Mothers Loving Mothers

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This morning, I wondered what or if I should even write an excerpt regarding this fabulous day we all rave about. Mothers come in so many forms–some young, some old, some gentle, some bold, yet in the end being a mom creates a label like no other. It requires patience, stamina, sacrifice, cooking, cleaning, crying, and a deep seeded joy to pass around when your well has ran plumb dry. Most of us smile anyway to keep the love alive-the love we instilled at birth. This is why the title, Moms Loving Moms is dear to me. It takes another mom to discern another mom’s joy, fear, tears, fortitude, and gratitude-even like the story I read on yahoo news about a woman who at birth was left behind on a dooratep by one mother and adopted by another. In the end, both mother’s played an enriching role in this woman’s life.

If you’d like to indelve further into the passionate and loving story of Denene Milner click the link below. You won’t be sorry.

ttps://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/one-mother-left-steps-orphanage-adopted-im-grateful-145326803.html

Many of us are loved by more than one mother-be it through adoption, play mothers, as we so fondly call them, or by mother-in-laws. Being loved by more than one mom can increase the value and exhileration of living. And perhaps you don’t have to be a mom to know that. But that’s a story for another time. Until then…Have a Happy Mother’s Day, including the women I call mom.

From left to right- youngest daughter Sheena, her fiance’ Zack, me, my mother, George-daughter’s fiance’, and eldest daughter.

From left to right me, Helen Parker, my play mother.

And to my daughter who bore my first grandchild Mason.

God bless you all!

What New Years,  Transformations, Sundays, and Black Eye Peas Have in Common

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Every year a new year rings in like clockwork. And be it minute or colossal transformations are bound to take place in all of our lives. I view transforming as part of the evolution of life, as part of the journey, and black eye peas as a supplemental boost to getting us there.

For years, I ingested the idea of making  a new year resolution only to hear many continue to state how they failed miserably at it. Yet, managed to create other changes in their lives.  Perhaps, it’s not the changes we set out to develop, but the unforeseen ones we’ve ignored or were not conscious of that seem to manifest themselves. 

Meanwhile, we remember all the hoopla, champagne toasts, smooches, and fun surrounding the joy of watching another new year ring in. Then we wake up and New Years Day feels like Sunday as some of us indulge in traditional foods, like black eye peas that encourage blessings or luck. Depending on what you believe in, we fill our bellies hoping happiness, health, and wealth will  follow us all the year long. 

Here’s to those who believe in making new year resolutions and black eye peas and here’s to those who don’t. We wish You a Happy New Year and pray whatever your desires and needs are God will grant them.

Lytra

P.S.

In case you just love a great tasting bowl of black eye peas my eldest daughter graced us with a copy of a recipe to match her fabulous photo above. 

Utilizing God’s Natural Resources to Spruce Up the Holiday–Part 2

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In November we utilized candy corn, beans, peas, and cranberries to spruce up the Thanksgiving Holiday. And though nature has produced enough greenery, flowers, fruits, and vegetables to transform Christmas into a tantalizing year you’d never forget, once again pine cones have taken over. 

This year, every store I peeped into from high-end jewelry stores to preppy children boutiques, pine cones laced the window beds, proving they certainly were created by God to turn our festivities into fabulous events. 

According to The American Pine Story, pine cones have served as a symbolic representation of Human Enlightenment throughout history. Obviously they have yet to lose their touch because millions of them are still harvested, gathered, and transformed yearly into fabulous creations for us to savor. More than that, the pine cone derived from the pine nut which for over 2000 years served as a sappy staple for the people of The Great Basin. Year after year, they engulfed the forests in the early fall before the cones had fully ripened and dropped. They began with “first fruit” celebrations that confirmed the sacred significance of the food and established their respect for the forests.

Now in 2017, 2000 years later our society still considers the pine cone a special gift from God. This holiday season, let nature find its way into the crevasses of your home by utilizing pine cones to:

  • Adorn–wreaths 
  • Deoderize–your home 
  • Dangle–as ornaments 

Ultimately, let them be a source of creativity and ADD spice to a home already filled with Joy, Love, and Peace.

Merry Christmas from my house to yours.

Lytra

Thank God…

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Next week we will give Thanks for the esthetic beauty and harvest God has bestowed upon us, our families, our land, our country.  We will also thank him for ourselves. Yelp that’s right. Without a few me’s there would be no us’s. Though unconventionaly said and written lousy, you get the gist.  We must care for ourselves in order to fit correctly inside of a group, a marriage, a relationship. Something we aren’t taught much about  while on our way to becoming great team players on the soccer team, basketball team, debate team, choir, and so on.  Yet, fitting in could lead to protecting ourselves and our personal space which is actually a concept utilized by sociologist and psychologist. Though both entities value and define personal space as being the region surrounding an individual, if encroached could lead to discomfort or anxiety, they differ regarding the actual distance and the  relationship to the individual entering the  space.

