Fatherhood Freestyle: Speak Up on WeParent.com

We’re looking for a few good men…

Fathers, to be exact.  Black Fathers to be even exact-er.

WeParent is currently looking for new regular and guest contributors to write for our Fatherhood Freestyle column.  If you’re interested in telling your side of the story, send an email to info AT WeParent DOT com.  Be sure to follow these guidelines:

• Subject line should be:  Fatherhood Freestyle Submission–YOUR NAME
• In the email (not in a separate document)  include your submission which should be between 500 and 800 words.
• In the email (not in a separate document) include a 3 or 4-sentence bio
• A statement indicating whether you’re interested in being a regular monthly contributor or a guest contributor

If your submission is selected, we will contact you with additional details.

And, don’t forget to send in your submission for Fatherhood Freestyle:  The Book!  Get details here.

MamaSpeak: So What if I’m not a Celebrity Single Mom

I have to admit, I’m a bit obsessed with celebrity gossip. I browse through gossip magazines while I’m waiting in line at the grocery store, and I follow some gossip sites online. One of the things I’ve noticed is the trend of glamorizing celebrity single moms. I find this mind blowing, because regular single moms like myself don’t get the same treatment day to day.

From Sandra Bullock to Kate Gosselin to Halle Berry, there is tremendous support from society backing these celebrity single moms as they make their way through single mommyhood. They are splattered on the covers of InTouch and UsWeekly, sharing their heartaches, their struggles with trying to live a normal life. We see them on Oprah talking about their journey, and we get sucked in. We buy their magazines, we go see their movies, we subscribe into the glamorization. Why can’t this same support be had for non-celebrity single moms? Are we not good enough?

I’m a single mom, a younger-single-minority mom to be exact. Society sends the message that young-single-minority moms won’t be successful. They won’t attend college. They won’t secure a steady job. They won’t make enough money, so they will have to depend on the system. They are immature, irresponsible, and should have waited to have a child. These messages are constantly relayed through movies, magazines, books, and TV. You always hear about the plight of a single mom, the hardships she’s been through as she struggles to find stability. I’m not ignoring this fact, but where are the stories that speak of single moms graduating college or buying their first home? Where are the stories highlighting single moms starting their own businesses or volunteering within their communities? Does society not think that these stories will attract enough attention? Are these stories just not interesting enough?

I’m not ashamed that I’m a single mom, and don’t know why I get the sideways looks when I tell people I am. Maybe it’s because I don’t fit the mold of what a non-celebrity single mom looks like. I am enrolled in college, I have a car (old but running most of the time), I have a steady job, and my own apartment. I struggle with being a single mom, but I want no one’s pity or sympathy. I don’t need anyone in my ear telling me I’m doing a good job, but I would like to see my demographic positively acknowledged within society. The messages I come across don’t support me along my journey. In order to obtain resources I have to be a poor single mom. What’s up with that?

We support these celebrity single moms and tell them they can do it, no problem! Why is the message we send to non-celebrity moms so dissimilar? Why do we tell them they will fail?  Why can’t the message be the same regardless of celebrity status?

All mothers-single, young, old, married, or widowed-should be respected and supported in our society. The amount of support we give Mothers should not be dependent on how much money they earn.
My life is by no means glamorous, nor does it need to be. What is most important is the love I have for my daughter. What I would appreciate is if society would respect and appreciate me as a Mother.

Fatherhood Freestyle: The Weekenders

MamaSpeak: Honor Thy Absent Father

Another Father’s Day has come and gone, and judging by some of the blogs and message boards I read, this was one of the most controversial ones I think I’ve ever experienced. From mothers not wanting to be wished a Happy Father’s Day (even if it’s just to say have a happy day), to religious teachers spreading the Good News that the Word of God forbids us from calling any man father, to adult children lamenting a father’s absence during their childhood. There’s one thing for sure, the day set aside to honor dads doesn’t come with nearly as much pomp and ceremony as the one when we honor moms.

