Screw You Jason Mraz

*As promised below is my first post about my journey with fertility and endometriosis. These blog posts will be very different than my previous pieces as you will soon realize. Please feel free to share these with women, men, couples that are trying to navigate the process of becoming parents. If you all would like to correspond privately please feel free to contact me directly at*

A woman walked by with Coco Chanel booties on her toy Maltese. White people! However it wasn’t just the footwear given to pups by their kardashian-ish owners that forewarned me I wasn’t in my neck of the woods anymore; it was the four dollars demanded from me by the parking attendant for a thirty minute fertility appointment. FOUR DOLLARS! Who the hell did La Jolla think it was? Nevertheless I paid the parking attendant as a direct order from Jason Mraz.

As I made the 45 minute trek from Oceanside to La Jolla for what some considered the best baby mama maker to the stars Jason serenaded me with his lyrics.

“When I look into your eyes
It’s like watching the night sky
Or a beautiful sunrise
There’s so much they hold
And just like them old stars
I see that you’ve come so far
To be right where you are
How old is your soul?”

Listen I am black. I like Beyonce and on a rough day a little Kanye, so clearly I had no idea how old a damn sunrise’s soul was. But by time he finished the chorus I was sobbing.

“I won’t give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I’m giving you all my love
I’m still looking up”

And by the second chorus I was belting out the newly learned song lyrics. I was singing to my unconceived child! I knew it and I didn’t particularly care that the passengers at the light knew either. No traffic, no four dollar parking, no endometriosis was going to stop me from giving up on my dream of being a mother. I hopped out the car, rang for the elevator and checked into my appointment. I was on a high and the entire room knew it. They called for me and I nearly skipped into the exam room to await the doctor’s orders for my fertility plan.

The initial portion of the appointment went just like any first date. Awkward exchanges of identifying information, forced giggles, and brief convo about the person who hooked us up. But just 10 minutes into the date we went from PG13 to XXX. I was half naked, laid out on a table, while an apparatus was being sanitized in the back. And just like a lot of blind dates gone bad, after he was done we both looked disgusted. “You have a fibroid in your uterus.”

Look, I’ve been on a bad date, but never had I been dumped like this!

“I am not sure if it is causing blockage to your fallopian tubes or not but we need to order some test”. And just like that everything faded to grey. The nurse handed me a laundry list of detailed directions on numbers to call, antibiotics to take, explained what a needle in my cervix would feel like, and told me to go see a doctor about my blood pressure. Her words were like background noise at a concert and I was center stage screaming “SCREW YOU JASON MRAZ” in the microphone.

I felt violated by his promise. I didn’t have to give up when my uterus was. After all the months of dieting, resisting gluten, taking vitamins the size of my thumbs I was told my uterus was betraying me. I didn’t shed one tear. I was too angry to cry. I drove nearly 90mph all the way home, turned the key, and ate ice cream. I refused to talk about the appointment for days. After days of watching me become numb my husband enticed me out the house with promises of gluten filled pastries. As I completed my order the clerk looked at me and asked “anything else”?

“Yes! A baby bitch!”

The words never left my thoughts, but my heart wasn’t given the memo because before I knew it I was running out the store in tears. It was the first time I had mourned my fertility appointment; mourned the possibility of never becoming a mother; mourned that life just wasn’t fair. We sat in front of the doughnut shop for what seemed like hours and just held hands. There were no words to exchange. He let me sob through dinner, through our favorite show, and even through sleep. I would suddenly awake and he would be there waiting for me to move closer.

Sometimes God takes us through journey’s to teach us lessons. Some about faith, some about passion, and even some about patience; I was learning all these, but the lesson that rang the loudest was the lesson of committment. When I refused to speak, bathe, and even smile my husband never strayed. That day I realized Jason Mraz had nothing on Byron Dozier.

Always with love,


These are the shorts….

These are the Shorts are a series of interactive short stories written by the one and only Modo. At the end of every piece I will give the readers an opportunity to choose the first line of the next part of the story, thus making it an interactive piece. I hope that you all enjoy this new portion of Singing With the Volume Up.

