BAH HUMBUG!!!

I thought I was the only person that thought this...but I have seen several blogs and a few news stories about the folk being mad over the term 'Merry Christmas". For one, think about it...Christmas is the only time during the year you get to use the word "Merry". No other holiday allows this. Why take it from people? All I can say about this foolishness is ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS!

People are super serious these days. The problem with saying "Merry Christmas" is that (supposedly) it is offensive to Jewish persons or people who celebrate any other winter holiday. Now we are to say 'Happy Holidays' and that will appease everyone. I refuse. I celebrate Christmas. I like Santa, so I say "Merry Christmas" if you don't like it you may feel free to reply with whatever holiday you celebrate and or hell, just don't dammit answer!!


I would never be upset if someone said Happy Hanukkah to me. Why would I? I would probably respond with either "and a Merry Christmas to you" or just plan "Happy Hanukkah". What's the big deal? With all that is going on in the world right now, we should be glad when people say anything friendly to us. This time of year, whether you celebrate Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or my personal favorite Christmas, is a time to be joyful, to remember family and friends, and to remember all that is good in life. We should celebrate the ones we love. Sure, I agree gift giving has gotten completely out of hand. I came to this conclusion as I was paying for the load of toys I bought my step kids, nieces, nephews, and god children. (OK, that bill is gonna come back and make me hate Christmas and saying Merry Christmas or Happy Anydamnthing in about 30 days)

But then, I have to think of this: I am blessed to have the money for to spend on them, I am blessed to spend the holidays with all the people I love, and I am blessed that I am not one of those damn fools that are willing to ruin this season worrying about the greeting they get.

I propose this: If you are in your Merry Mood and you say (in your merriest voice) Merry Christmas (or Happy whatever)and a person gives you the gas face or tells you some mess about about how that is not politically correct and how you should say "Happy Holidays" turn to them and say in your loudest voice "HAPPY FUCKING HOLIDAYS YOU NON CHRISTMAS LOVING BEEEEEEEEEE-YATCH!'

Hee! Hee! Hee!


Merry Christmas, Y'all!

Who Will Stand Up For You...

There is a little boy in my class...I think I have referred to him before as the Demon Slayer. Awhile back, he knocked out Shawshank when she was about to shank me with some safety scissors. As irritating as he can be, he is one of my favorite kids. He has an amazing smile that is only made more attractive by the fact that he has lost all of his front teeth. He speaks with a lisp. He always, even in the hottest Miami weather, wears a torn leather jacket. The torn jacket used to drive me mad, then I realized that he wore it to comfort him. He has never missed a day of school.

Until yesterday.


The day before I called his father. Demon Slayer had been acting strange for awhile, not that he doesn't act somewhat strange on a regular basis. He was not bringing his lunch, uncontrollable in class to a point where it was getting out of hand.

"I ll take care of it." was all he said and then he hung up.

The next day Demon Slayer did not come to class. I am sad to say that I was a little relieved. With all the other demons in the class, I really needed a break.


The next day he was back. Just as I was trying to put my attendance in the computer, he walked up to me.

DS: Ms. Green I was not in school yesterday.

ME: I know, DemonSlayer, what happened?

Mind you, at this point I have not looked up from what I was doing.


DS: I could not stop my mouth from bleeding so I stayed home.

At this point I looked up and noticed that his lip was split.


ME: Well, what happened?

DS: My dad beat me because I did not behave in school.

My heart dropped. I was the reason this child got punished so harshly. I had to hold back the tear. I made a vow at that point that I would never EVER call his house again.

The rest of the day was a blur of calling social service ( as I am required to by contract) taking to administrators and a child protection agent from downtown. I explained to everyone in no way did I want to get anyone in trouble. I know that Demon Slayer is spirited and it just might be that he was getting a spanking and maybe got a bit wild and fell. OK so I am pushing it, but it can happen. The next day, he did not come to school. There was no answer at home.


What have I done!!!!?

Monday he came back to school with the announcement that his mother told him that he could not speak to me anymore. This mandate from his mother obviously has him believing that he can do as he pleases in my classroom. Today (Tuesday) he has been out of control.


I am sure that his mom and dad had to answer questions that were embarrassing and made them angry. Neither has called or come to the school yet. In a way I am sorry that I called. But then again, if I hadn't maybe something worse would have happened. Someone has to stand up for our kids even if it may be over reacting. If I were in a situation and I really did not know how to stand up for myself, I would hope that someone would man-up and stand up for me.

I pray that my call did not make things worse. But take a moment and think, if you were in trouble, who would stand up for you?

Weekend with Hubby...

Hubby and I have recently moved into a new home. Slowly we have been looking for furniture and things to decorate and make it our own. A friend of his told him that there was an art show this weekend in Miami and we decided that we would go. The last art show I went to was fabulous...we met several artist and bought some great peices that we put in our home in Jacksonville. I was sure that a show in Miami, a cultural meltingpot would bring a better group of artist and we would find much better peices. OK so sometimes I am wrong.

So off we went. We should have known something was wrong when we relized the only black folk there were the two of us and the guy that was the head of security.

Just on a side note:Why is it that you can get embarassed for the whole race by the action of one person?

The man who was handling security reminded me of Uncle Rukkus on the Boondocks; using words in the wrong context but as cofident as Jesse Jackson.

" Let me reiteriate again where I need you all to stand this morning patrons" Reiterate means again, my brother. What the hell are you saying? And in front of the white folk. My grandmother would have passed out at this moment. The white folk next to me loved this. You could here them giggling. I told Hubby that they were laughing at something else, not at Uncle Rukkus. He did not believe me. I told him there were many other things they could laugh at.

Then Rukkus spoke again. And sure enough, there was more that would cause a chuckle:

"All wheelchair recipients, please enter through the left door." I looked at Hubby. He just shook his head. I asked him if there was an extra price that I could pay that would allow me to receive a wheel chair. He told me to leave it alone.

Anyway once we got inside the art show there were NO ARTIST. What the hell? After looking around for awhile, I figured that they were just too embarassed to tell anyone that they created this mess. We walked around in utter amazement for about an hour. I have determined that sometimes folk just pretend that they like things because they want folk to think that they are smart. Hubby and I are not too good at this. Then it happened...Hubby came upon something he liked.

In the corner was a framed canvas. Blue letters were stenciled on it. It read:

ifyoudon
tlikeitt
hengetth
fuckouto
fmyhouse


Hubbby loved this and I thought that it would at least be an interesting piece to have up in the house. Then I read the price....$450,000 (yep you read that right). Now Hubby is an educated man. He has an advanced degree. Handles big business deals and has worked with local government. The cost of this 'art'rendered him quite dumb. Actually it left him stupid and ghetto for about an hour. He could not speak for a moment.

In each of these little booths was a snobby little woman, dressed in black. I think she was there to answer questions about the artist and take the checks of the fools that would pay almost half a million dollars for a painting that basically cussed out the visitors to their home.

He walked over to her. I knew this was going to be a problem.


"IS YOU SERIOUS?" (yes, he said 'is')


The snobby woman shook her head yes.


"Well, now I understand the term starving artist. They are starving because no one in their right mind would pay this. Hell, if they bring this down to $49.95 their ass would not be starving anymore!!"

That said, we left the art show.


I don't think we will go back next year.

God Got Jokes...

Folk often wonder if God is Black or White. A man or a woman. If he has big blue eyes or eyes that are dark as ebony. Well, I've had an epiphany people! God is a black man. Why? Because only a black man could have jokes like this! A black man named Craig.

For sometime I have prayed and tried to have a baby (the trying is really the fun part). Sadly, it has not happened for me and I have just blown it off as me having old eggs and my wanting in my young life to be married before I had a child. Who would have thought that I would have gotten married so late and my clock would be ticking and tocking so loudly that I can hear it in my sleep. Maybe you only notice things when you are looking for them for yourself, but it seems as soon as I really started trying everyone around me was having their own blessed event.

So I continued to pray to God to let me have a child. And this weekend, Craig heard me. He blessed me with just that...and no, I am not expecting. Hubby, back in his day had a son that he was not allowed to see. This weekend, the mother decided to let him have a realtionship with his son. We should all be happy right?