  • Sociologist believe the closer two individuals are emotionlly to each other, the closer they are capable of standing to each other without it being intrusive.
  • Psychologist believe no matter what individual steps into your space it could lead to discomfort, anxiety, and anger.
  • Even the Urban Dictionary references personal space as roughly being a one foot radius around a person. It can only be entered by close friends, family members, significant others, etc. You know when you’re in a person’s personal space.  You can sense it!

Ontheotherhand, there’s the legal concept of personal space depicted as an approximate area surrounding an individual in which other people should not physically violate in order for them to feel comfortable and secure. Though most of us would not delve into the legal aspect of personal space unless need be, with harrassment of all sort on the rise it has become imperative we learn all aspects of the term in order to protect ourselves and our daughters.

In other words, the term personal space can be subjective, depending on the person and the situation. Yet learning what constitutes your personal space will depend upon you, your surroundings, and those you allow in it. And in the end when it comes to our daughters who are constantly spying on us, watching our every move, educating them with the facts  can enrich their lives.  Most of all, remember to teach them that it’s okay to be Thankful to God for his mighty creation–Themselves. Their handprints are as valuable as the next. Each one deserves to be happy and each one deserves to lead a bountiful life.

Once again, thank you for joining us. Tell your mom, daughter, grandma about https://momandaughtertalk.wordpress.com and make reading, learning, sharing an event, a memory.

Teach Your Daughter To Stand UP…Against Sexual Harassment]

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According to my phone, today is October 31, 2017, decades since women were not allowed to vote in our country, head fortune 500 companies, crash glass ceilings, or even run for presidency. All of the above proves American women have been empowered. There is no reason to fear Standing UP against sexual harassment and the debilitating effects it has on women.

Months ago, it was Bill Cosby heading the spotlight. Now, it’s Harvey Weinstein. Not for philanthropy or an all-star cast blockbuster movie, but for sexual harassment, rape, degradation. The allegations go on and on, leading America, Hollywood to magnify the so-called petty gestures, maneuvers, manipulations that are edited right out of  E-News, Extra, the bright lights, the headlines. Why? Could it be that we as mothers have not done our job? Have we not taught our daughters to Stand UP…against sexual harassment? Or have too many generations passed the subject along, down to the next, tossed it aside, shoved it under the desk, under the carpet, in the closet? Maybe? Maybe not? Perhaps women have been so busy making strides, impressing ourselves, our neighbors, our friends, our families, our men, our bank accounts that we ignored the signs, the red flags. Or did we? Perhaps we saw the glossy, mettalic finish flashing right at us, like a firey hot neon sign, but the going was gettin so good–too good to stop and snitch, fix the problem–a problem that might suddenly lead us to be known as THE PROBLEM, ruin our chance of becoming the next CEO, the next CFO, the next Operating Manager, President, or maybe even Oscar winner.  So we side swiped the pat on the butt, the doggy laps, the goo-goo eyes, and the profane boob-job talk regarding the new breast we were forced to purchase after undergoing a mastecomy. 

Then, I remind myself that more than 20 years ago we had a chance to Stand UP with Anita Hill who stood alone against a powerful judge and senate. Since then we’ve had many chances to Stand UP against sexual harassment and be counted for—counted as impressionable examples for our daughters. But we chose to zip our lips, standby, watch while we ourselves and others underwent sexual harrassment in the workplace, at church, on the golf course, basketball courts, locker rooms and even in our so-called loving homes. Now the subject continues to linger, harness, engulf our society because we chose not to Stand UP together. We chose to stand alone in pockets across America– pockets that won this one and that one a law suit, attention directed at the problem, enough to say I stood UP, not we stood UP. Enough to gain heedance, yet miles and miles away from solving the problem.  Now its time.  Its time for us as women to ignore the color of our skin, ignire our age, our status, our background, religion, ideology and Stand UPTogether…As OneAgainst Sexual Harassment. 

In essence, prolonging the agony of standing UP, whether alone or together doesn’t prevent the inevitable.  So stand UP, while you can and by God, and I mean that literally, teach your daughters to Stand UP against sexual harassment. Teach them that Standing UP, especially alone, can feel devastating and almost tragic.  Yet, the culmination of that horrific moment and your guidance can lead to rectifying years of overlooking sexual harassment and ultumately lead to standing UP for others–forever.

