MY PLAY PLAY BABY DADDY

There is no reason for these pics except to show my play, play baby daddy. See, he does not have to do all those shirtless photos to be phine. He can be phine fully clothed. Now, that's what I am TALKING 'BOUT!!!

3 DAYS AND 5 WEEKS LEFT...

I hate when you really are not feeling your best and folk say to you "Hey, you really look awful today!" Today, I have heard that more than my fair share of times and I am rather tired of it. One person even said, "You look great, just not as fabulous as you normally do." I guess that is just a nice way of putting it.


Yesterday, as soon as I walked in, I was greeted by MIL and her day companion. The woman that spends the day with her has to be the most patient woman on the planet. I have never met anyone like her. I guess that is because she is the only person I have met that has spent that much time with MIL and still comes back for more. I told Hubby last night that this woman is obviously an angel (or at least touched by one) and I am not sure if God sent her down for MIL or me.

Anyway, the two of them presented me with a list of things for my daily Wal-Mart run. I have decided that I might as well get stock in the company, because I can see that I will greatly improve their P&L this quarter. The list contain normal items that I should get from the grocery store. It also included some favorites. For example, I need to pick up honey mustard for her daily turkey sandwich (it's low fat you know) and turkey burgers. As I read down the list, I noticed that she also asked for a chest of drawers (!!!). Now I understand that she needs this because she is not to bend down, but buying furniture, in my humble opinion, means and intent to stay longer than just 6 weeks. For Chrissakes she wants me to BUY FURNITURE!

I put this out of my mind until this morning. I picked up my list and headed out the door, knowing that there would be a new and improved list once I got home.


I keep telling myself...it is almost over...only 5 weeks and 3 days left.

Please, Please Pray for Me!

This weekend MIL moved in to recoup from her spinal surgery. I called my best friend to tell her of this and she suggested that I find a synagogue, church, Kingdom Hall, prayer group, burning bush or PTL partner to help me get through this. I agreed and have looked into seeing if Reverend Ike is still sending out those prayer hankies or if I could become a Hare Krishna without cutting my hair into that little ponytail. Maybe the Nation of Islam will lend me a bow tie and a bean pie for a few weeks.

Anyway, to make sure that she is comfy cozy my den has become her personal living space. She has a hospital bed, a massage chair and her own personal nurse, physical therapist, and a woman who just comes to sit with her during the day. The weird part is that these are not enough people for her. She must also elicit the help of me and Hubby on an almost minute to minute basis.

At first, she was to stay at the hospital in the rehab facility. She complained to Hubby that she felt she would not get the care she needed in the hospital (!!!!) and needed to be with family. Hubby agreed. The look I gave him should have put him in a rehab facility. So my precious weekend was spent shopping for a recliner for her to be comfortable in, completing her grocery list (which contained only things that were low fat, fat free or made with splenda...remember this, it is important later), and making sure that she had adequate entertainment.

I guess one of my biggest issues is that she can never just come out and say what she means. She is the queen of beating around the bush. Remember I said everything on the shopping list was low or fat free. Well, this Sunday, Hubby requested fried chicken for dinner. No Black person worth their salt has come up with a good low/free of fat fried chicken recipe. So to keep from hearing about her cholesterol (this along with her issues with her bowels since the surgery has been the main topic of conversation for the last 3 days) I baked her two boneless skinless chicken breast. We all sat at the table to eat.

MIL: Everything looks so lovely!

Me: Well, thank you?

MIL: Well, what is that you all have there?

Jassi: Chicken wings, Grandma!

At this point I looked DIRECTLY at Hubby. I knew what was coming and I think he did too.

MIL: You know, I like the chicken wings, too. That would be a nice taste in my mouth.

I foresee it being a looooong six weeks. I am sure I will feel years older and be quite a bit grayer by the time the six weeks is over. I have daydreamed about packing her up on exactly week 6 and driving her home lickety split. I am sure that she will need some additional time to 'get her strength back' before she will be able to make it home. Maybe she will leave before Christmas.