Kinda. That damn Craig got jokes!!


I know I am wrong but I felt like I was intruded upon. Not that I don't want him to see his dad. Not that I don't think that it is Hubby's duty to be at least a small part of his son's life. It just seemed to come at the wrong time. I am proud of myself. I took it in stride. Never missed a beat.

This kid came in demanding my world. Demading his own space and my time. Just like a real baby. Dang, Craig!! My stepchildren and I have a great relationship, I love them so much and over the years I have come to treat them like my own. I have always made sure that anywhere that I was, they had a place. I wanted them to know they are always welcome in their father's house. I did that. I miss them when they are not around. But no matter how much I love and care for them, I take the backseat. I understand that. I have learned to live with it much like Black folk in the old south just learned to live with being on the back of the bus. I need to have my own bus boycott. Where the hell is Martin when you need him?

This kid came in demanding his space. And I was not sure if I wanted to give it to him.

Sad, right?

The more I sit and think about it, and trust, I have sat and thought a long, long time, I keep thinking that I am not a part of anything new in Hubby's life. Sometimes it leaves me feeling empty. I did not give him his first child, I am not his first wife, did not give him his first baby girl. NOTHING. It is hard for me being the NOTHING. I try my best to always be the bigger person, but quite honestly that is draining. But anyway, in true diva form, I welcomed my new addition into my home. Hopefully, made him feel loved when I was trying not to fall apart myself. Again, I prayed to the Lord and he gave me exactly what I asked for: a child. Ain't that a bitch?


Gotta get a little more specific when I talk to Craig.

The High Price of Dying...

The day after Thanksgiving started out great. We did some shopping, took pictures with Santa ( it is my intent to blackmail stepson with those pictures as soon as he gets famous) and had a really great meal (gotta love Gladys and her chicken and waffles). We went back to the in-laws to just hang out that night.

Then it happened.


The phone rang, and the weird thing is that I knew there was something wrong as soon as my mother-in-law picked up the phone. It was Hubby's stepmom. Now she does not call often, if at all. She asked for my sister-in-law. The look on her face immediately told us that something was completely wrong.

My father-in-law had just died. She was waiting on the cororner to come and pronounce him dead.


For a moment, all the air in the room seemed to vanish. Again? Another person so soon, again? Not a month ago, he has just called to give condolences for my grandfather. I must have heard wrong. I looked at sister-in-law and immediately at Hubby. He does not know it, but for a brief second I saw this 6'5 man turn into a little boy. He quickly gathered himself and did what he usually does, take charge. He took the phone from his sister, got the information from his stepmom, and told me and stepson to gather our things.

Sister-in-law was not so stoic. Her tears were heartfelt. I knew just how she felt. Unfourtuately this year I have had that feeling far too much. Hubby and his sister took some time alone to grieve their father. I still could not catch my breath.

A few minutes later we were back on the road. The car was silent. Hubby has not shed a tear yet. Instead he has moments where he becomes introverted and mean. I let him have those moments because he, too, has deal with many losses this year,

As this week has gone by I have learned a lot about my father-in-law. To just meet him, he was a jokester. Even when he was sick he always had a smile and some words of wisdom my favorite being when he told my husband " Keep your own pack of cigarettes, your shirt pressed and your shoes shinned and no one will ever know just how broke you are." True statement. He was a very learned man, and I am finding out a very prominent man in his community. He founded many national projects and had some friends in very high places. He was amazing, but I knew that even before I knew of all the people he knew and places he'd been.

This week I have to be strong and understanding for my husband, just like he has been for me this year. But this loss confuses me. Why so many people from my life in such a short time? I can't describe the confusion I feel and I can't really discuss it with Hubby because right now, it is his turn to grieve. I keep my emotions to myself and make sure he has all that he needs. Secrectly, I have told myself that if I can just make it to the new year I will be all better. In the meantime, there is another program to plan, another plot to pick, clothes to choose and another creepy mortician to discuss the high price of dying. Truly the price is monetary, but that cost steeps into the heart and mind of the family too.

I just need to make it to New Year's.

Driving Mr. Hubby...

I recently read Tavis Smiley's book "What I know for Sure". In it he tells of his life's ups and downs. The most memorable person in his life is his grand mother. She was one of those people, much like my grandmother, that tossed out little pearls of wisdom. The one that sticks out the most for me is " There is a blessing and a lesson in everything".

This year I spent my Thanksgiving with my husband's family. With all the drama that ensued with Auntie Dearest, my family had just chosen not to be together. I was really remiss about spending the holiday with Hubby's people. I thought that I would feel left out. Then I had to take in mind all the family gatherings that Hubby has attended with me. Surely, i could do this one thing. So off we went to Atlanta. Surpsrisingly, I had a great time. I learned that other families are as open and as crazy as my own.


I also learned that men + electronics = a headache for the woman in the car with them.

We had to rent a car to get around for the weekend. Hubby, my step-son and I drove around the city styling and profining in our Volvo station wagon. I laughed about how much I looked like a soccer mom, and the looks my 6'7" stepson got as he unfolded himself out of the backseat. The car was equpped with a "Never Lost" navigating system. I looked at the contraption and signed. Hubby and Step looked at it in awe. I knew this was the start of a big mess.


I was right.


So hubby calls the in-laws for directions to their home. As he is talking he is plugging the address in the little black box. I am driving. " Do we get on 85N or 85S?" Hubby ignores me, continues his conversation with the in-laws and I am left to drive aimlessly down the road.

"Which way do I go?"


Hubby ignores me and continues to talk phone and punch all types of directions in the black box. I realize that he must be talking to my male in-law because he has now told him about the little black box and all I can hear on the phone is "Cool man, how does that work?" Hubby is explaining and I have resigned myself to just driving and sight seeing. Hubby hangs up the phone.

"Did you ask him if we should get on 85 north or south?"

"No, why would I do that? We have the navigation system?"

"But weren't you getting directions to his house?"

"Yes." At this point he is looking at me like I am the damn fool when clearly he is.

" So why not just ASK him?"

"Why would I do that and I have the navigation system?"


Ain't this a bitch?


Fast forward to later that night, because I do not want to deal with the navigation system, Hubby drives. This little box has the most annoying woman's voice. It constantly tells you to turn right or that your turn is appraoching. For whatever reason, when hubby is driving, he wants to use his caveman sense of direction. The little voice has told us several times to get over in the right lane and take the airport exit. Hubby passes the exit. The little voice is angry. I know I should have never started this conversation, but what the hell:

"Why didn't you pull over in your lane"

" I am going to take the next exit."

"Why?" See this is where I went wrong.

" I couldn't get over."

"But it told you two miles ago that you needed to get over."

"Whatever...this exit will be ok. I see th planes so I know we are near the airport."

"Well, I know that we are close to the airport because that damn box told us so TWO MILES AGO!!"

A while later we are using the little box to re-route us back to the hotel.



Happy Thanksgiving!

Conversations with Principal...

(I am in an utter state of cosmic confusion when I talk to these folk)

Last year I was the lucky classroom chosen for the ADA bathroom upgrade. Principal came to me and raved that I would have a new tile bathroom, and it would be bigger and better. She said tile like I was getting handcrafted tiles from Italy instead of the regular old school board white tiles that I knew they would be using. The construction was to only take 3 weeks. I knew when she said this that the school board never completes a project on time. I prepared for the worst. The truly bad part was when I came into my room one morning to find that half of the room had been blocked off by a large wooden wall. "It is for the safety of the children...all the tools and such...don't want them to get hurt" she said. I sighed. All 24 of us squeezed into half a room was going to be a little tight. "It's just for 3 weeks." she reminded me. I sighed again.

So 3 months later I got a brand new bathroom.

It has been really cold in Miami...today it is 48. By Miami standards this is reason to close up shop. Sadly, they decided not to close school today. Yesterday was equally as cold. This is when I realized that the new bathroom was a bigger problem than I orginally thought.

"We are sooooooooo cold". These children that are used to being in 80 degree weather were just not understanding being cold. I went to turn on the heater. Then I realized that it was not there. Whadafuck? These fools have taken out the heater to put in the new bathroom! I just could not believe it! My fool self went to look in the new bathroom to see if maybe they had just enclosed the heater in with my new imported school board tiles.

