East Of Eden

"A curious mix of the relevant and reverential"


Some Sunday Stuff: July 23rd.


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Zoe is 6!

 

Happy Sunday! It was quite the week in news- Kermit got fired, R. Kelly may be head of a creepy cult, the Juice is (about to be) loose, and Sean "Spicey" Spicer is out at The White House, disappointing legions of Melissa McCarthy fans (like me). 

But in the De Freitas household, the biggest news of the week was Z's sixth birthday. We're thankful, amazed at how fast time has flown, and proud of our not-so-little girl. She's been- and continues to be- a blessing from God.

 

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Flashback Friday: The Newark Riots.

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(Image Source: NJ.com)

 

I heard the story countless times growing up. My grandmother had warned my grandfather they shouldn't go into Newark that Sunday in July of 1967. Not *that* Sunday. But my Papa, veteran of WWII and the Korean War, was not one to scare easily, and was also equally determined not to miss Sunday services. So off they and their four kids went, ranging in age from 15 to 6. My dad was the 15 year old. He remembered sitting in his ironed suit in the back of the family car, riding in from nearby Linden, where they lived in a neat little pink cape cod, the family's first house after having moved over from packed apartment buildings in Brooklyn two years prior.

They knew pretty quickly upon entering Newark that things were strange. There was no traffic. Or people walking in the sidewalks. And then Papa made a turn onto Broad Street and my grandmother gasped. She grabbed his arm, and said, "Joseph!". It was then that they all saw it: a huge rolling tank. It was as if the nightly news footage of the Vietnam War had popped out of their black and white TV and became all too real, all too present. Papa braked and then put the car in reverse, simply saying, "There'll be no church today."

The Newark Riots, which occured over five days fifty years ago this month, resulted in far more damage than a few cancelled church services. Twenty-six were killed, over 700 were injured and well over a thousand were arrested. To my parents, who would enroll at Newark's Essex County College a couple of years later, the Riots were a harbinger of the decades of decay, rot and rising crime that were to come.

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Throwback Thursday: "You're HUGE" & Other Dumb Things Not to Say or Do to a Pregnant Woman

Note: This post was first published on my old blog, Far Above Rubies, on March 30, 2011. Enjoy! ~Li

 (Photo: Flickr)

God bless 'em, the jerks who have thought it all in good fun to poke at my ever expanding belly, the same ones who question every bit of food and drink I consume. Even the one who commented on my larger bust line (and this came from a guy... a guy who is NOT my husband). God bless these folks, because I don't want to. But, I will. I will bless them with some sage advice on how not to address or behave towards an expectant mom, speaking as a sage expectant mom.

