Tag Archives: blessed

Love Your Haters

16 Jun

Good evening, lovelies –

Here’s a little love for today and reminder to never let someone dim your light!

I took a ride with onepeloton this morning and it felt as though @allymisslove was speaking directly to me with this gem – “Thank your haters not for hating you, but hating the love in you.” Isn’t that the truth? Real community is building people up, embracing our differences, accepting one another, having a safe space where differences in opinion can coexist in harmony, it’s also: multiethnic, multicultural, and intergenerational. #pride Community is not tearing each other down. It is not trolling and being compulsively inclined to hurt others. Expressing ones self in a mean, baffling, and critical manner for what ever reason is not cool. It’s not even emotional stoicism. It’s coward-like. Get on my level – you’re invited. Practice kindness, patience, humility. Be vulnerable. It’s the most accurate measure of courage. To my biggest fan: Thank you for hating all the love I have. I hope my light doesn’t continue to blind you ✨. #bekind

Thanks for stopping by!




FMLA is Dog Shit Wrapped in Cat Shit. 

1 May

I’ve been wanting to blog about government and maternity leave – or lack thereof. Oh, and how FML is synonymous to FMLA. I have to tread carefully.


It takes 4.6 years working with the government to accumulate 12 weeks of sick leave (assuming you don’t take one min of sick leave off during your tenure). And then the government tells you you can only use 6 weeks for labor/birth of a child. Anything thereafter is considered bonding with your baby and this is NOT allowed. 

You can use annual leave too. Hoping you have enough to reach your goal of time off for “maternity leave” without wiping out your balances. But why do you need to have any leave saved? You won’t get sick, baby won’t get sick, you don’t need a vacation, you sure as heck don’t need to travel to see family to show off your precious babe – clearly – wiping out your stock of leave makes perfect sense for the incidentals that never occur…

*** BUT WAIT *** The Family and Medical Leave Act, FMLA, is an option. This is currently the only federal leave protection available to American workers who have babies. It does not require that an employer pay a new mother for a single day of leave.

Great option! Leave without pay. Sign me up!!! No. I’m being sarcastic. This is a distressing option.

And here’s some more bullshit – if I were a man I wouldn’t have to use sick leave for this major event (I’m not discounting paternity leave I’m talking strictly about women and labor). This would result with a benefit to my retirement. You see, when you retire with the government unused sick leave will be converted into retirement months. If you retire under CSRS, each month’s worth of unused sick leave will increase your annuity by 1/6 of 1 percent (.1666 percent). If you have a full year it will be increased by 2 percent. Basically, because you’re a man, you’re more likely to accumulate a lot more sick leave than women who chose to have children resulting in a greater payout.


Is this an unspoken disadvantage to women who bear children working within the system? Or is the argument that our advantage is giving the miracle of life? 

If you’re a man who is moaning and grunting over this exclaiming it is our choice to have children and that it’s our choice to be penalized like so, do me a favor, take your opinion and stick it up your ass where your missing stick is.

This Is gender inequality. 

Article by Rebecca Traister of New Republic

Why Women Can’t Break Free from the Parent Trap

“…The confluence of all these factors means that women are now having babies smack in the middle of their peak earning periods and that their earnings are crucial to the economic stability of their families. And there is no denying that motherhood makes an economic and practical dent in the shape and solidity of their careers. University of Massachusetts sociologist Michelle Budig has found that, on average, an American woman’s earnings decrease by 4 percent for every child that she bears, a figure that sounds even more brutal when compared to the fact that after men have kids, their earnings increase, on average, by 6 percent. Researchers have also found that fathers are more likely to be hired and to be regarded as more competent employees than mothers.

These gendered discrepancies in post-childbirth careers can be understood via a host of historical assumptions about mothers and fathers; hoary ideas about providers versus nurturers, masculine responsibility versus feminine pliability. And, of course, there is the stratospheric cost of unsubsidized American childcare, a factor that leads many more women than men to drop out of the workforce or cut back on their professional commitments. These realities are abhorrent, but they are, at least, studied. What goes less noticed is the way pregnancy and immediate postpartum life itself plays a serious role in slowing professional momentum for women for whom the simple—and celebrated—act of having a baby turns out to be a stunningly precarious economic and professional choice…”

Do you see the inequity? 