No heater. Ain't this a bitch!!

So off to principal I go. Yep...here goes;

Me: When they installed the new bathroom, they removed the heater.

Prin: Are you sure?

Me: Well...it's gone.

Prin: Did you look in the bathroom?

Why didn't I think of that? And now that I did think of it, what good would the damn heater do in the bathroom? It would only heat up the funk that the children leave in there. Anyway...the conversation continues:


Me: Yep...I checked it. No heater.

Prin: Do you know why they did that?

Me: Um...no idea.

Prin: Can you use the air conditioner?

Me: I can...just don't need to right now.

Prin: Let me check on it and get back to you.

Now why in the world would I turn on the air conditioner on a 50 degree day? I thought maybe the air units had some kinda way you could use them for heat. I think they do, but the units are at the top of the room. Who the hell is gonna climb up there to check? They better call their friendly neighborhood spiderman. Not me.

So today, me and the kids are styling in our skullys and jackets. We will watch movies and read. And if it gets too cold, we will build a fire in the middle of the floor like the hobos on TV. Maybe we will just built it in the new tile bathroom.

Gotta love it!

(Me as Ghetto DivaFab Barbie)
Believe it or not, I have some favorite students at this school. Most of them are NOT in my class. One of my favorite students here is a fifth grader that I met during her repeat offender days in third grade. She is an absolutely beautiful child. Light brown hair and the most beautiful big golden green eyes you have ever seen. I met her while I was tutoring after school at a local park. I soon learned that she attended my school.

When I first met her, she would look at me really funny. She did not say much. I was told later by the park director that she talked about me all the time. Not to me...just about me. A few weeks later she and I got to talking about her and her problems in class and what we can do to get her back on track.

Then one day out of the blue, she told me that she wanted to be just like me. "ME?" I asked her. Yeah. I let it go, and we continued our tutoring session. She passed the FCAT. I would like to think that I had something to do with it. Not much, but a little something.

Today, I saw her in the hall. She followed behind me doing a damn good impression of my walk. I had on my good boot today. I must admit i had my strut on. She told me that she wanted to walk in heels just like me. I asked her why. She said because you are pretty...just like Barbie.

OK what better compliment can you get than to be compared to Barbie? I laughed at her and reminded her that she looked a little more like the famous doll than I did. I also told her to come up with another reason to be like me: be smart, be thoughtful, and of course walk well in your boots. We both laughed but I think she got the picture.

I walked back to my classroom thinking: HMMM? What kinda Barbie would I be?

No reason...Just Denzel

There is really no reason that this man should be this sexy. He ages like a good wine. Love me some Denzel.

Make a Wish...

Just when I thought that things with the demons and their parents are getting better, someone comes with a fool ass question. It has been really cool in Miami the last couple days. For me, it has been really nice. I love to wear my warm sweaters and boots. You just don't get too many boot days down here. The weird thing is that there is no subtle weather change in Miami. It was 85 on Sunday. Monday's high was 65. Needless to say...I have a bit of a cold.


Anyway, yesterday morning I was met at my classroom door by the grandmother of one of the brighter demons. She had a cake. This is always a good sign to me because I love cake. She told me that Bright Demon's birthday was over the weekend and she had brought a cake for her to share with her class. This woman is really nice. I have talked to her before. The only thing that worries me is the loose tooth she has in the front of her mouth. What worries me more is that this loose tooth has a gold crown. I guess from her 'bout it 'bout it gangster days. I think I would be OK with it if it weren't hanging. It causes her to have a little whistle when she speaks. Things like that distract me...I wanted to just reach over and yank it out. It couldn't possibly hurt that bad. I have this fear that as she is talking to me, the poor little loose tooth will give up the ghost and just come flying out...hitting me directly in the lip. I would them pass out and need to take some time off.


So she tells me to share this cake with the class. I told her they would have it as snack that day (I would not dare give them that much sugar early in the morning). True to my word, they had cake at snack yesterday. This morning, the Birthday Demon says to me..."My grandma said she wanted me to bring the cake home."

Huh?

"She brought it to class for us to share. Don't you remember us eating it yesterday?"

"Yes, but she said I needed to bring it back home."
Ain't that a bitch?

"Well, I am sorry. There is no cake left. The pieces that were leftover yesterday, I gave away." It was all of 3 pieces.

<strong>"But I am supposed to take it home."

"I'm sorry. Please tell your grandmother I did not know."

Birthday Demon was really hurt about those 3 pieces of leftover cake. They may have been the size of a Twinkies...and that is all 3 together. I have this feeling I am going to get a call or a visit tomorrow about those 3 little pieces of cake. I would think that with that tooth in the position that it is in, she would not want any more cake...the next gram of sugar she takes in will surely send that tooth straight to the fairy.


Does the tooth fairy even take gold teeth?

And the hits just keep on playin'...

Dealing with the demons is a never ending battle. I must admit that my classroom has been a better place since Shawshank has left. She was moved to the classroom down the hall, and I am delighted (and a bit ashamed) to say that I did a dance of joy when she took her books to the other classroom. When I see her in the hall now she seems happy, or at least as happy as demons can be. There is really a joy in my heart knowing that I do not have to deal with her anymore.

Funny part is...the new demon is on the fast track to replacing her. Aha! I shall call her Replacement Demon. Miss Replacement has a slick mouth and in a weird sort of way is the ghetto doppelganger of Shawshank. For a moment I was scared. Would God really replace Shawshank with another just like her? It was like a bad movie sequel:

SHAWSHANK 2: The Return of the Safety Scissor Shanker.

Well, lucky for me I have two little ghetto demons in my class that seem to like me. The pray for me out loud in class which really tickles Sickly Demons nurse. Today RD decided that she was going to just talk completely out of turn. The she wanted to tell me what she was and was not going to do. In come Ghetto 1 and 2, quite similar to Thing One and Thing Two from the Cat in the Hat.

GD1: Aw! Lawd! Please send Jesus down to come save Miss Green today from all this foolishness.
GD2: Ms. Green does not like foolishness. GD1: No she does not. You all should just be quiet so that we can learn anything today. (yep...she said ANYTHING, and yes it was funny).

GD2 (looking directly at RD): I keep telling you we got rid of one JUST LIKE YOU last week (she has no sense of time). You better get on the bus.
Get on the bus is a term I use with the kids to tell them they need to get on task. If you are not 'on the bus' the other kids wave at you and say goodbye.


They took it a little far with the Replacement Demon.

GD1: YOU better get on the doggone bus.

GD2: Peace out!

And with that she stuck up her 2 fingers in the jailhouse peace sign and drug the peace into one very long word.

PEEEEEEEEAAAAAAACCCCCCCE!


I love this place....the hits just keep on coming!

Signs for the Ungodly....

So of course the last few days have been a bit much for me. I have been trying to get over the whole 'ungodly' incident. I have prayed to whatever god would hear me that something help me feel a little less ungodly.

Then it happened. Sometimes you don't see the sign until after you have passed it. Weird, but true.

I got a call on Tuesday from my father. That in itself does not sound strange, but you have to understand the background I have with this man. My parents were young when they had me. My father wanted to continue school and my mom decided that she would have her baby, but her grandparents would raise the child. Since they were older, I became a very young child with a very old soul. I was able to speak my mind and hold conversations with adults from about the age of 4. My mom was still around, my father was not. At least not until I was 10. He just popped up one day. I was playing at a friends house and he walked up and started talking to me. Since I did not know him and the madness he was speaking did not make sense, I left him standing in my neighbors yard and ran home to ask my momma and daddy, and to my surprise my mom (now why was she here) what the hell was going on. Yes, at 10 I said hell. Surprisingly, they were not shocked.

Anyway, this has lead to a long and often strained relationship with my father. No part of it has been perfect, but I see as I get older that we are very much alike. Straight forward, businesslike, imperfect. He is a great business man. Well educated. Knows and us surrounded by some really high profile people. You would never know it to see him. He is usually in jeans and a big t-shirt. Very understated, and very smart. We speak infrequently. So when I saw his number pop up on my caller-id I simply told my self I would call him back after class.

