Afro-American Expat Dad: Part 1 It’s 6pm and I’m on the ground floor of a newly built Apple store in Cologne Germany. Me, and my wife (Shady) are waiting for her brother to finish getting his iPhone replaced. It’s been a long day, walking around the bustling German city- looking through various clothing stores and snacking on pommes and kuchen (only me). We had the whole day to ourselves starting out early from our home in Aachen, since her parents were willing to watch the kids and give us a little break from diaper changing and tirelessly yelling “No” and “Stop.” My wife’s parents are amazing, two warm-hearted individuals willing to give you their very last, even if that means there’s nothing left for them. See…a little background on myself. I’m a 29 year old ex-Army Sergeant, turned Expat Stay-at-home father of two beautifully mixed children — brought to you courtesy of one African- American man and an incredibly beautiful Iranian woman. The happenstance of our meeting each other 9 years ago spawned into a super dope, perfectly imperfect family I could only envision — like from years past when I closed my eyes from time to time. I was a newly enlisted Private placed in a entirely different continent in search of culture, adventure, inspiration and LOTS of parties — what I found instead was lasting love only 2 months on tour at a T-Pain concert in a little village in The Netherlands --- que that Autotune real fast (“Buy You a Drank” plays in my head).Fast forward, my daughter Yden is now three and and my son Brees is two. They both keep their mom and I on our toes (literally) — the constant picking up after and warning not to drop their legos in the toilet. Honestly, my son is going through his “terrible two’s” phase and can sometimes be a butt-head BUT I love it. Who wouldn’t! I love this privilege of being father so much, that the reward is much sweeter when your in-laws step in for the weekend and fulfill all of the child-rearing duties while mommy and daddy step out on a little “staycation” in the next city over. Shady motions for me to get ready to go. The Apple store was our last stop before heading back on the road home. I’m a little torn as we walk to parking garage. On one hand the tiny bit liberation from our two balls of melanated Afro-Iranian energy was well deserved and I don’t want it to end — yet they’re my babies and now it’s time to get back to my fatherly duties.

Afro-American Expat Dad: Part 1
Afro-American Expat Dad: Part 1