{Wordful Wednesday} Black Snow Bunnies: My Babies and their Granddad On Christmas Vacation

There is absolutely nothing more peaceful to me than spending time with three of my favorite people in the world: My daughters and my dad. Where he lives,  there is peace. And around this time of year, a bit of snow, too—something my girls don't get to see much down here in Georgia. So, as you can imagine, it was no time before they were out rolling around, licking and throwing the white stuff—just as I was putting my new iPhone Hipstamatic app to good use. Here, some of our favorite moments in the snow. Enjoy!

Footprints in fresh snow

And it wouldn't be good, clean fun without some snow angels!

This child has been eating the white stuff since her first snow at eight months. We taught her early: Stay away from the yellow snow. 

All that chocolate in snow ought to be illegal!

My Mari, keeping her head to the sky

Did I mention that my father NEVER played in the snow when I was little? The man will do anything for his granddaughters—even take some cold ones to the dome. Ha!

My Mari took this shot. Made me look pretty.

My Daddy, with his handsome self.

How could you not find peace on such a beautiful piece of land?

 

My people.

He Wants It, She's Too Tired To Give It: The Sex Lives Of Married Folk—Bali-Style.

One of my favorite TV shows ever is CBS's Sunday Morning. It's like NPR with pictures—thoughtful, interesting, fresh, and above all else, intelligent. On any given Sunday, you might get a profile of Lenny Kravitz and his interior design prowess, a retrospective of Kandinsky, and a smart, in-depth look at the fools behind Jackass, and every last one of the stories will make you think and stretch and happy you ended the hour feeling smarter.

One of the Sunday Morning features I'm really loving is Steve Hartman's "Everybody In the World Has a Story." Hartman gets someone to pick a random country off a globe, then dude finds some random person to interview and—voila!—there's an interesting story in the making.  And the story he found in Bali? Priceless.

Check it: Wayan Kamar and his wife, Wayan Sriani got issues. He wants sex. She's too worn out for sex. He's frustrated that he's not getting sex. She needs him to make some changes so she'll be in the mood for sex. You know—maybe wash a dish or two, cook a dinner, hit a girl off with some flowers, light a candle or something.

Um, sound familiar to anyone?

Hartman put it best in his wrap-up when he suggested that this couple's story "goes to show that when you dig beneath race, religion and politics, you'll almost always find someone you can relate to." He added:

In fact, after traveling around the world twice telling strangers' stories, I've concluded the only real difference between humans is that some people on Earth live for purpose and meaning—and the others are men.

You said it, brother. (I didn't, but I wish I did—LOL!)

You so have to watch this video. And if you're a total heathen like me and mine, you won't go wrong spending Sunday morning in your pajamas, drinking coffee and enjoying this thoughtful show.

Everything You Need to Know about Life, You Can Learn From a Preschooler

By JEANINE DeHONEY

Ah preschoolers—those wonderful, adorable, quirky, miniature human beings. They have such a knack for finding meaning in the simple, natural pleasures each day, but we don’t give them nearly enough credit for imparting life lessons on the big people in their lives. I can tell you, though, that after being around preschoolers for more than 25 years as an assistant early childhood teacher and being a part of the village for my grandchildren—including a precocious preschool granddaughter—I've found that the little ones in my life have gifted me with some funny, sweet, poignant life lessons. Here, I'm sharing my favorite nine—those lessons that hopefully will encourage and inspire you and help you tap into that inner child-like spirit. Highlight them with your favorite Crayola crayons, underline them with a splash of vibrant finger paint, recite them like a much-loved lullaby. These lessons have blessed my life and I hope they bless yours, too.

Lesson 1 

Morning Greetings Rock! In the morning when they arrive at  school, especially after they shake their parental clinginess, preschoolers run full steam ahead with open arms and wide smiles to greet their teachers and classmates. On a recent morning walk with my 2-year-old granddaughter, I watched in  amazement as she, in her baby talk, acknowledged every person walking by her—from groundskeepers to senior citizens. I saw more smiles that day than I had in awhile, thanks  to her petite goodwill services. Who wouldn’t feel welcome, wanted, cherished, or significant with such an unabashed greeting?  Preschoolers teach us how to acknowledge  another human being with love and brazen abandon. We all need to work on our morning  greetings to others. Whether it's exchanging the proverbial morning peck with a more sensuous and elongated kiss with our husbands or greeting our children, co-workers or even a next door neighbor with a glorious cheesy smile, upping the ante on the way we speak to each other in the morning says, "I’m happy to wake up to another glorious new day and to share it with you!" Today, greet the people in your life or a stranger you pass in the street the way a preschooler would.