Then I heard the tone that signaled he left a message. Huh?!I started to worry if maybe something had happen to my grandmother in Jersey. Losing someone else at this time would be just too much.


I'll call him back after school.

Another pop up and another tone. One more pop up on the caller id. Something was up.

I listened to his message on my way to the car that afternoon. I had to keep from crying. "You are on my mind. You have been for days. I need to know if something is wrong. Please call me soon."
OK this is a big deal for him.

So I called and he said that he could hear that something was wrong in my voice. I told him the story of me and Auntie Dearest and he laughed. It was a deep, hearty, daddy laugh. I had never heard it before.

"Handle your business the way you know it is to be handled. Don't let anyone define your God for you. You are doing what is right and it will not please everyone. You know how your people can act." And he laughed again. For the first time in a while, I laughed too. I laughed what I hope is the more feminine version of his laugh.

After a little more conversation. He asked me if I was OK. "Yes, I am fine."
"Are you sure?" All I could say was that I did not quite know but I thought so. As we hung up I realized that he was that sign I had been looking for. I said a quiet 'thank you' to the God that I had been told I had no part in. It was my sign that he felt I was doing the right thing too. At least doing it as best I know how.
Sometimes even God gives signs to his ungodly children.

And I am thankful to both my fathers.

Perfectly Ungodly.....

Ever since I was a little girl...the earliest I can remember is about 3 or so...my uncle has greeted me with a song:


Shantliily Lace...
Her charming face...
Ponytail, hanging down,
wiggle when she walks and she giggles when she talks
makes my world go 'round and 'round

It was many years before I knew that it was a real song. I loved each and every time he sang it, whether he knows it or not. Things,however, have changed.

I am learning that I try to please everyone. I have long thought that it was reciprocal. The more good you do or the more you try to understand someone the easier and better life is for you. It is not. There is no other way to put it...sadly you have to do good things only because they are good things. People lookout for the only thing that matters...themselves.

Case in point...

This weekend I had the horrific task of having my grandparents house appraised. As executrix it is my duty to find the best price, sell and split the assests among the children. It never hit me how hard going back to this house would be. A few blocks before my turn, I started to feel my stomach tighten and my heart pound. I could hear it in my ears. When I opened the door the cool, quiet of the house was deafening. I had to keep moving to keep from crying. The appraiser tried to remain sterile in her evaluation, but she could tell something was wrong.

Suddenly, my uncle walks in. He just did not look the same to me. His face seemed serious and ashen and he looked at me like we had never met. He never sang the song. Looking back, that should have been an omen of things to come. I spoke, turned and went to the back of the house. I could feel the argument coming and I just was not in the mood.

He followed and eventually asked me a multitude of simple mined questions ending with him telling me that "we, the family" are not ready to sell the house. Wow...we...the family. I could tell at that point that I was no longer a part of that 'we'.

This whole issue with me taking care of the estate has been tough. The only person that seems to understand that is me. My mother, of course, had the best idea: "fuck the dumb shit'. Sometimes fucking he dumb shit is easier said than done.

Later that evening, I made what I now know as a horrible attempt to be heard by someone who has no intention in listening. The conversation began with me asking Auntie Dearest to try to respect me and to call me when she thinks there is a problem. Her calling my mother seems like she still thinks I am 15 and she is 'telling on me'. She took the start of her conversation a different route.

"You are getting a lot of legal council, but who is counseling you spiritually? You are a disrespectful and ungodly person!"



Ungodly?


Disrespectful I can go for. There have been a few situations since this has all started that I have looked back on and felt the need to apologize. Disrespectful is one thing, and on some levels it may even be true. Ungodly hurt me to my core. I literally felt, and continue to feel, sick to the pit of my stomach. I have not be right in the head since. Ungodly means that there is absolutely, positively NO WAY in hell (so to speak) that there is any good in me. Shit, even Lucifer was an angel at one point. One of God's right hand men. Even the damn devil at some point had SOME good in him. To say a person is ungodly....I just can't describe how that makes me feel.

My best friend Pam (who I tend to call when I need to rant about things like this) told me to look at it this way: a person can only call what they know. In short, one has to have a little ungodliness in them to be able to see it in someone else. The really sad part is that Auntie Dearest is the First Lady of her church (basically, she is married to the minister). I would think that instead of pointing out the 'ungodly' part of me, she would have used her powers for good and not evil and tried to show me the light. No such luck.

I am not the most openly religious person. I enjoy good sermons and teachings. I read, I love good gospel and I pray. Now more than ever. As I sit and think on it, Auntie Dearest is an example of why many don't attend church. That much hate should not be embodied in the leader of your spiritual home. As much as I hate to admit it, she has left a void that I don't think I will be able to fill anytime soon. I would not know how to. How do you come back from being 'ungodly'?

The word continues to ring in my head. I continue to cry. Sometimes hysterically. Hubby tells me that all will be alright and that he will help me get through it. Best Friend Pam and Crimes Legal and I will probably make a joke out of the word similar to how Black people say 'nigger' to each other as a term of endearment. OK, whatever, bad example!

What I do know is this: I am learning more and more to just do what I think is the right thing to do. Everyone will not be pleased. There is no way to avoid it. I know I will have an open wound for some time now that will affect everything that I do and my interactions with people. I guess I really just need sometime to find the God in me.

So my mom calls me this morning, and of course the conversation has started waaaay before I even answer the phone. "I am so angry that she said that to you. Do you want me to slap her? I will fly to Atlanta tonight and slap that bitch!"

"No, Mommie...that's OK...but keep the offer in mind...I might need it later." I laugh, but I know that SHE is serious. In a weird (and I sure this is ungodly) way I am comforted that my mom would slap someone for me.

That is Perfectly Ungodly...

How to Judge a Book...

Yesterday was teacher planning day. In short, I get to come to work, catch up on some things and talk with my co-workers. Usually, we get little to nothing done, go to lunch and then go home.

Yesterday was a bit different. Oh, don't get me wrong, I still wasn't getting much done, but I had a surprise visit from a parent that I had been trying to contact for the last few weeks. I have been talking about my 'little blind demon' for some time now. There are a lot of other things that I think are strange or wrong about this child, but her mother usually seemed relatively attentive. I have been livid these past few months because it seemed no matter what I did, I could not reach this woman. Matter of fact, within the last few days I had become furious and had turned her papers over to the social worker for a home visit.

When she came to my door yesterday my intent was to read her like a book. But sometimes there is something in a person's face that let's you know there is more to the story. For the next hour and a half, she told me how she had just buried the father of her last 3 children. She has 7 and she is not yet 31. She has buried 3 'baby daddies' in the last 7 years. Two of them in the last year. All had been shot and killed in drug shootings or set ups. She is in search of a new home since the section 8 housing she was in has electrical problems and she could not have her children living somewhere that unsafe. Last month, she was in an accident and totaled her car.
I looked at her in sheer disbelief. She then told me that she had come to school to apologize for her behavior for the last few weeks. She has just been so out of it, she really did not know what to do or how to act.

And who could blame her?

Well the least I could do (since I had her here) was to listen to her story and finally try to get the papers signed that would be My Little Blind Demon some glasses. I walked over to the principals office and asked if she had the form.

"Oh, so Mrs. LBD has decided that she FINALLY wants to come to school, 'eh"

I was a little taken aback by this so I could only look at her with the now famous pie face. I call it that because it is that same "oh now you didn't look' that people get on TV shows when they have been hit in the face with a pie. Usually banana cream.

"Um...yeah. Do you have a form?"


" No and I am not meeting with her today she needs to make an appointment since she didn't want to talk to me when we called last week about her son. And you need to get me a valid phone number for her."

With that I knew that I would not get anywhere. I felt disappointed. It was now official that people really don't care about the children here. It is about there own personal feelings.

"Didn't you say you called her about her son. You have her number. Same one I have."

"Well, she will have to make an appointment. And we are calling family services because she is neglecting those children. "

Well ain't that about nothing?

