It's the Little Things

I spent my Tuesday morning of this week putting together my new living room furniture. Everything now has its place. And I now have a space where I can truly kick back and relax, watch tv, play a few rounds on the Wii with Emma, and crochet freely and in comfort. It took me quite a while to fill this space, but I wanted to be sure that I would be doing so with pieces that I was satisfied with. Mission accomplished.


Concise and to the point. My next goal is to accessorize with a couple of plants, a few statement pieces, a pet goldfish for our empty bowl, and some artwork.

Moments of Bliss

Living Room: Still a work in progress...

A year ago, I was laying in a full sized bed, with an arm cuddling my baby while a hand cradled my Galaxy S. Two sets of eyes peering into the beauty of Avatar as the clock struck midnight. We were in the family wing of a homeless shelter. Five family units with revolving doors. Four families went off to forever homes, while three more settled into the temporary serenity of three meals a day + bed and bath that didn't have to be shared. The Hotel, as Emma liked to call it. The most memorable fragment of our shelter stay was my transformation into double agent - gaining a status as participant and observer, with a focused view on what a homeless family really looked like.

I was not the only single mother, nor were the families comprised of only single mothers. Among us was a husband and wife with a troop of four, and a girlfriend and boyfriend with a set of brand new babies, and the thought process changer: the single dad with the toddler son, and the two little girls who clung to us women with hugs and requests for sleep overs because they were missing their mother so much. Yes, we all had our stories, and for a brief period in our lives we became a collective, sharing child care advice, academic support, and guidance on the right and wrong ways to comb and care for little natural curls. And when it was time to move on, we congratulated each other and waited for our own happy endings.

As 2011 became 2012, it was evident how much things have changed for us. At midnight, I was in the comfort of my own home, smiling into my computer screen as I shared a New Year's toast with my grandparents via Google Video Chat, and a loving glance at my sleeping baby cuddled up next to me on the couch. A shiny moment of pure bliss.

And as the sun rose and prepared to set on the very first day of this brand new year, a grand feast of Hoppin' John and fixins helped my bliss hang around just a little bit longer.

I hope that all of you had an exhilarating start to 2012. May the prosperity be in abundance for us all.

Make It Work!

Project #1: Making my new kitchen work for me

What do you do when you don't have enough kitchen cabinets, or counter space, or a storage closet!?! You have to build from the ground up. I have a ridiculous amount of boxes marked KITCHEN, and a ridiculously limited amount of space in which to empty those boxes. Dinnerware from lives past, pots and pans, electrical this and that, TUPPERWARE! There just isn't room for it all. I came up with a solution for a fair number of cookware. An additional kitchen cart, to the microwave cart that I already had. I was storing my skillets and pots on this little thing. It was never going to work. I spotted this 5 shelf kitchen cart on Walmart's website and thought that it could get the job done. So far, mission accomplished. No more boxes of cookware! Dinnerware is a completely different story for a completely different post.

Have you added any new space savers to your home lately?

Bit by Bit

Signs of progress

Its been a few weeks since we've been in, but its only been a few days since finally getting the last of our things out of storage. The aroma of 11 months of separation fills this space, but now so does the sound of my favorite tv shows. Needless to say, I got to tuck the old Ethernet cable away.

Buried Treasures

When you've reestablished an uninterrupted connection to the outside world, via Ethernet cable, you know things are really starting to look up.

I've been sitting amongst boxes for the past few days, happy to have had a good friend who didn't mind loaning me her husband for a couple of hours. A few boxes and a desk still before it's all in, but we're getting there. Our empty little shell is starting to come alive with memories of yesterday, and will soon be flooded with the fresh roots of our brand new start. Starting over, it can't possibly be as bad as this passing period of being back at the bottom. Time to restart the journey back to the top.

As stressful as this transition still is, reconnecting with my life brings comfort. I spent time looking through photo books, and the scrapbook that chronicle's Emma's life 17 weeks post conception 'til a few months past her 1st birthday. A unbreakable bond we have. I cherish the one and only photo I have of myself while she was still inside of me, and remind myself how grateful I am that, at 7 months pregnant and in the middle of getting dressed, I asked my Bigmama to snap a picture of me.

For 5 years, I've had a couple of unopened boxes of Bigmama's belongings. Just dishes, glassware I'd always suspected. But tucked away with the glass I found a few other things, things that immediately jumped out at me. A double sided vanity mirror. I remember. I remember it was used to help her get her look just right when she was pressing and curling her hair. Now, it will stand on my own vanity. And a plate, with a message about all of the love that a small house holds, that my small house now holds. Yeah, starting over isn't gonna be bad at all.

We're In!

