I didn’t want to write a newsletter today.
It was a difficult and stressful week mentally, physically and emotionally. Every time I thought, “this has to be it,” one more thing got piled on my already loaded down shoulders. More than a few times, I wanted to throw in the towel and run away. Normally, I would slap a smile on my face and power through it, but I couldn’t because I wasn’t alone in the tension and anxiety I was experiencing. My two-year-old son, Kingsley was feeling it too.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about the moments that made me feel like I was officially an adult. It wasn’t when I got my first apartment in NYC, nor was it the day I got married. I didn’t feel like one on the day Kalvin and I bought a house. I didn’t feel like one even when I bought a car all by myself. All of those events were major milestones that I’m proud of, but they felt like rehearsal for a big show.
If you follow me on Instagram, you’ve probably caught a glimpse of my daycare drama. The five-second version of the story is, my son was being mistreated, mislabeled as a troublemaker and his education was in danger. Kingsley is extremely intelligent, energetic, funny, beautiful, well-mannered, clever and endlessly curious. When his curiosities aren’t being nurtured he bravely pushes the boundaries before him.