Queen B or Queen Me?


To celebrities having or who have been blessed with twins or multiples in general,

This is what being a mother of multiples really looks like. Even mothers with multiple children. No makeup, no retouching on my belly, booty or my baggy under-eyes. I have yesterday’s spit up on my wrinkled sweats and today’s regurgitated sweet potatoes running down my shoulder. I have this beanie basically glued to my head because what I refer to as “hair” is a mashed down matted mess (say that 5 times fast)
I tell myself that it’s an “earthy” look to feel better. My glasses have the cutest, greasiest little fingerprints on them that are (what seems like) impossible to remove. I’m wearing a sports bra because I don’t even own anymore real bras that fit my weirdly shaped postpartum “boobs” if that’s what I’d call them. Did I mention that I stink? Or that I only managed to shave one leg this week because I was too tried to even bother with the other one? I hear ghost cries when I shower, when I go to the bathroom, even when I sleep. I don’t have a nanny to run to them when I’m doing basic everyday things.

Please…I am not hating on you Beyoncé. Queen B. Your maternity photos were beautiful. They made me wish I hadn’t been on strict bed and pelvic rest when I was pregnant with my identical twin sons. I dreamt of being in that iconic whimsical long gown with my bare belly exposed. In a forest of natural beauty behind me. I would have looked down that camera lens with a stare of longing…longing to be that mother I’d always imagined. Longing to show the real beauty of what it truly is to carry a child within our wombs. The only background I saw for eight months was the blue wall that my 55 inch TV sat in front of. Laying in bed watching Netflix in my two bedroom apartment that felt like a padded cell or what I would assume solitary confinement feels like.

If you’ve made it this far, it sounds like I am complaining. Sounds sad and pitiful doesn’t it? In reality everything I am describing is typically how a twin or multiple pregnancy goes. None of it…not only single minute of that experience mattered once my sons were born prematurely at 34 weeks gestation. I’d have laid in that bed for years longer if it meant that I got to physically hold those two tiny babies in my arms at the end of it all. Because missing out on those gorgeous maternity photos didn’t end up mattering. No one around to see my “pregnant glow” didn’t throw me off of the goal. The goal to make sure those boys made it.

The internet broke when Yoncè announced she was having twins. A week later Madonna adopted twin girls and George Clooney just announced he will be the father of twins this summer as well. The internet is exploding with pictures of these celebs. Yet my worst nightmare is someone taking a picture of me walking into Walmart with my puked on sweats, mismatched slippers and oversized jacket on. People stare at me. They seem apprehensive with me walking behind them….trudging on a mission to get to the baby isle for more formula and back out before I see someone I know. They probably think I am some vagrant or a shoplifter with the way I look and how hastily I try to get in and out of grocery stores. The dark sunglasses probably don’t help this matter much but c’mon I’m trying to hide the planet size half-moon bags under my eyes.

When a celebrity, announces a pregnancy let alone a multiple pregnancy…the world does freak out. Though for every one “like” on E News’s article showcasing B’s beautiful belly…their is a mom out there just trying to make sure everyone is still breathing at the end of the day. There is a sleep deprived, coffee pounding gremlin with stale vomit on her clothing dreaming of “sleeping in” just one more time. For all of the mothers and moms of multiples out there who dream of putting their makeup on everyday and being “Becky with the Good Hair” we welcome you to this weird kind of amazing group you’re about to enter, Beyoncé.

Disclaimer: This is a blog about twin/multiple pregnancy BUT to the mothers who have just one child or two children of different ages or more (Look at me. Feel me) you are nonetheless absolutely amazing! You’re doing this too! You’re breastfeeding a newborn whilst also telling your toddler to take that penny out of his mouth. You’re a goddess too and you are included here.

