The Bourgie Tooth that Went Boo or Noodle Goes East

My little bourgie baby has become a bit of a travel maven and social butterfly. The Little Family That Could recently traveled to Charleston, SC for the 5th Biennial Conference of The Toni Morrison Society and yours truly (not the baby) presented a rather unsexy paper on some existential ideas in Morrison's Song of Solomon. Scholars and lovers of Morrison from the US and even to the far stretches of Japan "jumped for the sun" in the beautiful Charleston and instantly, Ms. Noodle was the jovial flower that she is and became "the baby at the conference". Papa Bear also garnered some admiration who added to his chest armor the baby carrier the entire weekend. I preferred our travel stroller that have the best maneuverable wheels since EVER, but hey, he's got the strong back. Me so delicate...

Anywho, the TMS was so great and so energizing, I didn't want to come back. I tend to suffer from mental dentritis when I come back from trips like this and then return to work which lacks that "engagement" that any scholar needs to survive - and not just thrive. Now let me talk about stuff that may not interest 90% of the traffic that comes through here. It was so great to be around scholars like Houston Baker, Judylynn Ryan, Stephen Conners and to have Toni Morrison walk past you, be in her presence, hear her giggle, to see her up close, spill her water while reading from her new book 3 rows away...and the lovely and graceful Phylicia Rashad! Such a beautiful time we had. Though my bourgie baby won't remember any of it, but we have pictures to archive this fabulous and historic occasion.
So on our journey back, our Noodle who was angelic on the plane there and the entire time at the hotel and the conference decides to go riff raff crazy on the plane. Right as the plane is about to board, she decides to have a BM, so I"m running to the bathroom to do the change. Then she goes into the hysterical cry and I take her to the plane's lavatory to calm her down and to check her diaper again and she freaks out in there. We became "those people with the crying baby". Eventually, a stuartess came over to ask if she could do anything (I'm thinking, "Like what?") but I kindly let her know that I got it. Then Papa Bear hands me a bottle and I was like she just ate before we got on the plane but as soon as I stuck it in her mouth, BAM, three ounces down and she's fast asleep. I felt my blood pressure go down instantly. Somehow, I had drew up my butt cheeks because of the tension and pressure I was under because of the glares of our cabin mates...Wow! Traveling with a baby was an intense and eye opening experience. When we arrived in Atlanta, Noodle was a new and improved bourgie baby. She was smiling, squirming, eating Cinnabon, drinking water and juice, and taking regular naps all the way home. As we sat in our airport recliners across from Cinnabon in Hartfield airport, we heard over the intercom how a Delta flight to Bloomington, IL was oversold and they were willing to give yadda yadda to them in exchange of giving up their seats. I asked Papa Bear what he would do and he smilingly stated, I have no idea.

Somehow, I have these magical powers of bringing thoughts to reality and sure enough, our flight started out oversold and they were offering $400 travel vouchers to anyone who would give up their seat. We both looked at each other and that was such a no brainer! We got pushed to a flight that would fly into Mobile, AL and they would provide taxi service to GPT and we would be leaving in 45 minutes. So we had to haul ass to a distant concourse on Jackson Hartfield's fabu bullet train. Mind you we have baby, 2 carry on bags, diaper bag, golf umbrella, and our own bodies to haul in a hurry. We made just in time as they were boarding. Another passenger had also made the trek with us and she went into a damn asthma attack right as we're taking off. We later find out that our initial flight to GPT had been delayed because of mechanical errors and they were expecting to leave around 8:30pm! So that was our first and perhaps future experience of giving up our seats for what's behind Door #2.

I am glad to say, we made it home safely and Noodle was tired. We all climbed into bed and didn't see the light of day for the next 2 days. We had taken her out of day care for two weeks and in just that time alone, she has went up a shoe size, is comfortably wearing her next size up (9-12 month apparel), and can sit up on her own unassisted minutes at a time.

But as our summer vacation wanes to an end, our most surprising shock happened yesterday morning as my husband was playing around with her as I got ready for work and he asked, in disbelief, "Is that a tooth?" Sure enough, Bourgie Noodle Bean had sprouted out a tooth while she was asleep. Lord knows we have been on a roller coaster during her pursuit of teething, but never would I imagine she would have teeth coming out, and at the top for that matter, so soon! Literally overnight...but something strange, maybe even foul, is amiss...the tooth has went "FIND ME!" It is gone, reabsorbed back in her gums, AWOL as of 7:29 pm yesterday evening. This is what I believe may be afoot.

Overall, I just wish the kid would stop kicking her shoes off when she rubs her feet together. She absoluately obsessed with gumming her toes. I mean, when you have some the kickingest (yes, kickingest) pair of butterfly Airwalks, this bourgie baby would rather be like her country mama and roll barefoot.

Just Stop the Madness

I came across this on Facebook and thought it was hilarious. This is obviously a conversation that needs to happen! So many times we try to define what is Black, and what is a particularly Black name...nowadays, its just too hard to say or admit to. But what is also interesting is now I'm seeing more and more white women with typically "Black" names, i.e. Kesha...is this the browning of America that they've been predicting?

After Judge Cabrera's historic ruling, little Clitoria Jackson will likely
undergo a name change.

( DETROIT ) In a decision that's expected to send shockwaves through the
African-American community-and yet, give much relief to teachers everywhere-a federal judge ruled today that black women no longer have independent naming rights for their children. Too many black children-and many adults-bear names hat border on not even being words, he said.

"I am simply tired of these ridiculous names black women are giving their
children," said U.S. Federal Judge Ryan Cabrera before rendering his decision.
"Someone had to put a stop to it."

The rule applies to all black women, but Cabrera singled out impoverished
mothers.

"They are the worst perpetrators," he said. "They put in apostrophes where none are needed. They think a 'Q' is a must. There was a time when Shaniqua and Tawanda were names you dreaded. Now, if you're a black girl, you hope you get a name as sensible as one of those."

Few stepped forward to defend black women-and black women themselves seemed relieved.
"It's so hard to keep coming up with something unique," said Uneeqqi Jenkins,
22, an African-American mother of seven who survives on public assistance. Her children are named Daryl, Q'Antity, Uhlleejsha, Cray-Ig, Fellisittee, Tay'Sh'awn and Day'Shawndra.

Beginning in one week, at least three white people must agree with the name
before a black mother can name her child.

"Hopefully we can see a lot more black children with sensible names like Jake
and Connor," Cabrera said.

His ruling stemmed from a lawsuit brought by a 13-year-old girl whose mother
created her name using Incan hieroglyphics..

"She said it would make me stand out," said the girl, whose name can't be
reproduced by The Peoples News' technology. "But it's really just stupid."

The National Association of Elementary School Teachers celebrated Cabrera's
decision.

"Oh my God, the first day of school you'd be standing there sweating, looki ng at the list of names wondering 'How do I pronounce Q'J'Q'Sha.'?" said Joyce Harmon, NAEST spokeswoman. "Is this even English?"

The practice of giving black children outlandish names began in the 1960s, when
blacks were getting in touch with their African roots, said historian Corlione
Vest. But even he admits it got out of hand.

"I have a niece who's six. I'm embarrassed to say I can't even pronounce her
name," said Vest, a professor at Princeton University "Whenever I want to talk
to her, I just wait until she looks at me and then I wave her over."

She has quite the big head

Clearly not of ego...can that even develop in infants?

This kid really has a big noggin though. My hubby swears its from my side. Well maybe that's a bad example. Not flattering at all. But this was her first social outing with her hair in actual bands. I think I did a "banged" up job.