The Secret of the Lavender Rose Part 1

I learned at an early age that hoping got people killed, or worse, jailed. I had never left the borders of Essex; in fact, I barely left the street I grew up on. There was no point really; my destiny was already arranged. I would turn out just like all the other women of the city; first be married off to a man twice my age, bear hoards of children, and then live out my remaining years just as the rest of the widows: in dreadful solitude. I gave up on dreaming years ago and today only pushed hope further away.

Jail, or Darkness as it was called in Essex, was just what nightmares were made of. No one ever saw someone again after they were confined to Darkness; there were only letters sent every seven years to inform their families that they were still alive. The letters were always short, written in cursive, and smelled of lavender. No one ever talked of why visitors were not allowed, or why only women were jailed, or even why one must be bathed before entering. Actually no one ever talked about Darkness because it was forbidden by law. Cynthia Shard’s eldest sister, Emily, was jailed on my fourth birthday after being sealed to a man 46 years her senior. First the medics were sent in to stop the bleeding from her wrist, there are rumors that she had to be revived three times before her heart would beat on its own. Her mother was ordered in to dress her in her finest wardrobe and lastly in went the guards.

The patrons of Essex mourned the confinement of another young girl to Darkness, but sorrow never stopped anyone from watching the scene play out in the streets. I always remember Emily’s peaceful demeanor that day; she went without a fight. She had an aura of peace around her and some say she wore a hint of a grin when she looked out the windows of the transport for the last time.

This was far different than Frankel Dug’s sister who was covered in mud by time she reached the transport after being chased through the hog’s quarters. I searched for Frankel amongst the tragedy unveiling; with my eyes of course, as any movement during a jailing was forbidden. Finally I found him standing near an apple tree. He never looked up during a jailing. Something about Frankel was absent; like his soul had been drug away by a pack of wild dogs the day of his sister’s confinement. He was empty, but his hollowness never out shadowed the twinkle of his emerald colored eyes.

When I turned eleven I remember guards driving to Cynthia’s home and delivering the first letter from Emily. Families were not allowed to keep letters, only read them and then return them back to the intimidating guards. At my birthday party that night I asked Cynthia about the letter. Almost rehearsed Cynthia murmured ” I am sorry for all my mistakes. Tell Cynthia do not make the same. Your loving daughter Emily.” When Cynthia spoke Emily’s name she fell to the ground in an uncontrolled weeping. I rushed her to the washroom as such a public display of sorrow would breed talk in the town and lower Cynthia’s chances of securing a wealthy husband.

In an angry whisper I demanded Cynthia to freshen up and continue her flirting with Alex Burtman, an eligible bachelor who expressed great interest and wasn’t older than her father.

Cynthia sloppily attempted to convince me otherwise. “Samantha, but I know that was not my sister who wrote that letter. She has never called me Cynthia. When I was born she couldn’t pronounce my name so my parents taught her to call me kitty. Never a day went by that Emily didn’t call me Kitty. She is dead Samantha I know it!”

Lost for words I did something I had never done before. I hugged Cynthia. I hugged her until her breathing returned to normal. I still ponder my intentions of that moment, but Cynthia read me loud and clear. She saw it as a way to be silenced, muted about Darkness. Shortly after I helped her wash her face and we left the washroom. We never spoke of that time again. I actually never saw Cynthia in public after that day until this very moment, as she was being carried out of her house by guards, lifeless. Unlike her sister she had succeeded in ending her life after being promised to Rupert Cummings just the night before her 15th birthday; a man 40 years her senior and had a reputation of having a heavy hand. As they loaded her body into the transport the whole town stood still once more. I hung my head; not in despair but in a ploy to not have my words heard. I whispered “goodbye Kitty” as the sirens rang out in the streets.

As my head rose I locked eyes with Gertrude Homes, a widow that lived directly across the street from me. There were rumors Gertrude was a witch, but if you looked an ounce suspect in Essex there were rumors about you, so I never paid any attention to the gossip. Gertrude had stringy white hair, walked with a cane, and was only ever sighted at funerals and jailings. Our eyes met and then she did something rarely seen in Essex. She smiled at me. It was like I was frozen in her gaze and before I knew it everything faded to black.