Anyway…I’m beyond miffed. Disgusted. Angry. Our country has such a myopic vision with maternity leave. Our country fails mothers. 

The Family and Medical Leave Act fails families. 

I can’t take more than 6 weeks of sick leave regardless if I have more. I seriously flirted with the notion of electing to have a c-section just to get 8-12 weeks of sick leave. But do I want to do that to my body if it’s not necessary? The mere fact that I was sincerely contemplating a c-section as an option just to have more time with my baby affirms that something is wrong. 

I’ll be taking the limited sick leave and annual leave I’m dictated to take – that I’ve saved up. 

Suddenly I’m guilt-ridden because I’ve traveled and lived life using annual leave to explore foreign countries and beaches. Fuck. Maybe I should have hoarded my time off instead and sat on my couch watching exotic lands and lived vicariously through these jet-setting assholes on television who give no fucks – who live and give the finger to the system.

I have used sick leave sparingly over the years. Perhaps I shouldn’t have because the government imposes iniquitous impasses for moms-to-be with what their definition of “sick” and “serious medical condition” are. 

Why don’t you carry a child for 40 weeks, endure labor, care for baby and yourself while you’re still bleeding nonstop, producing milk, leaking, and show up for work you intolerant antiquated schmuck. 

But don’t worry; during my absence I’m sure I’ll be checking my email from home and will be able to help you with anything…because I must be on vacation…?

I sound angry. I hate being angry. But I am. I’m also blessed to have a career I love. I love those I work with. I’m not angry with them. They aren’t the ones adding the red tape. 

Maneuverability through the archaic system is sufferable. I found myself calling my fiancé with tears streaming down my face and speechless when I received the news that I can’t take more leave. I couldn’t articulate one word. When sounds fell from my lips it echoed hysteria and gasps for air. I informed him that our 12 weeks was lessened to 8. The idea that our baby girl’s neck muscles will still be fairly weak breaks my heart. She is still so helpless at 8 weeks. All babies are. She will still need support and all of my love. I have an overwhelming sense of panic. 8 weeks is not enough. 

I have to hand her off because I work for an agency that doesn’t get it. *** Reminder *** sick leave may be used for a “serious medical condition” such as “pregnancy or prenatal care,” though crucially not recovery from childbirth. Ugh!!!

This is how the government puts FML in FMLA. FMLA is dog shit wrapped in cat shit. 

That’s all.


Thanks for stopping by,


The Sweat Life at 21 Weeks of Pregnancy 

4 Jan

Good morning, lovelies!


And Happy New Year!!!


Oh boy, I mean, oh girl – this is the year we welcome our little baby macaroon into the world! I can’t believe we have already passed the half way mark!


I keep stating the obvious – that my energy level is much better in comparison to the first trimester when I didn’t have the inertia to run let alone roll out of bed. This makes me blissfully happy because I feel like myself again.

I’m also blissfully happy because I’m finally “feeling” and “looking” pregnant. Even though these adjectives do not have me feeling like myself, the transition is authentically mine – it’s an experience devoid of self-shaming criticisms – at least now. Feeling and looking pregnant has helped me to counter all my prior negative feelings I battled when I looked in the mirror in the early stages of pregnancy. The stage when it looked like I washed down too many bags of gummy bears with Kilt Lifters (one of my favorite beers) creating a softer than sought core…you know, the thickening of the waist without the baby bump…


Fortunately I’ve entered the stage where baby girl is making her debut. I have a new roundness that I love and cherish because it’s her – our baby girl! I accept her presence with unabashed alacrity unlike any other challenge or journey I’ve embarked upon.