Last night she asked Hubby if he would get a bell so that she could call us when she needed us at night. I looked at Hubby and walked away. She can't really be serious. If she gets a bell, she will be the only MIL that is MIA.

Jesus and Bob Marley

Once a week, Hubby and I make a point to go to the diner down the street from us and have breakfast. We take this time to talk, catch up on each other and laugh. The past few weeks have been tough on the two of us. We each have a lot of personal and business matters that are going and it is pretty overwhelming at times.

This morning as we sat in our same booth, after ordering our usual breakfast. I look over a Hubby and say "what are we going to do"? He, in true Hubby style says, "we just have to ride things out...it is not like we don't see a light at the end of the tunnel".

"It's a pretty long damn tunnel, Babe!" I said and we both just laughed though he knew that I was serious. I am a worrier. Most don't know that, but I can worry about most anything. These past few weeks between family, work, and more family and work, I have worried myself silly.

This diner has the booths with the little jukeboxes in it. We have never put the nickel in the jukebox, but we have sat and laughed at some of the titles that are available, Sly and the Family Stone being one of my favorites. Anyway, as we sat there and laughed about our troubles. I secretly thought in my head "Lord just what am I gonna do".

Now get this...the jukebox started playing! NO JOKE! It was very low at first. I notice that it was on, looked over confused at Hubby and turned up the volume.

"Don't worry...about a thing..'cuz every little thing...gonna be alright".


Jesus and Bob Marley are singing to me this morning! I started laughing. I looked over a Hubby and he just grinned. Wow! I guess the Lord still gives signs. This time it was Bob Marley with a side of cornbeef hash. I have been singing that song all morning.

The Murder Gene...

There is a show on Oxygen Network called "Snapped". The show focuses on women who lead perfectly normal lives, then one day, they just snapped! The situation they were in just became too much. They got tired of the bullshit. They got to a point where they felt being the bigger person just was too damn much. So they killed a bitch. Not everyone has this ability. I call it The Murder Gene.

I have never understood that. I mean I have a temper, but I have never gotten so angry at a person that I even thought of killing them. A chick like me would never make it in prison. I cannot be Big Bertha's woman! Not to mention prison wardens are really prejudiced to inmates wearing Jimmy Choos with their county blues. I have never understood how you can give up your whole lifejust because someone made you angry.

Betcha I understand that shit now!

Auntie Dearest is crazy. I have said it before, but before there was a bit of humor in what I said. Today, I am completely serious. Without getting into the whole story, let's just break it down to the fact that this past weekend, she was up in my face asking those famous fight questions "Well, do you wanna see what I'm gonna do?"

This is funny for two reasons. The first is that she outweighs me by about 75 good pounds. The fight would have been quick, she really could have just sat her big ass on me. And two, she is the First Lady at her church. I really wonder what the Ladies League would say about her putting up her fists to duke it out instead of dropping to her knees in prayer!

The point I am trying to make is this. For a brief moment, I had come to the point where I had had ENOUGH. I wanted her to no longer exist. I walked toward the kitchen with the intent of getting a knife and putting her out of my misery. Luckily, that brief 10 foot walk kept me from doing just that and becoming Big Bertha's love slave. Not to mention county blue does not work with my undertones!

This whole thing taught me this...emotions, especially anger, are powerful things. In a brief second you can change your life just because your are angry with someone. We are not animals and cannot run solely on emotion. We must take time to stop and think. I have thought about our fight over and over the last few days. I realize I am angry at the fact that she has yet to view me as an adult. She is angry that her father did not entrust his business with her. Something that neither of us can change. I think that we both need a time out...before one of us "snaps"...


...and kills a bitch.

The List...

This was the weekend I was to spend with my family taking things out of my grandfather's house. I prepared myself for the worse. And the worse happened. But before that, my strange life took over.

My sister-in-law had warned me about taking my mother-in law shopping. She told me that a quick trip could take quite a few hours. Knowing that MIL wanted to pick some things up from varous stores I offered to just go get everything myself. I thought it would make the trip quicker. It did.