So, why is it so hard for many of us to wish the man whose DNA is woven into the fibers of our being a Happy Father’s Day? Why can’t we just do it? I wish I had an answer, but I don’t. My best guess is that some daddies are just easier to love than others. For some, that may have something to do with the fact that he stayed. While, with others, it may have a lot to do with the fact that he left. Either way, there’s no denying the effect his absence–or presence–plays in our lives well into adulthood.

My father was one of the ones who left. And to this day, I love him truly, madly, deeply. But, admittedly, there was a time when that love came from a sense of duty I felt for his being responsible for my existence. As I’ve evolved in love and as a person, I now know that I love him just because. I love him because he’s not perfect—and neither am I. I love him because he’s made mistakes—and so have I. Nevertheless, having his blood running through my veins never generated an automatic emotional bond or connection to him. That probably explains why when it comes to determining who I’ll send a Father’s Day greeting to, I find myself bypassing him, and going straight for the men who have had the most influence on me: brothers, cousins, uncles, ministers, co-workers. It’s never a conscious effort to omit him. It’s just that when I think of fathers, these are the men that come to mind. They’ve mentored my children, stepped in to be a surrogate dad in the absence of my own, and modeled the behavior and attributes that I want my husband to possess.

I called and sent text messages to all of them, while my father received nothing. And I’m okay with that, because I’m over the emotional tug-o-war of should I/shouldn’t I: Should I let him walk me down the aisle? Shouldn’t I have called him on his birthday, even if I didn’t remember? Whether my decision is yes or no, neither is an indicator of whether I love him or not.

I harbor no anger or bitterness toward him for anything that he did or did not do. Love does not demand its own way, and it does not keep a record of any wrongs. I hold him in high respect, which doesn’t include the Father’s Day fanfare of greeting cards and ties. I love him the way that I choose. And that’s more for me more than for him. And it’s because of this peace that I’m able to give and receive Eros love with a mate in spite of not having grown up with my daddy.

I know how difficult it can be to honor an absent father. We must all love and honor them in our own way. And our decision can’t be based on a scorecard that we’ve been tallying all the hurts and wrongs on. Honor him by letting go of the fact that he wasn’t there. If not for him, then do it for you.

MamaSpeak: Stop Wishing Me “Happy Father’s Day!”

It’s a blessing to have loved ones who support and encourage you through life’s biggest challenges. My gratitude for this blessing runs deep. My understanding of how sincere and well-intentioned their actions have been – complete. Nonetheless, there is one day of the year when well-meaning gestures create such dissonance within me that I dread to see it coming: Father’s Day.

It never fails. Every Father’s Day at least three people will wish me a Happy Father’s Day. I am not a father. I can’t ever be a father. There is nothing I could ever do to completely take the place of my son’s absent father. And I’ve never tried. I simply accepted the fact that my co-parent chose to be an absent father, and vowed to be the best mother I could be. I also prayed that, in terms of developing my son into a healthy, productive contributor to society, everything I and others who cared for him could give him would be sufficient.

Looking back on it now, raising a son with an absent father has been a chronically painful experience. While there wasn’t an urgent, intrusive or even daily awareness of it, the hurt was always there – subtly woven into the backdrop of my experience as a mom. We all want our children to have everything necessary to support their healthy development, and I knew my son didn’t have a father. I also knew that on some level he had to hurt, too; which was at the root of my own pain. He grew up with a diverse group of classmates and friends and most of their fathers were present and active. The same was true for the friendships developed through athletic and extracurricular activities. I was always fearful of how he felt, and to be honest, how they felt about him. I never wanted him to feel as though he was lacking because of what his father chose not to give him. Nor did I want him to be judged as “missing something in his home” by the parents of his friends and peers because he was being raised by a single mother. A lot of fear and pain colored my experience as a mother with an absent co-parent. But, fortunately, love, commitment and determination dominated it.