Choose the first line of part 2 of The Secret of the Lavender Rose

  1. I woke up to water being splashed on my face and immediately looked for signs of Gertrude, but she was nowhere to be found.
  2. Frankel’s eyes were even more breathtaking up close.
  3. My mother only cooked soup when she thought someone was near their death bed; so when I awoke to the smell of herbs I kept my eyes closed just a little longer to avoid the scene that she would cause upon my awakening.

Always with love,


The Language of Aliens

I opened my eyes to devastation.  I felt helpless, hopeless, and bound.  I could not speak, move, nor cry out of fear that my weakness would be interpreted as a desire to dialogue.  The room was white; not only in color but in emotion.  I closed my eyes in hope that darkness would somehow be better than apathy.  It was!  Plus tears were invisible behind closed lids.   But soon my solace was interrupted by a language I still have yet to master.

There were three of them, all identical in wardrobe.  One held a long needle that appeared to be double the length of a newborn child.  She spoke this strange tongue to the other too and reached for additional sharp objects over me as if my body wasn’t even there.  She touched my neck and I jumped in fear which startled her.  Her fear angered me!  What was she afraid of?  She had a needle, two sidekicks, and me strapped to a table.  What the hell was I going to do.  She briefly looked at me and attempted to communicate, however I only was able to interrupt about every fourth word.  “…..biopsy….needle….be still…..nodule….don’t move…..don’t move.”.

I assume there was no need for my consent because before I knew it a needle rammed in my throat and all I could remember was…DONT MOVE!  I clutched every finger into the tightest fist in attempts to expel the pain.  She attempted to communicate again…..nodule….samples….3 more…..don’t move.  This time I went back to black, closing my eyes, and hiding in the darkness.  About every ten seconds my fist clenched, tears welled, and a piece of my being left the table.    But what I remembered was though my body was broken my spirit was not; and while my words were ceased my prayers could go on.

 Fist clench…..”God honors faithfulness”.  Fist clench…”God’s love is unwavering”.  Fist clench….”I can do all things in Christ whom strengthens me”. Before I knew it the clenches had stopped and the room was quiet.

I kept my eyes closed out of fear that I would be met with the same sterile emotions I was so trying to escape.  But a hand, a familiar hand interlocked in mine.  I knew each hair in those knuckles, each callous on the hand, and he sure smelled good!  I had been returned from this abduction and was home.  The familiarity warmed my body, allowing the stored tears to come rushing down.  He couldn’t catch them all and I loved him because he didn’t pretend he could.

For the next few weeks I attempted to learn more of this alien language.  I learned “benign”, “future removal”, “possible infertility”, and became quite familiar with “Ct scan”.  But the language I became the most fluent in wasn’t the alien dialect, but the language of love.  I began to really understand what the words “marriage”, “friendship”, “family”, and “kindness” truly meant.

To my close friends and family that have been holding my hand throughout this process I dedicate this post to you.  It is in no way enough to show you the gratitude I have for each of you, but know that I value you immensely.  If you helped to distract me with baby updates, sent me a meaningful message, said a prayer, allowed me to sob in your arms, listened to my breakdowns on the phone, or just hugged me; know that you made a difference.  I can ask for no such better support system than you all.

Always with love,


Humpday Hero Feature: Mattie

There are times when God sends us whispers to forgo a mission that will later be explained by the results of that journey.  Interviewing Mrs. Mattie (as I call her) was God ordained.  As she was in the midst of caring for her cancer stricken husband, I thought my interview may be intrusive, insensitive, or even terrible timing.  However, after leaving her home I knew her love for life/family/husband had to be shared with others.  Approximately 24 hours after conducting the interview Mrs. Mattie’s husband lost his battle with lung cancer.  I felt that it was God’s plan for me to capture her thoughts, feelings, and even hopes for her life/husband/family before her family would face one of the hardest losses.  I hope these words/thoughts/emotions shared during this interview serves as a reminder for her and her family that though times are difficult at the moment to not lose sight of the beauty that they still possess (as captured by Mrs. Mattie).