  • "You're HUGE!", "You are getting so big!" "Wow, your stomach has really popped out" or any other variant of the bulging belly bump kind. I believe most people are genuinely just amazed at the gestation process when they let exclamations like this slip. The thing is, not too many women, even if they are awaiting a bundle of joy, enjoy being repeatedly told how much weight they've gained. Think about it. We ladies try all kinds of fad diets, hit the treadmill, and wear clothing to try to disguise so much as a two pound gain. Suddenly, we've gained, let's say, twenty, and no amount of scarves or drapey tunics can hide that. We now have to face up to the fact... we're fat. And that's hard. So give us a break. If you MUST make a comment, try referring to the growing baby instead of the growing belly.
  • "That better not be coffee!", "You know there is caffeine in tea" or "That juice is too full of sugar for you and baby!" These comments come from genuine concern, but being a drink monitor to a grown woman is demeaning. I've been cautioned against the evils of coffee, only to inform the person the hot creamy brown liquid I was sipping was cocoa. Most women have heard such warnings already, so if they choose to drink, they most likely are doing so knowing the risk. Now, if you see a momma to be gulping down Captain Morgan's, THAT would be a time to speak up. Similarly, that brings me to my next point. Do not say
  • "You're not eating that are you?", "That snack is full of sodium!", or "More pickles?" Do not cause us preggos to develop eating disorders by constantly commenting on the foods we choose to indulge in. Yes, we should be eating lots and lots and lots of fruits and veggies and getting our calcium through glasses of skim milk. But sometimes we just to eat lots and lots of oreos and get some calcium through a big bowl of Hagen Daaz. Now, I know you're probably thinking, "That's no good for you!" Too much of it, no, definitely not. But an occasional splurge is not the end of the world. But let's say your pregnant friend or sister has diabetes or is overweight... okay, you can speak up, but again, not in a condescending tone or manner. Gently encourage her to choose some lowfat , sugar-free yogurt, and then go a step further and eat it with her. If you really want to support her, you best not condemn while your chowing down on the Carvel.
  • "Your back must be hurting!" or "I know you're feeling exhausted." Don't assume to know how another person is feeling. You might have been miserable (or fantastic!) throughout your pregnancy, but that doesn't mean your co-worker is. Everyone is different, and every pregnancy is different. If you'd like to know how she's feeling, just ask. And for anyone wondering, I'm doing pretty darn well. For reasons unbeknown to my doctors (or me), I'm actually feeling better most days now than before I was pregnant, even on the medication. My doctors have hypothesized it might be the extra vitamins or the flow of hormones (my money is on this). For whatever reason, I'm thankful that my sinuses aren't inflamed, my back isn't aching and while I do feel the extra weight slowing me a bit, I'm not feeling extra pain because of it. Thank God!
  • "You are having a boy since you are carrying out!" or "That has to be a little girl as round as you are!" For us few ladies who opt not to learn our child's sex until birth, there is a constant barrage of declarations as to our babies' sex. I've mainly received, "It's a boy" comments, with a sprinkling of girl pronouncements. While I might be good natured fun to want to guess, these comments usually are tied to opinions on a woman's bulging bump... so more weight and appearance talk. I also find some of it offensive. "Girls take away all their mothers beauty." Think about that... so not only are you passing on a sexist belief, but you're also saying a woman is now... ugly. Augh. 
  • "Your naming him what???" Okay, so your cousin has just told you she is christening Junior with a name so instantly detestable that you know this poor kid has years of bullying ahead at school. And that's just from the teachers. What do you do? Try asking why she's chosen the name. Maybe it has a very special meaning or is her father-in-law's name. Try to find out details before you just come right out and say her son will hate her for life and wind up in counseling for having to go through childhood be referred to by that moniker. Even if you still object, remember that if she hasn't asked your opinion, no need to give one. And that many people happily go by their middle names.
  • Proceeding to rub her belly without so much as asking. Or even asking if this isn't a close friend or family member. Don't do this. As I tweeted yesterday, I am not a Buddha. I do not want you to rub my belly. If you do, you are guaranteed to have bad luck. And as my buddy Shaun pointed out, normally, a stranger touching a woman is usually grounds for a call to the police. This is not acceptable behavior. If she offers, rub away. If not, don't be a creeper. 
 My most recent picture, taken by my boss at work. I've got a big belly and big hair!

Got any more tips? Comment away!

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PSA: So you noticed I'm disabled...


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... and I am. Now get over it. 

 

It's summer, and the more I go out, the more I run into people who get spontaneous, explosive, diarrhea of the mouth because of said disability. Or rather, the walker I use because of said disability.

Here's the thing: over a year after having a HSCT, not only am I not any better, I'm actually more dependent on a walker than I was before it. While I definitely made use of the walker for trips to malls, museums and parks pre-HSCT, I didn't usually bring it to church, doctor's appointments, cafes or book stores. Now, it's constant.

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Some Sunday Stuff: July 16th.


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I love these flowers. Like a little bit of the tropics. (Photo taken by me)

 

Happy Sunday! Let's get to the links. First up, I have to strongly recommend Crash Course Film History if, like me, you're a novice on the subject but fascinated, nevertheless. Here's the preview so you can get a feel for the series:

 

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