I’ve been many things to my son: mom, tutor, confidant, friend, etc.; but never a father. I hated the fact that my son was growing up without one. However, I refused to hide from it and, instead, acknowledged the void it created in his life and knew there had to be alternatives to filling it. The value that having a loving and engaged father adds to a child’s life is priceless and irreplaceable; however, I’ve learned that there are alternatives that offer some of the “essence” of that experience for children with absent fathers.

Mothers, we have to build a village. We have to create a network of support around us and our children that includes family, friends, neighbors, educators, mentors, coaches…the list goes on. We have to expose our children to positive male figures who genuinely care about their well-being and success, and who are willing to invest something in our children to prove it: The uncle who talks to and embraces him as his own; the basketball coach who is committed to showing up for practice every day because he is passionate about the sport and the young boys who want to learn it; The friend’s dad who invites him to a movie and a day of refining his basketball skills with them; the science teacher who tells him he’s smart and should consider a career in science. All of these, and countless others, are examples of small deposits men have made into my son that have made a big difference in his life and mine.

But I had to show up. I had to make the effort to expose him to the passionate coach by signing him up for the sport and getting him to practice and games. I had to help facilitate the friendships with classmates and peers whose parents served as positive role models and took an interest in him. I had to show up for teacher “meet and greets” and PTA meetings and show teachers and administrators that I was an engaged parent and expected the same from them as educators. And I just happened to be blessed with the best brother any single mother could have who has invested so much love, time and money in my son that I could never repay him.

I’m not a father, so please don’t wish me Happy Father’s Day. I praise the men who are loving and committed fathers and know that I could never be them. I’m just a mother who recognized the void an absent father created in her son’s life and invited a village to stand with me in the gap. A mother who made sure there was no shortage of love.

Fatherhood Freestyle: Honoring Mothers

In the spirit of “mama-love,” this father would like to take the opportunity to recognize the importance of mothers in his life and in his ability to father a daughter. So, let me start by saying thank you to my own dear mother and the many mothers who took part in raising me, guiding me, and just loving me.

Growing up, I was blessed to have been raised by an amazing mother. She was a strong woman who instilled in us so many positive characteristics. While I could go on and on about the many wonderful things my mother did for me, I think the thing I am most thankful for is that she taught me how to take care of myself and exercise responsibility and accountability. We did not have a lot of money growing up, and many times struggled to have our basic needs met. However, no matter how difficult things got, my mom taught me how to go after what I wanted and find the win in life. That attribute alone has been a major part of my successes to this day. For example, when I didn’t have enough money for college and my family could not afford it, I went out and literally “raised” the money. When I started my law practice and may not have had the necessary funds, I found access to capital when the banks turned me down. The bottom line is my mom taught us how to work and find a way to accomplish our goals regardless of our resources.

Learning how to find that win in all situations turned out to be fundamentally important in my co-parenting relationship. I guess that is the real focus of this blog. You see, my daughter’s mom and I have had a relationship that has touched on every emotion and seemingly every possible scenario. We have gone from peace to discord, love to anger, yearning to emptiness. Over the past twelve years, our relationship has traveled from the real to the surreal and back again. Through it all, I have learned some important lessons about finding the win and appreciating the importance of mothers.

While I may still be hurt in some respects, I have unequivocally concluded that a peaceful relationship with my co-parent far outweighs the alternative. It is real easy to focus on how I was wronged in the failed relationship. It is easy for me to see things through my perspective only. It takes real courage to see through hurt and understand my co-parent’s positions and perspectives. Having had the opportunity to parent through anger, court, battles and disagreement, I have learned that we must find a way to co-exist and co-parent peacefully. In that spirit and during this month that we recognize mothers, I want to take the opportunity to acknowledge my daughter’s mother and thank her for being a loving mom to our daughter.