However....


When I woke up Friday morning I asked Hubby to go get his mother's shopping list. I wanted to get out of the door as quickly as possible. He came back with the list just as I was putting on my clothes to leave. I looked at the list..then I looked at him.

Me: Are you sure you want me to get all this?

Hubby: Yes, what's wrong?

Me: Did you look at the list?

Hubby: Yes, it is not that long.

Me: So what you are saying is that you want me to get your mother a vibrator?!!

Hubby: What?!


Sure enough the first thing on the list was a vibrator. No lie. Stop laughing. For real. Turns out she wanted one to massage her back. We both started laughing. I mean you need to tell a girl. Ya gotta be specific. See, everyone would have blamed me if I came back with the super deluxe dick slinger with the jumbo balls. A girl need to know if she is shopping at Family Dollar or Fantasty Lane.


I guess the real funny thing would have been if she would have kept it!

Mr. Colorado Strikes Again...

The air is thin in Colorado. Or maybe it is just the air is heavy in Miami. This change in atmospheric pressure is killing Mr. Colorado. That is the only reason I can come up with for him.

Mr. Colorado sits at a table with two of my smartest students. This works because 1. I hope that they will be able to explain material to him at a level he may understand and 2. if all else fails maybe some of their 'smart' will rub off on him.

Yesterday, one of the boys (Smart Demon#1) at the table comes up to be looking confused and downright hurt. And so the journey with Mr. Colorado began:

SD1: Ms. Green, Colorado told me to suck his...his (he points down to his pants and then whispers) private parts!

Me: WHAT!!

SD1: He said suck his private parts.

Me: Did he say 'private parts'?

(Now, I am whispering, too)

SD1: Oh, no...he said the other word.


So I called Colorado to the desk. To this very moment I am wondering why I did not just send him to Principal. But then she would have had a conversation with me and two such conversations (with colorado and Principal) should not be had on the same day. That would be both cruel and unusual punishment.


Me: Did you tell Smart Demon to suck your private parts?

MC: Yes.

Me: Why would you say such a horrible thing?

MC: He told me to.

Me: He told you to say that?

(at this point SD1 is shaking is head so hard it may fall off)

MC: He has been saying all kinds of nasty things to me and they have been sticking in my head and then they came on my lips.

Me: What did he say to you?

MC: I can't remember, but I know that it was dirty.

Me: Did you think that was the right thing to say?

MC: I don't know it was in my head and I said it. I could not help it.

So I called the other smart demon to the desk. What is really funny is this kid is a genius, looks like he is India, is from Trinidad, and speaks with the most ghetto accent you can imagine. He is usually able to tell a sensible story about what happened.

Me: SD2, did you hear what happen at your table?

SD2: Yes.

Me: Well, who said what and was SD1 telling Colorado nasty things.

SD2: I don't know 'bout all that...but I know he told him to suck his dick...I mean wee-wee.

MC: But my brain told me.

I am really tired of this child and his pal 'brain' that keeps telling him to do foolishness. It's like that cartoon Pinky and the Brain.

What are we going to do tonight, Brain?

Same thing we do every night, try to aggravate Ms. Green!

I Love New York.

Separated at birth? You Make the Call!


I need a support group. My name is KGreen and I am a reality show junkie! I love this stuff. If you are looking for your baby daddy and you have tested 11 men just to hear Maury say you are NOT the father, or if you are a white guy who has decided that he needs to be a part of the ghetto revolution even though you are the King of Suburbia, hell, you are the show for me!

For the last couple years, I have been hooked on Flavor of Love. I was so sad when I realized that after he crowned Deelishis with her gold grill that I would never see that show again other than on lonely Sunday afternoons when I would watch reruns and marathons over and over. Just imagine how happy I was to learn that New York would have her own show!

Now let's face it...this girl is not the best and the brightest but, much like a train wreck I cannot stop watching this show. I was surprised to know that men actually found her chain smoking, cheap dress wearing, manly momma having self attractive. Again, another train wreck and I just can't stop watching.

