Not sugar, but SPICE, makes everything nice!

Their very name, with its classy yet naughty ring, reeled me in and piqued my interest. A few blog reads and a good chat later, they still have my full attention. Spicy Wifey, LLC -- that's the name (and the point) of this interesting concept. The brainchild of happily married Natalie Britt and Quintessence "Quin" Patterson, and soon-to-be Wifey, and busy working PhD student, Tiffany McQueen, Spicey Wifey is a movement focused on the empowerment of wives and wives-to-be. I recently had the opportunity to get some juicy details from co-founder Quin, a Spicy Wifey ten years in the making, and working mother (a fabulous hair and make-up artist for CNN) of two girls, ages 6 and 3, and one son, age 19 months, and of course, I had to share my spicy findings with you! "It's about confidence," says Quin, "confidence in defining what being a wife means to you, and the confidence not to feel ashamed when you don't 'measure up' to what is viewed as standard for a wife."

Conceived from the evolution of a simple recipe blog, Spicy Wifey, a modern spin on the traditional "wife" role, was birthed after these girlfriends shared tips with others via their blog, and could no longer ignore the glaring message on the proverbial wall: Wives have specific and unique needs, and should have one place where they can tap into the resources and tools they need to address those needs. Co-founder Natalie, busy new mommy to a beautiful 6 month old daughter, thought about creating a sort of upscale boutique where wives can discreetly look for their tools of choice; be it lingerie, lap dance classes, or something that's just for them, like how to plan a party for only one special guest; herself! Yes, the undertones are sexual, but the message goes far beyond the physical. It's about a connection, a bond, with your partner and an adamance to remove the Frump Factor from Wifeyhood, and expose the glamour and excitement that a Spicy Wifey can bring. Quin and her partners set out to counter the current stigma of the ball-and-chain union, and notes, "Our men are very heavily influenced by the media, and in general, the images of marriage are not good ones. We want men and women not to be afraid of or turned off by marriage, but to know that they are getting the best of all worlds when they marry a Spicy Wifey. She may cook, clean, and have your babies; but she's also sexy and fly and confident, so there's no need for married men to envy their single male friends!"

According to a recent issue of the CDC's National Vital Statistics Reports, in 2008 there were approximately 135,000 new marriages in the U.S. alone. Sad to say, that my immediate thought was to wonder how many of them would last one full year. We all know that sometimes people get married for the wrong reasons, and the truth comes to light in the form of divorce. With that said, though I don't happen to believe that counseling and the like will help an apple and an orange make a strawberry, I do believe that if you took the time to get married, you ought to try different routes to staying married before throwing in the wine-drenched towel. This is why I'm game for a little spice in any healthy form, so let's get some more details, shall we?

What exactly is the elixir that creates a Spicy Wifey? That's what I set out to discover. My findings were simple in their brilliance, and I immediately connected with the concept because it falls right in line with my core Execumama mantra: Define, Design, and Live your fullest version of WOMAN! In fact, a Spicy Wifey exists within the realm of whatever YOU decide to create. She may be a non-cooking, maid service dialing, look you up and down when you mention housework straight Diva, but her man is cool with that, because she made no bones about not being cut from that (non-designer) cloth. Or she may be a recipe-wielding, coupon cutting, home made sauce that makes him wanna marry her all over again making, 2 sons and 2 daughters having hottie who can be found in the kitchen with stilettos and earrings that match her apron, and that too is a Spicy Wifey.


Bottom line is this: A Spicy Wifey isn't trying to fit into a defined role, she is creating it with her fabulously complexed self! And since our (yes, "our", because I am indeed, a Spicy Wifey) schedules are often crammed to capacity, the Spicy Wifey team is willing to provide us with the occasional nudge by way of their attention-grabbing Seasoning Sessions, which provide tips and training on all-important topics such as massage, lap dance, cooking, and even kama sutra! Workshops range from women only to couples, often include experts in various relationship fields, and are held in and around the city of Atlanta. Can you stand it?! Me neither!

