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!”

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.

MamaSpeak: Ending My Maternal Martyrdom

Perhaps I learned it from my mother, or maybe it’s just how we’re socialized—which allows me to not blame my mother. Either way, being a Mommy martyr in my co-parenting relationship came pretty naturally to me. It was such an integral part of how I knew to be that I didn’t even realize I was doing it.

It looked a little like this:

I plan all of our child’s activities, because I am the better planner. You let me, because I am the better planner. Then, I start to feel overwhelmed and resentful about your lack of contribution and dumping all of the responsibility on me. But, you’d just screw it up anyway, so what choice do I have other than to just do it…for the sake of our child?

And, to compound it all, everyone knows that if anything is going to get scheduled, planned, coordinated, organized or sorted out, that I’m the one to contact, so they don’t even have your cell phone number. They call me. And, you let them. Then, I start to feel overwhelmed and resentful that no one calls you; they only call me. But, you’d just screw it up, anyway, so what choice do I have other than to just do it…for the sake of our child? Woe. Is. Me.

You get the picture. The result? I continued to be overwhelmed, exhausted, resentful and alone. He got to feel useless, unconfident as a parent and disconnected. And, none of that was what we wanted.

But, here’s what I had to get before I could change any of that for myself. Buried deep beneath my need to make sure everything was handled perfectly was a deeper need to feel like a great mother. And, hidden deeper still was a nagging suspicion that I actually wasn’t a good enough mother. By clearly establishing myself as the better parent, though, I could get something that resembled reassurance; temporarily anyway, until the next doubt seeped into the cracks of my parenting confidence.

See, by relegating my son’s father to the non-planning parent, the not-as-good-as parent, the parent you love to hate…I was only creating more overwhelm for myself—unnecessarily. At the same time, I was getting an emotional payoff that apparently seemed worth it at the time. In reality, it wasn’t.

I didn’t have to feel like I was doing it alone. And, in fact, I wasn’t. Making the shift wasn’t/isn’t easy. It has required opening up the box and letting him expand a little…maybe even shine now and then. It has demanded that I accept that things may not get done the way or even in the same timeframe in which I would do them. It has taken a little faith, a dose of forgiveness and a whole lot of humility.

Fast forward, and I’ve relinquished a few responsibilities and continue to hand more over. I have found that when I don’t try to do everything, some things still actually get done. Piano homework gets done, birthday gifts get purchased, and the little guy gets picked up from school (late, but he gets picked up!). On top of that, I get to build a life beyond my household, get to remember what it feels like to be a whole human being again.

And, we both get to be great parents…which is what we both really want and our son really needs.

Does anybody feel me on this?  How are you martyring yourself unnecessarily?

MamaSpeak: Setting Single Moms Up for Success

I believe that the most important step in moving forward is accepting where you are. In the mid-1990’s, as a young African-American single mother, I found myself having to do just that. I was twenty-something with limited education, income and resources, caring for a young son whose father was largely absent. Fed up with constantly trying to force my ex to accept his share of the responsibility, and frustrated with trying, unsuccessfully, to secure child support in a system several states away, I felt that there had to be a better way. Sitting in my tiny apartment one night, crying and overwhelmed after another fruitless attempt to track down my son’s father for help, I finally accepted the painful truth: I was alone in accepting the responsibility of raising and providing for my son. What began as one of the most frightening moments of my life became one of the most empowering. The decision to accept full responsibility for the parenting and well-being of my son caused an immediate shift in how I viewed my situation: I was no longer a victim “left holding the bag”; I was now the owner of a set of personal circumstances that I had the power to overcome.

If acceptance is the first step in moving forward, then knowing where you’re headed is the second. Along with accepting sole responsibility came the commitment to providing my son with the upbringing every child deserves. I felt strongly that being raised by an African-American single mother did not mean that my son was damned to becoming a statistic. Instead, I would guide him to becoming a well-adjusted, focused, and educated young man with hopes of a bright future and the determination to get there. I believed that in order to get him to where he deserved to be, I had to be able to consistently provide the love, safety, stability and healthy-parenting that enable children to thrive. Chartering my son to a future filled with hope and promise meant giving myself a better present.