Never has a smile been so bright

I managed to do the unthinkable: I pulled one over on the girl. She had her suspicions, and there were times when I felt cornered, but I held on to my little secret; even with my car literally packed to the max, I held out. I'm glad I did. Do you see the sheer joy radiating off her face? That kind of excitement could only come at the end of a complete surprise.


She wasted no time spreading out a few of her favorite things. She immediately recognized the new found freedom of having her own personal space again, to do in whatever she wants, when she wants. She jumped up and down, and was completely wrapped up in the moment of "cool" and the idea of "no more rules". It is true, this here is a totally different place.

We settled in on our air mattress, snuggled in the comfort of each other, and the comfort in knowing that the storm that was, is now over.

Now, on to the storm of moving boxes and delivery trucks, at once!

I Think It's Safe to be Excited

There have been all kinds of processes - progressive processes, but processes nonetheless, but I think it's finally safe. According to yesterday's meeting with management, Operation Nyumbani commences in 3 days! The sun is finally breaking through the clouds. No more shared living of the forced kind. I swear, I'm gonna feel just like Amy Merrick! There is truly nothing like having your very own space. As the assurance sinks in, I am going to try not to allow myself to become too overwhelmed by the details. As much of a joy this move is for Emma and I, let's be real, we all know that moving is hardly ever a joy. To my benefit, my storage space is small, and there aren't that many heavy pieces, but the particulars are still gonna be tiresome. I'm ready! And thanks to this holiday weekend, I just may be able to pull off my "surprise" without much difficulty. Stay tuned...

Creative Thinking

What helps to pass a slow day along? Losing yourself in beautiful home decor and cool storage solutions. I've been all about it lately. I spent a couple of hours in Barnes and Noble's magazine section last week. I picked up a couple of mags that have some great inspiration. And today's San Francisco Chronicle featured the familiar designs of Aphrochic. I remember seeing beautiful Aphrochic pillows featured on My Brown Baby.

Currently on the brain: color, space, organization, peace, comfort, vanity, pillows, bins and baskets, flowers, container gardens, command strips, casters, labels, and journaling.

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Looking Toward Tomorrow

I was at my grandmother's house when I got the call. I had been expecting it. And although all of the I's were dotted and the T's crossed, I was expectedly nervous. It could have gone either way, and I tried to prepare myself for that.

It was the property manager, calling to give me the final decision. I stepped away into an empty room to receive the news. He told me that the owner had decided that she'd like to rent to me. Say what now? And just like that, all was well in my mind. I'd just received the best Christmas gift EVER! Ain't nothing better than a brand new permanent address, especially when you've spent the last ten months without one.

I've decided not to share the news with Emma. Partly because I want to shield her from any potential disappointment should something unexpected happen and the deal falls through. And of course I want to shield myself from her daily move-in date inquiry that is already foreseen. But most importantly, I want to present this gift to her in the most meaningful of ways. A good old fashioned surprise.

Here's the plan. I want to move some of our things in, preferably her things, pick her up from school and take her there. Unlock the door and show her to her new room. I can see it now, and i'll try to make sure that you do too by remembering to get some pictures of the special moment when it all goes down.

So, when are we moving in? That is still being determined. I can say that it will be soon! Watch us take flight as we chase a housewarming!

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Here Goes Nothin'

The application has been completed.

The documents have been compiled.

Copies have been made.

Money order will be included.

Outcome: an exchange of keys?

We'll see what happens.

Operation: Nyumbani

Photo Credit

Nyumbani: Swahili term for Home

Somehow, I expected this whole apartment search process to bring about more glee than stress. Not so much. I rushed over to view a place after work yesterday that left me scratching my head. I tried not to look in the owner's direction during the viewing in an attempt to shield him from the "you've got to be fucking kidding me" expression that was stuck on my face. This space was advertised as "beautiful" and "move-in ready". The pictures in the listing did a hell of a job covering up the dirt and raggedy ass trimmings and fixings in that place. And the gigantic water heater located RIGHT NEXT TO THE FUCKING STOVE. It was beautiful alright. A beautiful disaster. And I thought the place with kitchen-so-small-I-could-possibly-light-my-ass-on-fired-while-cooking was bad. Ha!

In the few days that I've been searching and viewing, I have learned a couple of valuable lessons:

1. If a building looks old and rundown on the outside, chances are its gonna be the same way on the inside, no matter what story the pictures try to tell, apparently. I had been told good things about this guy's properties, so I was in "benefit of the doubt" mode. Didn't want to knock it until I saw it. Didn't want to judge the book by its cover. I should have just gone with my first damn instinct and saved myself a trip to hell. Lesson learned.


2. NEVER fall head over heels in love with a place, because after you've fallen head over heels in love, and you've made your very best impression, upon learning that you are coming from a low-income playing field, the owner will turn their nose up and tell you to take your broke ass elsewhere. Or at least that's what it'll feel like. I mean, I really did love that apartment. Everything about it was so right, and so right for us, or so I thought.

