True Stories of Motherhood and Wifedoom

The truth and comedy of being a wife and mother

Why am I doing this again?

The hip-hop life? I must be insane. I am scouring my brain for why I am deciding do this blog ‘thing.’ I mean spewing my guts to hopefully sympathetic readers is really the ‘in thing’ right now. But either way I want to be heard, and not by my husband who gets this distant look in his eyes when I talk about most things. He’s so supportive. 
As for the title, it’s fitting and very tongue-in-cheek. I am undoubtedly the whitest black girl you will ever find. Being raised in southern Minnesota it’s to be expected and as my husband likes to point out, (all too often) ‘Baby you’re still learning how to be black.’ I am sure the look on my face what he can do with that comment.
To push the contradiction further, we live smack dab in the middle of nowhere. The nearest town is ten minutes away and has a population of around 200. If I need groceries, there’s a half an hour drive into town. I love it. My husband, the city-slicker, is learning to love it. He has his moments of uncertainty though.
“Baby, we need to get a dog.” (This said on our third night at our farm place.)
“Why?”  Not that I am opposed, but the comment came out of nowhere.
“It’s so dark and so quiet. Anyone could just walk up on a nigga with no warning. At least with a dog it’ll warn us or something.” 
A few nights later it was, “Baby, its pitch black out there. You can’t see anything. It makes a nigga not want to watch Signs anymore.”
Sometimes I am sooo in love with his blackness.
Obviously, my husband and I come from completely different backgrounds. This makes raising our son Darren interesting, exciting, and frustrating at times, but definitely a laughable experience. Our rearing conversations are always marked with ‘My mama never did that and I survived,’ or ‘those are girl jeans, they don’t have pockets on the butt,” and random quotes popular black movies.  All of which (and many more) were punctuated with me rolling my eyes and insisting ‘it will be ok.’
So maybe I am insane, but I am in the process of raising a family that is culturally aware. I figure if I can shape some identity for them out of the confusion of my own existence so be it. So stay tuned for the not-so-politically correct moments in my life and be prepared to laugh. This is bound to be hilarious.
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This entry was posted on September 23, 2010 by in ethnic parenting, new blogs, parenting.

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