So there you have it, ladies! With the discovery of this particular resource, you have no excuse not to up your Spicy Wifey factor in the near future, and keep hubby's boys wishing they too had a Spicy Wifeys! I'm truly excited to have shared this with you, and I'm looking forward to your perspectives. The best part of what Natalie, Quin and Tiffany have created is the fact that you actually don't even need them to embrace this idea. Quin was very deliberate to note, "it's a grassroots, girlfriends sort of movement in the sense that we don't seek to necessarily travel the country hosting Spicy Wifey parties or workshops. You can create your own Spicy Wifey experience with a group of girlfriends, or by yourself. We encourage women to eat on [fancy] plates and celebrate themselves as often as they want to. We learn new things through this venture too, and it's just as much for the women we reach as it is for us." You can also visit their site for tips on hosting your own party. But, in a pinch, it's good to know that we email them for the number to their lap dance instructor if need be!

Okay, now leave your comment and get on over to www.spicywifey.com for your tools of the trade! Don't forget to register on the site for updates on the opening of the Spicy Wifey online boutique! And don't worry, a little SPICE ain't neva hurt nobody...unless that's what you're into *wink*!

Isn't She Lo-o-ve-lyy!

I am beyond excited to be drafting this post, because it's an opportunity to do two wonderful things: be recognized and brag about others! Ms. Bar B was kind enough to send some Bloggy Love my way via my very first blog awards (sniffle, sniffle), and I'm elated to pay it forward!! It's always a belly-flippingly pleasant feeling when you do what you love (which in my case is to write), and someone appreciates it. Thank you, Barbara, witchya fabulous self! What a way to put a smile on my face!


Well, I'm passing that smile right along to these bloggers right now. It's tough to choose because so many of you rock my bloggy world with your words, but I'm choosing these ladies today, so without further delay...

CUTIE Booty Cakes. C'mon, she had me at the name! And when I started sinking in to Mekhi's mommy's posts, I truly felt energized by her efforts, and really inspired by her words. She's a real life mompreneur who offers her fellow bloggy buddies great resources all the time. Thank you, Renee!

A Woman's Worth. Uhm, if you're not up on Arlice Nichole, ya betta ask somebody! Her blog is the go-to spot for our all-important budgeting beeswax. Insightful and well thought out, her posts often teach me something new, which is much appreciated every time. You can find everything from reviews on the latest financial empowerment books/resources to the least expensive "hot mama" bag on the market--hellooo, need I say more? Thank you, Arlice!

My Brown Baby. Simply put, Denene is my version of Truly Amazing. Accomplished, down to earth, and ab-exercise type hilarious, she keeps her writer pals on their toes and reminds us just how much is doable when we settle in and focus on our craft. The best part is, she comes with a wonderful family and equally sweet friends, I know right; Jackpot! Thank you, Denene!

Not Perfect, But Worth It. No one can tell me that Island Girl isn't my homegirl from back in tha day! When I visit her blog, I feel like we're chit-chatting about our similar experiences and how not to go bonkers while figuring out what makes us tick. She is refreshingly candid and hella funny! I'm glad she doesn't wait too long in between posts, because I might have to call her like, "what's up, I'm waiting for my fix...LOL!". Thank you, Island Girl!

The Young Mommy Life. Tara in an inspiration, period! A twenty-something mommy taking life by the horns and swinging it whichever way she sees fit, Tara keeps us up on everything from house hunting to fabulous discounts, and never seems to lose sight of her role as mommy/writer/blogger/...basically she's a take-no-prisoners Execumama! I've been fortunate to speak with Tara, and she confirmed my suspicion...she ROCKS!

Since I've never been one to follow the rules much, I chose five blogs instead of the suggested ten; sue me! Anyhoo, the rules (in case you care) are simple: Post these on your blog, link back to me, & share them with the blogs you l.o.v.e.

Fight the Power, girl! Just not in this house!

Had she not been my child, I would've been pumping my fist and hollerin' in support of her decision to stand up for herself!! Unfortunately for her, the pride I felt will remain deep down inside (oh, and in this blog :), lest she "get it twisted". It was really difficult not to laugh out loud and hi-five her, but I held it together, because as far as she is concerned, her mother is kind of crazy, and um, that's completely intentional. From time to time, just in case they forget, I call on my inner Angela Bassett/Sanaa Lathan, and put on my best acting skills via a one-woman show; Why My Mama Crazy?!, starring Akilah S. Richards.