Lesson 2 

Eat your Cheerios. Breakfast is an important meal to preschoolers. They enjoy the ritual of pouring milk into their bowl and delight in seeing how many Cheerios they can get on their spoon or in their mouth. They don’t know all the facts about how breakfast fuels their bodies to jumpstart their day, but they do know that  it makes their bellies feel full and content, and once they've got that fuel in them, they’re ready for the flurry of activities that lie ahead. Preschoolers taught me the importance of eating breakfast, not only for  nourishment, but as a way to commune and enjoy the company of my husband and family after the sun rose. Sharing breakfast with your spouse and children, seeing who can get the most Cheerios on their spoon or in their mouth, or surprising them with cheerful yogurt parfaits fills not only their bellies but their spirit. 

Lesson 3

Give Gifts. Preschoolers love to give gifts. Be it a wilted daffodil they found on the way to school, a lollipop already sucked but rewrapped just for you, or even a piece of lint found in the pocket of their jeans is worthy of giving to someone they love and trust. A child once gave me a folded paper full of scribbles and told me it said “I love you.” That nearly brought a waterfall of tears streaming from my  eyes because it was one of those days when I was feeling far from treasured and loved,  

and that gift of a paper full of random scribbles was just what I needed. Preschoolers don’t need reasons or occasions to give gifts to someone they love and  trust; they give freely and generously from their hearts, and we should follow suit when it comes to the people we love. Those gifts don’t have to be expensive or materialistic to be treasured. Today, give someone a gift without thinking of its worth.

Lesson 4

Hold Hands. How many times during the day has a preschooler grabbed my hand or another teacher’s hand, just because?  I realized that when it came to hand holding, preschoolers had a heads up. As a child, I remembered walking hand-in-hand with my best friend—giggling, whispering secrets into each other’s ears. When I was dating my childhood sweetheart, the man God led me to and who eventually became my husband, we held hands constantly, oblivious to anyone or anything around us. And when I had children, I held their hands until they established their independence and parted their fingers from mine. Maybe they parted too soon. Who says hands are only meant to be grasped by tiny fingers? Where is it written that couples should eventually put hand-holding behind them? Today hold hands with someone that you love. 

Lesson 5

Talk and Share. Preschoolers love sharing time. They get a kick out of sitting Indian-style on a colorful rug while they wait their turn to tell a story or share a Show-and-Tell item they brought from home. Once they're finished sharing with their friends and teachers, they're happy campers for the rest of the day, proud of their contribution. Today share a story, a poem you have written, an opinion, a word of wisdom, half of  a sandwich—anything!—with someone. 

     

Lesson 6

Dance! Preschoolers love to dance. They move their bodies to  the folk tunes of children’s music pioneer Ella Jenkins or shake it to Beyonce. They know that dancing makes their bodies feel good and they are not timid about grabbing a partner and  beckoning them to dance alongside. When I was younger, I always dreamed of being a ballerina. Although that dream  never materialized, for years, I pushed back my couch, put on my favorite music and danced across the room. After a stormy period in my life, I hung up my dancing shoes. I pulled them back out, though, at my son’s wedding, where I  danced for practically the whole evening—with my husband, with my son and 

daughter-in-law, with family members new and old. And I realized what I was missing. Psalm 30:11 says, “You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy.” So dance—if not in a ballroom, in the privacy of your own house—to bring joy and exhilaration to your spirit.

     

Lesson 7

Forgive. Preschoolers don’t hold grudges and are always  forgiving of others. Their pouting anger dissolves in minutes, sometimes seconds. Remembering that has helped me to forgive offenses—big or small—more easily. So today, choose to forgive.

     

Lesson 8

Dream. Preschoolers dream all the time. “When I grow up I’m  going to be a Blue Power Ranger,” some little voice would shout out to me. And I would always respond that they could be anything they chose to be. I was their dream keeper, but  along the way, I sometimes forgot to be my own. So I decided that I would become more like them. I shout my dreams out and wait for them to manifest, no matter how implausible they seem. And I encourage little ones to do the same. With the right support, that preschooler who wanted to be a Blue Power Ranger could  become an actor or have a career in animation or graphic design. But he's got to keep dreaming. So today, make a promise to safeguard and nurture and be the keeper of your precious dreams. 

