The 100% Brand Spanking New and Improved Khadija Jamila Brewington!

Dear Lorenzo,

2017 was supposed to be my comeback year.

Remember when Adrian Peterson got hurt during the 2011 season and we weren't even sure if he'd be able to play the following year? Remember how, despite all of the odds against him, he made his 2012 comeback, breaking all kinds of records and winning all different types of accolades? (NFL MVP of the year, NFL Offensive Player of the year, etc.)  He didn't just play the game, he played his heart out and had the comeback of a lifetime.

Well that was supposed to be me.  

I was supposed to be comeback player of the year, or at the very least, comeback mommy of the Peirce Playground.

I had a plan.

Every morning, I'd wake Amira up at 6:45 a.m. and she'd get herself dressed before joining me in the kitchen for breakfast.

Aferwards, she'd take her inhaler, brush her teeth and wash her face while I got her lunch together (homemade black bean stew, organic, sugar-free juice and a serving of fresh fruit all stored in her brand new, bpa-free lunch bag).

Next, I'd get myself dressed in a casual yet fashionable outfit, and we'd stroll to the busstop, hand in hand, and be off to school on time.

Afterwards, I'd walk the 30 minutes back home where I'd proceed to: clean up the kitchen, wash the breakfast dishes, do laundry, workout and then write. By the time I finished these tasks it'd be 2:30 p.m. and I'd walk the 30 minutes back to Peirce to pick up our daughter from school.

I'd give her an hour of playtime at the park before we'd head home to complete her homework, have dinner, play a boardgame, take showers, brush teeth and meditate our way into a peaceful slumber at last.

Today is the 3rd day of school and so far...

This is NOT shaping up to be my comeback year after all.

I woke up this morning with a start.  It was 6:45 a.m. and Amira lay snoring beside me.  I jumped out of bed, grabbed Amira's already-FILTHY-even-though-I-just-washed-it-two-days-ago pink jacket, and ran downstairs to put it in the laundry.  Next, I raced back up the stairs and attempted to wake our daughter. Epic fail. After a few minutes, I grabbed the clothes she'd picked out the night before, and dressed her myself while she continued to sleep.

Next I hurried into the kitchen, grabbed the leftover pasta from two days ago, threw it in a pan and began to heat it up for Amira's lunch. I microwaved two frozen pancakes, put syrup on them, and brought them into the dining room/Lorenzo's media room/the room Amira and I still sleep in. I put the breakfast on an end table in front of the futon, turned the TV from Mike and Mike to Liv and Maddie, and shook Amira awake so she could hurry up and eat her breakfast.

After packing her lunch (trader joe's pasta arrabiata, whatever juice box was in our fridge, and a snack sized bag of lays) I rushed into our bedroom and in lieu of the casual yet fashionable comeback outfit (that I know for a fact I don't even own) proceeded to dress myself in the following: the exact same jeans and long sleeved shirt I wore yesterday; a black knit cap to cover my uncombed, still gray-rooted hair; and one of your Chicage Fire jackets to cover up the entire ensemble.  Next, I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I put toothpaste on Amira's toothbrush, ran back into the dining room, gave Mira her inhaler, turned off the tv, handed her the toothbrush and told her to hurry up. I grabbed a facecloth and washed her face while she brushed, before we hauled ass into the living room, put on our sneakers, and made it to the busstop with exactly 2 minutes to spare.

I suppose today could have gone a little more smoothly had I gotten more done the day before. But I didn't. You see, yesterday wasn't a comeback day either. I was SUPPOSED to wash my hair yesterday. I was SUPPOSED to work out. I was SUPPOSED to crock beans for Amira's stew, finish up the laundry, and head to the hospital to visit your mom before picking Amira up from school. But I didn't do any of those things. I couldn't. Because yesterday was one of those days where I couldn't muster the energy to get off the couch. It still happens from time to time; turns out, I'm still human. So instead of crocking the beans for Amira's homemade stew, I sat on the couch and watched Will Kaine on Mike and Mike in the Morning. Instead of working out, I sat on the couch and watched Parks and Recreation on A&E. Instead of finishing the laundry I sat on the couch and watched repeats of Worst Cooks in America on Food Network.

Everyday isn't like the day I had yesterday. I truly am getting better, bit by bit, moment by moment but there are still days in which I can't get off the couch and that's okay too. There are still days in which I watch ESPN and text updates to your brother because I can't text you anymore.

I may not be comeback player of the year, I may not be comeback mommy of the Peirce Playground, and I may never, ever, EVER be the 100% brand spanking new and improved Khadija Jamila Brewington.

You used to tell me you'd love me no matter what. If I gained 100 pounds, if I got sick, if I had brown hair and gray roots, you'd love me regardless. Now that you're gone, I'll have to learn to love myself enough for the both of us.

Don't worry, babe, I'll get there.