In a way, by refusing to meet with her while she was here, we were neglecting those children also. Wonder if we can call CFS on us? Just as she was saying that fool-ass mess, I walked out of the door. We can't judge people just by our side of the story. Everyone has had hard time, but you never know how truly blessed you are even through your hard times until you have spoken...and listen to other people. It hurt my heart to come back and tell her I could not get the form for her. She sighed. Said she would come back the next day (so far she hasn't).

I can only imagine what she is going through. That young and alone with all those little people depending on her. The fact that she can make it through each day is a simple miracle. I thought about Mrs. LBD all day. I hope that things are OK. I am hoping that things will soon be OK for LBD. I will keep them both in my prayers and will use this experience to remember that I must hear the whole story before I make conclusions about people and their lives.

You can't always judge a book by it's cover.

Legal Briefing...

(See, this is what I mean....just...just...LOOSE!!!)
Crimes Legal and I talk frequently. Most all of my girls and I do, sometimes I will talk to them 2 or three times a day. This does not include emails, text messages, and the occasional IM. In short I speak with them alot. Thank God for rollover minutes, unlimited nights and weekends and any long distance plan that let's me call anywhere and anytime. For the last couple days, I have talked with Ms. Crimes Legal about some really deep stuff. OK, so I am lying, It ain't deep at all, but it does give us a chuckle.

For example...

Crimes Legal, although a beautiful woman with a beautiful spirit, does not date much. She attends a big church back in my hometown that is full of what I (or so I though) suspected was eligible bachelors. I mean I have been there quite a few times and I have seen some good looking brothers walking around the collection plate. You can't beat a brother that is a good looking and loves the Lord. A Cutie for Christ. So anyway, I asked her why she did not date men at church and she said that she found out that most folk at church thought she was either married or seeing someone. I guess she gives off that vibes.

Well, anyway, I talked up some shit for her!!

A few days ago, she called to tell me that she actually had a date with someone from the church! From the sheer lack of exuberance in her voice, I asked her the obvious question : "Soooooo, what's wrong with him?" She laughed which let me know that there had to be something truly wrong with this brother.

"Well, he's about 14 years older than I am."

"Oh." I said trying to sound positive. "I guess that is not too bad." (OK in project years, unlike dog years, that negro could be her father. But you never know when a good man is gonna come around so you can't short yourself on options...)

" And he is a little loose."


"Aw, hell to the naw, Bobby!" And we both started to laugh, almost hysterically.

The funny thing is I knew EXACTLY what she was talking about. See, I have this thing for big men. Hubby is a big man. There is a comfort in a man that is over 6 feet tall and has some weight on him. Truth be told, I have had a crush on Suge Knight since I saw his face on the cover of Vibe. Big...masculine... yummy! Don't get me wrong...see there is a difference (a fine line if you will) between a big man and a fat man. Our conversation led to our new adjective for the big man: STURDY.

Yes, sir-eee, sturdy. A fine terminology for a brother that has some weight on him. It is not jiggly weight. Nothing should move independently. It is weight that he has carefully put on by eating his mamma's cooking. This brother is not a fan of the Ho-ho's or the king dongs. Twinkies are not his friend. What the hell is that cream filling anyway and how the HELL did they get it in there? This brother likes two starches on his plate. Yes, he WILL have a side of mac and cheese with his yellow rice and baked chicken. He eats big meals. Add some damn greens and cornbread to that plate, too. Y'all got some potato salad? Damn the Little Debbie! If there is some potato pie or pound cake available put a slice to the side. It is my personal opinion that men that eat all them snack cakes end up looking just like that...a bag of snacks!

Fat men have a wiggle problem. Their belly keeps moving long after they stop waking. There are some situations were the wiggle belly is just not attractive at all. OK in ALL situations the wiggle belly is not attractive. They even have a tendency to the dreaded man boobs! EWW! I just can't have my man with a D cup while my B cup is still no secret at Victoria's. Don't get it twisted, the sturdy man has a belly. That belly just doesn't keep working after he has stopped.

I think I am going to call Webster's and see if I can get 'sturdy' added to the dictionary in next years edition. Hell, if Beyonce can get bootylicious in, sturdy is a sure winner!!

Motherly Advice

My mom is so funny. I can't wait until I am a little older and a little braver so that I feel free to say and do the things she does. She is the prefect cross between a Southern Belle (you will never catch her without her legs crossed or her napkin in her lap) and a Ghetto princess. This sounds like a mean description but it is so true....and to top it off, I love her very much.

My mom recently moved to Mississippi. So, you can only imagine just how much more that Southern Belle has come out. What's funny is I talk to her daily... sometimes two or three times a day. Usually, the conversation really isn't a conversation. My mother has started her part of the conversation usually about 10 minutes before she has called me. By the time I pick up the phone, she is already full swing. She also tends to end the conversation about 30 seconds before I do. I end up saying my good-bye's to my new friend, Debbie Dialtone.

These conversations usually start when she is angry. I can tell this because I will pick up the phone to a conversation that is already in progress and peppered with some some 'damn's' and "fuck you"s. Yesterday she called me to tell me that she shared the same anger with Auntie Dearest (my Aunt who is causing the bulk of my family issues. Any day now this woman is gonna scream "NO MORE WIRE HANGERS!!!"). The conversation went something like this:

Ring (actually, here you should insert Rick Ross "Hustlin'")

Mommie: ...and that bitch has truly lost her damn mind..you do what you need to do baby. She is just selfish. Fuck her and keep your head up. I think I might just call her.

Now that would be a good idea...I wonder how early she would start the conversation BEFORE picking up the phone?

Me: Yeah...I think...

Mommie: (still talking...I am not even sure she knows that I picked up the phone yet)....I wouldn't have done half of what you are doing now, if they don't like it ....fuck 'em.....you don't have time for that shit. I am so angry with her right now. Fuck that dumb shit.

Me: Me, too....I was think-

Mommie: Just hold ya head up baby. And fuck that dumb shit. I need to fix ya' daddy's dinner. Love you, bye.

And with that she hung up and I said my good-bye to Miss Debbie and took my mother's advice. Fuck the dumb shit.

Hey, Baby, what's your sign?

I was born under the sign of Pisces. I have always wondered if the description of a person by sign was accurate. Today, I looked up all the character traits of someone born under my sign. I learned that I pretty much fit the bill:

Traditional Pisces Traits

Imaginative and sensitive

Compassionate and kind

Selfless and unworldly

Intuitive and sympathetic

I think that pretty much sums it up. But wait...there are some not so nice things, too (same site)

On the dark side....

Escapist and idealistic

Secretive and vague

Weak-willed and easily led

If anyone were to ask me my biggest flaw, it would be that I can see both sides of any situation. It makes it hard for me to make decisions sometimes. There are times when I am thinking strictly on emotion. Weirder still, is that the good traits easily influence the dark side ( I just feel that I should have some spooky, scary, deep voiced, movie music here AH-HA-HA-HA-HA).

This week, I have found myself not only dealing with foolishness at work, but also foolishness with family. And of all the different types of foolishness, that is the worst kind. The more I look at it, my good traits are severely hindered by my bad traits. For example, I had an open door for Shawshank to be taken from my room yesterday. When her grandfather and her dad showed up for the meeting, I found out that she is a lot like me ( at least me at 6 years old). She is 6 years old, doesn't see her mom much, Dad lives somewhere else and she lives with her grandfather. He, out of the kindness of his heart, told his son and the son's girlfriend that they did not have to miss out on going to college. He would take their child and raise her for them. He did not want them to hinder their young lives taking care of a child. So the intuitive and sympathetic part of me met up with the compassionate and kind part. Then them two fools were bamboozled by the weak-willed and easily led. Needless to say, Shawshank came to school this day and took her rightful place in my class. I took her scissors and all sharp objects. I also took her markers because I had on a fly cream shirt today and I could just see her charging me with cherry scented magic marker.

Anyway...

Same traits, same problems, different situation: I really thought my Aunt and I had patched up some old wounds. To help mend this fence I made some decisions that I just really did not agree with. Today I got hit right in the gut again. Dumb ass weak-willed strikes again. I really want my family to get back together and to do that I put myself and Hubby out. So to appease one person, I did something I knew was neither right nor something I wanted to do. All for her to just throw everything back in my face. So I have personally learned what I already knew...if it is not her way, it's the highway. It's time for me to start making my own paths.

