Roar

Since moving in together there's not been a day that's gone by in which Lorenzo and I haven't wanted to kill each other.

Okay, maybe I'm not being fair.

There's not been a day that's gone by in which I haven't wanted to kill him.

I love Lorenzo of course, but good God he can work a nerve.

The constant nagging is the worst but there's so much more to hate:

The hours he wastes on football.

The micro managing.

The know it all attitude.

The need to voice his unasked for opinion on every single detail of my life.

Being with him is both exhausting and infuriating and I fantasize about leaving his black ass every single day of my life.

I never wanted a husband or a child.

Nor do I understand those who do.

Who in their right mind would actually choose to trade in their freedom for a lifetime of compromise and caretaking? Not me.

So this begs the question, why in hell do I stay?

Contrary to popular belief, love is not the answer, at least it damn sure isn't for me.

And as harsh as this may sound Amira isn't even a good enough reason for me to stay with a man who drives me as crazy as Lorenzo does.

When I sit down and think about it, the reason I stay is actually a fairly easy one.

Lorenzo makes me want to be a better person. Plain and simple.

I've never had a man who pushed me harder than he does, who challenges me to be the best goddamn Khadija I can be every single day.  Who lets me know that my good enough isn't good enough for him because I can be so much more.  Lorenzo really believes that I'm unstoppable.  That when I set my mind to something, nothing on this earth can prevent me from achieving it.  He admires the courage I don't show nearly enough.  He loves that when backed into a corner, I will always come out swinging.  He sees me for the strong, confident woman I didn't even know I was until he came along.

He believes in me.

Aside from my parents, no one's ever believed in me quite the way he does.

And I love him for that.

And that's why I stay.

Fuck a new year's resolution, TODAY'S the day I have.

Just wait till you see what I do with it.

Birthday Wish

On January 18th I turned 38 years old.

 I've always loved celebrating birthdays and getting older has never bothered me.

In fact, Oprah's declaration that "life begins at 40" was all the proof I needed that my outlook on birthdays is the correct one. I figure, we should celebrate each year that's given to us cuz, as we all know, tomorrow's not guaranteed. 

Over the years I've encountered many people who feel differently about this matter than I do.

For example:

"Happy birthday Chris! What do you want this year?"

"A dark room and a gun".

And:

"Happy birthday Warren! What are we doing tonight?"

"Not a damn thing. I'm gonna drink until I pass out and forget I'm old as fuck."

And then there's my personal favorite:

"Happy birthday babe! I wish you'd let me take you out, it's your special day! You can have anything you want!"

"Even a sexy Latina dressed in a little French maid's uniform?"

"Will that prevent you from tapping ME on the shoulder at 3:00 a.m. because if it will, I swear to God, Lorenzo, I'd actually consider finding her for you."

As you can see, not everyone's as festive as I am.

But things are different now.

While I still love my birthday I realize that as a mother, I have to celebrate differently than I have in the past.

Gone are the days of celebrating by drinking all night at Good Times while watching the Pats win another playoff game. Gone are the days of having a late dinner at Fire and Ice, where Michele will inevitably tell the waitstaff that it's my birthday, and I will feign surprise when everyone begins to sing.

This year, as I told Lorenzo, I wanted something really special for my birthday.

"I want your credit card, no questions asked, and most importantly, I don't want to see you or Amira for the entire day."

As much as I love my family I so needed a day of not hearing "MOMMY!!!!!" echoing down the hallway. Or, "DIJA!!!!!!" reverberating up the basement stairs.

I just wanted to be alone. And to my great surprise Lorenzo gave me exactly what I wanted.

My phone didn't ring while I was getting waxed at Carmen's.

It didn't ring while I was on the train downtown.

And it didn't ring while I was sweater shopping at H&M.

He was able to handle Amira by himself, for an entire afternoon without needing anything from me.

My birthday was as close to Heaven on earth as I can currently imagine.

Challenge Accepted

I've had many different types of relapses in my life. There's the Sleeping-with-the-ex-boyfriend relapse: "Oh God, Maggie, I couldn't help it, I slipped and fell on his dick". Then of course, there's the Another-Friday-night-at-the-bar-with-your-friends relapse: "Oh God, Warren, I mean it this time, I am NEVER drinking again after tonight!" There's the actual, Medically-confirmed-LEGITIMATELY-not-my-fault relapse: "Oh God, Mom, my left side is killing me, I'll go see Dr. Bernstein before work because my MS is acting up." And then there is, what for me, has been worse than all of these relapses put together. The diet relapse. New Year's Day is my favorite holiday. Every December, for as long as I can remember, I've spent hours compiling a long list of resolutions I truly mean to keep in the following year. Some have actually come to fruition. Most have not. Resolution-wise, December 2012 was no different than any other December of my adult life except for one thing. I'd finally read something by Geneen Roth. Any well-read female who has attempted to conquer bad body image issues has at least heard of Geneen Roth. She is an expert in that field and at the forefront of the anti-dieting movement. And at the end of last year, with my body image at a particularly puzzling low, I decided to take Oprah's advice and read Roth's Women, Food, and God. As usual, Oprah was right. The book really did open my eyes to a lot of my behavior regarding food. It helped me to see that what I put in my mouth has a lot less to do with hunger than it does with what's going on in my world. Eating a family sized bag of chips, then weighing myself, cursing the number on the scale and vowing to start Weight Watchers "tomorrow" is a lot less productive than trying to figure out WHY I ate the entire bag of chips in the first place. See, I've realized that it's a lot easier for me to say I hate my abs than it is to say, "Sometimes I hate being a stay at home mom." It's a lot easier to lament the fact that my latest diet isn't working than it is to admit that my relationship may not be working and that I'm scared shitless. But I don't want to run from my issues anymore. So for 2013 I have a very different resolution in mind. For 365 days I will not step on a scale. I will not join a commercial diet program or spend one red cent in any attempt to change my body. This is not saying I will now eat with reckless abandon and skip my workouts; nothing could be further from the truth. I love to workout and for the most part, my diet's a pretty healthy one. But there are days when I binge on end and in an effort to figure out why, I HAVE to avoid the scale. I have to focus on what's going on inside of me, and not use my weight as a scapegoat. This is going to be hard but I'm going to try my best to be honest with myself, and with my readers, each and every step of the way.