beat your own damn kids!

i have no children but i love them to pieces... and if by chance i become impregnated, i would be too-too happy. at this moment, however, i am childless.  i like to think that i'm "good" with children, meaning that i am approachable and easy to talk to about school, home life, esteem issues, relationships, and sex... my youth at church usually open up to me about these things.  and i even let them question me about my life and i answer them honestly.  they want to know if their experiences are unique to just them... and we all know that today's issues are not so unique... so i have no problem sharing.  my church youth know i have their back. i want what's best for them and even when i'm hard on them, they know that i do it in love.

i chose the title of this post because recently two of my friends have asked me to speak to their children and even discipline them about issues that i feel is beyond me as a non-parent.

their daughters don't live with me... i'm not the one who bought the short shorts, the wife-beaters, the hipster pants, the g-strings, the provocative shirts nor the make-up... so why should i be the one to tell them to clean up their image?

they didn't do or say anything to hurt me... i'm not the one who allows them to leave for the party at 11:00 pm and then turn around at get mad at them at 2:01 am when they don't turn the key in the lock... so why should i be the one to discipline them about how a proper young lady respects herself?

the last time i checked the legal drinking age is 21... yet you allow them to have a coupla drinks in the house, right?  but then you get upset with them when somebody else notices that your underage daughter is pissy drunk and throwing up and the pictures are all over facebook...


now one of the daughters i am talking about has even begun to talk back to, rip and run the streets all times of day and night and even curse at her parents... if the mother allows this to go down, then why is my cell phone ringing with this child's sweet voice on the other end telling me her mom wants her to talk to me?


i have personally laid my hands on plenty of children.  i truly have no problem popping, choking them, or my personally fave, collaring them.  i have reprimanded them when i felt their behavior was out of line.  children have been sent to me with bad report cards and i have echoed their parent's reactions... the emphasis is on echoing the parents... meaning that me and their mamas think along the same line... meaning that mom has already gotten in that behind and if i should say something it would only be so that the child has a "village experience". but when you turn a blind eye to their behavior or worse... you're afraid of being thrown in jail because your daughter thinks she's bigger and badder than you but you pay the bills, cook the food and put her ass through school, i say you rear your hand back... way back... and beat your own damn kid! 

Pre-Mother's Day... My Mother's Heart

Happy Mother's Day to all mothers, surrogate mothers, grandmothers who have stepped in or stepped up, foster mothers, adoptive mothers... my hat goes off to YOU!!!

I received Mother's Day flowers today from my ex and his daughter... It is a privilege and I am honored to embrace his daughter as my own. After all that we've been through, that is one relationship that has remained.

Mother/daughter relationships can be beautiful and difficult. As I've gotten older and become more independent, my relationship with my mother has dramatically improved. I've always been independent with my own mind and ideas, even when my mother tried to impose her ideas on me.

For instance, she convinced me when I was younger that I was afraid of the dark so she put a soft pink light bulb in my lamp at night so I wouldn't be afraid. I was maybe 6 years old. This lasted f-o-r-e-v-e-r. However, in the middle of the night some years later, my mother woke up to find my room pitch dark. I turned out that soft pink light and never turned it back on. My mother knew then that she was raising a leader and not a follower. Plus she always knew that I was never afraid of the dark. And I kept the light on for so many years simply because I didn't want to hurt my mother's feelings.

Going back to mother/daughter relationships... sometimes they are enemies and sometimes they are the best of friends. I've experienced my mother being jealous of me and I didn't like it at all and I've experienced my mother as my biggest cheerleader. My mother is very frank. She calls it "keeping it real" but sometimes it's downright hurtful. But I'm thankful that I know my mother's heart.

My mother had 2 sickly children 11 years apart. My brother suffered severely from respiratory illnesses throughout his childhood. My illnesses were much milder but I'm sure that with the eleven year gap my mother must have asked God "Why Me?" over and over again. Especially since she gave birth to both of us as a single mother. She stayed up plenty of nights, walking the wood floors, pinching pennies and gave all that a mother could give.

To this very day, my mother treats us like the children who still hang onto her apron strings although we're grown and living our own lives. She worries about her son taking his diabetes medication and about her daughter's slothful return to Weight Watchers. She questions and probes, annoyingly, yet lovingly and I appreciate her for it. She wants her children healthy and whole. She wants what's best for us.