I don’t know if my butt will ever look like Kim Kardashians again. I don’t know if I’ll ever be confident enough to wear a two piece bikini showing these stretch marks. I don’t know if I’ll ever have the patience to let my hair grow out and be long and whimsical. I don’t know if I’ll ever shower regularly again and “slay”. You know what I do know though? I am slaying…I am doing the absolute best that I can to make sure I’m raising good human beings. I may be “B The Diaper Demon Slayer” but I’m still slaying. WE ARE. All of us little people. All of us who struggle to eat sleep and poop in peace.

So far I’ve found that motherhood isn’t about getting that perfect Instagram photo of your baby. It isn’t about mommy groups and judging each other over parenting styles. It isn’t about who still takes the best selfies and can wing their eyeliner like a pro. It’s about being absolutely overwhelmed and sticky and gross and tried and mentally exhausted, sore, and grumpy…and that little person…those little people that you made, they look up at you before bed every night and you have that moment like nothing bad mattered. They matter.

If unconditional love had a look…that look from your children is it. And you know what? You f*$&@ing slay mama, you’re the women Beyoncé writes about. The women Madonna’s career stands on empowering. You are.


Morning Purgatory


It’s almost 1 AM and I’m still awake. Somewhere between sleep…and purgatory, I swear.
My creative mind is always at work this time of morning. I wrap up in a blanket, put on my slippers, make a pot of coffee and sit outside to smoke a cigarette. Working with the public is interesting. I spend my days giving people their one self indulgent treat of the day which of course, is coffee. I meet all kinds of people. The rich upper-middle-class, the teenagers who are on break from classes at the college, the swearers and beggars of the streets and the plain hopeless. Unlike the rest of the ladies that I work with, I love going to work at night to see my friends. The ones who live on the streets and in the scary apartments next-door. The ones who know the real meaning of rough, and the real meaning of need. I love listening to their stories and for a lot of reasons I’m closer to them then people I called my “friends” years ago. It’s not that talking to these people makes me feel better about my life, no. It’s that these people who are so highly discriminated against, in reality could educate anyone about the real meaning of friendship, trust, deceit, and betrayal. No matter what, it seems that my friends here always have the attitude and the advice to keep me looking forward. There’s light at the end of the tunnel for everyone. I feel strongly that one key element of staying sane in today’s world is to always remain open-minded. If you feel strongly about one side, then be able to back it up with a very good reason. Of course with all of the social media applications that people use today, I see a lot of inspirational quotes that people post. One of my absolute favorites that I have recently stumbled across is a quote that says, “Find what you love and let it kill you.” Now I don’t know who this quote is by, but I find it so powerful and yet the simplicity of it is just hard-hitting. What does it mean to find something that you love and then to let it kill you? I am sure there are many interpretations of the quote, such as with everything. Nevertheless what do you think? Something that has really helped me get by is the thought that, if I do what I can each day, what I know to be right and just, then I will be rewarded at some point and any hardship, I will be strong enough to take on. Here is a good question for you. I will try to make it short and as simple as possible. Everyone everywhere is addicted to something. No, I don’t mean just drugs or food or shopping. Just in general. That impulse that excites and scares us at the same time. There is a reason we are all addicted to something, some underlying hurt or pain that we have experienced at some point. Is our life really about just trying to get over it and fill that void? People who write self-help books saying that they conquered whatever it was that plagued them. Are they really over it, or are we just coveting our entire life, we die trying? I don’t know, just food for thought I guess.

Drowning Drowns


Maybe we are all some sort of subservient super beings. Born with a lack of empathy, for a reason. We are all brought into some sort of fucked up life, so we can pursue making it better until the day we expire. Some people have absolutely no control over their lives. Yet we expect for them to make the best of it. After seeing so many highs and lows of the spectrum… I can honestly say that there is no true 100% happiness in the world. Something somewhere is eating at us. Keeping us from sleep at night or concentration during our “normal” day.

Does any of what I am saying even matter or make sense? Maybe to some but most others would rather read and relate to some social media account entitled “GirlProbz101″. Which don’t mind me saying so, is really sad. Those kinds of people are the “super drowns” you are programmed to like, listen and relate to the writings set for you to read.

