Starting The Process


Since my last post I have contemplated whether my confession was appropriate, something I really wanted to delve into. Over the course of the past couple of weeks I’ve really talked myself out of telling the story I wanted to delve into on a daily basis. But, that doggone Dr. Phil show kept encouraging me. You know the ones that come on OWN that are repeats that maybe you’ve seen, maybe you haven’t. It’s like all week he’s had mother’s on there who feel guilty about their own turmoil, so they’ve reached out to him for help. Made me see, maybe what I’m writing needs to be said, especially since now I’m in the healing process, somewhere I couldn’t conceive of myself being at my lowest points.

Most days my depression was something I was living in denial with, not realizing how it was showing on the outside. Going days without bathing or brushing my teeth, or, at times, bothering to change my clothes. Even now, though I’m tempted some days with just pure laziness, it is a conscious effort to not drift into one of these stretches. I remind myself that these things make me motivated, keep me going, or, in some cases relax me and sustain my confidence.

Working from home 16 hours a day was affecting the purpose for being a stay at home mom. It was giving me more stress and making me sadder because I dreamed of balancing work with taking my baby to the library for early reading, and to the park to meet moms and other kids. Not using any time off to simply wash dishes and clothes and clean. As a matter of fact, the only thing I managed to do that I’d always wanted to do as a mom, was make fresh baby food…at least breakfast fruits.

I was getting sadder by the day, especially since all of the time spent working was necessary because, although I wasn’t paying the extra expenses of working outside of the home (parking, gas, etc.), working these long hours was still the only way to make ends meet. But who would hire someone who’d been fired for being late, especially when they had a baby and were pregnant again.

The only thing I looked forward to on a daily basis were the positive videos I was getting form a blog I’d begun to follow, Queen Natural Beauty. It was a chance meeting that led me to follow her blog in the first place. I was out viewing houses in new communities, something to boost my mood after being fired, and I meet this young lady who asks me to take a photo for her natural hair blog. Normally I would’ve said no, and I believe I attempted to, but a pinch said just let her and it led me to following not just her blog, but her motivations she began sharing to become a better me.

The first video she shared, which I’m sharing here is something perhaps many of you have seen. I’d seen it on Oprah before she posted, but, because of where I was in my life when it aired it didn’t have nearly the same affect on me as it had the day she shared it on her blog. The Secret began opening me up to my journey of healing and so I’m sharing. Even if you’ve watched it before, you may find a hidden gem if you watch it again.


I Have A Confession To Make


It has been months since I’ve written on this blog, and with good reason. Initially, when I started it, I was seeking a voice, AND, I wanted it to be open, honest, raw. But, as I started writing, I began holding back, not expressing where I saw the blog I wanted going for fear of being negative or judged. So I too some time away to “do the work” as Iyanla Vinzant would say, and come back with a clear acceptance of what I wanted to blog about. After all, I named it MisFunktional Mami for a reason.

Motherhood didn’t enter my life with the type of bang I expected, though it was explosive. I had an emergency C-Section after nine months of planning a natural birth, and spent ever moment of the three months I was on maternity leave weeping because of it, especially since I kept telling the story over and over again. I remember being so inconsolable at times when telling the story that my tears would turn to anger at people, especially women, for not understanding. I figured once I returned to work and a sense of normalcy, I would begin to feel like myself again. But, since I’m no Shakira, and my normality wasn’t exactly the great dream and joy I always wanted to live, but added stress, my since of normalcy was anything but relief.

I was working part-time and had changed my schedule from five hours a day, five days a week, to eight hours a day, three days a week, and those three days were killing me. Up 24 hours a lot of those days, after a month of being back, I was fired. And, though I’d found another job working from home, and my initial reaction was one of relief, I ended up spiraling down into a deep depression, all the while searching for more work from home opportunities. And, oddly, continuing to get this message that changing my thinking could, perhaps, change my life, change this downward direction it was taking. But, it would take me a while to get the the point of really understanding what that meant, why it was so important, and lead me back to blogging about it today.

So, I’m going to chop my story up into entries, hopefully you’ll follow along and, if you’re experiencing the depth of depression that I have, as a mom or otherwise, or even if you feel yourself on that journey and you haven’t reached the bottom, this will help you stop yourself and shift your life back toward a higher, more upward direction.


It’s A New Monday!!


