

I have become better knowing my friend Damla. I have so many wonderful deposits of truth, transparency, and fairness with her in my life. Too bad for me she is moving in less than one week back to Turkey after 17 years living in the U.S. 

Recently she snuck a pair of beautiful Turkish white linen pants into a bag I was carrying, a full size too small for me.  She whispered, "Darling this is to encourage you." That's my Damla. Always thinking of her friends. Precisely why I can't stand the thought of her leaving. Damla is the real friendship deal. A true gem.

Her son Alp was told to say goodbye to his pal, my son Michael. He replied, "I would rather live hungry on the streets than say goodbye to a friend."  

That about sums it up for me too Alp.
I will miss my friend. 

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I grew up with a high level of predictability in my life. I think this is because I lived in places that didn't change much or at least that didn't change very fast.

I spent my early life living on an army base where everybody knew everyone. I later moved to a community where again almost every thing and every one was familiar. This upbringing was both an asset and a liability. My life was being defined by surroundings of less than a 20 mile radius and this calculation would be generous. On the plus side, because people knew me, they cared a lot about my success and failure. When I was in public I always ran into someone I knew fairly intimately and this helped build my sense of security, safety, confidence and surrendering to the unknown. I grew up around people I knew and people who knew me. I had many safety nets.

On the negative side I judged the world and my potential in life from a fishbowl. If I had drawn my life on  a canvas there would be very little bleeding on the edges. Nope I lived inside the lines and close to the inside of a small center circle. I took few detours especially when it came to even trying to expose myself to worldly ideas, people, cultures, ideologies. By the time I got to college nearly everyone of my friends looked just like me. This habit and comfort carried onto graduate school, even though I attended Harvard Business School where people came from around the world to attend. I made little to no effort to share my cultural views or learn from other's views beyond our experience in the classroom. In retrospect, what a regrettable loss.

So at least from a multicultural standpoint, I was sorely lacking in seeing the world beyond one dimension. I regret not trying harder sooner to change this outcome. I regret it because not having a broader view of people left me with some honed perceptions, prejudices of other cultures. I had not planned it but it happened.

I see that eyes wide shut all around me today. Those that for whatever reasons have painted themselves in a box. The older they get the less likely they are to see others' value outside their box.

When this happens we all lose. We inadvertently end up raising our children to not value one another's differences. Our children too will only view things through their own personal lens.

Living eyes wide shut does not make the world better it makes a world, communities, neighborhoods, schools, playgrounds, daycares, relationships more divided. I hope we can all do our part to change that. I am committed to doing my part especially when it comes to raising my children..

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These spaces are dark. One can reside in the light but live in dark spaces inside themselves. I know some of these people, so do you.

I have a female friend who swears a lot! She tends to fill up empty spaces with swear words. I always wondered why? I think I know now. She can find no reason to fill it with anything meaningful. Being provocative gets much needed attention. Being loud leaves little room for having to be real and transparent. Being able to control situations through "shock and aah"  doesn't invite space for, "are you ok? Would you like to talk?"  I know someone just like this and so do you.

I have a family member who does a lot of talking especially at family events. Thing is when you break it down into what is really being said, not much transfer of words. No real insight. Talking takes up space. Talk passes time. Talk gets you away from what is really happening. It creates a bridge into never land. The land where you don't have to talk about what is really bothering you. Those things that should have been talked about long ago. And because no one ever calls you on it, this non-talk goes on disguised as real talk. The only one believing that it is real talk is the one doing all the talking.

A bit ago, I decided to commit myself to being that friendly face in dark spaces. That non judgmental face that leaves bread crumbs of approachability. I want to be that face that quiets that need for cursing and softens that drive toward empty talk. I can do that. I can do that because I have been at one time or another that "one" who shocks and that one who talks for fear of being discovered for my dark spaces.

We all know someone. Dark spaces need friendly faces. Here's to building a tribe leaving more bread  crumbs.

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And so my life went. I was in the depths of depression. I was married to a man who had married the woman in me not the mother in me. He stayed by my side as I sank deeper and deeper into despair. All along I remained in prayer. One particular evening I was on my knees praying my prayer for a baby when God interrupted me just as I began. His crystal clear voice came into my spirit and it said, "Get up, get up now! You have made your request before me and I have taken care of it." I was frozen in place. I got off my knees and never again prayed for a baby. 