Poor dumb weak-willed fish... me....duped again!

Most folk think that I am really tough. When it comes to my family and a few of my friends, I fit the bad traits of the Piscean. I learned today that I need to make sure that I do things that are good for me. My other Aunt told me today to remember one thing: You can't please everyone...so you need to make for damn sure you please yourself.

I think I need to do just that.

Winning the Battle, Losing the War...

Today I am just tired. It is a mental kind of tired. The kind where you just think that your brain cannot take too much more. There is just too much going on in my world right this moment.

I think that people should not have to deal with shit in ALL facets of their lives. I think that your "deal with shit quotient" should be limited to one area of life at a time. For example, you should not have to deal with work shit, if you have personal, home, and other folk's shit to deal with too. One shit should kindly wait for the other shit to be over and then rear its shitty head. Shawshank came back to class today ( this is my #1 shit) and because I really did not feel like dealing with her mess, so she was quickly sent elsewhere.

I got an email today from an old friend (shit #2). He (yeah, he) asked how things were going and in my need to just vent, I told him all that was on my mind lately, from dealing with my family to dealing with other peoples problematic children. His response was that I must have changed since the last time he saw me because I did not sound like the 'take no shit' kinda gal I once was.

So I have been thinking about that this morning. How have I changed over the last few years? I think some things with me have been worn down. There are things that I can't change no matter how hard I scream, shout or cuss. I think I have learned to pick my battles. In the last few weeks I have just had too many battles to juggle. I am losing the war.

My plan today is to make it to 3pm. That will be hard since today is one of those rainy, gray days when I really should just be sleeping and watching bad TV. I have a meeting with Shawshank and her parent today (shit #3). I think that I am going to let her go. As much as I hate pushing my problem on someone else, she is going to have to be just that...someone else's problem. For awhile I am going to have to put my family (shit#4, see that is just too damn much) on the back burner and do the things I am supposed to do. I will have to deal with my mind and not my heart when it comes to them for awhile. I need to get some sleep, moreover I need to rest my weary brain.

In short, I need to get it together.

What Would Craig Do? (WWCD)

Hubby and I have this habit. We will wake up in the middle of the night (or early morning as it is) and start talking about ANYTHING. Usually the anything is quite silly and this morning was no different. Here is the question of the morning:

What if, by some weird blessing, you got one of Jesus' powers?

Now you know just what power we were thinking of! Oh, forget being able to do something truly good in the world. Bring peace, cure the sick....aw hell naw! We wanted to have the ability to make water into wine. Then we thought:

What if the Lord let you have this power...but upgraded it for the new millennium?

What if instead of wine, you could make Hennessy?


Think of all the fun Craig (just the ghetto name we picked out for a dude that was walking down the street and was greeted by an anglel named Raheem. Raheem is the angel of all blessing ghetto and project-y. He was then given this blessing) would have if he could turn water into Hen-dog? Man, he would get invited to all the parties! He would get all the girlies! People would make sure he was on the guest list:

"Hey, y'all called Craig for the crab boil?"

"No."

'What the hell is wrong with you? Somebody best go get Craig."

Folk would just fill up their bathtubs in anticipation of Craig's arrival. What if instead of multiplying loaves and fishes, Craig multiplied the hot links and potato salad at your next
bar-b-q? Everyone would be drunk happy and singing new negro spirituals:

"WHAT A FRIEND WE HAVE IN CRAAAAAAAAAIGGGGG!

ALL OUR RIBS AND HEN HE BRINGS!

WHAT A PRIV-A LEDGE TO CARRY.....HIM A PLATE OF RIBS AND BEANS!"


Hey, it's just a random, unnecessary, truly silly thought....

No reason...Just Brian

Kinder Gentler Ms. Green

I have tried to be a calmer, gentler teacher the last few days. The whole thing with students being scared to come to my class did hit rather hard. So this week I have tried it Principal's way. I have asked for instead of commanded, said my "please" and "thank you" s, and ignored some behaviors until the child realized on their own that they were wrong. Well, that mess just ain't working. For the most part we have had a good week, today I have tried that same method and what has it gotten me?

This little bitch tried to shank me with some safety scissors!

Now, I know that my history with DABT has been a bit violent. I have been trying my best to treat her fairly and kindly and oh so gently a la George W. But how can you do that with some safety scissors pointed up at you like she is Norman Bates and I am just getting in the shower? I can understand why that man bombed them folk. Ok, I can't, but you get the idea.

This is too much. I can't even imagine teaching a higher grade. If it's Shawshank in room 4 first grade, what the hell would it be like with 5th graders in room 27? Oz? Usually this time of year, I will bring Popsicles or lollipops to class and we eat them outside in the butterfly garden. I have not done that this year, because these demons may keep the sticks, shave them down in the cafeteria with their pencil sharpeners and catch me in the neck while I am eating my McMuffin in the morning. Just picture the headlines:

"Teacher shanked in first grade Popsicle stabbing...film at 11."

Anyway, DABT was taken away kicking and screaming. She then ran away from the security guard and Vice Principal (who greeted me with "what the hell is going on" instead of some fool ass question like Principal may have. I like that chick! She is pregnant, so it may just be the hormones kicking in, but I am cool with that.) and started beating on the door and screaming. The students asked if they should open the door. One little girl said, "We are NOT letting that fool back in here!". Hey, from the mouths of babes.

So now I have to meet with her parent next week. We need to determine what we are going to do with her. I am going to ask that she move to another class. Maybe I am just not the teacher for her. I think that it will take her giving me a black eye for my administration to understand that.

Either that, or I will have to get shanked.

It's Picture Day...

(No this is not one of the demons...but he damn 'sho looks crazy, right? LOL)

So today is picture day. It is my job to take the demons to the photographer and get there mug shots, er um...I mean their beautiful first grade pictures! This is a good thing. See, the teachers get a lovely picture of all their children. This means that when one of them knocks my ass out one day, I will have a lovely color copy for the police. I just need to make sure I collect a crayon from each one so I can have their fingerprints. I made sure that DABT was the first in line because I need to make sure I have a picture of her when they do that news bulletin right after she robs that bank on 441 and 7th Ave.

Another one of my students wore lipstick. I did not even bother to wipe it off. I feel that will be a lovely memory for her mother. I know it would stick with me to see my child with wet n' wild number 316 all over her grill.





I just LOVE picture day!

Words of Wisdom from Small People..

It is chilly in Miami this morning. I love this kinda weather. We don't get much of it here, but when we do, I love it. There is something about a chilly morning. It just seems refreshing. I think it is more the change of seasons that I like. It's funny that I like winter so much because truthfully, I hate being cold. I think it is all the warm things that you can do in winter that make it my favorite.

I really needed to feel this change this morning. I think it is like some higher power reminding me that things do change. You really just have to wait sometimes.

Yesterday, I had a weird experience. I had a parent come in and talk to me about her son. This was the same woman that came to talk to me about her child walking in the rain a while back. At first, when she came in I had my pie face on. I really did not want to talk to her. But, I had decided that this 9 weeks I was going to start anew. That, of course, meant that these conversations with her were just one thing that I would have to deal with...politely. She explained that her son was not in school today because he was afraid of me and I yelled too much and she had considered taking him out of my class.

It was a blow straight to my gut. But before answering her... I thought a minute. Then I said to her something I never thought I would say...I would take my child out of here, too.

She looked at me with the strangest look. She must have thought that I did not hear her, "Mrs. Green, I want to move him."

I know, and I understand.

At this point this woman must have thought that I had lost my marbles. Truth be told, I know that if she knew all I had to deal with during the day, she would rush to have her child removed. I know that if I was in my child's class and saw all the demons that I deal with, I, too, would take my child out in a hurry.

"But we like you." She said.

" And I like your son too.' See their child is really polite and really sensitive and for him to be in a room with the demons I have is just not right. Though she would probably be taking the little piece of sanity I have away from me....I understood.

"Well, there must be something we can do?"

So, long story short, I spent a good chunk of my evening at a student's house. It was nice. We had apple juice. It was just like the end of one of those circa 1960 sitcoms where every conflict is resolved in 30 minutes. We actually sat and talked and this young man explained that he knows that I am not mad at him, but that I have to raise my voice sometimes because the kids do not listen. I asked him what I should do. He said, " Just do your best."