All day yesterday, I was excited about today. Today is finally the day I’m making some changes in my life. I didn’t want to wait until Monday, since the decision stems from a last Thursday inspiration. But, Friday, when I tried, my patience wouldn’t let me. So I figured if I took the weekend and meditated on exactly what I’m doing, then Monday I would either buckle, or be so excited I’d be bursting to do it. And, I was right, normally I buckle, but today, I am excited about what the future will bring. I am stepping on the toes of fear and into my new destiny.

The way I’m talking about this you’d think it was some HUGE deal and not something I’m sure a lot of people do everyday. Especially mothers. Today I have decided to get my kids a membership to The Zoo and to The McWane Science Center. Yearly memberships. Meaning everyday for the next year, whenever we want to we can visit these places. Why is this a big deal you ask.

Well, becoming a mother has been a great transition for me. Wasn’t really sure what type of mother I would be, though I knew I wanted to be one who stayed at home for the early part of my children’s childhood. I was thrust into it after being fired from, probably the best part-time job anyone could have. Doing classified ads at the paper. And in that moment I went from confident to worrying so much about money, that for the past three years (my oldest just turned three on Nov. 2), I have stifled my mothering.

And so, last Thursday, as we watched Leap Frog thanks to Netflix, I decided, you know what, I must take action to be more active in their lives. Him along with my 17 month old. Forget the pressure of everyone around me telling me I need a job and need to send them to school. It IS my job to teach them everything I want them to know before they go into someone else’s classroom. And so we went out and got flashcards and those books you trace letters, numbers and shapes in from the dollar store. But last Friday, when we started with the flashcards, I didn’t know what I was doing and became so frustrated with him being bored (as I was to be honest), that I just quit. Then, the idea came. The zoo, The McWane Center and a lot of other places in our community are centers for learning, to be utilized by parents, and it also allows kids to interact with each other. How lucky if your mother took you pretty much everyday. Then maybe you would be more interested in doing flashcards, or perhaps tired at the end of the day, enough to be ready to lay down and go to bed. And boom, the decision was pretty much made, but I let the bank close on me before it was concrete. But it sat with me all over the weekend. Made me anxious and scared because it also opened up the idea that I could step back into something else I love and use it as a learning tool. Gardening.

Gardening is something I started before I had kids. I tried to do a little porch garden in pots for them this year and, well, it did inspire one thing in them. To eat leaves. Edible leaves of course, lettuce, kale, mustards. And that got me thinking, “if THIS makes you excited, because you can eat a leafy green you picked, instead of grass, perhaps learning your colors could be just as fun if you’re going to bite into all of them.” And so, now on this blog, I’ve decided to journal my children’s new learning adventures, and, on another blog I created, that has been dormant,, journal our adventures in gardening and hopefully inspire others to do the same.

I am a functioning Misfunktional Mami, and boy am I excited about the new ride we are about to take.

On Being Grateful


As the holiday season approaches, I find myself doing my usual retrace of the year I’ve had. All the good and bad that I’ve made it through that has brought me to here. I could skim over it and it would probably leave you intrigued. A trip to the crazy house, a foreclosure, moving back in with my parents with my kids, I could go on and on about the stresses this year has caused. But, as I reflect, it has taken me deeper into my past except this time, instead of visiting it with regret, a feeling of gratitude has come upon me.

Now, I know most people will tell you to be grateful no matter what, and sometimes that doesn’t mean a whole lot, but, today, it had a whole new revelation to me. This old concept that all of a sudden became so brand new.

Listen to your heart, not you head if you want to be happy. You heart will always lead you to happiness.

For the longest time I’ve not known anything of making a heart decision, because I’ve always been the one to make a smart decision. Until I had kids. Having kids was a heart decision that has allowed me to understand, now, when my heart is speaking. But why this message now? Because listening to my head got me a condo in a great area with high resale value (then) that I just foreclosed on. But listening to my heart, moving into that house in the bad area, would have allowed me to do the one thing I desired from having my own space. Growing a garden.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had the chance to grow my own gardens, plural. I took over the yard at my grandmother’s home, where my father grew up and my cousin now resides, but, after having two kids, traveling way across town to plant food is a lot more difficult than it was before I had to load them up, or be conscious of how late they were “out”. There is just nothing like the peace that comes from supplying your own food, and even more so when all you have to do is step out of your back porch to get it.