Need assistance guiding your daughter in the right direction? Follow us on https://mamasgotanewread.wordpress.com where interesting reads on how to Stand UP are featured this month. For immediate assistance dial 911 or The Sexual Assault Hotline  @ 1-800-656-4673 where help is only a call away.

And as always, we thank you for peeping in on us @ https://momanddaughtertalk.wordpress.com/  Though this subject is pertinent and serious, we’d like to wish you a fun, safe, and happy Halloween.

–Mom’s we’re in your corner 

Lytra

Making a Decision? Include Your Daughter/children in the Process

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Strangely enough, for most of us mothers, either raising or have raised daughters between the age of 8 and 12,  all we do or did is pass out orders, Susie do this, Carly do that. Engaging with our girls on a  “real” big-girl-level often times seemed  worthless and time consuming being their needs, at that age,  were so extensive. Yet, after raising two beautiful ladies, I discovered they were never too young to be included in the process of making decisions that affected them, me, or our entire family. Their input counted, sometimes more than I knew, and so does your daughter’s. 

For example, I remember attempting to date as a single mom.  Though my daughters were 7 and 10 years old, they had strong opinions about who should and shouldn’t be allowed to steal their mother’s time, which was quite limited. At first, I took offense to their opinions–only to later recall how they too had endured a traumatic divorce with me and deserved to be involved in the selection of my male friendships.  I humbled my authority and listened to their hearts. They wanted mom to have a good life:one better than what they had lived through.

Another example of enduring their unwarranted opinion,that now induces a halty laugh at the mere thought of it, is the time I attempted to leave home in mom-jeans. Requesting my daughter’s opinions on style, seemed trifle and tripe. I was more than two decades older than them. What did they know?  Alot I discovered, especially after the girls developed into teenage fastanistas.  I couldn’t leave the house without the two style-sergeants twirling me around in an effort to make certain I looked the part-the part that reflected upon them, us, our household. At the mall, PTA, church, wherever we went, my girls wanted their mom to be noticed and applauded for being hip and fashionable. And though their fashion sense didn’t require much, a Nike T-shirt, a pair of Silver Jeans, and a Burberry purse which I already had and was carrying at the time, they’re input was essential.

Now that my girls are 31 and 27 years old, I could go on and on with examples of how they have attempted to navigate my life with their opinions. But in retrospect, requesting their input should have been a priority when making decisions. Small or large, good or bad, involving your daughter’s opinion reinforces their value- to the home, the family, and most all to you. Children, in general, value being valued. And remember though their opinions have a place and a time, they count.

Thanks for peeping in. Comments are always welcomed.

For us its all about sharing at: https://momanddaughtertalk.wordpress.com

And reading at: https://mamasgotanewread.wordpress.com our new book club 
Lytra

Factory Worker Inspires Daughter to become a Writer–an Essie Mae Gault Story

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Sometimes sharing other people’s stories can be more inspiring than our own. That is why today, I’m highlighting a recent article I read by Dale Anderson regarding The Essie Mae Gault’s story.  

As we know Essie Mae was a factory worker and a single mother, in which nowadays is no longer considered a negative connotation. More and more single mothers are experiencing success, even if it is at a higher cost. Yet, its not who she became that gave her a great name but what she inspired her daughter to become. Essie Mae represents the epitome of what Mom and Daughter Talk stands for: Inspiring mother and daughter relationships.

Though she desired to become a nurse one day her dreams were halted by circumstances and raising children, and though motherhood can be difficult, her daughter Ylanda praised Essie’s parenting skills and even adopted a few of them herself.

 She never forgot how her mother put their education before playing sports and other activities. She never forgot how her mother prompted her and her siblings to work as teenagers and earn their own spending money, something my generation became lackadaisical about.  More than anything, all of Essie’s no non-senss parenting skills cane forging back when her daughter became a teen.

In reference to all her mother instilled in her, Ylanda Gault Caviness wrote a book to honor Essie Mae’s no- nonsense form of parenting-Moms advice for parenting: Check yourself before you wreck yourself.  Published by Penguin in January 

To read more about Ylanda Gault Caviness and Essie click on the link below.

https://www.thespec.com/living-story/5613511-mom-s-advice-for-parents-check-yourself-before-you-wreck-yourself/

As always, thanks for checking in, and join us next time @ http://www.momanddaughtertalk.wordpress.com

I Raised My Girls in the Library

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And we’re still reading.