Well, damn! Now I feel stupid for not thinking of that.

So that brings me to today. Wildly enough, this chilly fall day, I decided to do just that...my best. that's all. Nothing else. And it turned out well. Now, the day did not go perfectly. We did have some moments. But for the most part, I just concentrated on doing my best. At the end of the day I asked Mr. Deep Thoughts ( I knew you were waiting on his name) how I did. " You did great Ms. Green! You did your best."

And his is right, I did. Yeah me!!

TGIT

Thank God It's Thursday!!

And tomorrow there is NO SCHOOL!! YEAH!!

Today has been hectic. This is the first break I have been able to take all day. No lunch. Just meetings and I won't be able to get home until well after 7. God Lawd! The only good thing has been that the Demon at Table Blue (who will now be known as DABT...it's just quicker) was suspended for the day. With the day off and the weekend, it means I will not have to deal with her for 4 glorious days. C'mon now, ain't God good?


A few days ago Hubby's ex-wife called to tell us that her mother (who lives out of the country) is very will and is having surgery. She, of course, was going to be by her side and she asked a favor. She (with a straight face, mind you) asked that we take care of her kids. Just two. But only one belongs to Hubby.

Now, I am the kinda girl that really doesn't mind helping out when someone needs it, but this chick is usually so backhanded and nasty that I really just did not want her other child in my home. I realize I was being spiteful. You really can't take stuff out on children, but DAYUMN!!
Needless to say...I spent yesterday (between rounds with Demon at Table Blue) praying for an answer. It was a really tough spot to be in.

Then she called yesterday afternoon. Her mom was worse. "Can you please take the kids today?" (!!!)

Suffice it to say that we have two kids at the house. The boy is polite and really only wants to hang and do what boys do: eat and play PS2. Every so often he checks to see what I am doing, talks to Hubby or asks for something to drink. I think he confused and nervous about this situation. Just like me.

I am hoping that this little effort of goodwill will help to mend this really rocky relationship. Quite honestly, I am really tired of her always being mad and Hubby being mad and me and Jassi looking at both of them and thinking "Get the hell over it!". If this does not cure the bad blood between this piece of my family, so be it. I have had a chance to deal with a really nice kid and allowed by step-daughter to share the other part of her family with her brother. She was so excited last night to show her brother her room!

I guess either way, all's good.

If I....

...Shake the shit out of the Demon at the Blue Table ( formerly known as the Demon by the Door), would I loose my job? How 'bout if I box her?

The bigger question is if I will care!

That little girl is too much for me and I just can't take it anymore. If she hits or throws her hand up and me again I am gonna light her little tail up! I don't need this mess!

Today because she was mad that some kid was upset with her for begging for his lunchable in the cafeteria, she decided that she would get all grand. She even decided that she would try to hit me. Now she tried this shit yesterday in from of one of my interns. The intern asked why I didn't just knock her the hell out.

It ain't that easy. If it were, I would have pulled a Hollyfield on her a minute ago.

After today's attempt, I think that I blacked out. I really forgot where I was. I forgot who she was. I grabbed that little trick by the arm, left my class and walked (well slightly dragged) her to the office. On the way I was angry because I had other kids and things to worry about other than this same mess every day! She was pulling one way and I was pulling the other. Man, if I would have broken the heel on my Jimmy Choo's dealing with this child I was going to loose it. FOR REAL!

So we make it to the office. I dropped her in the middle of the floor. I then made this statement which as we speak ( or read as the case may be) is being repeated in gossip in the school halls:

"Y'all need to take this child and do something with her. I don't care what! Call her daddy, the damn principal or call the damn police but I have had enough of this shit." And I left her right there.

I might be in trouble for that tomorrow.

And the Winner is....

ME!!

(insert me doing my happy dance here!)

Last night I attended a reception for the winners of Citibank/Education Fund Grants. I wrote the grant on a whim. One of the tutors that was at the school last year hipped me to the site and said that I should apply. Because I was bored one day, I did. A few months later I was surprised to get an email saying that I had been chosen to receive the grant and that there would be a dinner and reception.

Yeah for me....now I would be able to do a project and not have to depend on my raggedy parents to get the things I need for their children. Not bad for a whim. eh?

So a few weeks ago they sent an email with the time and date and a few requirements. They asked that I invite a team mate (OK, I knew who I would ask for that), a family member (Hubby loves these things), let me know that there would be free drinks (Aw, hell yeah, the liquor is free!!) and the principal (!!!). So of course I asked Principal and she accepted.

The reception was not bad. There were teachers and principals all there to share some really good ideas. We had some really good conversations and I learned so much. I also got a check!!

Right before the checks, they asked some of us to get up and tell about our upcoming projects. After some cajoling from my teammate, I got up and talked a bit about my idea. When I sat down Principal said:

(Yep, here goes):

Principal: That was nice. You speak so well.

Now, what kinda fool ass statement is this!? You know what? I know she meant this as a compliment. Nothing more, nothing less. And that is what I will recieve it as. But for a quick minute, that old Chris Rock joke about Colin Powell ran through my head. I am educated and well traveled, of course I speak well. Then I thought about it...just a compliment, leave it at that. So the only natural reply:

Me: Thank you.

Sometimes you have to take your compliments as they come.

The only bad part of the whole thing was the presenter made a mistake and called one of my co-teachers name and not mine. That kinda sucked. But I am happy they when I got to the podium one of the school board members congratulated and said she was sorry for the mix-up. She also gave old boy at the podium the 'gas face' for making the error.

Now, as we award winners must do, I must go bask in the glory of after parties and the praise of my colleagues. Yeah, right...the party is nothing more that surviving the day with the Demon that Sits at the Blue Table and the Demon to My Left.

To celebrate, I will eat this Snickers Bar I just found in my desk.

Where is your faith?

For the past few weeks I have been a little down. I mean really, who wouldn't be? I have lost both grandparents, my family is not speaking, children are trying to tackle me with their 1972 metal lunchboxes (yeah, I am still a little heated about that). It is just too much.

I have always been one of those scatterbrained people. Maybe scatterbrained is too harsh of a word. I am a true Piscean. I am a dreamer. An over logical thinker. My way of thinking is unusual. It is really quick. I can go through several subjects in my head in a millisecond, and most often, I end up connecting things that people never really thought should be connected. This can be a good and a bad thing. It's good because employers say I 'think out of the box', but bad because sometimes I am unable to convey what I am truly thinking or feeling because there just isn't the right words and my brain is moving on. A really good example is that for years I have wanted to keep a journal, but I can never seem to write all that I am thinking as I think it. The blog thing is great because I can type usually at the speed that I am thinking. (So yes, all this craziness is really in my head...not a lot of editing)

Anyway, I say all that to say this:

I have a lot to deal with lately. It is keeping me from sleeping. I just think too much. I have been wondering a lot lately about if I have wasted my chance to start my own family, will I be able to tackle the things my grandfather wanted me to do, and if I am...well, if I am just OK. I think sometimes God give you a sign. Something that just tell you that he is listening and paying attention. Most times it is not an answer to your problem, just a little hug to let you know that he is still there and he is working on it.

And I said all that to get to this:

Today, after my normal sleepless night, I came to school with the usual things on my mind; "How am I gonna...", 'What can I do to...", "When will...". All these things have been running through my brain. Then Cedric's mom came to the door. I had sent her a note that I needed to see her about his progress in school. I told her that I had talked to the principal about him and that he was doing better socially, but that the work was a bit to hard for him. He is catching on but there are things I need him to do at home. Blah, Blah, Blah. She could tell something was wrong with me. She asked if all was OK. I told her I was fine. She told me Cedric told her I was out of class because someone in my family died. I told her that was true and that yes, some days were not so easy for me. She said that she remembers when she was with the doctors and they told her that he child did not have a chance that she told them 'Where is your faith?".

That phrase has been in my head all morning. I have to have faith that the things I want will happen and if they don't, I have to have the faith that this is how they are supposed to be. I have to have faith in the decisions I make and trust that I am doing what I think is honest and best at the time. I have to have faith in faith.

