HONEYSMOKE

Danzy Senna asked a Northwestern University audience to stand if a series of questions applied to them.

Are you multiracial? Are your parents of two ethnicities? Two religions? Are any family members a different race from you? Are your children a different race? Have you ever passed as something, intentionally or otherwise, that you are not? When she was finished most of the audience was on its feet. They had turned out to hear the novelist say America has not moved past issues of privilege, race and class. Check it out.

I can’t get enough of natural hair potions and lotions. If you’re like me, head over to Happy Girl Hair for a chance to win free Darcy’s Botanicals products.

I’ve been listening to The Last Lecture. I expected words of wisdom. I didn’t expect words of wisdom about parenting. Author Randy Pausch, the father of three young children, gave the lecture after he was diagnosed with cancer. The lessons found throughout the book focus on what it means to fulfill childhood dreams and how he made his come true.

Though cancer cut his life short, Pausch did more than some who live longer than he did. He kept his head up, had fun, fought for who and what he believed in. He also made sure those close to him knew how much he loved them.

My mind drifted as I listened to the book. I thought about my own dreams. I want to travel more, show my children the world we live in and write books. I also thought about Simone and Nadia. What do I want for them? Happiness, health. Mostly, I want what they want. If something happened to me today, what would they remember? I would hope they remember how much I love them. What would I like for them to remember? My mannerisms, my strong work ethic, how and why I do the things I do.

The Last Lecture makes readers and listeners think about their own lives as the author evaluates his life. I can’t say I bargained for all of that when I brought the audio book home from the library, but life is like that. So, if you will excuse me, I have a lot of work to do and dreams to fulfill.

In my haste to get out of the door and do as many things for the girls, I mixed up the lunches. Again. This lead to confusion at preschool. Teachers switched the lunches, but this happened after Nadia had seen her lunch. So, there were two unhappy children. As a result, a note was sent home. Oh, my. My only solution is to have a backup peanut butter and jelly sandwich at school for Simone, should I make the mistake again. I would like to say I was just trying to do as much as possible before leaving for a conference. Somehow I don’t think that helps the matter.

Why are you going this way?

Nadia, our resident backseat driver.

Precious star Paula Patton, who has a black parent and a white parent, told Women’s Health she is offended by the term biracial. I am stunned by her comment. I understand she was raised at a different time, but I don’t think there is anything offensive about the term. In my mind, it is a more precise way of talking about race.

Here is the quote:  “I find [the term biracial] offensive. It’s a way for people to separate themselves from African-Americans….a way of saying ‘I’m better than that,’” says Paula, who is expecting her first son with crooner hubby Robin Thicke this spring. “I’m black because that’s the way the world sees me. People aren’t calling Barack Obama biracial. Most people think there’s a black president….People judged me because I was light-skinned. [They'd assume] I didn’t want to be part of the black race,” she says.

What do you say?

The upcoming U.S. Census is generating a lot of buzz about race. USA Today shows why it is important for some to check more than one box. Check it out.

I hope Simone and Nadia don’t mind me sharing my love with other children. I had the pleasure recently of playing house, flipping coins and playing Duck, Duck, Goose with a delightful 3-year-old. I should say that Duck, Duck, Goose is a lot tougher to play these days. Big kids like me can get a little winded chasing little kids in circles. Alas, I tried to put my own issues aside, because this little girl is a new big sister. I stole a few moments to meet the girls and their mother while away from Simone and Nadia. I brought a few onsies, with matching headbands, for the baby, and I delivered a doll for Big Sister.

Big Sister and I had a lot of fun. She asked me to read two books I sent a few weeks ago, and I gave an animated performance. We played a game that requires each player to move a princess shoe around a board, collecting jewelry. The game ends when one lucky princess collects a ring, bracelet, necklace, earrings and a crown. Big Sister and I giggled and talked, while her Mommy tended to Little Sister. I think she has a new classmate at preschool. She reminded me so much of Simone and Nadia, and I gave her big hugs. When it came time for me to leave, she cried. I really wanted to stay and play with her a little more. I couldn’t stay, so I asked for a kiss. She buried her head. “What if I give you a kiss?”  She held her head a little lower. I gave her a few air kisses and said good-bye, promising to return with some playmates next time. I happen to know two little girls who will gladly read books, play with coins and play Duck, Duck, Goose forever.

I am traveling again. Just before I boarded the plane, a woman behind me asked another woman if she were leaving her baby for the first time. Yes, she said.

I’ve been there, I thought to myself. When Nadia was just seven weeks old, I hopped on a plane for a week-long journalism fellowship. I was aided and abetted by Ken, my dad, his wife, her granddaughter, my mother-in-law and the director of the fellowship. I also carried my trusty Medela, which was discreetly cloaked in a padded backpack.

I didn’t worry about the girls. A cadre of veteran mothers doted on Simone, while Nadia dazzled everyone with her ability to drink four ounces of milk in seconds.

While away, I pumped every three hours. I had nursed Simone and wanted Nadia to have the same advantages as her sister.  The director of the program, who had nursed her son, set up a quiet room for me, and I pumped during breaks. I set an alarm for the night feedings, and I stored the milk in a refrigerator and freezer in my room. Late in the week, I had amassed so much milk, I didn’t know how I was going to get it home.

“Ship it,” the director said. “I’ll pay for it.”

Her husband bought a small cooler while we were in class, and I packed the frozen milk in newspapers.  Some of the milk was still frozen when it arrived. Mommy milk has fat in it, and is naturally insulating. The whole deal cost $73, plus the cooler.

I thanked everyone who helped me leave my children for a week. There is a photo of the fellows and me. I am in the one in the maternity dress. I hope the mother on my flight received similar support.

I had no idea that suggesting black women date outside of their race would, well, cause such outrage. Sure, I knew some people wouldn’t take the message well. I just didn’t think there would be hostile postings across the Internet about it. A front page Washington Post article really irritated some folks. Some call it propaganda; others consider it racist.

When I posted an update about the release of Don’t Bring Home A White Boy on Facebook, a black male friend who is married to a white woman, took me to task for suggesting black women check out the book. My goodness. I didn’t argue with him, because I didn’t — and still don’t — need to. I  just happen to be one black woman who was open to interracial dating and found success.