Lesson 9

Have Faith. Hebrews 11:1 says, "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” Preschoolers have incredible faith, in people, in each new day, in promises. And no matter how many times they're let down, they keep that faith—hold it dear. Today, no matter what the world throws at you, blindside it with childlike faith. For me, this is one of the greatest preschooler lessons of all.

* * * * * * * *

About our MyBrownBaby contributor:

Jeanine DeHoney, a former daycare assistant teacher and family services coordinator, is a full-time freelance writer. She is married to her childhood sweetheart, the mother of three married children, and the proud "Grandma" of three. Her writing has appeared in Essence, Bahiyah Woman, Upscale, Quality Woman's Fiction, Breathe Again Magazine, and Literary Mama. She also is an essayist in Chicken Soup For The African American Woman’s Soul, and has contributed to the blogs Divine Caroline,  Moms of Hue, Mommy Too!, Mused-Bella-Online and Mothering.com. 

Boris Kodjoe And MyBrownBaby, Sitting In a Tree...

Oh, alright—so I won't be K-I-S-S-I-N-G that gorgeous hunk of a man Boris Kodjoe any time soon. BUT come 8 p.m. tonight, I will be front and center when his new show, Undercovers, makes its big debut on NBC. I mean, anyone with eyes can see why I and a bunch of my girlfriends will be tuning in. But my lust... er... excitement for this show is bigger than that; Undercovers is a slick, sexy hour's worth of show about Steven and Samantha Bloom, a hot couple who run a catering business by day and carry out international spy capers by night—and the lead characters are black.

They're not playing the rear.

They're not the side-kicks.

They're not the super wise, all-knowing bosses who dutifully show white characters how to do the right thing.

Boris Kodjoe and Gugu Mbatha-Raw are THE STARS and the show is ABOUT THEIR LIVES and they're doing exciting things that have NOTHING to do with their color. And anyone who watches five seconds of American television knows how rare this is, as discussed so poignantly in this Associated Press story about Undercovers' "colorful mission":

It's a persistent rarity in TV to have black leads outside of a "Grey's Anatomy"-style ensemble, and "Undercovers" is rarer still because it's not an African-American sitcom or a black-oriented drama fraught with social issues or family pathos.

This time around, two stunning, accomplished and happily wed black characters just get to have fun...

Fun, indeed. It's a shame that in 2010, we still have to stand up and celebrate when a show featuring black characters finds its way to prime time on a major network, but stand up and celebrate I will—for someone trusting Boris and Gugu to tell a cool story, for NBC trusting that story enough to broadcast it, and especially for J.J. Abrams, the show's creator, who fearlessly demanded the characters be black and fly and sexy and interesting and in love. Something we hardly ever get to see in mainstream media, let alone prime time TV. 

And y'all know how I feel about those who celebrate black love.

And so if you're with me, tune in to NBC tonight to watch my man... er, Boris Kodjoe, in Undercovers. Let's show NBC and Hollywood we support those who show us as we are. 

AND...

Tomorrow, MyBrownbaby—i.e. I, Denene Millner—will be on the new The Nate Berkus Show! The interior designer-turned Oprah Winfrey Show media darling, is serving up celeb talk, design tips, mom and relationship advice and more on his new show, which debuted earlier this month, and he invited me to dish some relationship advice to a family going through some things in the middle of this awful recession. You MUST watch, not just because I'm on, but because it's a really good show and Nate Berkus is absolutely adorable, smart, and infectious. 

So check out the episode, tomorrow, Thursday, September 23rd, and if you're so moved, come on back and leave some comments to tell me what you thought about Nate's show and my advice. CLICK HERE to see when and on what channel The Nate Berkus Show airs in your city.

Wordful Wednesday: Celebrating Black Love On the Dance Floor

My good friends over at BlackAndMarriedWithKids.com hipped me to this beautiful video of a couples' dance ministry at Chicago's own Trinity United Church of Christ. I mean, they had me at Babyface, but how lovely to see husbands and wives so publicly expressing their love for and commitment to one another through an art form so meaningful to us.