The chasm between life as I knew it and the life I wanted was abysmal; but I decided that building a bridge between the two was my only option. If the first step is acceptance, and the second is direction, then the critical third step is belief in one’s ability to reach her destination. Not knowing how I would do so, I knew that I had to expand my capacity to care for my child. I had to transform the emotionally fragile, depression-prone, uneducated, low-to-moderate-income-earning young mother into a healthy, focused, and disciplined woman to whom education and livelihood were paramount. Though the task appeared daunting, and the woman I envisioned becoming a complete stranger, I knew deep inside that I could do it; and that the woman who seemed like a distant stranger was just a more mature, future version of myself that I could one day meet if I were willing to put in the hard work.

Committing to doing the hard work was the first step in what has now become my life’s purpose: the capacity building of the African-American single mother. Almost a decade-and-a-half after the heartening acceptance of my role as a single mother, my goal is to help other young mothers begin the same journey that changed my life and has placed my son on a path to becoming a success instead of a statistic. My non-profit organization, Single Mothers for Success, and its flagship program, DumaVillage, aim to ensure that single mothers have the tools, information, resources and networks of support necessary for success.

Single-parenting is far from the ideal situation for any child or parent. I pray that the work my organization does will one day render it unnecessary. The ultimate goal is that all African-American children will have access to the development and opportunities that condition them to make life choices that move them away from lives of poverty and struggle and toward prosperity and fulfillment, making single parenting the exception and not the rule. But, as with the organization’s clients, we as a community have to take the first step: acceptance. We first have to accept the fact that close to 70 percent of African-American children are born to unwed mothers. We then have to (step two) decide where we’re heading. I’d venture to say that most prefer a place where African-American single mothers are not the norm. And (step three), we all have to believe that as a community we can get there.

MamaSpeak: This Game of Co-Parenting…Are You Playing to Win?

Doesn’t it suck when you think you’re winning a game only to find out halfway through it that you’ve been playing the wrong game? For thirty minutes, you and your partner, affectionately known as “Them”, have taken some serious risks, so you wouldn’t underbid and lose points for winning too many books. And, you’ve done it masterfully, talking high quality junk all the while. Confident, cocky even, in your mastery of the game and ability to diminish your opponents, “Us,” both on the table and verbally. It’s the fourth hand, and you and your partner start smirking at each other from opposite sides of the card table, because these fools, “Us”, went board and then took twice as many books. You start clowning, talking loud, because they’re about to be down another 80 points for sandbagging. But…What? Oh. Hell. No.

House rules…We don’t play that way. Wrong game, Baby!

Yes, that smooth, culturally relevant metaphor is all about co-parenting. The fact is, too often, we go along thinking we’re winning, only to find out we’ve got the rules wrong, or worse, we’re playing the wrong game altogether. We’re bidding our hands, but winning the game actually requires a little sandbagging. We’re playing Joker’s high, but really deuces win. We think spades are trump, but they keep changing it. Oh snap, we’re playing Spades and the game is Tonk! Damn.

And, of course, the problem is that the way you score points, how you win, how you play, everything changes depending on the game. Co-parenting is the same way. Too often, we find ourselves playing the “Better Parent” game. We rack up points, playing full out, in areas like:

• Who’s spending more time on our child?
• Who’ spending more money on our child?
• Who “knows” our child best? Who knows more about what goes on in his/her life? Mind? Heart?
• Who does our child prefer or even love more?
• Who cares more?
• Who’s the better parent?

But, guess what? Wrong game, Baby! In this house, we play the “Happy, Healthy, Whole Child” game. Here, you score points in categories like:

• How loved does my child feel?
• How whole does my child feel?
• How safe and secure does my child feel?
• How successful does my child feel?
• How confident is my child in his ability to deal with difficult challenges?
• How happy is my child?

Winning requires strategies and skills like teamwork, effective conflict management, high quality listening, meeting in the middle, focusing on solutions, and yes, do-or-die commitement. Talking across the board is allowed, if it’s respectful, and everybody knows the house rules up front. And, hell, if you’re winning and want to talk junk…we honor bragging rights. Because, where we live, in our house, “Us” and “Them” become “We” and, we play this co-parenting game to win. Our kids deserve nothing less.

So, in your next quiet moment of reflection or while you’re in the throes of an argument with your child’s other parent, stop for a minute and ask yourself what game you’re playing. And, if it’s the wrong one, change it up…and play to win!