I also want to encourage fathers to thank your children’s mother. Even if the relationship is strained, recognizing her importance and value will go a long way. Reflect on the importance of your mother and remember your child will likely value his or her mother in the same way. Fathers, continue to work towards a peaceful relationship with your co-parent, continue to get through the pain and struggle and do everything you can to find peace in your co-parenting relationship. From someone who has been through it all, peace is the best situation for you and for the children. So, let us men honor all the mothers in our lives.

MamaSpeak: Let the Celebration Begin!

Mother’s Day afternoon I was sitting in my living room working when my son marched in with a small bouquet of flowers, a balloon, and a card wishing me a Happy Mother’s Day. As I read the card, I was completely overcome by a deep sense of joy, gratitude and accomplishment. It was the first time I had ever thought such words could apply to me. I had never before felt so valued and appreciated. I could barely handle the volume of emotion building inside me all at once. The card read as follows:

You’ve always been the one to take care of me,
To guide me through all of life’s twists and turns,
To let me know I was completely and unconditionally loved.
I will never be able to thank you enough for all you’ve done for me.

He went on to add:

Mom,
Thanks for being the perfect mother and putting my needs before yours.
I can never repay you for all you’ve done. I love you so much!

Happy Mother’s Day!!

P.S. I’ll buy you a Range Rover one day LOL!

While literally inaccurate (I’m definitely not a perfect mother, and I know that I haven’t always put his needs before my own–I am human), the “spirit” of his message rang true and resonated deeply. I sensed that what he wanted to convey was that he recognizes all of my hard work; all of the sacrifices; and he recognizes that, at the end of every day, he has always been my highest priority. Not only was I deeply moved by his words, but for the first time in my son’s 20 years on earth, I allowed myself to receive acknowledgement. I accepted the compliment, in so many words, of being a “good” mother. It could not have come from a better source.

I’ve rarely given myself enough, if any, credit. It is through God’s grace and mercy that my son is alive and well and thriving; but as the steward God entrusted as his earthly guide and nurturer, I’ve played a vital role in his development. And while I don’t believe it’s necessary or even appropriate to go around constantly singing my own praises as a mother; my praises also should not go completely unsung. It is perfectly OK to have the value I’ve brought to my son’s experience on earth acknowledged and celebrated and to even acknowledge and celebrate it myself. Unfortunately, it took me 20 years of being a mom to finally embrace this idea. It took me 20 years of being a mom to finally feel worthy.

Clearly, the late arrival to the celebration of me as a mom has a lot to do with my late arrival to the celebration of me as me. But the important thing is that I’ve arrived and I’m ready to celebrate! I’m ready to celebrate my level of commitment for all these years; I’m ready to celebrate my willingness to make so many sacrifices – big and small – on my son’s behalf; I’m ready to celebrate the successes that he and I have realized, and continue to realize on our journey together as mother and son. I’m ready to celebrate by living life more fully than I ever imagined as a young, struggling single mom. I’ve earned it. I deserve it. I wish I’d known that 20 years ago. Nonetheless, I have not a single regret. I believe very deeply that my steps were ordered to enable me to inspire other single mothers, even in the midst of their sacrificing and struggles, to remember that their own lives are still worthy of full expression; even if it’s a dream deferred. And while on our individual and unique journeys through motherhood, we all deserve the acknowledgement that others feel compelled to bestow upon us for giving our children the best of who we are. Just let it all land. Graciously accept the compliment.

Without fail, every year the days leading up to Mother’s Day bring my usual mantra: “Toris, please don’t buy me anything for Mother’s Day…I prefer that you save your money or spend it on something you need. The best Mother’s Day gift you can give me is to continue to move toward building a beautiful adult life for yourself.” While I do want and expect my son to exhibit this progress, I now realize that I actually look for this every day, not just Mother’s Day. My excusing him from buying me gifts for Mother’s Day (and my birthday and Christmas) has been more about me not feeling worthy of acknowledgement than anything else. I am lucky he’s smart enough to never honor this request.

From now own, the days leading up to Mother’s Day will bring a revised mantra: “Toris, I can’t wait to see what you’ll get me for Mother’s Day. I hope it will be the Range Rover you promised in 2010!”

