Sometimes you just have to start, even if you haven't figured everything out. Starting builds the muscle for the next time you attempt to do the thing you want to do but are afraid to accomplish.

As one of our Scoopers says, "I'm not going to hold you" with today's email. I'm super tired after an intense weekend. I went to a day of my K-12 school reunion in Washington, DC, on Friday. Then I got stranded that night after my 10 p.m. train—the last one for the evening—got delayed four hours. I needed to be back in the city by 6 a.m. to run my last 9+1 2026 marathon qualifying race, the Mastercard Mini 10K. By the time they announced the second train delay, I started trying to figure out my escape route. I ended up getting on a 12:35 a.m. bus that got me back to the city by 5:30 a.m. I got home by 6 a.m., took a shower, grabbed Ila (who was running in the kids' portion of the 10K), and dropped her off at her track teammate's house so I could pick up my bib and head to the start line.

The other day, I was chatting with one of my best friends about how people see us. She was saying she wanted to know how others viewed her, and I responded that I didn't really care about people's opinions of me. She snapped back, "It's so important to know how you're coming off to people." I shared that I feel like I have a really good grasp of how people see me. I'm either being read as a really intense and sometimes abrasive person, one of the happiest people you'll ever meet in an almost suspicious way, or some combination of both. There are other impressions as well. For example, I'm sure you all have thoughts about me based on the emails that I send. These might include seeing me as a fatigued mom of three who's building a business with her husband or a mom of three who's somehow able to accomplish a lot. When I told my friend that I didn't care, I meant that however others view me won't change my comfort with who I am.

Over the last month, it looks like I've lost 7-10 pounds, though I'm not really sure. The only time I stand on a scale is when I go to the doctor and they weigh me—we don't own one.

I've had four hours of sleep in the last two days. There has never been a moment when I was reminded of my age more than today as I tried to do the most on the least amount of sleep. I have a headache. I'm dehydrated. And, my right foot hurts from standing on my feet for 12 hours over the course of the last two days.

My Mother's Day tradition consists of asking everyone to leave the house until dinner time so that I can be alone.

This came to be during COVID because being alone and not badgered about snacks was such a commodity then. I've come to love this Mother's Day tradition for the freedom I have to spend the day rolling around in my sheets with a good book and breakfast. Sometimes I leave and get a massage and then take myself to lunch. If I don't leave, I order lunch from my phone and watch TV, which is strictly a late night activity for me.

My Mother's Day tradition is glorious.

Working with your spouse is no joke. My sister teased that I'm really bringing a new meaning to being married to my work. Over the last eight years, Nick and I have been building this company staying in our respective lanes; Nick's has been front of house management, inventory and store deliveries, recipe development, and working with our pastry team to produce the ice cream and other desserts. My work has focused on marketing, building our catering program, developing our community programs and working with our accountant, bookkeeper, legal team and other contractors to get us from one month to the next.

I ran the Maybelline Women's Half this morning and had some big thoughts about how underprepared I was for this race. My body broke down at mile seven during the last half marathon I ran earlier this year. I've fallen off on weekday runs with Ila and had to miss a race a few weeks ago because I was working the She Did That event. There was a part of me that was excited to tackle today's race. I felt grateful for the opportunity to run but was also a little afraid of what waited ahead. Today was easier than the last half, in part due to the weather, the fact that I had a better nutrition plan during the race thanks to a mom friend who hooked me up with Clif Bloks right before the race started, and the fact that my body has some muscle memory from the race in February.

We started our day at the Apollo, where we attended Easter service. Founded 10 years ago by a husband and wife team, our church began in a Harlem apartment before moving to a school building across the street. We have worshipped in that same building for the last decade. We've grown so much over the years that we've had to add a third service. You can imagine that last year's Easter service, often the busiest Sunday for many churches, saw even larger crowds. This was the reason behind this year's services being held in the 1,500-seat Apollo Theater.

I've always struggled to balance routine and whimsy. When I was a first-time mom, I learned the importance of routine. Creating a predictable schedule for my firstborn baby was the best way for me to build trust with her while giving me a break from my new forever job. Knowing that I would have my own time to veg and decompress from the day around 8pm was a gift. Once Zadie was born, we had competing schedules to maintain, and there went all the healthy routines I had created for us.

I've been standing on my feet all day. I didn't get enough sleep last night because I squeezed in one too many episodes of Apple TV programming—we're currently watching "Dope Thief" and "The Studio." And I had to wake up at 7am this morning because I was due in Brooklyn at 10:30am to load-in for the "She Did That x MadamNoire: Queens of the Food & Beverage Scene" event.

Yesterday, I spent the majority of the day at Zadie's first wrestling competition. I'd share photos, but I was explicitly asked by my child not to, so I'm, of course, honoring that. Imagine her in pigtails (not my wisest hairstyle for the occasion) wearing a green, black, and white singlet with the word "Harlem" stretched across it. Cuuute!

The kids flew by themselves to California this past Monday for spring break at my sister's place. My sister has been taking such good care of them; they will almost definitely come home disappointed that the quality of life she provided them will not extend into their day-to-day lives in this house.

I spent the majority of Sunday getting the kids ready for their spring break vacation. They are visiting my sister for a little over a week and will be traveling by plane alone for the first time!

My public announcement that I am now an airport girlie. This whole process of getting into the airport space has been an exercise in challenging my own beliefs of what’s possible for me. I’ve definitely experienced the feeling of fear as I’ve been working on these deals, but I haven’t let that feeling dictate my actions.

I was raised in a God-fearing home. My mother got saved in 1986 after a divorce and a recent layoff from being an anchor on Channel 7. She had accrued $100,000 of debt because of some shenanigans with my father. He decided to run for president of Haiti not once, but twice, abandoning the medical practice that he built to focus on his campaigns.

Have you ever added lemon juice and cinnamon to your chicken soup? I learned about this from a church friend who dropped off a couple of glass jars of her chicken soup to save us from making a meal six or seven years ago when I was a newly minted mother of three. She forever changed how I eat chicken soup.

I had planned something different for today's email but decided instead to share a brief anecdote about messages and messengers, inspired by a conversation with Ila during our walk to church this morning.

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been wanting to rewrite one of the chapters in my book proposal that I haven’t pitched since last year. The chapter title that continues to echo in my thoughts is, “Be a blessing.”

I keep returning to these three simple words when I think about how to exist in this world. To me, "Be a blessing" means sharing ourselves with the people around us, even those we don't know well.

Ila and I ran a 10K this morning in Central Park while it was 16°F. This was her second road race, and let's just say we were not ready for the temperature.

When you're just starting anything, learning how to show up is half the battle.

We weren't sure if she should run with three layers or two. We chose the latter, and that was not wise. Not only did she not have enough layers on, but I let her leave the house with ankle socks and spandex that did not fully cover her exposed ankles.