Quote from the nominator: “My grandmother is the most giving and forgiving person that I know.  She has always and continues to take care of others and never complains.  Her strength and heart continue to amaze me and I strive to have a heart as big as hers.  The relationship that I have with my grandmother is difficult to put in words, but she truly inspires me and is one of my biggest heroes.  I am truly bless to have Mattie Smith as my grandmother” – Ebony Mitchell

Nominee: Mrs. Mattie Smith

(also pictured Mattie’s husband James Smith)

1.      You are stranded on a deserted island, a genie appears and can grant you three wishes (can not wish to leave island), what are your wishes?

Girl you know money would be number one!  (We both laugh uncontrollably).  Seriously my wish would be to peace on earth and to find a cure for my husband.  We have been married for 38 years (June 14, 1973).  People always ask me how we do it and I always say “one day at a time”.

2.      Describe the first time you fell in love with someone or something?

Girl you getting noisy!  (Again we laugh uncontrollably).  I fell in love with bowling.  Smitty (Mattie’s husband) bought me my first ball and bag.  I was terrible when I first started.  But, he taught me and now I love it.  It’s a lot of fun and I just get so much joy out of playing.  It allows me to travel and meet new people.

3.      If money were no factor, what would you do choose to do for the rest of your life?

I would travel!  I would love to go to Jerusalem.  I also would love to visit Hawaii and Africa.  I got the travel bug when I went to Florida for the first time.  I just loved it!  I love to shop and girl they shop out there!  They have the biggest mall.  I seriously should consider becoming a professional shopper; I think I would be good at it.

4.      If your life could be described by a song, which would it be?

Yolanda Adams “It’s not your battle, it’s the Lords”.  It’s a very personal song to me.

5.      What are three things you cannot live without?

My family!  They are my absolute joy.  Of course money and love.  I think love is how God wants us to be at a core.  I love and enjoy giving to others and that’s why I do it.  Without love there is nothing.  When you do something out of love it makes a huge difference.

6.      Who is your hero?

President Barack Obama.  I didn’t think I would live to see a black president elected.  He is such a family guy.  He is indeed on the top of my list, even above Kobe Bryant (uncontrollable laughter).  Kobe is on his game!  Another hero of mine is my mother.  She made a great accomplishment of raising 5 children.

7.      If you could choose any actress to play the lead in your life story who would it be?

That woman from Lackawanna Blues (S. Epatha Merkerson).  Her character was so similar to my own life.  She took people in and they were like her family.  I really related to that character.

8.      If you could have lunch with anyone alive or dead, who would it be?

My husband.  Now that he is really sick, I just wish that we could sit and have a meal together.  Time is so precious.

9.      What is something you have always wanted to do that you haven’t had the chance too?

Travel.  I would love to go to Africa, Hawaii, and Jerusalem.  But, Africa is on the top of my list.  I feel like it would be so amazing to be in a place where everyone looks similar to you.

10.      Tell me about one of the most life changing moments you have had.

How my mother raised me.  She raised us by the phrase “do unto others as you would have others do unto you”.  She even had the phrase posted in our house.  Believe me I am not perfect, and sometimes I fall short of that phrase, but that really taught me how to treat people in general.  This phrase is the key to how I lead my life.

Final Words to the Readers:

            Appreciate every minute of your life.  Don’t take time for granted because it is precious.  Sometimes people stress about who they want to be or what they want to get done, but just take things one day at a time.  It’s okay to change your mind about the direction that you want your life to go.  When I was young I wanted to be a mom, then a nurse, then a police officer, even a dancer.  Now I think about becoming a professional bowler.  The important thing is just don’t stop living.  Up until my husband was unable, he woke up and was busy every day; he was always in his yard.  Even when he couldn’t walk anymore he would be out there telling somebody else what he wanted done in the yard (laughs).  Just please value your life and time, it’s so precious.

Always with love,


Full Plate

One more minute and then I could pull out my TV tray, pour a nice glass of wine, and click on some form of reality nonsense that made me feel like my day wasn’t all that bad.  But I wasn’t sure if even  Nene could convince me I was rich today.  Ding!  Dinner was ready.  I pulled the pipping hot tray out the oven, ripped back that sticky plastic film, and put my feet up.  Due to our complete opposite work schedules my husband wouldn’t be home for hours.  This was indeed the most relaxing part of my day; my phone got silenced, the pants were unbuttoned, and the fork that I had turned into a shoveling mechanism was unleashed.