Usually, our 4-year-old, dubbed "The Negotiator" will analyze, strategize and talk her way around any given dilemma. She needs explanations, and she looks for weak spots in an argument and pounces on them like her Mama at a shoe sale. Seriously, those of you who know her can back me up on this. The girl is a force! When observing her in a public setting, or even when I have the presence of mind to take a mental step back and pay attention to the way she manages her environment at home, I am usually happy for her because God has definitely given her a unique gift; a way of recognizing her power of influence, clearly conveying her expectations in words, and using it to coax her way through her world. I know that as an adult, after all the inevitable bout of teenage puberty-induced stupor,and after getting close enough to God and herself to tweak her bossy/if-you-don't-agree-with-me-then-clearly-you're-confused tendencies, (can't imagine where she got that from??), she will be a woman of confidence, proud self-assertion...basically, that girl gon' be ayyiiighht!


HOWEVER, what I witnessed a few moments ago, was straight up, typical 4-year-old emotional panic mixed in with the rebellious souls of her ancestors. Apparently, Marley came over from her play date next door to alert us that her friend was being "unkind and inappropriate", so Kris told her that it was time for her and her sister to come inside. Apparently, Daddy's timing was off. Sage, her younger sister, (known 'roun these parts as Gangsta Boo) came inside after a brief pouting spell, but Marley couldn't handle the thought of stepping foot on the front stoop, much less coming all the way inside, so she simply said, "No."
Kris, visibly taking a deep breath, told her again:

Kris: Marley, come inside, remove your shoes, and wash your hands.
Marley: Daddy, no! I. don't. want. to.
Kris: Do you really think that's a good idea?
Marley: No, no, no, no, no!
Kris: Um, so you think that's an effective way to get what you want? Are you thinking I'm gonna say "oh, okay, since you put it that way!"?
Marley: I'm not trying to make anything work any way, I just don't waaaaant to come innnnn!
Kris: (Nodding his head, but remaining much calmer than I would've been) Marley, get in here
Marley: (jumping up and down with folded arms, crinkled brows, and a rather impressive mean mug)No! No! No! No! I said no, I said no, (deep breath) No! Nooooo!

At this point, snot and tears are raining down on our front stoop. I'm enjoying my perfect view from the couch, and I take a break from reviewing tax receipts, and seriously wishing I had popcorn--I wait to see how this intriguing story will unfold. Kris looks at her as if our child had morphed into something other than the sharp little firecracker he proudly calls his first born, and says in a calm but stern tone, "Marley, before you get yourself in trouble...", and his tone was enough for her. She makes that ill-fated step into the house, leaving her freedom behind, and stepping into the world of uncertainty, sound-proof walls, and Caribbean parents with a pinch of traditional still in their blood. I'd hate to be her at this point, and she's lucky my Grandmama isn't here, because boy, she woulda...wait...what the...? Kris gives her a hug?!

He held her to his chest and kept repeating one word; "breathe". What seemed to be an eternity later, she's stopped dry-heaving and snot-wielding long enough to ask for something to eat. Whew! Crisis averted...today, anyway.

Kris sees a lot of himself in Marley, and I'm the first to admit that he's usually better at dealing with her antics than I am. I tend to get very "oh she want it with 'Kilah" when Marley won't back down, which is most of the time. But (not so) secretly, I love that about her, and I hope she never changes. And if you ever tell her I said that, I'll channel my inner Gangsta Boo, and you and I can go a few rounds!

Yoga Giggles!!!

Had to do a quick post to invite you to read my article over at GreenDivaMom.com

It's an Execumama tidbit about a surprisingly effective method to bring your children down from their seemingly caffeine and sugar induced highs!!

Oh, and of course, I expect you to comment ;) Stop playin' you know I can't tell if you've read it when you only lurk! No lurking, just comments :)

Have a fab week!

Execumama

No-fuss thoughtfulness: it's all about the flowers!

It's a shortcut; so what?!
The hubs has many names for me, most of which ain't none a yo' beeswax :), but I will share one of my favorites, and that is "The Plant". You see, I am a sun-seeker; if there's one iota of sunshine peeking into our house, I find that spot, and promptly set up shop. I thrive in the sunlight, and so do the plants and flowers that help to beautify our home. I love plants, but problem is, my thumbs haven't a spot of green on 'em, so I can only befriend the no-fuss plants that need little more than a sunny spot and periodic watering to stay alive.

