The Musings of a Latte Queen: Narratives of Everyday Life

New Year's Eve, 2013.  Another year coming to an end.  A moment to pause and reflect upon the past year and reach forward to the new one. Like a blank piece of paper set before the writer's pen, waiting for the scribe to etch the first word, first line.  What will it be? Sipping my morning coffee with the sun from trees streaming through my balcony, my children getting in a few more hours of holiday break sleep, my husband on his annual closet clean up, I'm taking a moment in the still to just pause. 2013 was quite the year for me. I ran for office in a contentious race.  While I didn't win (and secretly, didn't want to give up that much of my life for the position), I did (1) make it an election, otherwise, the original two would have just walked onto the board without the public commentary, discourse, and choice; and (2) I raised awareness of important issues and tried to keep it focused on the education of the children and not a football stadium to benefi...

Stress is literally a killer. It builds and builds and without an outlet, will explode. I figured out today that it is not always the big things that can cause the burning in the heart and the pot boiling of the brain, but the slow simmers built over time that end up showing on your face. I had no idea it showed. Until someone told me yesterday to "don't stress, it will be ok." I was perfectly dressed and coiffed, communicated clearly, my package was totally correct, yet the chips and chips of daily stress was starting to peak through the mask. Life can be stressful, just in the daily things like getting kids up and to school on time, dealing with traffic, unkind people, the latte machine not working, running out of coffee beans, or more month than money, life has its stressors. Dealing with them through outlets like exercise, creative arts, meditation, or honestly, sex, are ways of relieving the toxins that can poison the body. The toxins can kill the body ...

It has been a decade since I hung up my suit and scarf, put on jeans, white blouse, and a scarf, and became the Chief Home Officer of my family's enterprise. In so doing, I had to journey through the professional questions of why someone with an MBA would not be in the corporate halls of power making the money I used to make. Sometimes, people close to me would think that I am putting too much pressure on that man, not doing enough to iron his shirts, and should be scrubbing the floors on my hand-and-knees since I'm not bringing home the bacon. Othertimes, people close to me look at my body of work over the past decade and applaud the time put in tutoring and driving to lessons and sitting through rehearsals and brokering time that resulted in my last three children having the fullness of their childhood.  They had me in their classrooms, running their programs, or driving them to lessons that the work (I have worked outside the home, as a consultant in charge of my own t...

I could hardly believe it when I opened my calendar today to realize that next week is Christmas. We don't have a tree up yet, well, that's not too bad, our tradition has become to get it the day before the day before. Gray Thursday and Black Friday were met with protest from our family, from me in particular, and we remained at home snuggled up with lattes and books.  We were also racing about to celebrate our youngest daughter's 10th birthday and eek out the last moments with our youngest son before depositing him on a bus back to college. Never mind that it was only three weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas this year. Never mind the rhetoric about big boxes, racial profiling in stores, and taking away retail workers' only day off. Never mind the lackluster offerings and the inflated prices during the holiday season. We just didn't go, no time, no desire, realizing we have so much we want right here. Then there were the performances and the deca...

My sons are among the bravest and wisest men I know. Sure, lots of mothers probably think highly of their sons, sharing a bond that lasts beyond the eighteen years of teaching and growth.  They love their mamas and often look for those qualities in a mate, sometimes worrying that the woman they have chosen will not measure up or the mother and daughter-in-law will not get along, each vying for her place in that man's heart. Of course, I love them, I bore them, journeyed through light and dark places for them, vended off a knife-wielding robber on the streets of Chicago for them, walked through the icy cold for them, ate a can of soup for them, literally put down my hopes and dreams for their security, they are my heart. Now that the are older, they are also my wise counsel and lens through which I can view myself and decisions I make.  They are my cheerleaders and promoters and buoy me when my middle age threatens to take the tiger out of me. They are brave and wise an...

Mondays are always a respite after a whirlwind weekend of activities for the family. This weekend was no exception. Decade girl, the baby-of-the-family, had her epic "girls just wanna have fun, not quite sleepover, not movie not, but lots of giggles" party at the hotel suites a few suburbs away. Her mama needed lots of coffee and ear plugs to withstand the jiggly, wiggly, giggly girls. So it was not without regret that midnight came after six hours of non-stop laughter, and the last girl put on her coat against the winter chill and pressed the elevator button to go home. Sleep remained illusive as the hotel suite needed to be packed up from presents, luggage, and snacks for the party. Caroling and basketball games and an unexpected playdate with cousins meant mama's weekend was spent traveling from here-to-there, secretly wishing for the college student to be home to take over some of the drive time. A moment of quiet when the last one went to school this mo...

I was so busy yesterday, racing from one end of St. Louis to the other end of Kirkwood to get things ready for my last child's decade day birthday party celebration. The car was literally my dwelling from the moment I dropped them off at school to the moment I picked them up. Wanting to hear my heart as I use drive time to work on developing the characters for my book, I shut out all outside media, the radio was not on the usual NPR.  Hadn't read the newspapers, hadn't been on social media, just doing errands, planning, and thinking. Then I came home and sat at my computer and my heart stopped. Madiba was gone, passed away, no longer a presence on this Earth. We knew it was coming, just like all of us must one day separate spirit and soul from body, he was 95 after all, yet, it was still numbing, a great loss that words can not capture the fullness. My dear friend, Rasia, put up the post, she being from South Africa.  I felt the sense of pain and loss in her words...