Autumnal Equinox

I’m going to institute a new ritual/rite for my son and I for the autumnal equinox, babay! I’ll be posting more on this for the official turn to Fall, manana!

Why Do All the Good Ones Have to Go at The Same Time?

First, it was Michael Jackson, Farrah, and now one of my all-time favorite dancing males–Patrick Swayze.

My life seriously changed as a result of watching Dirty Dancing on repeat for much of my adolescence. I often watched movies that we’re not age appropriate and loved skimming to find something totally, nearly pornographic on Skin-A-Max late at night after my mother surely bent to sleep.

I have learned so much about dancing and art and fashion and style from these iconic souls who many of us have come to worship. These people are my idols, and it always happens in clusters. All the greats seem to always say goodbye at the same time.

I light a candle for you in my soul and in this Universe for all of your inspiration. As an artist myself, we often know not what we do as we are doing it, and in some great time comes acknowledgement and understanding of our purpose in life. We do the work because we must; it is our heart’s blood and passion. Even when we are not sure where our next meal is coming from, or how we are ever going to pay our rent, our  personal art is how we pump ourselves alive, and while our work may not seem relative or amazing in the moment–there is always a moment when it is remembered and treasured. I treasure the souls who have left us with eternity rising.

Here is to everyone who is living their purpose, making magic in the places you go, and lighting up the world with your personal rays of sunshine.

One love. Asante Sana. mama pearl

Baby Daddy Time = Vacation?!?!

Well, I guess its baby daddy time. You always wonder when exactly it’s going to come after it has been so sporadic for the past year. Certainly a yearning must be digging a huge freaking stake through one’s heart when you go months and months and months without connecting with your child.

Well, apparently Christmas is the time this year. And he’s planning ahead (a first). Here’s the best quote of the day: “I can give you a break for like five or seven days, you can go on a vacation.”

Whoop-fucking-pee! Obviously I’m elated. I ask “Are you going to fund this vacation of mine?” “Well, I’m taking the boy, that’s your vacation.” Big freaking ha. So I’ve been through the co-parenting politics for years, and it hasn’t been until this last year that I finally gained “ALL THE POWER.” (P.S. Everything in this article is filled with sarcasm, please be sure of that). So here I am, loner mama, doing this by myself and with the grand help of a wonderful mother of my own, I do it, I live this life day-to-day-to-day, I don’t even get freaking child support (of course I’m supposed to). And now, out of the blue, and of course, he did the least tactful thing he could which was to put our child in the MIDDLE, by first asking him to ask me to find out if it was okay if he could go to another state for the biggest holiday of the year.

My response. Give me details. What is so difficult about details and men, I swear? It’s like have a plan brother, you want something, well you need to think about how to logically get it and communicate how exactly you are going to take care of everything. The 5W’s baby, I mean come on. When exactly do you want to take him? Where exactly are you going? What the heck are you really going to do? Who are you staying with, cause lord knows you don’t actually have a house of your own at the moment? And why, why Christmas, why, why, why, why, why? And how the heck do you plan on actually getting him back in this state when you don’t have a car or money?

 And me, being the nice mother that I am, the one who is constantly looking out for the best interests of my child, has to think about this one deeply, I have to decide whether or not it is going to serve my child any purpose to have this experience. I’m a softy, and tend to grant time to my son’s father out of the guilt and knowledge of never having a father there in my life. But more often than not, I ask myself which is better—to have a father that isn’t present, who doesn’t know you, and can’t be there for you or to simply not have a dad at all?

“I’m going to have to marinate on this one for about week.” Shit, that may not be long enough. “This is another one of those situations that you wish just wasn’t a part of your life, but guess what it is and you have the control, just like you asked for, so deal with it and stop complaining,” says my ugly inner voice.

We do, so, truly get the things that we ask for, and we certainly must be cautious and deliberate about our desires. It is difficult to know what you’re going to want in the long run. Some people believe you need to be totally specific about your requests while other doctrines hold that you be more general about your prayers and intentions. I use a combo of both depending on the scenario. With time, I’ve become a lot more specific, it has worked brilliantly for moments like let me have the control and power to make decisions and have all parenting time for our son. It has also worked well for me to pray that my child’s best interests are served regardless of my selfish wants and desires. I don’t remember wishing for a deadbeat dad who has become so far removed from his child that he doesn’t know how to hold a phone conversation with his son for longer than two minutes at a time. I don’t remember that at all. Maybe I did ask for a break, for help along the way. Certainly something was asked for by somebody and well, whoomp, here it is—looks like I’m getting a vacation—vamos un otro estado para los felizes! Ay yi! Hmmmm…

Yours with pure love and affection, mama pearl

“You Work Too Much” or Lube on the Inside Tip

“You have too many jobs,” my son states at dinner.

Hmm, maybe to you, I think silently.