Louise Hay who wrote "You Can Heal Your Life" believes that we choose our parents.

"Each one of us decides to incarnate upon this planet at a particular point in time and space. We have chosen to come here to learn a particular lesson that will advance us upon our spiritual, evolutionary pathway. We choose our sex, our color, our country, and then we look around for the particular set of parents who will mirror the pat-tern we are bringing in to work on in this lifetime. Then, when we grow up, we usually point our fingers accusingly at our parents and whimper, "You did it to me." But really, we chose them because they were perfect for what we wanted to work on overcoming."

I'm not too sure exactly why I chose my mother but I'm grateful for the wonderful woman, mother and grandmother that she is.



*Artwork by Kadir Nelson

Nurturing... Nurture Me

A couple of weeks ago I was in the fish market with my father's girlfriend. We look nothing alike but people always ask if we're mother and daughter. I guess it's because she looks motherly and I daughterly. She is always the first to say no. Over the past few months, we've been spending a lot of time together, working together and her firm answer always strikes a cord with me. So we're in the market and after she says no, I turn to her and say, "You have no daughter, you only have one son. You are in a relationship with my father, a married man, married to my mother and you always say, "No she's not my daughter" or "No she's his daughter". You can at least say "She's my step-daughter" or "Yes she's my daughter". What's the harm in that? We're not close friends and I can always use an extra mum."

As a grown woman, the little girl in me still sometimes needs, wants and cries out for Mommy time. I said in my previous post that I wanted to curl up in my mother's lap for some love and nurturing after a long week. I would probably also throw in a good cry, babble and a runny nose for the full effect. If I even suggested to my mother that I wanted anything more than her ear, a hug and a cheek kiss (with just the cheeks touching) she would side-eye me and tell me to get out of her face.

To entertain the little girl in me, I must take the time to nurture myself. My father's girlfriend isn't bending - I probably wouldn't enjoy her nurturing no way - and my mum is great but I need more. I must do what is necessary to give back to me.

I am extremely giving in relationships. I mean I giiiiiiive and my last relationship was a doozy. I gave of my time, my patience and my love until I felt exhausted and unable to give back to me. One of the reasons for ending my relationship was the neediness of my partner. There is only one number one slot in my life and I gave that to him. Now it's vacant and I need to fill my own damned slot!

As I pull out my burgundy nail polish for my toes, arrange the gerber daisies I bought, remove the red velvet cake I baked from the oven (no icing), give myself a facial and sit down next to my lavender colored candled and my Exotic burning oil from The Body Shop with my new read "In the Night of the Heat" by Blair Underwood, Tananarive Due & Steven Barnes, I think of all of the wonderful things I appreciate about me, snuggle up underneath my burgundy throw and give myself a big hug. I deserve my Love.

I.M. David

Dear Grandmother,

You know I usually call you Inez (in my head) and that's what my father always calls you, but this is formal and for formality I shall address you by your title, Grandmother.

On Monday, Grandmother, I received a call from my father that I knew would come one day yet I was not prepared to ever hear.

After I listened to the voicemail my father left, I cried and shook at my desk.
I just asked him about you 2 days before. He just went to see you, sat with you and watched TV with you. You were fine.

I thought to myself Maybe you were sleeping without your hearing aid like you did about 2 years ago and didn't hear the bell. Maybe when he gets into your apartment, he'll find you were sleeping hard, he'll awaken you and everything will be fine.

My parents told me over and over again to be the bigger person and heal the relationship I had with you, bridge the gap and visit you, force myself to be the granddaughter that you never seemed to embrace. I kept questioning them and myself, how can I, 60 years your junior, be the bigger person?

Consciously and without regret, I kept my distance, always feeling that you didn't love your youngest grandchild like you loved your older grandchildren. And even though it's been a year since I called you, I have no regrets.

I love you, always did, though alienated.

I remember when you came over to help me dress for my junior high school prom. I remember how you steamed my dress and helped me with my jewelry. I know that me being thicker than my sister, you were more proud of her tall lean frame, but that night you helped me live out my princess fantasies without complaint.