Last night I watched Ms. New York and talked back and forth with Crimes Legal. We came up with a revelation. These men like this woman because she reminds them of their child hood. Ms. New York looks exactly like Janice from the Muppets. Remember she played the guitar in Dr. Tooth's band Mayhem? I really believe these two were separated at birth at some hospital in muppet kindom.


God, I love reality TV. Hallelujah Holla-back!

Happy Burfthday to You!

Just when I thought I would have nothing to write about today...

This morning just after we walked in the door (which was about 5 minutes ago) The Demonslayer walked up to me. It was really too early for him to walk up to me, but I am just not in the mood for a fight this morning. Here's the conversation:


DS: Ms. Green today is my burfthday.

(remember I told you he has that speech problem which makes everything funnier)

Me: Wow. That's great.

DS: My burfthday is January tweff.

(What's funny is today is the 16th. What is even funnier is that we were in school on the 'tweff' and he never mentioned it.)

Me: OK. Great.

(no unnecessary discussions today)

DS: Yes, and I am going to be tweff anyway too.

What the hell?

Me: Well, happy tweff burfthday, Demonslayer.

So for much of the morning, he has been telling the other kids that he is 'tweff' today. The other kids in the class have been looking at him with the pie face, but I guess by now they expect this foolishness out of him so they pretty much have ignored him.

Except for Mr. Colorado. Get ready.

DS: I am tweff today.

MC: Good, I am 13 already in Russia.

I need a drink.!!

Mr. Colorado

I must take a break from talking about my crazy family. I will go back to what I love to talk about...yep...the demons.

I have a new student from Colorado (first of all, now that his family has left the Black population in Colorado has dropped to zero). He has to be the weirdest child I have ever encountered. He reminds me of the kid from the Simpson that just says dumb shit at any given time. Has nothing to do with what is going on...just whatever has crossed his mind.

I will call him Mr. Colorado.


Mr. Colorado says weird stuff to me all the time. For example...out of the blue one day he said that he was not here. Listen up....HE said HE was not here. How is that possible? After giving him my newly patented Colorado Confused look, I walked away. A few seconds later he said 'didn't you hear me?' I said 'no, because I left five minutes ago.'

The next day he told me that he could only talk to me in Russian that way he would understand. Again, I gave him the look and told him that if he did I would not understand him. He said something that sounds to me like "HUNGAMYUNDASMIT". I asked him 'what did you call my momma? " This time he walked away.

Today, he turned in his test paper and, if you have not guessed by now he is not the best or the brightest. Most of the answers were correct.

That just can't be right. But then again maybe the baby had an epiphany. I was over joyed becayse the last few days were quite scary. I called him to the desk and asked him to read the paper.

Me: Read this for me Colorado.

MC: I can't read.

Me: Then how did you get the answers?

MC: My brain had told me to do it.

Me: Your brain?

MC: Yes. I just looked at it and my brain said that I should chose the one in the middle.

Now this would have been a logical answer if he had chosen all the words that were in the middle. But some were on the top. Some were the last word on the list. I think this 'brain' is the voices in his head. He is crazy. If I had any damn sense I would run!
Me: Did your brain tell you how to read it?

MC: No. But maybe I should ask my brain.

Me: OK.

MC: Did I do something wrong?

Me: No. I just need to know if you read this paper yourself.

MC: No. I had help.

Me: Who helped you?

MC: My brain.

See, that's that bullshit right there!

What Kinda Fool Am I?

Ironically after I wrote my long post yesterday about indifference, I had a conversation with Auntie Dearest.

Even thought I am well on my way to giving less than a damn about all this foolishness we are going through, Hubby comes to me with a way that we could probably solve one of the bigger family problems that we have. In his spare time he is a genius and he had come up with a way that my Uncle could purchase the home and everyone get a fair and equal share. I was excited, so excited that I was talking faster than I was thinking. When I couldn't get Uncle on the phone, I took a deep breath and did something I did not think I would do for a long time. