I love to dance. In fact, #54 of my 100 Life Goals is to take dance classes every year. Growing up, I took dance classes throughout middle school, and in high school, I danced in all the school musicals. I danced in Charlie and Algernon, and Kiss me, Kate

I had a plan to shed my postpartum baby weight. I was going to take jazz classes to burn the calories while having fun. I googled dance companies in the area, and ended up heading downtown to the Black Dallas Dance Theatre to watch a jazz class. When Miss C and I arrived, the jazz class was cancelled, so we watched a modern class in its place. Initially, I was thinking I could start taking classes, and then build up to include a cardio component to really help with calorie burn. Well, after watching the class for about ten minutes, I realized I probably couldn’t do any of the moves and then we left. I never went back, but somehow (and wonderfully I might add) the pounds have continued to melt off.

In the hospital, the little things become very important. Every morning I ordered strawberry yogurt in order to combat the buildup of antibiotics in my system. For the first few days an Original Yoplait Strawberry arrived, but then, they started sending regular blueberry and Light Strawberry. Yuck. Artificial sweeteners are disgusting to me, so I re-ordered the yogurt and confirmed that they had regular, yet to my surprise, Light would arrive. When the hospital rep came by to ask if I was pleased with the meals, I told her about my yogurt ordeal. She gave me a Dunkin Donuts gift card for my trouble, and from then on Original Yoplait strawberry appeared. One day, for lunch I ordered a baked potato and asked for shredded cheese on top and the cafeteria assistant told me “this is not a restaurant, baby!” No cheese arrived.

These small disappointments began to mount up. I was already sad that I had missed the red carpet premiere of Sex and the City 2, my team’s offsite in Fort Lauderdale, and Granny Gee’s 90th birthday. I wanted to be outside, with normal, healthy people. My muscle strength was coming back in my thigh, so I could support myself, but I did have a very pronounced limp. I was determined to walk around outside. I walked to elevator bank, and my nurse caught me. She told me that I needed a doctor’s order to be released to walk around, but she added I could wheel myself around in my wheelchair. Ha! I thought I would have been able to blog to my heart’s content, but the IV in my arm was annoying. Every time I bent my arm I felt like I was puncturing my little vein, so the thought of crushing the IV as I bent my arm to push the wheel chair totally repelled me. I did, however, wheel myself out of her sight, and then abandoned the chair. I found the cancer garden, a beautifully manicured place with plants, flowers and a waterfall. I spent most of the days sitting in the garden when I didn’t have diagnostic tests, scans, blood draws, or antibiotics dripping into my system.

Several times my roommate and I heard code blue paged. When it was paged to hospital registration, I envisioned someone in dire need of help, but being required to complete paperwork and then crashing. When I was waiting in radiology for my bone scan, code blue was paged to the OR. I saw three doctors sprint past me. When it was paged to maternity my heart sank. The maternity ward is where life comes into the earth. Was the page for the mother or the baby or worse, both? Can you imagine what it was like for the other women in the ward? Those first time moms in labor, anxious about how it will turn out for them, only to hear the alarm that someone’s life is teetering on the edge. Or how it was that mom or her baby, and the father helplessly hoping that he would leave the hospitable with more lives than he came in with.

As a result, I prayed a lot in the hospitable. For me, for the other patients, for healthy people, that they would remain so. One afternoon, the hospitable chaplain came into visit my roommate and I. He was a small Jewish man and he appeared to ask me all the text book psychiatric questions. Am I happy? What do I look forward to, etc. Finally, he asked me if I wanted to pray with him. At this time, my nurse had arrived to take my blood pressure. I pride myself having exceptionally low pressure. The highest it’s ever been, even while pregnant, was 120/80. I asked the chaplain if he prays with everyone, and he said yes. I inquired, how could that be, if patients have very different faiths, that he would pray with them. I feel with praying to Buddha or anyone else besides God the Father in Jesus name, isn’t right for professing Christians, so how could a Jew pray to Allah? He said that he prays to whomever the patient requests. At this point the nurse had finished my blood pressure reading, it was off the chart. I was so worked up, that this rabbi was willing to abandon his personal beliefs to pray to other beings, but he would not pray with me in Jesus’ name. I politely refused his offer, but the nurse could clearly see I was agitated and asked to repeat my reading. The rabbi left, and my blood pressure returned to normal again.

I learned a lot about patience my week in the hospitable. I learned a lot about myself. I had looked forward to these trips as a chance to get away and not be myself. Actually, I really wanted to go Florida and live without my daily responsibilities. I wanted some Jolawn time, some time to not worry about the boys, my email… I wanted some seriously selfish time to wil’ out with no consequences. Fortunately for me, God knew this and protected me. I believe that this hip ailment was the only way God could stop me from going. He made it so that I literally could not walk. Before arriving to ER where they administered morphine, the pain was so bad I was stood in my kitchen crying. Why are we so stubborn, so hard headed, that we have to ‘go through’ things in order for obedience to kick in?

I saw several doctors who earnestly tried to diagnose me. The infectious disease doctor, Dr. Parry, resolved to treat me for Lyme disease, even though my western blot came back negative. This treatment consisted of fourteen consecutive days of intravenous antibiotics. I was prescribed rosefen and required to return to the infusion center every morning for a thirty minute session. I don’t know how this sounds to you, but after being trapped in the depression-ridded hospitable for days, I was finally allowed out, but only to return every morning before work for more needles and drugs. Ugh, I couldn’t get away! Because I couldn’t bear to keep the stint in my arm, every day they stuck me anew and administered the medicine.

I still did not have an official diagnosis, but the antibiotics resolved the excruciating pain and muscle weakness. About a month after my discharge, my still tender hip seemed to be getting worse. I returned to Dr. Parry for follow up blood work. He did some sort of screen which came back flagging something, so I had another blood draw. Dr. Parry called me one evening, with strange results. He said that I tested positive for an RNP or RNA, or ANA or something like that. Basically, he said that I could possibly have lupus. Lupus? I had heard of it, and immediately began webmd’ing it. Hmmm…. Not quite the result I was hoping for. I scheduled appointments with two different rheumatologists to get two opinions. They re-ordered the same blood work, and this time EVERYTHING came back negative. Thank you, Jesus.

I still have pain in my hip, and some days my limp is visible to Hubby, but I thank God for my health, no matter had badly my hip is bothering me. I hope that you never have this experience and that you are obedient to His word.

Last weekend we attended a couples cooking class with one of the church’s we’ve been visiting in Texas. We ended up there because of the lovely couple pictured above. I met Leslie while attending MLT’s MBA prep program. Leslie and I work for the same company and she invited to attend the woman’s bible study at her church. I enjoyed the experience, came back for more and signed Hubby and I up for the couples cooking class.

The class was located in a tiny quaint blue house in Grapevine, TX. Inside is a renovated farmhouse from 1925, with a warm and intimate kitchen. The evening started with jalapeno lemonade. It was absolutely disgusting (Hubby loved it)! And that was the ONLY thing I tasted that night which my taste buds didn’t like. For an appetizer Chef Andrew made homemade chips and bean dip. The chips were so fresh they were still warm. Chef Andrew prides himself in using fresh, local ingredients.

The kitchen looked worn and trusted. The walls were covered in yellow, fruit-speckled theme, which made me feel welcome and cozy. There was a covered sitting bench, which I adored. I could have cuddled up with a Pearl Cleage book and inhaled all the aromas swarming in the culinary nook. During the evening, everyone was put to work. Some folks prepared the salad, some the entree, and I worked on the dessert. As meals were plated, we also

Salad, the first course, was a clove-soaked pear, crumbled blue cheese, candied walnuts and raspberry vignagrette. The pear tasted of the holidays, and the candied walnuts were sweet and nutty. For the main entree, the men grilled the skewers. Everyone was outside, except the men from the Caribbean. Somehow, they found themselves in the warmth of the kitchen, surrounded by women.

The men grilled bacon-wrapped skewers and vegetables. When everything was plated, the grilled veggies were topped with peppercorn and parmesan cheese. The skewers were topped with the best poultry drizzle I’ve EVER had. It was a raspberry chipotle sauce. Chef Andrew said that he simmered raspberries, apple sauce, vinegar and chipotle peppers into a reduction. I’m sure there were other ingredients in it, but this seemed to be the essence of it. It was the best part of the meal, except dessert.

This lovely couple below is so cute, I wanted to share their pic. I cooked dessert with the wife, and her hubby was the other Caribbean fellow hiding out from the cold in the kitchen while the mens were grilling. The second couple leads the couples ministry and sat at our table. They are engineers, just like us! Go NSBE!

And finally, we get to the dessert. I have to start with this – I did not like bread pudding until I tasted Chef Andrew’s. We started with buttered breadcrumbs, and placed them into cooking dishes. They were drizzled with sugared craisins and caramel. We poured the egg mixture into the bowls, which featured lemon zest (strained out), star anise (that’s what Candise is smelling below), heavy cream, and of course eggs. This was baked for a looooong time. The final product was sprinkled with powdered sugar, and was so good that hubby had two.

Hubby had made the boys Nutella sandwiches for dinner, and Gadget had never tasted Nutella before. He took one bite and turned and said “Daddy, this is junk!” And proceeded to eat the entire sandwich for dinner. I have trained him well. Sort of.

The Lion has a pretty big belly button. Actually, it’s a belly button hernia (the technical term is umbilical hernia). Unfortunately, hubby and I are directly to blame for this because we had them at birth as well. As it turns out, these hernias are more prevalent in blacks as well. Gadget had one, too, but his closed up before he turned two. The Lion’s did not close up, and it appears to be getting bigger. It is so big that when he is watching his brother pee in the bathroom, he holds his belly button as if to go pee with it. Hubby took him to a pediatric surgeon for consultation, and we learned that he has a second hernia even higher up in his abdominal walls. We could see a little bulge, but this hernia poses a higher risk than the umbilical hernia since food could become trapped inside it. According to the Mayo Clinic:

An umbilical hernia occurs when part of the intestine protrudes through an opening in the abdominal muscles. Umbilical hernias are most common in infants, but they can affect adults as well. In an infant, an umbilical hernia may be especially evident when the infant cries, causing the baby’s bellybutton protrude. This is a classic sign of an umbilical hernia.

Most umbilical hernias close on their own by age 1, though some take longer to heal. To prevent complications, umbilical hernias that don’t disappear by age 4 or those that appear during adulthood may need surgical repair.

Umbilical hernia is a common and typically harmless condition.

During pregnancy, the umbilical cord passes through a small opening in the baby’s abdominal muscles. The opening normally closes just before birth. If the muscles don’t join together completely in the midline of the abdomen, this weakness in the abdominal wall may cause an umbilical hernia at birth or later in life.

Well, the Lion’s hernia gets very big when he cries, but it’s big all the time for the most part. So, on Tuesday, the Lion is having two outpatient surgical procedures. As his mom, I have been praying non-stop this weekend for wisdom, patience and God-guided hands for the surgeon, anesthesiologist, nurses and anyone who touches my baby. I pray that the procedure will be complication-free and that his recovery will be swift and painless. I especially feel this way because even though the surgeon felt as though this was a functionally necessary procedure, part of me feels like this is cosmetic surgery, which I believe to be totally unnecessary for the Lion. On the other hand, the hernia is so big that we intentionally cover it up. Other children always focus on it, and we don’t want him to grow up being self-conscious about being shirtless and wondering why we never did anything when he was a baby. Men go bare back all the time in sports, especially swimming and basketball, and I don’t want him to feel awkward because of cruel jokes from insensitive kids.


I took all of these thoughts and feelings to church this morning and gave it to God. I was carrying a spirit of fear, but I prayed this scripture, “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind,” and now the surgery is in His hands.

Gadget has started taking Jiu-Jitsu. He goes three times a week, which is great, and so far hubby and I have only missed the Wednesday classes for the most part. He did a week of trial classes, and unfortunately he was not as excited about it as we had hoped. In the middle of class he asked the teacher “if it was almost done.” But, he has learned a lot from the class. Subconsciously, he is training his muscles. The other day he was running and fell, but he fell exactly how he was taught to fall in class so as to avoid injury (it’s called a break fall). After we saw this, we decided he would finish the season even though he did not want to. As I mentioned in my Gadget update, he’s got some challenges when it comes to coordination, so we know this class will give him the physical discipline and training his body will quickly retain.

Overall, we are very pleased. The boys run around on the mat before class starts, in which even the Lion can participate. The others boys in the class and the teacher are great, and the instructor’s wife and two young daughters watch the class as well. Gadget is the youngest in the class by far. The next youngest child is six, and the instructor was initially worried that Gadget would only play and not pay attention, but Gadget has pleasantly surprised the instructor. Of course, he has had a day or two where he was more focused on drinking his Gatorade during breaks, but lately he has asked when is his next class. Yay for Gadget and learning something new, and yay for hubby finding the class and getting Gadget set up in his little Jiu-Jitsu gi (we have to roll the sleeves and pant legs and we dry it on high for extra shrink).

You know on TLC, after a first-time mother sees her precious beautiful miracle for the first times she sheds tears of joy? That was not me. Of course, I selflessly, unconditionally love my children, but my first thought after I saw Amari was ‘he’s going to be an only child.’ Because I am never ever ever eva doing that again. So, with time, memory fades, and thus, I cannot remember feeling so burdened as a working mother years ago. I do not feel the guilt that so many moms say they experience. I am overjoyed to return working. I love what I am doing and where I am so, and I would not trade that to spend all day with my sons right now.

Whoa, yes, I just said I would rather be at work than playing, cuddling and kissing my boys all day. And there is a very logical reason for that. There are many, many things that come with the blessing slash chore of being a stay at home mom. The past two years at NYU I had so much flexibility that I had the best of both worlds, and now I am slave to the ‘get-through-the-day-so-that-you-can-get-ready-for-tomorrow’ task masking.

I woke up at 5:55 and hit the snooze button one time too many. After getting showered and dressed, it was 6:50 and then it was on to the boys. I got them dressed, took Amari to the potty, brushed his teeth, put oil on his hair, and then began all over again with Joshy. I changed it diaper, which thank God was just number 1, wait no, it was a number 2 this morning, got him dressed and then packed him in the stroller.

I put ice packs in the lunch boxes hubby packed the night before and then grabbed my laptop bag and headed for the car. It takes about 10 minutes to walk from our apartment door to the car and get both boys strapped into their carseats. We headed to daycare, and then parked and unstrapped, got the lunches and headed inside. I got Joshy and Amari set up at a table to eat breakfast (oh yeah, I put two bananas and cinnamon rasisin bagels into their bags before we left home). While they started their day off with a wholesome meal, I filled out their daily status forms, changed the sheet in Joshy’s crib and then initialled the sign in sheet.

By now it’s 8:10 and traffic on the Merritt is thicker than I would like. At 5:03 PM I head back to the car to do the reverse of everything I did this morning, except it’s the Thursday before Labor day, so traffic is really bad, and I’m not going to be there by 6, so I exit off the Merritt to trek through the back roads of North Stamford to make it to the daycare by 5:48. We get home (after a car ride full of questions about where’s daddy and where’s Traci), and daddy’s home! Woohoo! He fixes dinner while I finish a sell deck for work, and then I feed Joshy some spaghetti (with jerk – it was nasty, don’t do it). I put on a movie for Gadget and then head downstairs to exercise because I have not felt sweat drip down my face in the past seven days. And now I’m writing this post and it’s 10:34. I still have to shower and put up the dirty dishes. So what didn’t get done today? No one bathed the boys, but we did lay out their clothes for the week on Sunday.

And I will repeat this routine tomorrow.

Hubby played soccer on Saturday with the Doyle’s team. He looked all sexy in his green uniform. I was very proud when he had an assist to an assist to a goal. Yay!!!