I had accepted that plate given to me in Life was beyond my control, but when I was home I ran my destiny…or so I thought.  I always started with a gulp of “day eraser”, or sometimes two.  After having the work day from hell, I decided that the “screw my job” TV dinner was the best choice for the evening and boy did it smell good.  Before I could even finish flipping through the channels half the plate was gone.  I plowed through the rest with no regret and moved on to dessert: a nice heaping of “built up anger” with ice cream on top.  But I didn’t stop there.  Throughout the night I snacked on a box of “take home work”, pieces of “resentment”, and even popped a bottle of “shame”.  You could stick a fork in me and I would have popped, but that didn’t  stop me from having the last bite of “who gives a …”.

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks: the stomach ache of “guilt”.  I went to reach for a “pity party” phone call with a loved one, but for some reason just couldn’t dial the numbers.  I took a deep breath and attempted to fix this like I do all my other problems: with logic.  The amount of degrees I earned was valued at nearly half a million dollars, I clearly could solve a  problem.  I would just not eat all day tomorrow…clearly that wasn’t going to work.  Ok, maybe I would work out in the morning, but that would only leave me with about three hours of sleep after completing work at home.  I know, I would just take a pill, that always worked.  What pill do you take for overeating?…even google didn’t have a suggestion.

Then finally logic kicked in: there was no pill, no quick fix…only admittance.  I wasn’t one that was good at admitting flaws.  I was a doer, a fixer, a by any means “necessary-er”.  But humility, unfortunately, wasn’t a discriminator.   So I stood in front of the mirror, looked myself in the eyes, and confessed “I am an emotional eater”.  And then I laughed.  This was absured!  I had a Masters degree from USC there was no way food controlled me.  I walked out the bathroom, brushed my shoulders off, and tripped over a box of empty “embarrassment”.

Always with love,


Order Up!

2 love handles, 1 over opinionated personality, and a side of entitlement!  Order Up!  I watched the waitress pick up the ridiculous slab of mess that someone had the nerve of actually requesting.  I watched with hawk-like  eyes to see who she sat the order in front of!  I wondered who could consume all that; it had to be for at least a family of four!  She left the counter and headed down the aisle, trying to balance the other over indulgent orders, a pound of high school insecurities and a heaping of wild and crazy hair.  At least someone ordered something appetizing and healthy as well; a side of confidence.  She rounded the corner and headed my way.  I looked around to see which of my restaurant cohorts had daringly took on this challenge.  She started to slow as she got closer to my table so I became more intrigued!  Was it the rich couple in front of me? They could afford such a feast. Or maybe it was the overly successful business man to my right who seemed like he could take on the world.  I second guessed the dumpy straight edge teenager behind me because clearly he couldn’t afford the order.  She came to a halt, turned left, and said “this is all yours”!

What!?  Clearly she was mistaken!  I spoke loudly so the other diners would know that I was attesting such an insult.  “Excuse me Miss, but you have been mistaken.  This is NOT my order.  I clearly ordered 1 slim figure, a perfect family, a side of accolades and success, and a cup of ease”.  She looked puzzle, apologized, and vowed to get it right the next time.  The businessman to my right smirked and said “I thought that was a little much for you to handle on your own”.  I watched the waitress argue with the chef about my order, she walked back to the order screen glanced down in confusion, and then went back to collect what she thought to be acceptable.

I sat calmly and went back to people watching.  I couldn’t believe I got reservations at the hottest restaurant in town: Life!  People tried for ages to get a seat, but it was really only offered to a chosen few.  Another order was called out: A slab of unsuccessful relationships, a few lost friendships, a trickle of embarrassing moments, and a cup of grace.  Wow, this order was worse than before!  I mean the grace clearly was the best thing on the plate, but that slab of relationships smelled horrible!  She rounded that same corner, stood right in front of me and plopped the tray down on my table.  She didn’t even ask this time if it was mine!  Before I could oppose she was off delivering an order that sounded more appetizing than my trough.