If for one minute, if you unplug your drown mind from the social media framework… What are your own human thoughts? Beliefs? Morality?

Just food for thought…the un-drown kind.
-Muava here

Hearts Scream


With so much beauty in this world, there is so much hate and ugliness. Discontent, pain and sorrow. We all feel these things. Sometimes daily. It pains me to an extent unheard of to see so much pain all around me every day. We all do the things we do because of a sorrow we carry the burden of in our hearts. Our vices, our bad decisions all stem from some hurt that blackens our soul, everyday. If I could reach in and put a metaphorical blanket on these wounds I would. Like a mother that consoles her children. I love human beings. I don’t want to know how great you are, I want to know you’re pains, you’re heartache. I want to feel what hurts you. I want to love you. I want to fill the void of love and comfort in you’re heart that I am missing from mine.

From the outside, I may seem so put together and ready, ready for life and its fastballs. But really, inside I am as introverted as an artist, a poet. I carry so much yearning and discontent. And with this, it makes me want to meant others, or at least try and love. You’re accomplishments don’t make you better. You’re mistakes make you the person you carry. You’re pain makes you gorgeous. You’re pain makes you every color. You’re pain makes you real.

If our hearts had a loud-speaker on them, we would all hear each other screaming out for help, screaming for love. Screaming for forgiveness. What do you scream for? What can one person give to you, that will fill you’re heart with calming sensation. Look at the person you most admire today. And remember these words. Their heart is screaming and longing for someone, something. No matter how strong one person may seem. Our hearts all scream together. Maybe is we all took a second from our day and just listened…you can hear..you can but slightly hear the screaming, the calling of all the bruised hearts around us. Listen to the screams one by one, and comfort, quite the hearts you can. Fill the voids with a silhouette of the softest blanket you can imagine.

Look down…to the spot where the most important muscle in you’re body beats. Look at you’re heart and listen to its cries. Listen to the pain. Don’t ignore it…please don’t ignore it. Let someone mend you. Let someone love you. Let faith in others overwhelm you with all the kindness this cruel world has left to scrounge up.

We all know what it is like to feel like a bird in a cage. A cagable, tamable pet. Looked upon with judgment and a decoration for others to admire or hurt. All you want to be is free, free to feel the wind under you’re wings. Free to sing atop you’re beautiful lungs as long as the day carries. We all know what it is like to be this caged bird. Sworn off from the world around us. Only seeing as far as our locked door allows. Please, open you’re cage door today and carefully, yet surly…fly out. Let the world in. Let the light overwhelm you with welcomness and courageous tendencies. Let love find you behind this open door and be who you yearn to be. Fly where the eprevesant wind carries you. Let you’re heart stop screaming, and let it sing.

shut you’re eyes and sing to me,

shut you’re eyes and sing to me.

You’re uncaged bird,


Releasing You


I know what it is like to feel so on display. Sometimes we all wish we could just sit in an empty room an just be. Just exist. Without judgement. Without question. Or hesitation for that matter as well. It is okay to be yourself, you know? That weird personality we keep tucked inside. Only let out when we are alone or in front of very select induviduals. It is okay to trust. That weird in us is what makes us…us. The way we presume our day to day lives isn’t really who we are. It is who society says it’s OK to be. To mention social networks. To be internet famous. To have the most followers. To get the most likes on a picture uploaded. That shouldn’t be what we depend on to make us happy, right?

I want to live everyday and be that person you feel you can let you’re weird out in front of. I want to make you feel like I am you’re friend. Because I am. I want to know those secret stations on your Pandora that no one knows you listen to, only when your alone. I want to see the face you make in the mirror when no one is looking. I want to know what the last thing you think about is, right before you fall asleep every night. Tell me how sad you are. Cry even. Let me look at you in the eyes and listen to what you have to let out. Let me touch you, in comfort.