*sigh*

Indeed, love's the place to be.

Missing Michael Jackson

I didn’t expect my reaction—didn’t see the tears coming.

But come, they did, when my girl Mitzi called the house and urged me to turn on CNN. Rumor had it that Michael Jackson was dead and the news organization was chronicling the growing crowd gathering outside the hospital where his body allegedly lay—where his brother, Jermaine, was expected to announce the terrible news.

And when Michael’s death finally was confirmed a year ago today, I walked slowly over to my iPod and turned on my favorite MJ song ever—“I Can’t Help It”—and cried like a damn baby.

Gone. Too. Soon.

Out of the tragedy came some good, though. THIS STORY claims that in death, Michael Jackson made a big comeback, with his estate generating hundreds of millions of dollars (rivaling only the estate of Elvis Presley); I can raise my hand and say that my Lila—and kids like her who were introduced to his amazing music after his death—has singlehanded added a pretty penny to the MJ clan’s pockets. I’ve downloaded practically his entire catalogue of music and videos onto her iPod; she’s absolutely addicted to her copy of “This Is It,” the documentary-styled footage of MJ’s concert rehearsals; and she regularly trolls YouTube looking for lyrics and any other songs or videos she may have missed.

It does my heart good to walk past her room and see her standing in front of her TV, a glove on one hand, her shirt open and one of my fedoras tottering precariously atop her twists, trying to moonwalk on carpet. “Mommy,” she says breathlessly, pumping her hips, “I need the fan so the wind can blow on me like it does on Michael Jackson.”  

This is the sign of a true artist—transcending generations, inspiring musical appreciation, warming spirits.

No matter the shenanigans, no matter the rumors and innuendo, no matter the questions and claims, ultimately, it’s about the music. Plain and simple: Michael made great music.

Thanks for that, Mike.

You are missed.

And loved.

You Saved Me—A MyBrownBaby Giveaway

I was all of 23 and looked like I wasn’t even yet of legal drinking age and I was a black woman, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that when I’d show up to mayoral press conferences with my reporter’s notepad and my mini tape recorder and my questions, my fellow journalists—mostly male, mostly white, mostly a decade or two older—would make quick work of rendering me irrelevant. In their eyes, it seemed, I was a lightweight—an affirmative action baby taking up valuable real estate in both the New York City political press corps and in the pages of the Daily News, then the sixth-largest newspaper in the country. Clearly, I was not worthy of working such a prestigious beat. Or at least that’s the way they treated me—certainly the way it was taken.

It never seemed to occur to them that I was young and fresh and hardworking and good at my job. That I’d earned my keep. And while on most days I just shrugged it off and threw it down with my reporting and writing skills, there were those days when the ignorance and the sexism and the racism and the ridiculousness of it all would get the best of me.

Enter Nick—then a competitor and friend. I’ll never forget how he saved me and my sanity on one particular day when I let some side comments and blatant disrespect from a colleague bring me to tears. “You,” he said simply in a clandestine phone call to my desk where I sat, slumped and defeated, “are better than him. He’s lazy and dumb and you? You can write circles around him. Don’t let his jealousy and bitterness steal your joy. I believe in you.”

I believe in you.

I can’t tell you what those four words meant to me—how they lifted both of my shoulders and steeled my back and dried up the water in my eyes and raised the corners of my lips. It’s not that I needed validation—particularly from a man. But it was a much-needed reminder that I really was a helluva writer and reporter and deserved to be where I was at that stage in my career, and it felt good to walk into the den of lions confident that someone had my back. And when I made up my mind I was untouchable when it came to my writing skills? It was over for them.

I owe that to my man.

He saved me.

It is this that I think about as I help Essence bloggers Lamar and Ronnie Tyler, the creators of BlackandMarriedWithKids.com, celebrate the release of their latest film, You Saved Me, the follow up to their best-selling debut, Happily Ever After: A Positive Image of Black Marriage. You Saved Me features candid looks at the hardships, trials, and ultimate success stories of real couples, who give an unprecedented look not only at black marriages, but what it takes to make them work.