I had made my promise to God long before but I had one request of God in return. I had pleaded with God not to allow me to get pregnant and then not be able to birth a healthy baby in turn. I told him I would wait as long as I needed but please no miscarriages. I would be devastated if that were to happen after all I had been through.

In 1998 things were increasingly stressful in my life and marriage. I had become completely attached to only one thing.....conception. My laser focus was causing me to lash out a lot at my husband. After a period of not talking much I decided we needed a break from our familiar surrounds. After three years of treatments and various procedures, I had also recently been taken off all fertility treatments in order to give my body a chance to rest. I was however scheduled for another surgery mid-September.

Off we went to Washington DC. We had a restful quiet time together. We went on walks, ate out and simply enjoyed the distractions from chaos that I had largely introduced into our relationship. Upon my return to our home in Atlanta, a short time later I left on a business trip to New Orleans. My trip was cut short because of Hurricane George. New Orleans was evacuated. My boss, coworkers and I drove in the last rental car in the city 13 hours back to Atlanta. It was rough going all the way home. That following morning I was scheduled for surgery.

I arrived to the fertility clinic early in order to take one final mandatory pregnancy test before surgery and anesthesia. To me it was routine since I had just taken another test a week before. My husband did not even come in. I told him I would be right back and to keep the car running. We would go from the clinic to the hospital.

I was getting dressed after the quick test and nurse Nancy came to me and said, "My dear, you are pregnant!"  I said, "What?! You are not kidding are you?" Nancy replied, "We do not kid like that here." I fainted.

When I got to my feet I went outside and leaned into the passenger window where my husband waited. I said, "Honey we are pregnant!" He replied, "You are kidding?" I yelled, "Nope!" I saw Nancy coming  and yelled, "Isn't it true Nancy?" She smiled and yelled back, "No kidding." My husband was so overcome his foot came off the brake and the car started rolling forward pulling me with it.

When they told the surgeon who was waiting for me at the hospital she said, "After 25 years as a doctor I am reminded once again, it is not me who is in charge."

And so you have it. We were going to have a baby! Baby Hannah. My promise to God and HIS promise back to me.

Oh, God-of-the-Angel-Armies,
If you’ll take a good, hard look at my pain,
If you’ll quit neglecting me and go into action for me
By giving me a son,
I’ll give him completely, unreservedly to you.
I’ll set him apart for a life of holy discipline.

Before the year was out, Hannah had conceived and given birth to a son. She named him Samuel, explaining, “I asked God for him.”

My promise was like Hannah's. If God were to give me a child, I would name him Samuel or if a girl Hannah as a testimony to God's promises kept. I promised to share my testimony of HIS goodness always. I promised to raise the child to know him as God.

Every year on Hannah's birthday I share the story of her birth with her again.



Blessings!

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This post is PART 3. For a link to Part 1 please click HERE - Part 2 click HERE

This post is PART 2. For a link to Part 1 please click HERE

I had been trying to have a baby for years. After many surgeries and several artificial inseminations I still had not conceived.

One day, my prayer warrior friend Gayle came to me and said, God is working something out in you. He is preparing you for your blessing. First you have some work to do inside. Some real work to do in your marriage and in yourself. He wants to be sure you are ready. Are you ready? 

I was stunned. After listening to my friend I came to the realization that my way was not working. Maybe there was something more that I needed to do. Four of us started praying again. We began praying for our husbands each morning on a conference call for over a year. Our focus was on our husbands' health, spiritual growth, strength, compassion, wisdom and anything else we wanted concerning him as the head of our household. I was slowly transformed. I was preparing my heart and my house for God's intended purpose.

In 1998 my mental state was at a new low. I was so sad about not being able to get pregnant after three years of trying. Every month we would try to conceive then buy 2-3, sometimes 4 pregnancy tests at a time all showing no positive sign. I bought so many pregnancy kits I started moving around town to different pharmacies just to avoid the stares I felt when I was back again. I was fixated on one thing, having a baby. My nerves were on end. After one particularly extended argument with my husband (I blamed all the hormones I was on), I asked him if we can just get away for a few days to be in a new environment. He agreed. We went for a weekend visit to Washington DC. Just the two of us.