For one day. I wish everyone could get up and do the daily rutine. But do it for yourself. Dont put on makeup for to impress any single person. Just be who you are. That weird self that wants to come out. Snort when something is too funny. Please dont cover you’re mouth when you smile or laugh. And tell someone you dont know that they are pretty. Tell someone that they look lovely. You have no idea how good it feels, and how good it feels to hear it. Go write to a person you have had a bad past with. Forgive them. Unburden them, and unburden yourself. No matter that persons response.

Today. Forgive yourself for being so hard. Forgive that “me” in you’re head that is such a tough critic. Look at yourself in the mirror and smile. Know that you are going to go out and be every single thing that you are with all that you have. Love people harder. Sing your favorite song louder. Cry when you feel the urge. Get it out. Get every negative thing out of your body. It is time to clense. Take you’re hair down and shake it out. Jump onto the highest thing and scream! Hit something. Fall to the ground and forgive. Today you can be that person. The person that you are. Go do that thing you have always wanted to do. Who cares? You don’t. You are free.

I want to release you.

– Mama Muavarosebud

Little Sick-o’s


Hello lovelies. Did you miss me? No. I am sure that you did not. Seeing as society tells us not to show yearning for anyone else but ourselves. Or…perhaps you did miss me, yet the though of admitting that is terrifying. Just like admitting that you are reading this…right now. My thoughts. Id like to consider myself “The Phantom” writer. Do you really know who I am? Do you know what is in my twisted, sick mind? No, I suppose that you do not. And I suppose that I do not know what is inside of your sick proverbial minds as well.

Oh come on, don’t be coy. You know all of our minds can be sick at some point. Maybe all the time? Yes? Sick with fear? Sick with love? Hate? Wrath? Envy? How about all of they above. How exhausting to be so sick all of the time? Do I admit this of myself? Ahh, you will have to wait and see wont you. To a terrifying degree we are all sick with something constantly. That is why we live in a Prozac nation. There are some whom keep their illnesses to themselves…and there are those who put it out there every chance they get, don’t they? These people make my skin hurt. Why? Because you are gross. You put the foulest taste in my mouth. Because you want sympathy from a world you are never going to get it from. Life is hard. Life is cruel. Get use to it, or get use to the idea that if you do not…you will be picked off very soon. Weather it is by your own demise, or that of another’s. Beware kiddos.

As you read, you think about yourself and your sickness. And you yearn to know mine. But I have only poured it out on the written page for you, oh so many times. Read through what I am saying. And it as if I am laying naked in front of you all. Exposed. Humiliated. Yet so real. Delicate. Porcelain like. Like a pretty doll. Dropped, forgotten with time. But I have a story too. Wont anyone play with me? Dress me. Love me? Please. The longer I sit here in the dark and dust, the worse my sickness grows. Love me. Hold me.

Be inflicted with whatever you are inflicted with but do not deny it. For then you are your truly weakest self. Do not pur it out on social medias for the unnoticing world to see because they wont. And neither will you if you keep that God awful blindfold upon your face. Wake up and survive. Be sick. Because no one is going to do it for you.

Love the biggest sick-o,

Mama Muava

Reality to REAL-ity


I’m sitting at work. Clock says 11:48 am. Feels more like 5 o’clock pm. The wind is blowing so hard, it’s easy to predict that it will be a slow day. You’d probably think that people would choose a cold day like this to come get a coffee, go home and snuggle up. Although at least from this coffee shop, that isn’t the case. I hate when I’m not busy because like most people this means that I am thinking. And when I’m thinking, it usually provokes some emotion that I’d rather not feel in the present. Everyday isn’t so bad. It’s really not. I think that I am becoming more and more reclusive though. Turning friends away from fun plans to rather stay home by myself is not normal for me but is becoming more increasingly so.