You Saved Me is on DVD beginning March 29, but you know your girl has the hook-up, right? Lamar and Ronnie gave MyBrownBaby two DVD’s to give away to two lucky MyBrownBaby readers. All you have to do is leave a comment saying what you love about your significant other (whether he/she is a spouse or simply someone extra special). Want to earn extra chances to win? Tweet: “@MyBrownBaby is celebrating love with a You Saved Me giveaway! http://shar.es/mg9Dt” up to three times for a total of four chances to win.

The contest ends Wednesday, March 31, 2010 at 11:59 p.m. Winners will be announced Friday, April 2, 2010.

Don’t want to wait around for your copy? Well, you can purchase the DVD at a discount up until the official release date, March 29, 2010, by clicking HERE.

And if you can’t bear to wait for the DVD, you can check out movie premiers in more than 25 cities this weekend. Click HERE for movie listings.

Enjoy!

Go Daddy! It's Your Birthday!

The headlines tell the story…

In 1935 Jesse Owens equaled or broke six world records in one hour. The Social Security Act became law. Alcoholics Anonymous was founded, just as the first canned beer made its way to store shelves. Parker Brothers released the board game sensation, Monopoly. George Gershwin’s hit play Porgy and Bess opened on Broadway. A loaf of bread cost eight cents. And the price tag on a new car was six hundred and twenty-five dollars.

But something else very special took place in 1935: my dad, James Millner, Jr., was born to this world. And this weekend, we’ll be celebrating his 75th birthday!

That’s 75 beautiful years—years spent being a son and brother who was loved, a husband who was dedicated, a father who lovingly raised his children, a friend who could be counted on. A man who was—and is—strong.

I don’t write about my father a lot here on MyBrownBaby; he fiercely guards his privacy and is so much more satisfied being humble and living a simple life, and so I respect that not putting all his business out in the street.

But today, I’d like to share one simple, true thing about my daddy: He is my hero. And I love him more than any one person could ever know.

I’ll adore you, Daddy, until the dolphins fly and the parrots swim the sea.

Always.

Happy 75th Birthday, sweet man. Keep on living, loving, and enjoying life to the fullest.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Take the weekend to remember what matters and to love the ones you're with. Have a lovely weekend!

Together Forever: What It Takes To Make a Marriage Work

Every year, Essence helps five African-American gentlemen create unforgettable surprise marriage proposals in the pages of its magazine, and then invites readers to vote for their favorite couple on Essence.com. The big prize? The winning couple $10,000 in cash for their dream wedding, a consultation with and invitations by renowned wedding producer and designer Diann Valentine, a wedding dress from the David Tutera by Faviana Collection, created by WE tv's David Tutera, and an amazing cake courtesy of one of the bakers from the WE tv show, Amazing Wedding Cakes.

But Essence.com is trying to give a little more than just a dream wedding to the lucky couple. For sure, the website is running an online series on ways the soon-to-be newlyweds—and other couples about to or who have recently taken the big plunge—can strengthen their relationships. Recently, an Essence.com editor asked Nick and I to weigh in what it takes to make a marriage work. Here's what we said:

SHE SAID...By Denene Millner
The falling in love part--that's easy. The staying there? Well, there's the challenge. Because after the honeymoon and the newlywed bliss and the tenderness and all that good, new loving comes the quirks you didn't see before and the bills you didn't anticipate and the arguments you swore you'd never have. Throw some kids in the mix and then things really heat up. The mental, emotional, and physical gymnastics of it all... simply, utterly exhausting. But that's love. Fluid. Ever changing. Hanging in--holding on. For better, for worse, for richer and for poorer, through sickness and in health--when he leaves his wet towel on the bathroom floor and walks past that sink full of dirty dishes 20 times without washing them; when she cuddles the baby more than you and slings the attitude like a sword--'til death do us part...

HE SAID...By Nick Chiles
Humility. That's been the most important quality I have learned over the years, whether applied to my marriage or all the other close relationships in my world. In every encounter with my significant other, I now know I must be able to accept the fact that I frequently will be wrong. That's something I had a hard time accepting when I was younger. For most men, embracing humility means tackling that large, ferocious tiger that is the male ego. When I was younger, my ego would drag me into some nasty encounters--ones in which I couldn't admit I was wrong, even when I knew that I was. It was like my ego had a stranglehold on my tongue. But the benefit of age has allowed me to accept that there inevitably will be times when I don't know what I'm talking about, when my advice will be misguided, my opinion off base, my thoughts wrongheaded. What it comes down to is this: I'm not perfect...

