Greetings and Salutations

Greetings my people! I am back. As you may have noticed, I haven’t “sassed” with you guys in quite awhile, at least not in writing. But now with the literary absence of our beloved Ted Dunagan, who has literally moved onto greener pastures and calmer days in his second retirement, Kathy and I decided to up our game and consistently bare more of ourselves with readers.

Unlike Ted’s tales of trailer park happenings in Alabama, our stories will likely be about our everyday reality. I remember long, long ago attending a Georgia Press Association seminar about column writing and how the speaker (who I can’t recall at this moment) said that “good” column writers must get personal and have no fear or regret about sharing their lives with the public. I knew right then and there that my future did not lie within column writing because I valued my privacy and very much liked my life being shrouded in not a little, but a lot, of mystery.

Fast forward a decade or two and here I am almost eager to share my exploits in this life with those beyond my inner circle. I suppose that comes with “growing into your true self” and having things you want to proudly share with others or believing that some misstep you have made can help another avoid it altogether by sharing it.

Undoubtedly most of my peddled words will surround my duties as a mother, daughter, friend, co-worker, and possibly a little politics.

Sooooo…last week my eldest child and only daughter, Robyn, celebrated her 11th birthday. Oh yes, it has been a decade and a year since she has graced my life and I’ve been blessed with the opportunity to watch her grow into quite an amazing human being.

Now any parent knows that your kids’ birthdays or any other monumental occasions are not solely about them—it is very much about you. I take those special times to reflect upon not only how they have grown physically, mentally and spiritually but also how much I have grown in those very same aspects. As a parent, I have come to believe that in celebrating your kids it is O.K. to honor yourself.

Last week as we cracked crab legs and opened dainty boxes at our obscenely messy restaurant dinner table, my mind drifted back to the hours just before and after her birth. The day prior to her birth, which was a week after her due date, her father Robert and I were making our routine weekly checkup with my Australian-born Ob-Gyn Dr. Bowen. I loved her frankness and her accent which made unwanted news sound so much better.

My quick checkup before our run to the Red Lobster for lunch turned into me checking into the hospital for induced labor and a turkey wrap. An ultrasound revealed some issue with the placement of the umbilical cord which was placing my little bambino under some slight pressure which was enough for Dr. Bowen to begin induction though I had not dialated one centimeter.

I was freaking out! I was hungry and my mother was not there yet for my first birth. I wasn’t quite sure my mom would make it either, she had undergone a procedure on her rotator cuff in the weeks prior and was still healing, therefore she could not drive. I was in Savannah and she was in Monticello. Sensing my unease, Robert volunteered to make the drive to pick her up to which I balked because that meant leaving me alone at the hospital and what if the baby came and I was all alone. He said very little after that.

Anyway I got the family connection working and within hours my mom was hitching a ride with my brother Quentin, a long haul truck driver at the time, on a route through Savannah to who knows where. All in all the birth was uncomplicated though it did not transpire the way I would have liked. She arrived safely with my mom in tow but did experience some complications after leaving the hospital and heading home where my mom had some utter profanities for the home health nurse during her visit.

We ended up back at the hospital’s ER and in the NICU for a few days. It was in those days that I was heavily cloaked in my faith as I watched my dear Robyn lie under the jaundice lights like french fries in a fast food joint.

After a few days in the NICU and serious improvement in her situation, I started noticing other babies there. Many had no mother, father, or grandmother there for any lengthy duration only the nurse that tended to them hourly or the occasional visitor that would come on their lunch break. I remember thinking “how could a parent/family leave their baby here all alone while in jeopardy.”

I came to my senses and knew it was not for me to judge because I did not know the circumstances of any of those families’ situation. I just knew that I would never let anything separate me from my baby knowing that he or she could be in jeopardy.

Enough of all that, Robyn is healthy, happy and full of life. She has so many great innate qualities that I could not have imagined she would have so young. Her compassion for others is off the charts, way beyond my own. Whether it’s her classmates, a lonely pet, or some kid’s viral video on social media, she always manages to conjure up some goodwill vibes for their welfare. Robyn loves unconditionally—another trait she surpasses her mom with.

She is very quiet but very observant, there will be no wooden nickels for her. She deciphers her truths from the way it feels not the way it looks and is not afraid to call her mom out in any given situation. Her heart is pure and my hope is that it always remains so.

She works hard and puts forth the effort without having to be asked to do so. In the opening month of this school year Robyn was named “Student of the Month” for her class, her fourth time in six years. I remember during the reception the principal noting that the students named in the first month tend to be special because being good stewards of the classroom comes naturally for them as they set themselves apart from others instantly.

And that’s my Robyn—coming from a proud and honored parent who is better because of her. She almost balances out the challenge of parenting her younger brother, but that’s another column for another time.