Co-Parenting Matters This Week: Mama’s Kitchen Table Convo

This Sunday night at 9:30 PM EST on “Co-Parenting Matters“, we’re hosting a Mama’s Kitchen Table Convo!  We’ll be chatting about mama-hood, relationships, money, co-parenting, hot topics in the co-parenting blogosphere, and much more!  We’re going to be joined by witty and wondeful mama-friends Lissett (@Cubanitabean on Twitter), Lisa Maria Carroll of Single Mom & More and regular contributor to our very own MamaSpeak (@LisaMCarroll), and the mama behind the MommyGlow blog, Alexandra (@YoungFabMama).  (And, yes, we’re letting Mike listen in, too!)  We hope you’ll bring out the wine and chocolates (or your favorite treat and beverage), pull up a chair, and join us at Mama’s Kitchen Table!

Listen on your phone by calling (646)378-0580 or catch the live stream online.

MamaSpeak: Mothering Beyond Biology

I met Tammy during her freshman year of high school. She showed up at my apartment one Friday after school when she rode the bus home with my daughter. And, in typical teenage fashion, she had not made plans for how she would get home.

I was cold. I was tired. And all I wanted to do was turn up the heat, throw on some sweats, and curl up under my electric blanket. But, my plans were thwarted when my daughter came dashing out the patio door before I could open it. “Mom is it okay if Tammy spends the night”?

“Britt, who is Tammy, and what have I told you about having people in the house when I’m not here”?

As it turned out, Britt had met Tammy that day, and decided that, as new friends, they should hang out together after school. “She’s not in the house; she’s out in the hallway.”

As badly as I wanted to lay into my first born, I knew this wasn’t the time. But I cut her a look that let her know I would deal with her later. As a mother, my first priority was to get this child—somebody’s daughter—inside. My second order of business was to contact her parents to make sure they knew where she was.

As Tammy stepped inside, I immediately noticed her stoic demeanor. She wasn’t disrespectful at all, just reserved and standoffish. Little did I know there was so much more going on with her, but I wasn’t able to connect the dots. When I asked about her mother, she politely, but firmly stated that she was not in the home right now, and that her grandmother could pick her up in the morning. I then told her that I needed to confirm that with her grandmother, and asked for a number, for which she obliged. Tammy’s grandmother informed me that due to her eyesight, she didn’t drive at night and wanted to know if it was okay for her to stay with me, and she’d come get her first thing in the morning. We agreed that Tammy could crash at my place, so I made sure the girls had what they needed for the night, and I turned in.

The following morning I was well rested and better able to process the previous night’s events. I still wanted to know what “my mother is not in the house right now” meant. Was she serving overseas in the military, working out of town, or on vacation? No. She was none of the above. She was serving time in prison. Wanting to respect Tammy’s privacy, I didn’t probe, but my daughter told me when I grilled her about this new friend. That moment marked a turning point in my life. It is when I accepted my role as den mother, something I had resisted for years.

For some reason, my kids’ friends always warmed up to me. Many of them called me Ma and loved having an adult who would listen to them, something they didn’t get at home. They saw my home as a place of refuge where they could come after school to do their homework or a place to hangout on the weekends. I admit I wasn’t always comfortable acting the role of “play” mom. I was barely 30, and saw it as a position more suited for someone more matronly than myself. I also felt like the real moms needed to step up to the plate and connect with their children themselves.

Tammy changed all of that. I learned how to reserve my judgment until after I knew at least part of a child’s story. Some of them had a mother or father in prison, while others had mothers who were deceased. Like Tammy, some were being raised by their grandparents, while others were being shuttled from house to house in the foster care system.