I was outraged!  I didn’t wait this long to get into Life to get the scraps no one wanted.  I stood up in the middle of the aisle and shouted “THIS IS NOT MY ORDER”!  The music stopped, the room got quiet, and all eyes were on me.  The straight edge kid behind me started a slow hand clap, but was embarrassingly not joined by the rest of the crowd.  The manager scampered over and asked me to please express my dissatisfaction with my plate.  I let Him know that this was nothing like the reviews in the magazine.  I heard Life was all about having fun, enjoying your time, and relaxing.

I pointed to my neighbor’s meal of wealth, the couple’s cups of fame, and even the teenager behind me had a large helping of time. The manager asked me to look closer at my plate and agreed it may not have been his cooks most aesthetically pleasing platter, but asked me to consider the cup of grace, the topping of love, and the overwhelming sprinkles of life changing moments.  He reminded me that the couple in front of me had a dessert of infidelity, the businessman had a cocktail of lonely nights, and the teenager didn’t need anything extra; he had it bad enough being a teenager.  He advised me to take a bite before complaining and see if it tasted better than it looked.

To my surprise the slab of bad relationships left a “finding my husband” after taste, the lost friendships were hard to swallow at times, but the cup of grace surely helped.  The embarrassing moments actually made me smile a bit and wasn’t as bad as I thought.  I motioned for the waitress and asked her to return the first order sent to me.  Though the love handles, opinionated personality, and entitlement seemed a tad scary, I clearly wouldn’t be able to leave without trying the confidence.  Before leaving Life I vowed to return with my son or daughter and help them navigate the large menu placed before them.

Always with love,

Boxing Match

10…9…8…7…I prayed he wouldn’t get up, but I knew him for quite a while now and knew he wasn’t quite out for the count. As projected he bounced back and tried to hit me with a one-two, but I dipped and dodged the swings of the tongue. My component was my husband and boy he must have worked out since our last go round because it was much easier to win our new car fight than this one. For a moment I tried to remember how this warm-up spar turned into a full fledged boxing match.

It was a normal Saturday morning, which meant I was griping about how we once again let the chaos of the week take control of our small abode. It also meant my husband was pretending to be asleep. Before I knew it, a quick jab of “say something else” started the battle. The lights dimmed, the mic dropped from the ceiling, and that famous guy with the good hair was in our living room. In this corner wearing mix matched church socks, a dingy white T-shirt, and black framed glasses….The Doz. And in this corner wearing the same shirt she had on from last night, morning hair that would scare a ghost, and who knows where she put her glasses because she never can find them….Modeezzy. Ding, ding, ding.

FIRST ROUND!!! I came out fighting with everything I had, as usual. A few jabs regarding old stuff from last week, a quick left about dirty dishes, and an upper cut about working hard. I kept it coming with a left, right, left: bedroom light still broke, hallway door held together by a hair tie, and of course the dishes. Actually I punched with the dishes for a good minute…nonstop…with all my power…until I literally couldn’t stand it anymore. I knew I had him, he was wavering, but the Doz was a patient fighter; he didn’t swing much, studied his opponent until the perfect time. And to my surprise he slammed me with a below the belt “you didn’t cook dinner last night so why should I wash dishes” punch. I blacked out, I went kamikaze. Boxing turned into street fighting and all rules went out the window.

SECOND ROUND!!!…I didn’t even wait for the bell to ring. I came out with illegal punches all over the place. I hit with a “remember when” swing, the “I always” jab, the faithful “dirty dishes” punch, and “you no good” gut jab. But he just wouldn’t go down! I panicked for a bit and started to feel backed up in my corner. I didn’t want to have to use the worse move of them all “the family” swing, but I had no other choice. As I approached to lay the blow, I slipped on the “I’m sorry” forfeit. I didn’t see it coming, and before I knew it I was going down. The fall felt like slow motion as I watched the ring of “I take that back” quickly approaching, but right before I hit the ground he caught me.

He caught me with his silly jokes, big cheeks, and funny dances. He caught me with holding me until I fell asleep from crying after my grandmother’s death. He caught me with vowing to love me for better or for worse. He caught me with his love. I was defenseless and the fight was over, but the amazing thing was that we both won. I didn’t vow to never train for another battle; I didn’t vow to never throw a swing; I didn’t even vow to never start a battle again. But I did vow to never push away his ways of catching me….because it’s what got us in the ring in the first place.