For weeks now I’ve been looking for another place to stay. An apartment, a house, but all on the “good” side of town because it is what others think I should do, or, it is the smart decision for the education of my kids. But, if I follow the educational desires that I have for my kids, where I live really matters none. I say all this to say that now, that I’ve been put in a sort of do over situation, even though I’m probably not going to be able to purchase a house (we’ll see, never say never), I am going to make the decision based on what I want home to be this time around. Not on the resale value of the area.

I will, this time around, make a heart decision, and in turn be blessed with a smart one. And for that I am most certainly grateful.

One Love.



I must confess, I am an Alabama Football fan. Not that I grew up one, because my parents went to Alabama A&M, an HBCU, where the band’s performance, not the football team’s, is the most important part of the game. But, I graduated from The University of Alabama, and when you go to school there they engulf you into their fandamonium. They make you become a fan, whether you wear it proudly or are undercover, saving football clippings from the seasons you were in school (guilty). They take you and trap you into this thing called football and you don’t realize how they wrap you up in it until you aren’t on campus anymore. And you find yourself doing strange things. Like waiting everyday for 2pm CST. 

Why, you ask. Because its not Alabama Football that I’m admitting an addiction, but my addiction is The Paul Finebaum show. 

On Saturday, after all of the college games have been played, I can’t wait to hear what they’ll be saying on Finebaum Monday. Sometimes I wish he was broadcast on Saturday and I didn’t have to wait all the way until Monday at 2pm to hear the fans express their excitement, disappointment, embarrassment, confidence, THEIR opinions on THEIR team. And don’t forget the guests. You never know what they’re going to say. Especially when they take calls from the callers oh my. 

I must admit though, that my addiction has been worsened by the incredible season Alabama is having being a polar opposite of the historical season against our in state rivals, Auburn University. It’s not that I’m enjoying their failures, but Bama fans got the worst of it when they were striding toward their first National Championship in 50 years during the 2010 season. We were jealous, envious of the fact that we didn’t have Cam Newton, because he was Moses reincarnate (though he isn’t having such a spectacular second season in the pros, which makes Finebaum even THAT much better). Normally I would feel bad, sorry even, because people close to me went to Auburn, and I hate to see them miserable about their football season. Then I remember all the teasing I endured. Alone. When my school’s team was on sanctions and being beaten not only five years in a row by Tubberville’s teams, but we also got him one for the thumb. And it makes me realize what a bitch Karma can be.

We weren’t jealous. We just hadn’t been fooled by their coach. We weren’t so delusional that we didn’t see the truth in their game. What Chizik is now is what we always expected from someone who got his job after going 5-19 at his previous head coaching post. One and seven now. Yep that sounds about right when you move to a tougher conference. But, hey, I’d much rather listen to other fans chime in about it. 

So I will be joining Finebaum on his live chat on Monday at 11 am, and, anxiously awaiting his callers at 2pm, because I know, it’s just going to get more and more epic. And I’m addicted to every moment. And hey, I’ve got the T-shirts to prove it.


So…the life of a stay-at-home mom can be sort of isolating, especially if you aren’t rich and part of a BravoTV franchise. It can be rather exhausting and exasperating running after a couple of kids, not knowing if you are going to get any meaningful adult interaction on any given day. So all the things that are floating around in me, that would be one line zingers on my Facebook page, I’ve decided to make into extended paragraphs on my own blog. Just a place to release my thoughts, to journal, if you will. Journalism in it’s truest form. Only, if it was spoken of in the professional sense, it would be considered an editorial.

I have thought long and hard about the focus of this blog, hence the title, because the truth is, its hard to narrow myself down to one focus. So I figure maybe I’ll just start off like this, talking about whatever the hell, because isn’t that who and what we all are. We posses the ability to float from topic to topic, with a shuffle button that works for every interest; cooking, sports, TV, LIFE. I mean really that’s what we are all living. Sure I’d love for this to be some place to visit for positive motivation, but the truth is some days I feel shitty. Some days we all feel shitty. But we shouldn’t feel shitty everyday. And if you do, well here I am. Visit me. Trust me I will understand if you can’t stand what the hell I’m saying. Why? Because I feel that way too.

But anyway, I’m just ready to share my adventures from day to day on the privacy of my own blog. (What an oxymoron). And maybe, at some point in my day, be a person, not “just” a mom.

The First Post For The Hundredth Time