Anywho, my lil bourgie baby is growing before my eyes even more so. I'm having to pack away her teeny tiny newborn clothes, while she stretches out her 3-6 month attire, all the while shopping 6-9 month clothes, already looking ahead at 12 month clothes. I was looking at her last night stretched out in the middle of the bed as she drifted off, her legs all sprawled out, in what was supposed to be a long sleeve pajamas but looked like a summer jumper. She quacks, yeps, babbles, and screeches, full of energy, constantly being mistaken for a 9 or 12 month old baby. I'm just getting used to the fact that she doesnt fit comfortably in one arm. I have to carry her around like a sack of potatoes now.

And she is quite the milk monster. We've already introduced spoon fed cereal and baby food and she adores juice! Just like me! What would the world do without juice? Check out that fiend!

Tim Russert - A Political Medium RIP

It only makes me wonder about the future of serious political discourse in our media and how our children will receive it in their time of conscious political interest:

Bubbalicious and Baby Hubba Bubba

Create Fake Magazine Covers with your own picture at MagMyPic.com

Questions only a Bourgie Baby Would Ask...

Check out Funny Face Baby...I do believe those are the first inclinations of a Power Fist!

So, in a previous post, I pondered what type of questions a bourgie baby may ask of me one day...

Well, at least my child, anyway:

1. Mommy, why do you hate Flavor Flav so much?

2. Mama, will I be a glamazon with those big things like you got one day?

3. Why are we too cool for school but you make me go everyday?

4. Can I get my Ph.D. one day, too?

5. Why do the other kids hate on me for doing my work?

6. You got all these CDs...you are so ancient mom! When are you coming into the new era with us?

7. Who is Paul Laurence Dunbar and why did he keep caged birds?

8. Why does everybody want to be a basketball or football player?

9. What does Steve Harvey look like without a moustache?

I cut my hair and my baby still recognizes me

She is actually slobberingly enthusiastic to see me when I make it in at 6pm. Sometimes I feel like a part time mommy b/c i commute 2 hours (going and coming back) to get to my 8 hour + 1 hour lunch break job. By the time I get home, the sun is waning, the birds are chirping and twittering their evening songs, the gentle lull of primetime television induces fellow neighbors into a stupor until finally...it's off to bed.

In the three months, two weeks, and six days she has been here (Thanks Lilypie), my Noodle and I have been through some changes. She has doubled her weight and then some; her little afro rivals her mommies; she has filled out all her newborn clothes; she talks, babbles, slobbers, and plays - we got us a real live baby like on the t.v. Every morning, I sing her "Good Morning 2 U" song and she just eats it up. She has garnered more nicknames than I can remember that my hubbie complains she may not know what her name is. My Noodle, My Pearlie, My Cheese-n-Crackers, My Canoodler, My Drummy Tum, My Baby.

My changes seemed to be packaged with a sense of renewal and humiliation. I don't beleaguer over the small stuff like excessive spit-up (really, how can you measure the stuff...that's what I wonder when the doctor asks me, "Well, how much spit up is it?"), the ever changing BM, and those little bumps. Once I stopped mini-stressing over this stuff, I had more time to bond with my Noodle. I cut nearly 8 inches of my hair...I partly regretted it, but then, I feel relieved to not have to deal with all that hair. I'm so low maintenance that its a wonder I actually grew it out that much.

I"m not even sure I can call what I have a post-partum body. My weight is all over the place, but I have finally gotten to the point I can squeeze in some yoga and sit-ups (I can feel it!). There are other medical things going on so if you want to know more, you got to call or email me.

Other than that, I've been watching my little bourgie baby grow before my eyes on a daily basis. I damn near take pictures of her on a daily basis. I mean, just look at her:

My hubbie and I reminisce on when we could hold her in one hand and now she is a bubbling ball of baby brown...and those beautiful brown peepers she's got!

Ain't I the gushing mom.

Even though she's growing so fast and I'm cherishing every moment, I have to think about what she's going to be like when she's walking and talking. What type of questions would my bourgie baby ask me, I wonder...