They say that people come into our lives for a reason, a season or a lifetime. Tammy came into my life to teach me compassion. Looking back, I’m happy to have played such a significant role in these kids’ lives. All of my children and their friends have reached that adult milestone of 18, and many of the kids still see me as a surrogate mother, of sorts. They take me to out to eat, and invite me over for Christmas dinner when I’m in town. I have also earned the title of “Grandma Lisa,” to more grandchildren than I can count.

They say that parenting locks you in for 18 years, but I say it’s like serving 25 years to life. Once a mother, always a mother, even if you didn’t birth the child.

Fatherhood Freestyle: Mother-Love Makes a Man

Growing up, my family was typical of lower income New Orleans households in that one house held several branches of the family tree; my mother and I lived in my grandparents’ house, as well as my aunt and her two children.  One of my earliest memories is from my third birthday.  I see a corner of a bed, huge in my vision with faded red lines which moved toward me as I pulled on it in an attempt to lift myself up.  And then my Grandmother Frances’ bespectacled face appears, smiling and comforting as she pulls me up…no easy feat ‘cause by all accounts I was a mini Buddha-baby.  My grandmother always looked out for me.  I always felt I could count on her.  She would always slip me candy or some spending money, would take my side in little arguments.  She could fuss at me, and minutes after, console me.   When I became a teen, she even attempted to help me organize my love life.  If I was out with a girl, and another one called while I was out; she would find a way to discreetly inform me of the call, with raised eyebrows and code words.  The fact that she would do this in front of my date was especially cute.  She was also deeply religious, praying twice daily, morning and night, sowing the seeds of spirituality in me.

Then there’s my Aunt Henrietta.  She was strong and firm, plain and matter of fact.  I was quite afraid of her in my early childhood.  None of us wanted to be on her bad side.  She was my mother’s older sister and as my mother worked different shifts in her job as a nurse, my care fell into her hands from time to time.  While my grandmother was my guardian angel, saving me and aiding me, my aunt seemed to be my persecutory devil; I couldn’t get away with anything!  She could always spot my lies, know that I snuck a snack, and had an uncanny way of feeling you get off the front porch before 3pm from two rooms away.  She was also the best cook in the house and I still long for her Sunday pot roast, potato salad, cornbread and desserts.   My aunt was fair; her justice was true.  What I saw then as persecution turned out to be preparation, and her no nonsense habits are reflected in the way I have parented my own children.  As I type this, I realize my aunt was only 5, 2’, but she was a giant in my life.

My mother, Theresa or Terri to her close friends, was many things to me.  She was a young mother, 19 when I was born, and the passion of her youth was quite evident.  I remember the hugs and kisses I would get when she came home from work, her fierce protectiveness of me when she felt I’d been wronged.  I have a clear memory of feeling loved by my mother; it seemed that in her eyes I was a gift, and there was no finer or smarter or cuter boy with curly hair on the planet.  She would talk to me about my dreams, how to carry myself and how to treat a girl with respect.  To this day I still receive compliments on my chivalrous ways of holding doors and having women walk on the inside of the sidewalk; and I know that is my mother.  I showed a talent for art as a child, and my mother encouraged it and would support me despite the grandness of my ideas.  She nurtured my intellect and my love of reading, buying me comic books initially and then magazines, paperbacks and novels.  While she was not a big reader, she always allowed me time and supported me in pursuing those things that seemed important to me.  But above all, my mother encouraged my speaking my mind and taught me the importance of listening.  Like my daughter, I’m pretty clear I can talk your head off at times.  But I can count on one hand the times my mother scolded me or shut me up when talking.  It didn’t matter if I was 3 or 13 or 33, she would listen to me.  She tolerated my endless questions, my protests when I viewed hypocrisy and even what could be described as back-talk when I did not understand or agree with her instructions.  As a parent I now realize the depth of patience she showed…I still have most of my teeth!

These are only three of the women who have shaped and helped me become the man I am.  Without any doubt they are the biggest contributors, the foundation of my relationships with all women.  On Mother’s Day I will remember them and smile.  And, everyday, I hope to honor their legacy and impact on my life to make them smile.

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