Anyway, baby girl and I had quite the weekend – two phenomenal sweat sessions! Saturday we welcomed 2016 by embarking on a one hour run covering 7.31 miles at an 8:12 pace followed by yesterday’s intoxicatingly addictive cycle class!
Here’s a brief recap of Lava Barre’s VCycle:



Yesterday I welcomed 21 weeks of pregnancy & celebrated by indulging in a new class of the sweat life – Lava Barre’s VCycle! Holy guacamole! This indoor ride focused on cardiovascular endurance (I got that ✔️), strength and core (baby girl is occupying that) while incorporating weights and a special kind of choreography on the bike 🚴. Newsflash: This mama-to-be struggles with choreography – and they were asking me to add rhythm and move while spinning intensely through the hard resistance on a bike…yeah…that was a sight to be recorded for laughter! Shoot, at one point my right foot came flying out of my shoe that was clipped in! How does that happen?! Although I struggled a bit with some of the moves and laughed at my clumsy ways, I loved every sweat minute of it and with new friends.


Pregnancy hasn’t been a breeze but I’m finding that this second trimester really is the honeymoon stage. Baby girl is growing and measures 10.5 inches and 12.7 ounces!


I’m determined not to wish away these moments that I’ll want back one day. I’m so thankful for this gift of life I’m carrying and with each passing day I’m moved by how fearfully and wonderfully made I am [all women]. I’m thankful for the gifts bestowed upon me – a healthy baby girl and this body to protect and nourish her.
And there you have it friends – a little tale about my deviation from running for two.
May you all have a blessed week!



Thanks for stopping by!


Valgal and baby macaroon!

The Kiss of Miscommunication

29 Mar

Good morning lovelies,

I hope you’re all having a fabulous Sunday morning. I’m sitting down sipping on hot coffee, and no there’s no Bailey’s. It’s just me and Joe. Our relationship has been going strong since I was 15 and I told Joe I need and want to taste new experiences.  I apologized but expressed that I still want to meet once a day.

And here we are. We’re having intimate conversation. Because of my honesty, there was no kiss of miscommunication. I reflect on how the quality of conversation is better than quantity. I’m sipping slow and in no rush, an arrant contrast to my normal hustle.

I express to Joe that I am overwhelmed by the friendships I have. Overwhelmed in the best way! I am overwhelmed by the intimacy and the honesty of conversation. We don’t judge. We respect each other and our differences. We support each other and when the world piles on more shit than you’re prepared for, they are in the shit with you, helping you to come out smelling like a rose. We may stink for a while, but we’re ready to blossom. And when lightness prevails, we bloom. We smile. We laugh. We radiate in vibrant colors that dull the dark spots. These ladies are my DC Blossoms. I love them. Every single one of them.

I reflect on some friendships where in one particular moment we greeted each other with goodbye. We hadn’t known we were doing that, but we did. In one moment we kissed each other on the cheek with miscommunication. I was telling Joe that I remember the day and it was a casual conversation. It was, “Yes, I’ll definitely try to be there but it’s going to be based on daadaadaadada…” Well, daadaadaadada had me flake out because I had to tend to other obligations. I thought I was clear with my friends but evidently I wasn’t.

A few months have come and went and there has been loud silence. Text message alerts are promises that they aren’t from them.

During my darkest days I had friends who understood my silence. Friends who did not implore me to talk about things but knew what was going on. They allowed to introvert knowing it had nothing to do with them. I had other friends outside of my tribe who are not as close to me but they came out when I was weak and built me up. These were friends I hadn’t ever thought would stand strong with me. Friends who I thought were friends out of convenience. I was proved wrong. These men and women are my family. They didn’t allow me to face the bull alone. Proof that the right people-the ones who really belong in my life, came to me when they knew I needed them without me saying a single word.

I’m telling Joe that I am blessed and grateful for these friendships. How did I luck into such incredible friendships with these men and women?! There are no boundaries. There is no discrimination. But while I reflect I’m honestly disappointed in some that have fell silent. Now I know I’m stubborn but I want to reach out. But are we supposed to chase people to be in our life? I am over here being myself, doing my own thing, working hard and living each day embracing the magic. But some of these people have magic that I miss.

The kiss of miscommunication because I was introverting. I didn’t think I needed to explain myself. I was trying to rebuild my world.

Joe thinks I should reach out..I think it’s a good idea.

Until tomorrow.

Happy Sunday Funday!

It’s time for brunch! The road to recovery means champagne for breakfast!!!




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