MamaSpeak: Too Much Unfinished Business

For most people Thanksgiving is a day to enjoy food, fun and family. But this year, a day that brougt one Florida family together also ripped it apart when a relative shot and killed his sister, an aunt and a 6-year-old cousin after thanksgiving dinner. Relatives say that as he walked away, r turned and said, “I have been waiting 20 years to do this.”

I don’t know what made this man kill there generations of his own flesh and blood, nor do I know what he had held onto for 20 years before he snapped. But I do know that this man’s story is not an original script. No, I have never survived a family ambush. But, I have had a front-row seat at family events where relatives showed up with anger and resentment in tow from some past transgression, only to isolate themselves and sulk instead of mingling and having a good time.

The wounds of childhood can take a lifetime to heal, if ever. And left unchecked, these feelings of resentment begin to fester and cause one to distance themselves not only physically, but also emotionally. Some say time heals all wounds. But I say time heals nothing. This gunman is proof that unfinished business doesn’t heal itself. I’ve also witnessed it in my own family.

My parents grew up in the same Mississippi town. Their families were close, and for the most part everyone got along. But with 23 children between them, there were bound to be conflicts from time-to-time. And although they’re not quite the Capulets and Montagues, there is some ongoing bitterness between between them that should have been dealt with and buried a long time ago. But it’s like the elephant in the room that no one is willing to sink their teeth into to start a healing process. If not for them, for their children.

As a child of divorce, my mind was polluted with information about why my father left and how my mother’s family drove him away. I heard things from aunts and uncles that should have been labeled “For Grown Folks Only.” I didn’t care about it then or now, because those are their issues, not mine.

When I found myself going through a divorce, any issues I had with my ex-husband or his family were dealt with directly, and not by way of the children. It wasn’t always easy for me to not bash him, even in truth sometimes. But I took the high road, choosing to keep our problems between us.

My ex played more of a victim role than me. His way of dealing with me was in much the same way that my folks dealt with each other, through the kids. Although I don’t believe he acted maliciously, that doesn’t alter the long-term effects it could potentially have.

My children will deal with the divorce as an adult differently than they did as children. I can already see how they are processing it through a different lens. An adult lens. My prayer is that they know that we did the best that we could with what we knew how to do, even if we fell short. And if they have any resentment, we don’t have to let this go on for 20 years. Let’s finish that business now, so we can come together in peace and harmony.

MamaSpeak: Guess Who’s Not Coming to Dinner

I love spending time with family. Holidays, reunions, weddings, and even deaths, have their way of bringing us together. And, like most families, we have a love/hate relationship where we love each other harder than we fight, fight for one another more than against each other, and yearn to be together when we’re apart. I just wish all this love didn’t come with such a high price or any feelings of obligation.

Family love has made me sometimes spend money I couldn’t afford to spend, buy gifts I didn’t want to give, and travel to places I didn’t want to go. All because I knew saying, “No,” would require an exhaustive explanation, replete with a list of why I couldn’t do it, only to be met with a rebuttal of why I should. A simple, “I can’t afford it,” would never suffice. So I’ve never offered. But, this year it’s a must.

I’m making a lot of changes in my life. As an empty-nester who put herself on the backburner to raise her children, I’m learning to be single. And, alas, I’m back in the city where I’ve always wanted to return. My relocation caused a temporary financial setback from which I’m still recovering, but making the sacrifices necessary to accept a job that pays 200% more than the highest bidder in my previous city made perfect sense to me. As an added bonus, I get to live in a place that I love. But to those who can’t relate to living life on one’s own terms, it is illogical. They say that surely, I must be chasing a man. And that’s okay, because on November 26, 2009, I will be a Thanksgiving orphan—no explanation needed.

Although money is an issue, I know that it is not the only issue. If it were, I wouldn’t keep having flashbacks to places of unfinished business: a father who wasn’t—and isn’t—around, a mother—MY mother—picking up her infant daughter from her mother-in-law and asking about a child of the same age lying on the same couch (It was later learned that it was my father’s child with another woman.), and an aunt’s voice yelling at me after my mother was admitted into the hospital for the last time, saying that the reason my brother was so angry is because my mother always criticized my father. I still find it peculiar that, out of seven children, he’s the only one with whom she had those private moments of criticism.