To read the rest of Nick and my thoughts on what it takes to make a marriage last, CLICK HERE to check out the full posts on Essence.com. If you feel so moved, leave a comment.

Have a fantastic weekend!

20 Things: I'm Grateful...

• for my Nick, who loves me and our children to the marrow, even when we get to trippin’. This doesn’t happen often. But oh, when it does… let’s just say he’s a trooper.

• for my Mari’s intelligence, tenacity, sensitivity, and focus. She’s more responsible at 10 than I was at 30. This comes in handy. Real handy.

• for my Lila’s free spirit, sense of humor, and.off-the-wall antics. She’s scary smart, but more than willing to be the practical joker. This works for me most days.

• for Mazi, who’s huge bear hug on the field after the last game of his football team’s playoff season told me that we’re cool like that. I thank God for him and his beautiful mind.

• for my parents and my brother, Troy, who gave me life and triple dog dared me to take advantage of and use it to its fullest.

• for our dog, Teddy, especially when he rolls over on his back—belly up. Perfect for rubbing. He’s such a dirty little blonde…

• for my Nikon D-50, snagged fresh from a financially desperate… er, strapped college student off of Craig’s List. Her loss. Truly my gain, especially with the awesome tips I’ve picked up along the way from I Heart Faces.

• for my BFF Angelou’s shoulder (perfect for crying, complaining, and dreaming) and her ridiculous purse and shoe game (always ripe for borrowing).

• for my nephews Miles and Cole’s smiles, sense of humor, and perfectly delicious hugs. They’re all boy, but they don’t have a problem giving auntie the love she craves.

• for my brother-in-law James, a no-holds-barred brother who takes great pleasure in making me think—and even great pleasure in bonding with the hubs in a way I wish more black men did with one another.

• for My Ambassador of No, Gretchen, who is Chris Rock funny, super sensible, awesomely helpful and unabashedly able to suggest on many occasions that it’s okay to turn down ridiculous requests every once in a while, like watching the neighbor’s 11 animals for almost two weeks. (I didn’t listen. Next time, I will.)

• for my new Gap skinny jeans. Seriously. I could fit “all of this” into skinny jeans. Thank God for stretch material. Thank God The Gap is using it.

• for my co-authors Steve Harvey, Nene Leakes, Mitzi Miller, Holly Robinson Peete, and Angela Burt-Murray—all of whom have helped keep money in a sistah's pocket.

• for my MacBook, Blackberry Curve, iTouch and portable Bose speaker, Wi-Fi, DVR, Law & Order SVU, gummy bears, and Double Bubble Bubble Gum. Seriously, wouldn’t nan word get written if it weren’t for these nine things. Not nan word.

• for the March of Dimes, a terrific organization that helps keep the most vulnerable among us healthy, comfortable and loved, and Dove.com, for its commitment to uplifting the self-esteem of our little girls (and their moms, too!), and Parenting, for giving me a forum to say what I want to say exactly how I want to say it.

• for Stevie Wonder and Donny Hathaway and Maxwell and Angie Stone and Ledisi and all the other soul artists who constantly remind that good music is possible and necessary, and The Dream, Soulja Boy, and for reminding me why I have an iPod and pointer fingers—perfect for turning off black radio and punching up music I can actually, like, listen to in front of my babies.

• for Nick’s kick-ass ribs, and home made fruit smoothies. One word: Addictive

• for my bloggy friends—too numerous to count.

• for MyBrownBaby, which has opened doors and inspired me in ways I never imagined.

• and for Him, who wraps me in His mercy and grace, even when I falter.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. Here’s to hoping you have much to be grateful for…

Come Check Out the ATL Screening Of "Happily Ever After: A Positive Image of Black Marriage."

It's no secret I stan hard for Lamar and Ronnie Tyler, the dynamic duo behind the fab, award-winning site BlackandMarriedWithKids.com; they're eloquent, smart, and an incredible example of the beauty that is black love. Indeed, the couple is so passionate about the need for African American men and women to figure out the love thing that they made a movie about it—a ground-breaking documentary set to challenge negative stereotypes surrounding marriage and parenting in the black community. In their film, Happily Ever After: A Positive Image of Black Marriage, they feature couples and experts discussing topics such as the image and portrayal of black marriages and families, the effect the Obamas have on marriage in the black community, and the importance of parenting.