Somehow, they’re just not enough right now.You see in the year 2005, I decided that I wanted to be brave, to try something new and completely bold for myself—become a Freelance Artist. Whoo-hoo!

My sarcasm may be thick, but my pockets are not—currently. You see I believe in choosing, speaking, and writing words that you actually want to occur in your life. As another single mother friend told me recently, “You need to stop saying that you’ve never had a salaried job with benefits.” Grand advice, truly. (We will have to interview her for an article soon, because she’s got the answers that you want to know.)

I play around with this idea of manifestation quite frequently, taking on the beliefs of any religion or school of thought which is going to improve my life. Right now, I’m marinating on Deepak Chopra, The Path to Love. In terms of manifesting my love life, it appears that I am right on target. I tell you, the moment you let go—you let love. And it takes a major undertaking of letting go. It took me thinking I was breaking this “love” cycle down and never visiting it again, for the appearance and WORDS of love to present themselves. Just when you are about ready to give up, surprise, he loves you! Whoo-hoo!

“I love you,” he said, right after I divulged my last attempt to scare him off with the taking out of my IUD and other temporary female gynecological issues that I was certain would be the deal breaker. And he came with this, “I love you,” as I’m going through my sermon of how shaky and unpredictable my life might be, and how we may actually be risking a pregnancy and how safe, safe, safer sex we’re going to have. And like two children excited by something totally excitable, we smiled big as we talked about using condoms + diaphragm + spermicide-and don’t forget the lube on the tip of the INSIDE of the condom—more good advice from friends. Giddy, just plain giddy. I mean how else are you supposed to feel when someone finally tells you they love you after eight months of a relationship that you weren’t sure you were ever going to have the go-ahead on?

And my heart did drop, it hit the floor, mama’s heart got “low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low,” God, I love hip-pop, there is always a tune that hits the baby mama experience right where you’re at, at least the beat. And that’s all we want right, a little action here and there, symbols of love, balance, power, self-actualization. Simple things create deep pleasures.

A little Deepak Chopra Affirmation to get your life and all you want rolling:

I exist as I am, that is enough.

My child may be perplexed by my myriad of Independent Contract gigs, and the in and outs of my Latin lover— I’m ever grateful that I actually have places to work right now, and a really great person to get it on with who actually wants to build on deeper levels. So go ahead single mama’s, moms, mothers—work it! We have to hit life from every angle, go down every road, taste everything, smell everything, feel everything, and of course, be everything to everybody, but please remember it all begins with you “I love you!”

Say it, Say it to yourself now, mean it, and say it until you believe it! M’kay!

Phallic Symbols in the Sky

I saw a phallic symbol in the sky tonight, as I pondered beginning this new blog. Moments later, I swear I saw a uterus, and I wanted to wait around as I smoked my after-putting-the-child-to-bed-cigarette, to see if these clouds would coincidentally coincide. Wouldn’t that be nifty? It’d be nice if my fallopian tubes have really been receiving all the good, white energy I’ve been sending them too (more on that later).

I did not stick around to find out, because under this full moon I had other influences calling me. Like how much am I going to share here, how personal is too personal, and I know no one wants to read anything that’s not utterly juicy, right? So I’m going to put some stuff out here and pray it lands me in self-publishing, blogger heaven.

I also pondered whether to stay or to go while looking at the sky tonight, as my son frolicked on the extraterrestrial playground filled with the children of the world, who consequently also say “bad words like a-s-s!”

Sunset of orange and purple engaged my eyes and I prayed for a sign. Watching patterns drift into nothing, my brain was able to translate into an answer, and then, when I found that lovely place between being aware, but stopping to actually receive a message, I did. It was some mama yelling at her kid, “It’s time to go.”

I asked the heavens, “Stay or go?”

I do believe the answer was clear.

Now, I’ve now been an actual single mother, if you must call me that, for a whole gosh-darned-loving year at this point. I was a co-parent for the other seven or so, if you want to include the pregnancy. I’ve now ‘seriously’ dated, oh, four or five men in the past seven years, and I am sure to reveal the inner workings of all that…I want to say nonsense. No, it has not all been nonsense. It has all been one lesson after the other, one “opportunity to grow” after the other.

So here we go—single mama’s, the stay-or-go mama’s, the out-till-4 am mama’s, the organic-growing-veggie mama’s, the moon and sun worshipping mama’s, the I-put-my-child-first mama’s, the I-wonder-if-he’s-gonna-call mama’s, the bi-curious mama’s, the I-really-need-a-whole-bottle-of-wine-to-myself mama’s, the I’m-gonna-go-crazy-mama’s, the I’m-really-good-at-being-alone mama’s, the hip-hop-rocker mama’s, the I-experience-so-many-wonderful-things-with-my-child mama’s—mama’s, mama’s, mama’s of the world.

I support you. Let’s do this and make it our best. Let’s go!