My grandmother says the right place is out there. I sure hope so.

Chasing Home

Photo Credit

I wonder how many miles I've put on my car since February. How many hours have I logged while on the grind? Can the amount of shit that I've had to put up with, navigate, and discard really be calculated? As I peer out of Starbucks' picture window, at the wind wrestling through the trees, and the wet pavement on this cool Fall afternoon, I have an abundance of gratitude. The same level of gratitude that I have each time I exit the freeway to find the man or the woman standing there, holding his or her sign, hoping that someone in the line of cars will power down their window and extend an offering. An offering is usually made, and a momentary expression of accomplishment and Thanks comes across the face of the person on the receiving end. The moment ends, and the accomplishment is tucked away to free his or her hands and mind for the next offering.

This is reminiscent of my experience thus far. From house to house, organization to organization, failure to accomplishment, its really hard to focus on what all of those little accomplishments will ultimately add up to in the end, when your sole focus is to be at the right place, at the right time to receive. Well, upon review of all of those little accomplishments, I can now say that I have all of the pieces to the puzzle, and that they are falling into their respective places. The new year will bring with it an end to my homeless journey, and the beginning of the rest of our lives. Steadfast gratitude.

Nights Like This Pt. 2

There are three distinctive sounds that run on replay each night: the sound of a motorcycle zooming down the block, the sound of car alarms going off in response to said motorcycle's powerful engine, and the sound of emergency sirens. Of the three, its the sirens that bother me the most.

Its been 7 years since I've lived amongst sirens. They are a reminder of why I said I never wanted to raise my daughter in this kind of environment, however, the people that I share my new community with, are a reminder of everything I loved about where I grew up!

Once you get a taste of what's on the other side of the fence, and you learn that things could be better than what you've lived in/grown up around, its hard to go back to where you came from, especially if you aren't taking resources back with you. Its hard for folks who do have resources to go back to where they came from, for fear of never being able to leave again or being stripped of everything they feel they have worked so hard for. I came into this situation with such a complex. I've been learned how to get past that though, because each day I realize that each time I open my mouth and talk with someone, whether they are in my shoes or not, I am giving back.

So Far, So Good

Surprisingly, this place has some really good food. I'm always worried when it comes to food. Not necessarily about quantity, but more about taste, likes and dislikes. Emma happens to be a very, very, VERY picky eater. She'll look you dead in your face and let you know that what you've placed in front of her looks and/or smells disgusting; that your mashed potatoes aren't white enough; that your cat fish is NOT fried to the same consistency as granny's; or that she'd just about rather starve than eat... THAT! Can you imagine being at some facility, where the food is being prepared for you each day, without knowing what's gonna be on the menu? So far, so good though. I've only gotten one of the above reactions thus far, and that was to the first night's dinner of tuna casserole. I could completely feel her on that one!

Not only have the breakfast and dinner trays had foods that Emma likes, they've even had some meals that run a close second to grandma's cookin'. Food doesn't get any more comforting than grandma's, Emma will tell you so. There is a part of me that completely misses cooking, I mean, I have yet to have a pork chop come my way, BUT, in a way, this whole 3 meals a day thing is kind of an answer to my Personal Chef prayers.

Feeling Like Home

After loading what I thought we couldn't live without back into my car, we were off to our new living space on Sunday. Based on the description from the organization's website, I knew a little of what to expect, but was kind of blown away by what I saw when I walked through the door. Nestled away on its own floor lies an inviting dorm-like space. Its like a private family loft. A huge living room area with enough space for 5 families to settle in for a movie, a cute little kitchenette, a nice sized kids space with library, toys, tables and chairs, a computer and study room, AND a laundry room. Everything we need all in one space!

And our room?

Well...

Its amazing! We have tons of space for our things, comfy beds - no more sleeping all bunched up on a couch, and our own private bathroom! This place is like heaven for a homeless family. While I am still a little on edge, you know, a bunch of newness all at once with meeting 4 new families and learning the break down of the rules and regulations and getting into new routines, BUT, I see this space, this facility, this opportunity as one that will aid in our recovery from this stage in our lives. The staff have made it clear that they are there to help us as long as we are willing to stay in the fight. I'm ready!

Here's how we've settled into our new space thus far...

This is what my bed looked like on our first night. Borrowed linens ≠ comfort!

But, a new pillow and linens from "home" always will!

Emma's first night included a little more familiarity

And we took it a step further by bringing in the new Princess and the Frog bedding she got for Christmas!

And for her second night... She slept like royalty!

What newness have you taken on this week?