I just want to talk all night with someone. About everything in the whole world. And laugh…laugh. And finally fall asleep when the first bit of sun approaches the dewy trees from outside. I wish this wasn’t only a reality in fairy tales.

Princess or Promiscuous Mistress


Once upon a time, the story started out as many. She, a fair young girl in constant need of affection. Was it her humble upbringings that brought this heavy burden upon her? Or was she born this way? Genetics maybe? The answer is still unclear. Though she did not find herself beautiful as most young girls may not, she had a spirit that could not be rendered.

I believe her biggest fear was to be left alone, in fact I know this. So time after time being left, her heart grew bitter and her insecurities grew vastly. She blamed herself for why the people she loved walk away from her. “I’m to bitter, to homely, to sensitive, to attaching.” she thought. If she remained a shell of herself she was indefinitely unhappy. She didn’t understand. Be herself, yearn for love and devotion and be forgotten in the end, or shut herself up in the highest tower of seclusion as those princesses do in the fairy tales…waiting, just waiting.

This is a predicament most women find themselves in. Unfortunately, vast majority of these girls cannot or simply won’t learn this valuable lesson the hard and respectable way. Be a respectable lady, respect yourself. Don’t give yourself away to every male caller just because you feel but mere moments of acceptance…to be wanted by someone. Ask yourself that very question. Do I live in the moment now because it feels so damn good to rebel? Or do I make myself proud, remain a mystery to those whom are worth courting?

This fair young women is still trying to find acceptance…but instead of from someone else, it is to accept herself. For you can not truly love someone…if you don’t love the person you stare at in the mirror. And let’s be honest…do you?

The Bed We Dread


Seems most mornings I wake up, feeling like I’ve been on a 24 hour binge of some sort. No matter how long I sleep, I am always still exhausted and deleterious. Recently it has been hard for me to decipher what is reality and what is just in the space that occupies my own head. Every morning i say, “It will get better, you will get better.” Only to find that that most days are considerably worse than the last. See I am a “people pleaser”. I do for others things and duties in which I cant even imagine doing for myself. If i stop and think about it, most things I do in day to day fashion is for or to please someone other than I. Its pathetic and I am considerably unfortunate to be writing this about myself. But this is the bed I’ve made and the one I’ll have to lay in until I decide to update to Egyptian cotton (ha ha).

If you knew me, you’d know that I use to be a strong, quick witted young lady whom spoke her mind (well in moderation of course). I had hobbies and talents in which i took much pride in. The world laid out in front of me with endless possibilities, or so I thought. But at this young age don’t we all assume these things? That we will grow up, be prom queens, be valedictorian, move away to college, meet our sweetheart and live happily ever after behind a white picket fence? C’mon I know it seems like afar stretch of the imagination NOW but then, why not? Then we hit puberty…tough things and changes occur that we haven’t necessarily been forewarned about and we improvise. Sometimes to our advantage…but most times not. We live, we learn, and we fall. Ive fallen and I cant get back up…I wish they had Life Alert for real life downfalls as well not just the helpless elderly. (No offense elderly)

December 19th 2011


It’s a chilly day the holiday season. I’m sitting at work sipping a hot chai tea, AKA “Christmas in a cup”. Which is ironic because I guess I’d call myself a “scrudge”. Not that I don’t like Christmas…I really do. It’s just that I feel people have forgotten what this holiday is all about. I don’t mean to get all Dr. Suese either. Hustling and bustling to get the latest Xbox or PS2. The new Ipad 3062xb5 super mega OSi…blah blah blah. Sorry but this is kind of ridiculous. Christmas isn’t bout “stuff” and giving “stuff”Christmas is about coming together for the holidays. Seeing family that has been afar and maybe even right down the road. Putting aside our differences and breaking bread together because family is family. If Christmas can’t do those things then, i’m afraid nothing could. So I find myself in a melancholy state, no boo-whoos for me but It’s hard to find the joy I once had as a child. But I’m sure that i am not the only one.