About this time the fertility doctor also decided to give my body a break. There would be no more treatments for a long while. We also agreed on only one more surgery but no more. The surgery was scheduled for mid September 1998.


One night, like every night, I said a prayer to God. I reminded him of my promise to him. Crushed in soul, Hannah prayed to God and cried and cried—inconsolably. Then she made a vow: 1SAM 9-11

Oh, God-of-the-Angel-Armies,
If you’ll take a good, hard look at my pain,
If you’ll quit neglecting me and go into action for me
By giving me a son,
I’ll give him completely, unreservedly to you.
I’ll set him apart for a life of holy discipline.


20 Before the year was out, Hannah had conceived and given birth to a son. She named him Samuel, explaining, “I asked God for him.”


My promise was like Hannah's. If God were to give me a child, I would name him Samuel or if a girl Hannah as a testimony to God's promises kept. I promised to share my testimony of HIS goodness always. I promised to raise the child to know him as God.

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My promise to God. PART THREE to follow in next post.

From as far back as I can remember  I wanted to grow up, marry a prince, have children and live happily ever after. I guess I am no different than most little girls.

I am someone who is used to getting those things I plan for and work for. I have a Ivy League education, wonderful job, loving husband, fantastic travel adventures from around the world. I have dedicated friends, supportive church family and very close family relatives. One would think I have it all!

I am healthy, I am curious, I am always doing something new. This is my life now. This has not always been my life.

For many years into my marriage I was infertile. I learned that I may not be able to have children when I thirty-two years old. After visiting many doctors I landed with an infertility specialist. We decided to try artificial insemination and we did try, six times. During this period of my life I became very depressed. I watched my only sister have children. I went to dozens of baby showers for friends and family. I had a prayer group, all moms, who prayed for my conception with me every morning for years.

I bought African fertility dolls, rubbed hormonal creams on my skin, ingested natural progesterone. I tracked my ovulation cycle. At times, I turned love making into a chore, a job, a goal, a calendar event. Even if we weren't speaking, I made sure we took care of our business when I was ovulating.

I was completely at a low of lows in my life. I had so much to give to a child. I wanted a baby!. I wanted my turn at being "my mother". And so for years we struggled. Financially we sacrificed to pay all the doctor bills. Nothing was covered by insurance.

I kept a journal of my heartbreak during this time which later turned into a still unpublished manuscript of my struggles.

My husband was a saint throughout all of this. He would tell me he was okay if we did not ever have a child. He told me I was enough for him. He was happy and everything would be fine. He loves me unconditionally and he showed it.

One day walking to the car from yet another friend's baby shower, I broke down in tears. As my husband opened my car door he turned my face to his and asked, "Aren't I enough?" I lied and whispered, "Yes."

One of my prayer warrior friends said to me one day, God is working something out in you. He is preparing you for your blessing. First you have some work to do. Some real work to do in your marriage and in yourself. He wants to be sure you are ready. Are you ready?

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My promise to God. PART TWO to follow in next post.

Have you ever gone about living your life and felt like not everyone in it is on your side? It's their prerogative really.  We are not meant to be adored and loved or even supported by everyone we meet. There is no life script which reads all happy endings and carefree beginnings. But the problem I have is when you are hosting a mole in your circle. That mole is that person who in your gut, you know is not completely on your side. The one who you know in your spirit is not exactly cheering for you as you sleep. They want something from you and though they may not overtly snatch it away, they stay close enough to you long enough to erode your complete enjoyment of it. No one wants to think of their life or their companions in this way, but if you feel something is off, likely there is something off.

Here are two ways to minimize the power of moles in your life: But first you have to know how to spot that mole.

1- Develop clear boundaries. Examine who is in your personal space and what role they play in your life. Are they adding value? Do you have a mutually respectable relationship? Is your relationship built on building one another up? Are you both providing constructive criticism when the need arises? Are you both benefiting from the time you spend together? Are you better off with this person in your life? Do you trust this person?

2- Don't allow anyone to change your core self. Don’t allow them to identify the “right” decisions for you that will move  your life forward. Moles want to see you fail. Your failure validates their failures and gives them a sense of one-up-monship. Moles will try to keep you down. They will pacify your insecurities rather than "snap you out of it."  Moles will "help" right your wrongs by reshaping your decisions to benefit them, not you.