Moving On... Out

Vintage Skeleton Key Pin Set from Pretty in Peace

My heart temporarily sank when I listened to her message. I had gotten a call back from the woman who would be informing me of the panel's decision of whether or not to induct us into the transitional family. She had said the decision reached was a "yes and no". Huh? What the hell does that mean? Part of me deciphered that as they really really wanted to help us, BUT, for some reason or another we didn't meet the requirements. I've always been met with those feelings after researching or inquiring about a service that is geared toward women with families or women who have been victims of domestic violence. Because I've always fallen short under the law, I can't help but always feel that I will fall short under their definitions. Negative thoughts aside, I eagerly redialed her number.

She told me that we had not been chosen to move forward with their program, however that didn't mean that we hadn't been chosen. There was a mixture of excitement and rue in her voice, so not only was I anxious, but confused. Turns out, we've been accepted into another program, which will be a stepping stone to being accepted into their program. For the homeless, a prerequisite for getting into many housing programs is that you've been referred by a shelter or other shelter-esk facility. Since we've had no prolonged shelter stays, I frequently find myself explaining up and down how the lack of a shelter stay still classifies us as homeless and in need of services from whatever housing agency I am seeking. In a nutshell, this organization has cleverly made arrangements with their sister organization, a shelter, one that I am assuming will not be anxiety inducing so that we can be referred back to them at a later date.

Tomorrow, to the facility we will go, where beds and privacy await us. Unlike the initial program that I applied to, this facility will be free of charge, allowing me to save and prepare for the phases ahead. Let the games begin!

Follow Through

I almost feel like I'm being tested. Like they want to see just how much I want their assistance. As if they are judging whether or not I'm really willing to go that extra mile. Of course, it could just be a matter of timing, a matter of the amount of business that can get done in one day - dates and times are more important to me than ever these days. Will they call today? Will they want to move forward with us? Will they deny us access to their collective? I hope not.

Is That a Light?

Its been 8 years since I've had to sit under the radar of a panel of eyes. I felt like I was being interviewed for employment. I get nervous when I have to convince someone why they should like me well enough to let me into their circle, but I tried to remind myself that all I needed to do was be myself. There were a lot of why's, how's, and what's, but I tackled them with complete honesty, and in the end, the panel was able to appreciate that. I'll find out by Tuesday if they appreciated it enough to welcome us. For now, its back to were I started, submerged within my academic community, amongst my academic family. What can I say, its a place that has consumed a big chunk of my life, and one of the only places that always embraces me.

Chasing Transition(al)

I followed through on a transitional housing resource today. Its one that houses single parent families in particular, offering various on-site supportive services, mental health being one of them. It would have been nice to save up during a shelter stay, but the one we stayed in over the weekend was not a good fit for me. While Emma was pretty oblivious to our experience, I wasn't really feeling the twice daily forced bible study and the den-mother-esk woman who kept shouting out HALLELUJAH and shhhhhing every crying, whimpering child in the building. All the talk about death and eternal suffering if one did not drink the Kool-Aid made me wanna cry too. It was kinda nice to be off the couch and in a big bed though.

If all goes well this Thursday, we could have beds of our own soon. Depends on what they decide after our interview. I can't imagine a reason why they wouldn't wanna move forward with us, but we'll see what happens. We need this to come through for us. I don't know how much longer I can survive couch hopin', having our things and mail at various different addresses, invading other people's spaces.... I literally came apart at the seams last week! When I say we really need this opportunity to come through for us, I really mean we need this opportunity to come through for us.

Thinking positive thoughts, thinking positive thoughts...

Pet Peeves

I guess sports are to men as soap operas are to women.

I don't think I'll ever understand the logic behind amplifying the television in order to quiet the voices of children. Noise only begets noise, it sure as hell doesn't silence it. And I'll tell you what else it does, it beckons migraines. My head is much happier with just the sounds of intense play. I'm quite crazy with the bellowing sounds of baseball coming from the idiot box. I can't tell you how much I despise sports. Not just baseball, and not just any one sport in particular. All sports. I don't get excited for playoffs and superbowls. I don't huddle around the television with snacks and team spirit. I'd rather just be excluded all together. Every single day, since His return, the television has blasted sports in some form or another. During a time when I'd rather unwind, process the events of my day, and prepare my mind for what lies ahead, I am instead trying to drown out the sounds of static noise, and plot my move. The exact moment when I will snatch all the pillows off the couch, put our pajamas on and "go to bed" - because that is the only indicator that we are ready to settle in for the night. The time on the clock doesn't mean shit.

I was waking up every couple of hours last night as a result of one loud month or another. 2am - 3am - 4am - 4:50am - 5:20am, eyes peeking open at 6:29am, and alarm ringing at 6:30am. I yawned through my training at work today.

I asked if there would be headache-free days ahead, and was told yes. I sure hope so.