My tone may sound angry, but I’m not. In an ongoing effort to take back my power and reclaim my purpose, I must learn to function from a place of love and not duty. In order to be emotionally whole, I must process the pain and move on. An honest conversation would be nice, but since my mother isn’t here to defend herself, I’m not even interested. On top of that, I’m tired of folks trying to rewrite history with lies, even with the things I witnessed firsthand.

Unfortunately, my kids are having similar experiences. They made tremendous sacrifices to spend Thanksgiving with their dad’s family last year, and he didn’t show up. He simply said that he had other plans. The children were very upset, but I didn’t comment either way, because it’s important that I allow them to own their feelings. He and his brother called a couple weeks ago and said they’d like for them to come again this year. They all declined, opting to enjoy the holiday together with their friends. In a perfect world, they would be excited about spending time with their family. But in that same world, my ex’s family wouldn’t make spending time with them feel like such an obligation.

MamaSpeak: Meeting the Challenge–What I’m Thankful For…

I was going to make this week’s post all about being thankful for your co-parent. But, my friend, Deesha, of Co-Parenting101.org did it for me in a wonderful post “What I’m Thankful for:  a Co-Parent’s Challenge,” on SingleDad.com. After confessing her own appreciation for her ex, Mike, and his wife, Sherry, Deesha issues what for many of us may truly be a challenge:

At this time of year, even folks with the hardest of hearts and the biggest axes to grind might pause to reflect on their loved ones with gratitude, however grudgingly. We can probably all think of at least one family (if it’s not our own) where hatchets are buried, even if only temporarily, as the carving knife slices into the Thanksgiving turkey. Thanksgiving is also a time where many, if not most, children of divorce, like mine, are spending it with one parent, and not the other. So this Thanksgiving, I’m encouraging all co-parents who are observing Thanksgiving with their children to consider giving thanks, publicly, for their child’s other parent. Yes, I said it: Give thanks for your ex.

I try to thank my son’s father directly on a regular basis, because it makes me feel good and makes him act right. Kidding, of course…sort of.  But, I do think that expressing our appreciation to our co-parents does help us see that “they ain’t all bad” and reassures them that whatever effort they may be making is being noticed.

So, I’m taking Deesha up on her challenge, and I hope you will, too.

I am thankful for my son’s father and my co-parent, because:

• He not only shared in creating my child, who is my greatest love and inspiration, he stood by me through the entire pregnancy and hasn’t stopped being my partner in parenting since, even when things got tricky.
• He continues to demonstrate that he is not only capable of growth, he is patient with me in my own journey.
• He cares for our child in a way that lets me feel secure in knowing that he is safe and healthy when he is with his father.
• He never speaks unkindly about me to our son, even when he may have wanted to, and he consistently instills a respect for me in our son.
• He lets me be right most of the time.
• Despite his very private nature and initial reluctance to have our business exposed through my blogging, he agreed to do an interview with me to share his thoughts about our co-parenting relationship.
• He is determined and inspiring in his creative and entrepreneurial pursuits.
• He is my friend and partner in a way I could never have predicted.

And, with that, I say, “Thank you, Ed!”

And, to my WeParent Family, for all you do for your families;  for your commitment to taking the journey, whatever it may look like for you; and for being a constant source of support for that of me and mine…

Thank You!

MamaSpeak: It Takes a Village to Support Co-Parents

Many people became familiar with the saying, “It takes a village to raise a child,” after Hillary Clinton popularized the African proverb in 1996. “Indeed, Clinton’s use of that particular proverb is one of the best known examples of American politicians borrowing from ancient, African intelligence,” says Dr. Askhari Hodari, author of Lifelines: The Black Book of Proverbs. Acknowledging Clinton’s debt to African wisdom, Hodari says, “This proverb actually originated with the Kiswahili speaking people of East Africa and from the area in West Africa now known as Nigeria. Even all these years later, this popular proverb communicates an important message to direct and guide parents.”

And,my son’s father and I are among them. Over the course of our co-parenting relationship, we have found that looking to the village for help and support has made co-parenting easier. Whether it’s to family, friends, teachers or coaches, we make sure our commitment to co-parenting is clear, and we ask for help in fulfilling that commitment. Assistance might come in the form of an agreement to communicate with both of us, learning our son’s schedule, respecting us as co-parents or just lending an understanding ear when the challenges of co-parenting join forces with Murphy’s Law.