As an always-on-the-go Execumama, I'm all for using shortcuts, er, um...I mean methods of efficiency, wherever I can find them. That's why, for birthdays and other special occasions, I'm quick to skip the malls and other stores and opt to let the power of the Web offer me a quick solution courtesy of 1800flowers.com. Especially for my out of town family and friends; this site has saved my reputation and kept me basking in the glow of Amazingly Thoughtful friend/daughter/granddaughter/realtor. Hey, it takes time to look through all those pages and find the perfect arrangement to match my target's personality, so I do invest SOME time! Besides, you try gift shopping with an energizer bunny of a 4 year old, and a gangster 3 year old who pretends to be really sweet around others, but mean-mugs me if I don't smile at her incessantly!

Anyhoo, just thought I'd share one of my Execumama tips with my bloggy-homies! I love plants and flowers, so I share my love with those I love, and save my sanity (not to mention precious time) in the process!

Happy shopping!

Peeking...

I've always found that the best time to write is when I'm incredibly sad or unbelievably confused. About 15 years ago, I discovered that the best way to make sense of whatever was milling around in my head was to put it to paper. Consistently, I was surprised by what my pen would reveal. As I got older, I learned to use my pen, and nowadays my keypad, to get inside my head and glimpse whatever needed to be addressed. Writing is more than a hobby, escape route, or random career shot for me. It's my MO; it's the way I think out loud; it's my confidant. Simply put, I NEED TO WRITE.

Tonight, I needed to write because it's one of those incredibly sad times in my head. One of the most validating and surreally beautiful days of my life was followed by one of the most disappointing and frustrating. This past Thursday was the former, and Friday, the latter. Not quite recovered from Thursday's high, I (along with three of my closest friends) received word that we had not placed as finalists in a competition that we worked our collective asses off to win. The generic letter, with its cold better-luck-next-time tone, did a serious number on my mind and my belly. I felt betrayed. What was the point of all the hard work and focused effort if we didn't even get the chance to defend our work as finalists?! Our team had sacrificed so very much for this competition, and we were positive that the Universe would be just, and that the opportunity would yield the reward we toiled so long and hard to earn. We had buckled down, done our work, and just when we were ready to soar...


It was a heavy blow, and my confidence was definitely the casualty. What now?

As I continue to give sadness and defeat the serious stare down, I'll breathe deep and wait for the lessons to reveal themselves. They always do, and I always recover; not unscathed, but certainly wiser.

Having had a bit of time to soak it all in, life experience is slowly seeping in, like a much-needed salve into an ugly wound, and I am glimpsing the entrance point of The Lesson. I had a similarly intensely painful experience roughly four years ago when I had the opportunity to serve as editor-in-chief of a start up magazine. The publishers came to us (the hubs and me) with little more than a brilliant idea and a few key contacts, and we turned it into a good mock-up, and then a promising first issue. It was a whirlwind experience. It was as if every necessary element aligned itself in perfect harmony to lift us from promising publication to near certain success. I wrote like mad, we secured ads and freelance writers, were granted ridiculously impossible interviews, made contacts with artists who knew other artists and happened to love the concept of our magazine; potassium overload like a mug...it was BANANAS! Our launch party was well-attended, and we got all kind of whine-and-dine offers. Issue two was even better. We were tunnel-visioned and working on the next two issues and had sold much of our ad space, and just when it seemed as though we were collectively embracing the chaos of publishing, the fit hit the shan, shady dealings were revealed, and BLOOOOOOM, it was over! No details here, because I don't want folks writing to me telling me they know my ex-publishers, and that they can't believe how that went down, and blah, blah, but suffice it to say, the break up was far from amicable, and our baby, the magazine, was orphaned. My confidence, much like during this past week, was the casualty; specifically, my confidence in my ability to trust my talents and myself. I wondered if I was kidding myself and if my wannabe writer ass needed to get real and take that damn good job offer supporting the boring Exec who was out of the office 3 out of 5 days of the week. Was my gut-feeling a pot of crock? Was I trying to create something that didn't exist? Was the idea of doing what you love for a living just something that people with trust funds made up? Was I just a dreamer with a pen and big mouth? I wasn't prepared for that blow, much like this past week, and damned if it didn't knock me on my behind and shove me (pen in hand) about 10 paces back. Must. Find. Lesson.

I wish this final paragraph was the part where I write about how much of a better person/stronger writer/more fervent warrior writer woman I've become as a result of these experiences. I wish this final paragraph was my opening for my 5 Tips to Surviving Painful Blows or some other super-helpful, kumbaya inciting moments, but it isn't. Not yet anyway. I saw an opportunity to get into my head, and I took it. And now, so did you. Thank you for that.