In 1991, I re-entered the world of college, carting one child on my hip, and tugging the other by the hand. Both girls treasured their days of being hauled in and out of the library, while mommy studied or combed through the world of books. Whether studying or searching for a profound book to influence a research paper, the girls cherished the time they spent with me and learning to read. Then mommy met Mr. Right. Our S. O. S. had been answered. We got engaged and an untimely broadcast concerning Mr. Right surfaced, drained the spunk from my demeanor, and impelled me to change my mind.  Two months later, we were found sitting in a library again. Somehow, no matter where we lived, finding a library with its warm wooden shelves and smell of hot-off-the-press books became our place of solace. Even now before hurricane Irma slammed through and impacted Naples, Florida where I now reside, I found myself strolling through the nearest library in search of many things; where to register to vote, where to exchange my Michigan License for one that represents the sunshine state, and most of all a good book—one that keeps you company when the sun isn’t shining.

A few days later, I discovered my eldest daughter at the age of 31 is also carrying and sometimes dragging my 3 year old grandson to the library. Now that she is back in college herself and raising a child with her fiance’, she recognizes the need for familiarity, especially in a day and time when change flashes by quicker than a snap of a finger or a New York minute, and the library seems to fulfill that void. This being said, after all these years, my daughter and I are still collaborating over our latest page-turners. We’re even gravitating towards similar books; a small victory towards bridging the generation gap between mom and daughter. And today, I’d like to share two of our recent reads.

Mrs. Lincoln’s Dressmaker

By Jennifer Chiaverini is a historical read that portrays the life of Elizabeth Hobbs Keckly who was born a slave and earned her freedom by the skill of her needle. Later, she won the friendship of First Lady Mary Todd Lincoln.

This entriguing novel caught my attention during hurricane Irma.

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What Looks Like Crazy On An Ordinary Day

By Pearl Cleage whose focus is on a HIV-positive woman who seeks solace and refuge for the summer in her hometown of Michigan with her widowed sister.

This novel caught my daughter Porscha’s attention while travelling with her family.

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Follow and join us every month @ http://www.momandddaughtertalk.wordpress.com as we continue to share our latest reads. And, remember reading is the key to success.

Until next time,

Lytra Wilson

Comments are welcomed below

For Decades, Essie Mae Washington- Williams and her Mother Hid Senator Strom Thurman’s Secret

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For Years, Essie Maesenator-strom-and-essie-may stood by and kept her mouth shut as her father, Senator Strom Thurman, made his mark in the world. Mostly, in the segregated South where he began by running as a Dixiecrat candidate and pledged, “There’s not enough troops in the army to force the southern people to break down segregation and admit the n—– race into our theaters, into our swimming pools, into our homes and into our churches.”  Her lips remained zipped up and fastened when her father vehemently opposed the Civil Rights Act of 1957. That night Essie’s cowardly father filibustered against the act for more than 24 hours, knowing all alone he had a black daughter that could have been a benefactor. Essie was not only his daughter, but she was his eldest daughter. Born when he was 22 years old and Essie’s mother, Carrie Butler 16 years old while working as a maid in Strom’s family home, in South Carolina. Just like her daughter Essie Mae, Carrie kept Strom’s secret too. Even though he raped her, never called her by her name, and never acknowledged their child, she never gave him away. It had been rumored that she had said, she trusted and respected him. However, after 70 years of hiding in the trenches behind one of America’s great minds, Essie Mae would finally have the last word. Though she lived years behind the black and white mask that concealed her shame and tears. Years behind the wall that separated her from his white family ties. Years behind the dollars that he slid to her behind closed doors. Years behind the college he paid for her secretly, as if that would deliver him from his sins. And years behind the self loathing spirit that taunted him. She had the last word.

In 2003, Essie spoke the words that freed her soul, “I am Strom Thurmond’s daughter.” Essie was finally free to be the black daughter that The Strom Thurmond had denied for all those years.  And in 2005, though he wasn’t alive to see it because he passed at 100 years old, before this all transpired, Essie’s name was added to the list of children on a monument for the senator on the grounds of the South Carolina state house, joining the Confederate flag, a monument to the contributions of Africa Americans and statues honoring essie-mae-washington

Essie also stated before she passed at the age of 87, in 2013, Thurmond’s widow, Nancy, was “a very wonderful person” and called Strom Thurmond Jr. “very caring, and interested in what’s going on with me.”

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If you would like to read more about Essie Mae Washington-Williams life experience there is a memoir entitled Dear Senator available @ Amazon.com.

Thanks for joining us this Black History Month 2017 @ https://www.momanddaughtertalk.wordpress.com

We look forward to your comments–all comments are welcomed.

Until next time,

Lytra Wilson

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