Always with love,


Humpday Hero Feature: Natalie

Talking with Natalie was like catching up with an old friend!  We literally talked for hours, laughed til my stomach hurt, and even shared tears and secrets.  Her humility about her life expierences, ability to navigate a family of 7, and her deep passion for changing the world one workout at a time was life changing.  If you have suggestions for future humpday heroes please send emails to:  For nomination rules please click the Humpday Hero tab above.  Don’t forget to click the follow button below/above to subscribe.

Quote from the nominator.

“I am amazed at how Natalie is able to manage a family, school, friends, while being a marathon runner, a faithful child of God, and a military wife; doing it all with a smile, humor, and humility.”


Natalie Fisher-Davis

How do you describe your 9-5How do you describe your 9-5?

“I don’t have a 9-5 I have a 24-7. It’s  chaotic, comical, and never-ending. It’s a constant cycle, like a conveyor belt (laughs)! My husband wakes up very early in the morning so I try to get up with him, or I often pretend to be asleep. I have a 17- month old and sometimes when she wakes up I will stop whatever I am doing and freeze frame and pretend I am asleep (laughs). She believes it every time. The rest of the kids wake up at different times, which I believe is to get their own individual time, which is smart. But, it’s great having a big family because they distract each other, which helps me out a lot. “

If you were the ruler of a country, what would be the first law you would enact?

“This is hard because I am not a bossy pants. All my rules would be things you see in a kindergarten class (laughs). To be kind!”

You are stranded on a deserted island, a genie appears and can grant you three wishes (can not wish to leave island), what are your wishes?

“I would first wish to make the island my home, with all the amenities, so it didn’t feel like a deserted island anymore. Secondly I would wish that my family took a cruise and got stranded on the same island. Then we would populate that joint and make it a city, which I would be ruler of and everybody would have to be kind! (laughs). I wouldn’t need another wish because I would have everything after that”

Its Saturday 2:00 P.M., what are you doing?

“We just moved to Washington so we would probably be driving to Costco.”

Describe the first time you fell in love with someone or something?

“I was and am very much in love with my husband. I can’t remember when I actually fell in love with him because it just always was, but the love I had when I had my first child(ren) was like no other. Its amazing! It makes my heart ache with insane happiness. I feel that same way about all my kids. And when they cry and stay up all night, its equivalent to having your first fight (laughs)”

If money was no factor, what would you do choose to do for the rest of your life?

“To feed the hungry! I don’t know how we have so much obesity in this country and at the same time thousands of people going hungry every day. I recently read a study about fast food and the amount of money spent on it, its billions of dollars. The cost per dollar to end hunger is so low. Literally if people would just go through and order what they usually would and then NOT take the food just once, it could help eradicate hunger.”

If your life could be described by a song, which would it be?

“(laughs) I am seriously one of those people that never know the title of a song, and just hum it to make someone know what I’m talking about (starts humming). The song “I’m forgiven” has helped me get through really hard times in my life. It basically reminds us that all wrong we have done in is forgiven by God”

What is your life motto?

“To push forward, press on.”

What are three things you cannot live without?

“I can and I have lived without a lot, but because I have 5 kids there are certain things I have to have. A home, a vehicle, and food. That’s really all we need to survive and when you have a big family our source of entertainment is already met.”

Who is your hero?

“I can’t say I have just one. I see God’s work in all people. So maybe Christ would be my hero. I give thanks to the people around me daily because I know God is moving through them. I actually use the word hero loosely because if one of the kids helps me change a diaper they are a hero. Everything should be recognized because all people are blessings.”

Which actress would you choose to play your life story?

“ My daughter, JoJo. She is one of the best actresses I know. She can cry on demand. We were recently in a store and she started crying because I wouldn’t buy her a dress. I ignored it because I know that she was practicing. The store clerk started feeling bad for her and offered us a discount. I tried to explain to her that she was fine, but she didn’t believe until I told JoJo to change to her other cry, which she did (laughs). She is amazing, she can do accents too and it doesn’t hurt that she looks just like me.”

Final words to the readers

“ God is love.”?