I remember the day that I broke our decade long silence. Something was wrong with my father and I could feel it in my bones. I called his house and he didn't answer. I called every hospital in the Bronx, he wasn't in any. I called his job and they told me he was in the hospital. I called my mother who still had your number and then I called you. "He's in Cornell-Presbyterian", you told me, "And by the way, are you still fat?" I replied, "No Grandma, I'm skinny now" and knowing the truth, we both laughed.

Grandma, you weren't always the loving, affectionate grandmother. Maybe it is because I'm not tall and lean like Junior & Joanne. Maybe it's because I'm not a full-blooded Antiguan. I don't know why it is that you never welcomed me but you are a loving mother to my father.

When my father called me and told me to call him, it was important, Inez is dead. I cried and shook at my desk... for him. I cried because I mourn a woman I've always wanted but never got a real chance to know. I wanted to know your favorite hymns, your much loved scripture. I wanted to see you without your wig, touch your braids again. I wanted to see you in your favorite hat and hear your voice again. I cried because I knew my father is an only child and he loves you so much and you love him right back, fervently, and after having you for his 64 years, you have gone home to Glory.

In the 2 days since your death, I have been running around, exhausted, because my father is unable to run or focus or make decisions alone. I am finding myself learning more about you in these last 2 days than I knew in the 32, almost 33 years of my life.

I don't believe that it's ever too late to show someone your love. You may not be around to see me or hear me but I believe your soul feels me and directs me as I take care of your final arrangements. However difficult our relationship was, what we are to each other now is profound.

I intend to honor you as the regal woman you are. On November 22, 2008, had you lived, you would have observed your 93rd birthday. Truly you are blessed. They tell me that you just went to sleep, with a peaceful smile on your face, while watching TV. You weren't ill perhaps though unbeknownst to all of us, you were weary, yet always running to take care of your younger brother. Thank you Grandma, for giving me such a loving and wonderful father. I honor you, Grandmother, by loving Daddy and by being the best daughter that I can be for him.

May your soul eternally rest easy, Grandma Inez. Love You Always.

Dedicated to my Mom

Me and my mom always had a close relationship and there were things in my life that I didn’t want to share with her because I knew that it would hurt her. My cousins were always trying to kill each other, getting arrested, having babies and abortions and doing all kinds of messes. I saw how their actions embarrassed my aunt and I didn’t want to follow behind them. I was not an innocent child, by far, but whatever I did, I always wanted to bring honor to my family and to myself.

I lived and had so much fun throughout my 20s but I always tried to be responsible. My parents raised me, did the best that they could and always wanted the best for me. The least I could do is repay them by keeping out of trouble, going to school, graduating and being independent but if my parents knew half of what I got myself into and thankfully out of, they would probably be ashamed.

Nowadays I don’t worry about shaming my mom as much as she shames me. My mother, as my co-worker, CB, says is Gangsta. She is loud, she says the craziest things, she curses like a sailor and she dances like a stripper. I can’t take her NO where. One time my mother's co-worker said something crazy to her and my mother says "you need to watch your mouth, because that's how people get shot". My mom doesn't own a gun, she ain't shooting nobody and I asked her where did the comment come from. She didn't answer the question but she looks at me all crazy and says, "It's true, right?". Though my partner tells me that I’m just like my mom, I only see a mild resemblance. Still I don’t want to ever bring any shame to her or make her feel bad for anything I’ve done. So in my 30s I’m still a good girl and I’m oh so proud about it.

My co-worker, Yves is such a sweetie, and we shared an experience yesterday that I won’t get into much because she might kill me. She’s been going through a crisis for the past 2 weeks that I hope has been resolved after last night but even the young ones offer some inspiration. She spoke about not wanting to shame her mom for some deed she has done and I say to Yves, ain't nothing wrong with being a good girl. I commend you for being in school, getting your degree and doing things in your life to restore harmony and balance.

And to my mom, I've given her a new name. She laughed at me last night as I told her. Her new name for '08 is Patience. She laughed because she's many things but she ain't got a patient bone in her body. The one thing that I love about my mom is that she is the funniest lady. She's in her 60s and she's still stronger and faster than me. She's got so much energy and she is still hot and sexy. I wish I had a pic of her to post but I don't. You'll just have to imagine.

Have a good weekend, y'all!