As you examine your life for moles remember this. Don't be fooled by those who say such things, for "bad company corrupts good character." 1 Corinthians 15:33



Our lives can be influenced by the friends that we have. That is why we must be able to identify who are good friends and who are bad friends. 

What is a friend? It is a person who wants to be near another because of feelings of affection or personal respect. 

Good friends and bad friends 

Some friends can have a good influence on us whereas others can influence our lives in the wrong way – they can affect our behaviour and change our beliefs. 

When God looks at our friends he doesn’t look at their personality or appearance but rather at whether they are a good influence on us. 

We are cautioned to steer clear of friends who may lead us astray. 

A righteous man is cautious in friendship, but the way of the wicked leads them astray. Proverbs Ch.12:26

Do not be misled: "Bad company corrupts good character." Come back to your senses as you ought, and stop sinning; for there are some who are ignorant of God—I say this to your shame. 1 Corinthians Ch.15:33-34

As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another. A good friend has a positive impact on the other person. Proverbs Ch.27:17 

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I watch a lot of TV, spend an enormous amount of time on the internet especially social media sites. I do not regularly read the newspaper or news magazines. I do browse "gossip" magazines and glamour magazines. I especially like the magazine "O". I like it because it covers a range of topics that interest me, I  particularly like hearing the stories of people who have overcome big obstacles in their lives and are now thriving. I like these type of stories because they are not "perfect" and don't always end with the big red bow wrapped around them. Sometimes they end with a question mark. Just like aspects of my life. I find myself rooting for people I have never met and probably never will. Meeting them in person for me is never the point. When I "meet" them on the pages I feel like there is always something in their story I can take away and learn from. These are the type of stories I relish in. The type that are raw and describe a bumpy journey with uncertain outcomes. Just like my life. I can really identify with the underdog turned champion protagonist.

This brings me to the purpose of this blog posting. I recently heard, read, saw, and re saw, reheard and overheard the Jay Z and Solange brawl on the elevator story. I am providing a link for those who just have to know more http://www.npr.org/2014/05/14/312470817/beyonce-jay-z-and-solange-walk-into-an-elevator . Some things I consider none of my business and this is one.

The thing that bothers me most about this story is how fixated everyone in the world seems to be "this week" on "this story". I mean the encounter was on a closed elevator among family members lasting about 3 minutes long. This elevator exchange has become leading news on almost every major news network online and offline. This intended private exchange has taken over the stories that really should matter. The ones we should really care about and really are our business. Now the world is waiting with baited breath to learn the "why" behind the brawl. There is no shortage of commentary dissecting the implications of their unfortunate exchange.

Something is wrong with this to me. What kind of culture have we birthed in this nation? When did it become our business to be on that elevator with them?

I will tell you the elevator we should be on. The elevator that leads to answers to where over 200 Nigerian school girls are being held. Let's all get together, push that button, and get that mystery fired up!

He just hauled off and smacked the s#*t of her. She did not see it coming until it was too late. He had pure fire in his eyes. She did not have time to react. Her face absorbed the impact. She readied herself for whatever followed after that. She had stopped caring about herself a long time ago. She even began feeling like she deserved it. Her only care was the children standing in the background watching. She wanted to be strong just one time for them. She wanted her son to know this is not how you treat a woman. She wanted her daughter to know this is not a way to be treated by any man. But in this moment all she could do was drop her head and cover her face. She had hoped tonight would be a quiet night.

She had gone through meticulous attention to be sure every thing was just "so." Tonight she would not give him a reason. Tonight everything was supposed to be perfect. The house was clean and quiet. Dinner was warm to the touch. His drink was poured the moment he stepped into the apartment. She even went a step further and put her hair up in a bun and wore the sundress he had bought her just following the last time he kicked her a##. Tonight was supposed to be quiet.

She prayed this beating would not last long or at least that it would not be loud and scare the children even more than usual. Why she prayed can't he just drag me in the room by my hair and straddle my chest while thumping my forehead, reminding me of how completely worthless I am? Reminding me of how lucky I am that he has taken such pity on me and allowed me to stay in "his" home. This night would be especially loud. He seemed intent on making sure it was very loud. It did not matter....he even reveled in having the children present.

