It’s a Celebration!

I hope you read that title in Rick James’ voice. Dave Chappelle’s would also be acceptable.


I remember there was a time when I thought 36 was old. Clearly, I was a stupid teenager. I’m closer to 40 than I am 30, but fear not, I’m not freaking out. As I turn 36, I embrace my age. I love my birthday and I always celebrate it because getting older is a privilege not awarded to many.

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Here’s what I know for sure:

  1. I have a profound sense of who I am, although I am ever evolving.
    A close older friend, always told me that when she turned 30, she stopped caring about what other people thought and just did what she wanted. I am forever striving to be positive even when it’s difficult.
  2. I love sleep.
    I have always loved sleep, but in my formative years, I used to love sleeping in. Now I even love getting into bed early 🙂
  3. I love food: Good Food.
    Nuff said!
  4. I have some really good friends.
    My tribe is strong, supportive and always there.
  5. Family is everything.
    My father always used to stress the importance of family and Sean and I always disregarded him. My family is like fudge: “Mostly sweet, with a few nuts” 🙂
  6. I am content with less.
    Maybe this one has more to do with Hurricane Irma. There’s nothing like having a 185 mph hurricane beat down on your home to make you let go of the trivial things that you thought were important.
  7. We need to use our privilege for good.
    Male privilege, white privilege, straight privilege, even local privilege (sxmers understand that one): whatever your privilege is, use those good powers to fight evil. There are many atrocities that occur throughout the world to people who lack these privileges that you hold. Use yours to advocate for those who are without.
  8. My body doesn’t recover like before.
    I have aches and pains like nobody’s business – well it’s MY body’s business. I can’t imagine what 40 will feel like.
  9. Laugh lines are a good thing.
    It means that I laugh a lot…or smirkSmirk_Face_Emoji


Here’s to another 36 years…at least 🙂



Irma, Island Life, St. Maarten

Confessions of an Anxious Irma Survivor

You must have heard of Hurricane Irma. What a b*tch! She damaged us. She made us weary. She took away our conveniences. At 185 mph, she left us broken, but she did give us a few good things:

  • Togetherness – sitting on my porch with neighbours eating, drinking and chatting
  • Gratitude – appreciating the fact that I still had life, a roof, friends and family
  • Perspective – understanding what matters, and seeing that we take so much for granted

Besides these positives, she left me in another way.


I have woken up in a panic. Worrying about what’s coming next. You can tell me that I shouldn’t live my life waiting for something bad to happen, but I’m scarred. Whenever a news article enters my newsfeed with the words tropical, cyclone, outlook, prediction, active…(enter National Hurricane Center buzzword here) my heart skips a beat.

The Type-A Personality has taken over and I wonder:

What can we do better?
How can we be more prepared?
Can we crawl under a rock?
Can we build a safe room?
Can we jump on a plane and flee?
Can we relocate?

I say some of these in jest, but I can’t say that they didn’t all cross my mind.

Naturally, I already have a list of things to start buying, in order to beat the rush. Anyone else would read that and think, but it’s EARLY…Well, so what if the hurricane season doesn’t start until June?! A girl’s gotta be prepared!

I have a Plan A, B, C & D and I will probably obsess over it until November 30th.

Anyone want to join my support group?




Not Gon’ Cry

Here I am standing in the airport. I’m having a Mary J. Blige (circa 1995) moment telling myself that I’m ‘Not Gon’ Cry’. Clearly, I must be delusional with the tears running down my face. Aysa is leaving. Off to go conquer the world. 

13 years is a long time: to watch someone grow up; To see them fall and get back up again; to have them annoy the hell out of you. Lol!

Here’s to 13 years of licking my face (ew!), letting each other hear our favourite new songs, dancing together, wet fetes, laughing together, crying together, lying on top of me, complaining because you have to do the dishes, snapping me when I’m dancing in the kitchen (is that how you say it?), tripping on me for saying I’m getting old, baking brownies, hosting sleepovers, holding my hand (even when I try to pull away lol) and being real.

I know you aren’t gone forever, but it’ll be weird that you’ll be so far away. 

I love you and I will miss you like crazy but go kick Holland’s butt! 

Mama Cherise 


I Don’t Know.

In hospitality, it was one of the first things I learned… Ok, maybe the second. The first was that if I wanted to have every weekend and holiday off, I needed a new career. The second thing was, ‘I don’t know.’ Verbatim. Often times, it’s followed with a “…, but let me check.”

As a new employee, you come in as the green and malleable rookie. You go through your training and then you are left to fend for yourself. Sink or swim. Thankfully, most times you are given floaties (a.k.a. your trainer). You start to gain your confidence, and then a guest asks you a question that leaves you dumbfounded and you have to utter those three words. Of course, you don’t know! You just got there.

Continue reading “I Don’t Know.”


Gender Roles

I recently started a new job. I work for a food sales & distribution company. Given that it is a relatively small company with a tight-knit staff, no one has just one function. I am no exception. Within the first month, I had to make some deliveries in the delivery van. I don’t think I have ever seen that many heads turn because people realize that I’m female. The most notable encounters were with women. One female Security Guard said, “oh they have woman drivers?” Then she proceeded to question my ability to drive. In jest, I mentioned that I didn’t buy my license. After watching me maneuver the van, upon exit of the property, she concurred.

Continue reading “Gender Roles”


I. Am. Woman.

I know you read the title and you added “hear me roar”. There isn’t going to be any roaring here. Well maybe a little bit 🙂

Given that tomorrow is International Women’s Day (March 8), I wanted to talk about women. In the past few months, I have met some phenomenal women. I already knew a lot of phenomenal women, but I’m happy that I have been fortunate enough to encounter some more.

I’m writing this blog to encourage us to spread more love, especially between us women. I hear women talk from time to time and it seems as though it is easy to highlight the negative. We speak hate. We need to stop this haterism. I try to keep a positive outlook and push my optimist agenda at any chance I get. In today’s world, where hate comes so easily, let’s all show some love.


Continue reading “I. Am. Woman.”

Love Yourself, Uncategorized

The Pursuit of Skinny-ness

I have never been slim. Genetics have a lot to do with it. My mum was slim for a large part of her life and never gained weight no matter what she ate. I feel like I fashioned my eating habits from her example, but I wasn’t blessed with a high metabolism. In turn, I have forever been in the pursuit of skinny-ness. My dad on the other hand tells me that even when he was a young man and he used to run all the time, he ‘always had a belly’. Thanks, Dad!

I am,  by no means,  a health freak. I’m lazy at times and I eat and drink too much. My diet is a pendulum swing of extremes. Complete over indulgence and complete avoidance. A binge and then a purge. I know it’s not a healthy lifestyle but at least it’s not all over indulgence.

I do have a back-up plan. Her name is Dayana. She’s my trainer. We have a tumultuous love-hate relationship. Okay, maybe that’s just a bit dramatic. I love her but I hate when I can’t bend down to pick up stuff. Thank goodness I have a toddler. I convince him to pick up stuff for me all the time.

Continue reading “The Pursuit of Skinny-ness”

Kai, Uncategorized

Bedtime Musings

My son Kai goes to daycare. I try my best everyday to make sure that he isn’t the last child at school. I, myself, have been the last child at school and it was never great. It wasn’t because my parents were neglectful but because they were working. Doing the right thing. Providing. Being productive. Making a difference.

Somehow, when I am late, or it is close to closing time, I feel as though I’m not doing a good enough job as a parent. So, I rush from work and pick up the little boy.

Today, I was stuck in traffic, which is not uncommon on St. Maarten. Thinking of my boy, sitting on the steps of the school feeling as though, I didn’t care. But as I drove up, I encountered something totally different than my imagined scenario. The teacher with Kai and 5 other children running around outside. He was having a blast yet happy to see me nonetheless.

I know some of you might be control-freak-over-thinkers, like me, but I am starting to believe that ultimately, as long as you love your children, keep it positive and do your best, everything is gonna be alright. 🙂



As kids we all have gripes with regard to how our parents raised us. I’m not an exception. I have looked at my friends’ parents and thought,  I wish my parents were like that. At the same time, I can tell you that I have also seen other parents and I thanked my lucky stars. In any case, it could be better, but it could always be worse. Maybe your mom never came to any of your games, or recitals, or plays (or insert extra curricular activity display here). It could very well be that maybe she was providing for your little ungrateful butt. 🙂 It’s important to see things from different perspectives. I feel that perspective contributes a great deal to growth.

Continue reading “Perspective”


Not Good Enough…Pff

Print perfection has been a hot topic for a major part of my life. We see it everywhere. Photos are retouched: double chins erased, cellulite smoothed, dark circles lightened, waists trimmed and thigh gaps increased. Consider it like digital spa treatments and imagined circuit training. These are unrealistic ideals that we cannot attain. How am I supposed to measure up to that? I’m a 34 year old with the metabolism of a hibernating bear. In addition, I have a three year old who is looking for the party at 1 am. I’m practically made up of cellulite and dark circles.


Continue reading “Not Good Enough…Pff”