Yes, that is me and Nick in the video clip, giving our own take on love, marriage, child-rearing, and the special issues we and many other black couples face as we try to make this love thing work. And tonight, we'll meet up with Lamar, Ronnie, and a few other experts featured in the Tylers' documentary for a FREE screening of "Happily Ever After," followed by a panel discussion on the film and love and marriage. If you're in town, check out the film at The Midtown Art Cinema, 931 Monroe, ATL. Door open at 7:30 p.m.; the film begins promptly at 8 p.m., with the panel discussion immediately following.

Of course, if you can't make it out, then check out their recent TV news feature HERE and stop by the dedicated website for Happily Ever After to show Ronnie and Lamar some love and especially to buy this poignant tribute to strong black love.

See you tonight!

Sadness For Michael: A Mom Cries For An Icon and Lost Black Boys Everywhere

By KIMBERLY SEALS ALLERS

Yesterday, I cried watching the Michael Jackson memorial. I cried for a little black boy who felt the world didn’t understand him. I cried for a little black boy who spent his adulthood chasing his childhood. And I thought about all the young black boys out there who may too feel that the world doesn’t understand them. The ones who feel that the world does not understand their baggy jeans, their swagger, their music, their anger, their struggles, their fears or the chip on their shoulder. I worry that my son, may too, one day will feel lonely in a wide, wide world.

I cried for the young children of all colors who may live their lives feeling like misfits, feeling like no one understands their perspective, or their soul. What a burden to carry.

As a mother, I cried for Katherine Jackson because no mother should ever bury a child. Period. And I think about all the pain, tears and sleepless nights that she must have endured seeing her baby boy in inner pain, seeing him struggle with his self-esteem, and his insecurities and to know he often felt unloved even while the world loved him deeply. How does it feel to think that the unconditional love we give as mothers just isn’t enough to make our children feel whole? I wonder if she still suffers thinking, “What more could I have done?” Even moms of music legends aren’t immune to mommy guilt, I suppose.

When Rev. Al Sharpton (who always delivers one hell of a funeral speech) said to Michael’s children, “Your daddy was not strange…It was strange what your Daddy had to deal with,” I thought of all the “strange” things of the world that my children will have to deal with. Better yet, the things I hope they won’t ever have to deal with anymore.

And as a mother raising a young black boy, I feel recommitted and yet a little confused as to how to make sure my son is sure enough within himself to take on the world. Especially a "strange" one. To love himself enough to know that even when the world doesn’t understand you, tries to force you into its mold or treats you unkindly, you are still beautiful, strong and Black. How do I do that?

Today, I am taking back “childhood” as an inalienable right for every brown little one. In a world, that makes children into booty-shaking, mini-adults long before their time, I’m reclaiming the playful, innocent, run-around-outside, childhood as the key ingredient in raising confident adults. Second, I will not rest until my little black boy, MY Michael, knows that his broad nose is beautiful, his chocolately brown skin is beautiful, and his thick hair is beautiful.

And nothing or no one can ever take that away from him.

"Now ain't we bad? And ain't we black? And ain't we fine? —Maya Angelou




About our MyBrownBaby contributor:
Kimberly Seals Allers is author of The Mocha Manual series of books and editor in chief of MochaManual.com, where this post originated. The latest in her three-book series, The Mocha Manual to Military Life: A Savvy Guide for Wives, Girlfriends, and Female Service Members, was released last month. Kimberly lives in Long Island, New York with her daughter and son.

Michael Jackson: Icon, Legend, Missed—Forever

The babies want to know if Michael Jackson went to Heaven.

If his soul went right away, or if it’s gonna take a few days.

If he can still think, even when his body doesn’t work anymore.

If his skin and hair and nose will look like that when he meets God, or if they’ll all go back to the way God made them. Brown and thick and full.




If he’ll sing for the angels, and if so, which song (because he had a lot of them).

Maybe “Never Can Say Goodbye.”

Or “I"ll Be There."

"Can’t Help It.”

"Rock With You"

Or “Remember the Time.”

Do you think his children know he died?

His mom is probably really sad, huh?

Sad like you? Or more?




How long are you going to listen to Michael Jackson songs, Mommy?