The next day she awoke as usual, got the kids ready for school. She put extra sweets in their lunch box hoping that would put a surprise smile on their faces at lunch time. She told them once again how much she loved them, and while he slept off last night, they tip toed out of the house and started their day. Closing the door on last night's secret secrets.

She went off to her executive job downtown where everyone called her Mrs., boss, and Chairman. A job where people looked up to her, constantly asking her what her secret was to being so well put together. They wanted to know her secret to being so strong and poised and confident. They all wanted more than anything to know her secret!


It is time to stop keeping those kind of secrets, before it is too late. NATIONAL DOMESTIC VIOLENCE MONTH OCTOBER 2014. Plan ahead and start asking the really tough questions. Approximately 1.3 million women and 835,000 men are physically assaulted by an intimate partner annually in the United States. We all know someone is this situation. We just need to get them to share their secret. No one has a perfect life. Perhaps if we stop pretending our life is perfect we make room for her to stop pretending her nights are quiet.

All our lives women are compared to their mothers. We want to know something about our lives the first question we are asked is "what about your mother?"  How tall am I going to be, when I will begin menstruation, what about menopause, am I susceptible to any genetic diseases? The answer always comes back as, "What about your mother?" If you know your mother you come close to knowing yourself. We can always learn a lot about our pathology from knowing our mom but there is so much more to learn that reaches deeper into our soul. This teaching stems from what kind of person our mother is in our lives. These lessons are the largest indicators of the type of mothers we will be or the type of mother we will not be. There are many branches on our mother's tree. We must choose which of those branches we will climb and explore and prune for our tree.

I took a lot of branches from my mother's tree. Some of these branches I swore growing up I would never take with me. Things like licking my fingers then wiping away grit on my kid's faces. I promised I would never yell at them in front of other people. I promised I would not play favorites with my kids. Well at some time or another I have done all of these. Every one of them. 

The branches I could not wait to prune were; building a strong team that sticks together no matter what. Always putting my kids first over outside forces especially work. Making sure the kids know that their dad is the head of the family unit. Telling my children every day of their lives that I love them (I did not hear this from my mom that often though she showed me). Demonstrating the right moral compass. Living with integrity. Telling the truth even if it hurts. Giving God all the credit.

I don't know what kind of branches my kids are selecting from my tree but I hope and pray  I am growing a solid, deep-rooted  tree where they can choose from a wide selection of good and not so good.

Motherhood is not grown perfectly but it is meant to live on in the hearts of our children forever. Happy Mother's Day and happy mothering.

If you are the by product of a single parent, Kevin's words to his mom are your anthem. We are a tribe who drank his Kool-Aid. A band of brothers who fully understands the levity of his every word. Even when he paused to find the words, his face and emotions said it all. Any one of us could have stepped into his shoes and finished his speech. We have our own individual experiences but we wear the same badge. Our mom is our rock. Sometimes it is our dad who raised us. But mostly, it is mom who stepped in and stepped it up to get us through and over the humps in life. It is no wonder we love so hard, try so hard, drive ourselves so hard. We learned from the very best!

“I don’t think you know what you did. You had my brother when you were 18 years old. Three years later I came out. The odds were stacked against him. Single parent with two boys by the time you were 21 years old.

“Everybody told us we weren’t supposed to be here. We moved from apartment to apartment by ourselves. One of the best memories I have is when we moved into our first apartment. No bed, no furniture, and we just all sat in the living room and hugged each other because we thought we made it.

“When something good happens to you, I don’t know about you guys, but I tend to took back to what brought me here. You woke me up in the middle of the night in the summer times. Making me run up a hill. Making me do push-ups. Screaming at me from the sidelines at my games at eight or nine years old.

“We weren’t supposed to be here. You made us believe. You kept us off the street, put clothes on our backs, food on the table. When you didn’t eat, you made sure we ate. You went to sleep hungry. You sacrificed for us. You’re the real MVP.”

To all the other momma VIPs out there. Happy Mother's Day! We love you more than all  the words invented. Sincerely, your babies.

Stop belly aching! Where has complaining ever got you anyhow? It draws a crowd the first hundred times perhaps. But after a point, to put it bluntly, it gets old. Even if no one around you is willing to say it "to" you, they are saying it "about" you. What they are saying is this, the problem isn't your problems, the problem is likely "you." Ask yourself, am I on the victim side of this issue or am I the fixer? If you are the victim... time and time and time again the problem is an inside job not an outside job. Follow the trail of crocodile tears and you will find the real problem. Pull back the curtain on your life and you may realize you are allowing yourself to be the underdog, the victim, the damsel in distress over and over and over and over again. There is a saying, people will only treat you the way you allow them to treat you. CHANGE YOUR TUNE CHANGE YOUR LIFE!  