For us, it means that our son’s piano teacher actually knows who he’s with on which days and works with that parent to schedule lessons, minimizing the need for either of us to act as the middle-person. His soccer coach texts and emails both of us with team-related messages. And, his teacher works with us to arrange parent-teacher meetings that work for both of us. It also means that both our families respect the parenting time schedule we’ve agreed upon and coordinate with the appropriate parent to schedule activities with our son. Sure, all of this support means that logistics are much easier to manage than before we really embraced this idea of village-supported co-parenting, but it has also resulted in a lot less conflict around logistics. (Somebody say, “Amen!”)

So, here are a few ways we help the village help us; maybe they’ll work for you, too:

• Be up front about the fact that we are co-parenting and sometimes need help. I won’t hesitate to explain to the kind ladies in our son’s school office that I have a co-parenting dilemma and could use their help. The dilemma might be that I’d like to leave medication that my son needs to take to his father’s house with them rather than leave it in his backpack. If they can, given their time and the school policies, they will always help.

• Provide coaches, teachers, etc. with contact information for both parents AND specifically request that they communicate with both of us. Usually, this means that we’re both getting the same information at the same time…the good, the bad and the ugly. This way, we’re both on the same page. And, one of us doesn’t carry the burden of knowing and therefore managing everything.

• Share the parenting time schedule with both parents’ families, teachers, coaches, etc., so everyone understands and respects the “on duty” parent as the primary point of contact during their scheduled time. While you certainly can’t expect others to memorize your schedule, our experience has been that just knowing that there is a schedule will at least trigger the question, “Now, who is he with on Thursdays?” which then leads to a conversation with the appropriate parent. For us, this means family, too. Our families are both willing to communicate not only with the parent who’s related to them, but also with the parent whose time they might be interested in “borrowing.” Our families even have access to the shared online calendar we use to manage our schedule.

• Expand the village by sharing resources. Whether it’s a connection to the parent of a great playdate or a fabulous babysitter, we’ve found that sharing some of our individual resources adds to the richness of our village.

Even though it may not feel like it sometimes, the truth is, we don’t have to do this alone. It may be family, coaches, dance instructors, doctors, neighbors or our church community; whatever the form, the village is there to support us. We just have to let it. And, in case you forget, here are a couple more proverbs from Lifelines to remind you, courtesy of Dr. Hodari:

Cross the river in a crowd and the crocodile won’t eat you.
—Africa

When the load fatigues the head, the shoulder takes over.
—Nigeria (Igbo)

So, WeParent family, who’s in your village?  How do they help you?  And, how do you help them help you?

MamaSpeak: Why Co-Parenting Matters to Me

Co-Parenting matters, because my child has something important to contribute to this world.

He is this brilliant brown burst of pure energy that challenges me moment by moment to be better, do better. He is charming and cool. He is witty, and mischievous and even a little bit corny sometimes. He wants to be a scientist, a musician, a professional soccer player and a daddy. He is a know-it-all and thinks that he is the boss of me. He is creative in his efforts to thwart his bedtime asking at the last minute, “Just real quick, can we Google the secret of happiness, because Leonardo da Vinci says it’s curiousity; and I just don’t know if it’s true.” And, it works. He is happy and resilient and passionate and dramatic and…

And, in the wee hours, when I watch him sleeping, I remember how perfect he is (particularly when he is not talking to me, whining or otherwise getting on my fragile nerves). I see clearly that there is nothing but possibility for this child. I believe in my heart of hearts that he has something brilliant and important and powerful to share with this world.

And, I don’t want to get in the way.

I’m clear that he would be able to thrive with or without both of us in his life partnering to parent him. I know that we will never get it perfect, and one day as hormones rage through his adolescent body, and he doesn’t agree with some parental decree, we may still be blamed for ruining his life. But, selfishly, my hope remains that when that time passes, and he is a man, powerfully being who he is meant to be, he will say that he is who he is not despite his parents’ relationship but, at least in part, as a positive result of it.

Co-parenting matters to me, because my child has something important to contribute to this world. And, that matters.

Why does co-parenting matter to you?

Join us this Sunday, October 25^th at 9:30pm EST for the debut of our new talk show, Co-Parenting Matters.  I’ll be co-hosting with my friends Deesha Philyaw and Mike Thomas of CoParenting101.org.
Listen live and join the discussion at (646) 378-0580 or www.blogtalkradio.com/CoParentingMatters.

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