My mind runs at full speed sometimes.

Where is your faith?

For the past few weeks I have been a little down. I mean really, who wouldn't be? I have lost both grandparents, my family is not speaking, children are trying to tackle me with their 1972 metal lunchboxes (yeah, I am still a little heated about that). It is just too much.

I have always been one of those scatterbrained people. Maybe scatterbrained is too harsh of a word. I am a true Piscean. I am a dreamer. An over logical thinker. My way of thinking is unusual. It is really quick. I can go through several subjects in my head in a millisecond, and most often, I end up connecting things that people never really thought should be connected. This can be a good and a bad thing. It's good because employers say I 'think out of the box', but bad because sometimes I am unable to convey what I am truly thinking or feeling because there just isn't the right words and my brain is moving on. A really good example is that for years I have wanted to keep a journal, but I can never seem to write all that I am thinking as I think it. The blog thing is great because I can type usually at the speed that I am thinking. (So yes, all this craziness is really in my head...not a lot of editing)

Anyway, I say all that to say this:

I have a lot to deal with lately. It is keeping me from sleeping. I just think too much. I have been wondering a lot lately about if I have wasted my chance to start my own family, will I be able to tackle the things my grandfather wanted me to do, and if I am...well, if I am just OK. I think sometimes God give you a sign. Something that just tell you that he is listening and paying attention. Most times it is not an answer to your problem, just a little hug to let you know that he is still there and he is working on it.

And I said all that to get to this:

Today, after my normal sleepless night, I came to school with the usual things on my mind; "How am I gonna...", 'What can I do to...", "When will...". All these things have been running through my brain. Then Cedric's mom came to the door. I had sent her a note that I needed to see her about his progress in school. I told her that I had talked to the principal about him and that he was doing better socially, but that the work was a bit to hard for him. He is catching on but there are things I need him to do at home. Blah, Blah, Blah. She could tell something was wrong with me. She asked if all was OK. I told her I was fine. She told me Cedric told her I was out of class because someone in my family died. I told her that was true and that yes, some days were not so easy for me. She said that she remembers when she was with the doctors and they told her that he child did not have a chance that she told them 'Where is your faith?".

That phrase has been in my head all morning. I have to have faith that the things I want will happen and if they don't, I have to have the faith that this is how they are supposed to be. I have to have faith in the decisions I make and trust that I am doing what I think is honest and best at the time. I have to have faith in faith.

My mind runs at full speed sometimes.

Baby, What a Shower!

This weekend was great! There is something about being around people that are familiar to you. It gives you a sense of calm. I had this sense of calm this weekend.

I love being around my girlfriends! Truth be told there has been some tension of the last few months with the lot of us, but it seems that we have put it all behind and are right back to that close group we have been for years. I think that sometimes when things are going wrong for you, you can feel that it is going right for everyone else and turn away. I think many conversations this weekend helped us to understand that even when we are down, there is someone to talk to who either shares your pain or will listen and learn from you. I did both those things this weekend.

So on to the good stuff.

I was the last to make it to ATL. To my surprise, everyone was at the airport when I got there. I just had this happy feeling come over me seeing all of us there. Now mind you, we have spent many times in ATL before. In the words of the rap song, we use to 'tear the club up'. This time we were there for something special and you could see the excitement on everyone's face. It was either the excitement from the shower, or we could have just been all excited that Pam made it on time!

We spent the rest of the evening doing what we do best. Talking, eating, and laughing and shopping at the local Wal-Mart. It was way colder in Georgia than it was in Miami. By my new Miami blood I felt like it was below zero; it was actually only about 40. Being the Diva that I want to be, I bought my first funky fur! OK, now remember we were in Wal-Mart. God only knows what the hell kinda fur it is. Looks like English fuzzy sheepdog to me...but I was rocking that thing anyway. English sheep dog is warm as hell.

After a very cold night, we got up the next morning and talked so much we left the house late. We picked up items for the shower (did some shopping...seems like we can find the need to do that anywhere/anytime) and headed back to set up. At first we thought no one was going to make it. The funny thing is we were kinda excited no one was going to make it. We had all we needed for a good party right there. The decision was made to put on some more comfortable clothes, eat, and do what we do. Just as I was about to go put on my GoodTimes JJ Pj's (that I found during that mornings shopping trip! Wal-Mart and Target will be the death of me) the doorbell rang and the party got started.

We had a lot of fun. I think Nicci really enjoyed it and she got some great things for her new baby girl. Crimes Legal is the blog picture Queen, so I am sure photos of the shower (including me in my JJ getup) will be on her site by the end of the week.

The next day we went to church. It was a long beautiful country drive and I had to keep talking to keep from falling asleep. Once we got there, we were blessed to hear a teaching from one of the church's associate pastors. She spoke about true worship. In detail, she explained how you should be able to find a reason to praise and worship anywhere, including funerals. Of course this made me think of my family and all the foolishness we have been going through. We have spent so much time fighting over dumb stuff that we did not take the time to stop and truly worship the Father and thank him for letting us have these people in our lives for so long. Sad ain't it? I think in some way we had found a way of true worship at the baby shower. I think we were all thankful that God had allow us all to be there to share this moment.

After that, Nicci convinced us to go a local BP for breakfast. I looked at her real crazy. Who the hell eats breakfast out of the gas station? She asked me to trust her, and since she drives these county roads on a daily I decided I would. I was scared of what the Diva's in the other car were thinking. I am sure they thought that girl had found the Camry on 'E' and was stopping for a quick fill up. As I got out of the car, I asked God to help me trust her. The line was long which was a good sign since it is my personal opinion that country people know good biscuits. They damn sure did, because that thing was good. As we stood outside and ate, I looked over at Maya and laughed.

Me: Girl we have come full circle.

Miss Maya : I want to ask you why, but I just can't.

Me: Why? (OK I am laughing now)

MM: Because I just don't want to know what you are going to say.

Me: Naw, for real this is a good thing.

MM: OK, dammit. Why have we come full circle?

Me: Girl, we are standing in a field, outside, in the cold next to the superunleaded, eating a biscuit and I am in this lovely Wal- Mart puppy fur!! And we are having the best time.

She laughed and then asked me to move away from her because some of the puppy was shedding into her chicken biscuit.

There are some things I learned this weekend:
1. You can't beat being with your friends.
2. A good laugh can cure a lot of blues.

3. People change in really good ways

4. 40 degrees is WAY colder in Georgia than it is in the rest of the free world

5. You can get a hell of a biscuit at a gas station in the middle of Georgia!!

My Girls...

I could not sleep at ALL last night. I felt just like I did the night before my mom took me to Disney World for the first time. I was just too excited to sleep!! Today, all of my Girls are headed to the ATL. I can just hear Angie Stone singing the 'Girlfriends' theme song. Well, actually we are headed to Athens, which is a hotbed of excitement in Georgia. OK, let me stop and tell the truth...Athens is not the hotbed of anywhere...it really isn't even the warm blanket! Truthfully, nothing too much happens there. But I am excited anyway because all of us will be there. And Lord knows, I need to get away and celebrate something good. We are the live action version of that show. Quite honestly if MTV or the now defunct UPN ever wanted a real reality show about some Black women, they should choose us.

This is one of the few reasons we have ever 'possed up' for a none billy beat down reason. Oh, we are quick together to defend each other. This time is for a happy occasion. One of my bestest buddies is going to have her second baby girl. I can think of nothing better to celebrate. I take that back. I really need to celebrate that Pam left on time. That has to be the biggest surprise of them all! Love her dearly, but sistahgirl usually about 2 days and 2 hours late. Then the funny part is she will ask where everyone is going...usually after all the guest have left.

They went home chick. Party started at 4 on Friday. It is now 6 on Saturday.

There is a lot to be said about having a bunch of girlfriends that you can trust. You are allowed to laugh, cry, and gossip on each other without fear of punishment. I have immediate problems with women who say they have no women friends because they just can't get along with men. In the immortal words of the great Keith Sweat "Something, something, something ,something just ain't right". There is nothing but love in this group. Even when we are angry with each other. I love them all dearly and miss them all much.

I can't wait for this weekend to get started.