Treat people how to treat you. Teach them how to talk to you. Demonstrate to them how to engage with you. Layout your list of non-negotiables.  Articulate your value system.  Draw the line at X . Disconnect from Y. Disassociate from Z.

Don't apologize for wanting to surround yourself with people like you. You get one life. Don't spend your time apologizing for other people's behavior toward you. Give them a chance, but give them ONE CHANCE. When people show you who they are believe them the first time.

Change your tune, change your life. And this may mean taking up a new broom to sweep away old garbage. Change your tune, change your life!

There is better waiting for you on the other side of the victim side to you. Don't waist another minute in woe is me. Turn the channel in your life. Embrace the victor in you. You wear it well.

From the time I prayed you into my existence I have loved you, even before there was a you. I prayed over you long before the birth of you. I am so proud to be called your mother. No future gift will come closer to my heart than being your mom.

My child, I have not been perfect as your mother, but I have been the best mom I can be. I hope that I have been especially effective when it  has really counted. My heart stood as a shield of protection those nights you slept alone in your crib. I stayed on my knees when you were away from home, drove your first car, had that first big interview, took that first Cupid's arrow to the heart. I was there in the shadows praying, cheering, conducting, scolding, whatever it took to get you through it.

I simply love being your mom. I live each day to be your mom. Never a day off. Never a single regret.

I have watched you grow into such a beautiful being. Such an astounding contributor to the world around you. Seeing your growth into "you" is the greatest gift you can ever give back to me. It has been a complete privilege to call myself your mom and even a greater honor to hear you call me mommy. I will always be with you no matter what.

Thank you for being such a gift to me. Thank you for allowing me to be flawed. I will never be the perfect mom, but I promise to be perfect in my pursuit at being the best mom I can be.

I love you more than the most beautiful rainbow. I love you more than yesterday. Loving you tenderly, mom

There are few things more painful than being treated badly by someone you know, knows better. That means only one of a couple of things, 1) they don't care about how they are treating you 2) they have no incentive to change how they are treating you. There is an old saying, when one knows better they do better. How about that? Here are my thoughts directed to the one who we know knows better but does not act better. To the one who either does not care or has no incentive to behave better.

Dear Do Better;

Every time you act with indifference toward me it stings. Be your infringement big or small it leaves an indelible mark on my spirit. This includes the times you walk into a room and don't acknowledge me. The times I am dressed to the nines and you look right past me. Those times you find me alone and sulking and you chastise me with your eyes. It stings. For those times I take a few extra minutes to smell just so, from the finger tips to the nape of the neck fragrant fresh for you.

But you ask where the kids are or what's for supper? You ask if your mail came or did you miss any calls? It stings and the sting quickly absorbs that fragrance that was meant just for you. For those times I styled my hair just so, I wore that dress you said you really liked, with those much too tight high heels that have a very small window before I have to take them off. All intended for you. Manufactured for those few moments you will look at me just so and tell me exactly what you are thinking. When you don't respond to all of this, it stings. It mostly stings because we both know, you know better. We know because a long time ago in what seems like forever you did better, always.

Did it ever occur to you that my needs have not changed? There is no quota on the number of times I want to be told I am pretty, that I smell good, that you like "this" dress. I like to hear your "hellos" when you enter the room. I would like to know that I come before any call, any mail delivery, and even before the children I gave to you. Regrettably, I am left stuck and believing you know better. You know exactly what I want but for your own reasons you keep it to yourself.

There is no quota on the number of times I have made your supper, brought you a plate, turned back the covers on your side of the bed, ran you a hot bath. No quota on the times I have taken a message for you, stacked and sorted your mail neatly. No quota on the times I have stood in for you at the parent teacher conference, Johnny's softball game, the parent/child Gingerbread competition. I did all these things and more because I am better than all those times you knew better but didn't.

So in closing, I leave your with this. I want better. I need better, so we can be better together.

Signed, Stung and in need of better, again.