Aren’t you tired of them yet?

Are you going to play his songs forever?

Forever is a mighty long time, babies.

And no matter the rumors, the controversy, the quirkiness, his music is worth that much.

Respect, Michael.

For your talent. Your grace. Your musical beauty.

Your gift.

Happily Ever After: A Positive Image of Black Marriage

I'm such a fan of Lamar and Ronnie Tyler, the power couple behind one of my favorite websites, BlackandMarriedWithKids. Every day of the week, the Tylers live and breath the mantra that black love is beautiful, possible and alive, and they use their website to remind us, too, to treasure it and hold it dear. So dedicated to that mantra are they that they've produced a documentary about it, aptly titled, "Happily Ever After: A Positive Image of Black Marriage."

Last month, The Tylers gave Nick and I the distinct honor of being interviewed for their film; they travelled from their home in D.C. to our place here in Atlanta, set up their camera and lights in our living room, and then asked us a barrage of incredibly intelligent, insightful questions about African American marriages, parenting, images, culture and the like. And just yesterday, they released a new trailer for the documentary, featuring, among other couples and relationship experts, lil' ol' us! That's Nick and I in the very beginning, talking about how we black folk play a major part in the negative images associated with our community.

Thanks, Lamar and Ronnie, for trusting our voices in your project. The straight-to-DVD project will be released and available for purchase sometime this month. I'll keep you all posted on the DVD's availability. In the meantime, check out the new trailer below.

HAPPY TENTH BIRTHDAY, MARI—DOUBLE DIGITS ROCK!

It was the day before my due date and somebody thought the girl was going to be a big headed, 9 lb. baby if she hung out in my stomach any longer, and so out she had to come out. Just as the doctors prepared to pump me with meds, though, my water broke right there on the table, and four hours later, my first child, Mari, was born.

It was 2 a.m. on June 11—two hours into the day she was due.

That’s my Mari—always on time.

I wasn’t ready.

My ob-gyn, the now-fabulous author and sex expert Hilda Hutcherson, who drove three hours from her vacation respite to deliver my firstborn in the wee hours, put Mari in my arms, and I was overcome with emotion—not just because she initiated me into the most incredible club imaginable (The Mamas) but because on that chilly Spring morning, Mari became this adoptee’s first known blood relative—the only person on the planet I knew for sure carried my blood in her veins.

She was mine. I was hers. Flesh of my flesh. Blood of my blood.



It was an overwhelming feeling to hold this tiny little being against my chest—to feel her heartbeat against mine and rub her soft, curly hair against my nose. Her smell was intoxicating. Her face downright angelic. I wanted to sop her up with a biscuit, she was so sweet and hot and juicy. I thought I would break her, she was so tiny (she came out less than 6 lbs). And I wondered just who in the heck decided it was okay to let me be that child’s mother. I didn’t know how to bathe her or how to breastfeed her or how to strap her into her car seat or swaddle her or change a diaper, even. Sure, I took the Lamaze classes, but those hard, plastic, impersonal doll babies just couldn’t compare.



But we figured it out, she and I—my baby and me. And I’ve watched her turn into quite a fine little lady—one who’s gentle, quiet, thoughtful personality has remained a constant. She’s super smart (A’s are a given, but she’s awesomely creative, too; ever seen a kid whip up kid-sized car, replete with wheels and a steering wheel, out of cardboard boxes, tape, and magazines?Mari is our personal McGuiver)—a sweetie pie, that Mari, always concerned about the feelings of others, always intent on being as helpful as she can, always acutely attuned to pervading emotions. If I’m sad, she does what she can to make me happy; if she sees me reaching the boiling point, she’ll throw some cold water on the situation to bring the temperature down. This might manifest itself in my baby rushing to help me complete a task, or shooing her sister away when she’s about to pounce on my last good nerve. Most times it comes with a hug and a kiss and a knowing look Mari gives me. That everything’s-gonna-be-alright-Mommy—I-promise look.





Mari is, without question, my rock.

Today, my baby, my firstborn child, is 10 years old.

Double digits.

She made it.

I didn’t break her.



In fact, Mari is quite strong.

It’s the might of the angels—they sent her to me.

Right on time.

Happy birthday, my dear, sweet Mari. I’ll love you until dolphins fly and parrots swim the sea.

Always.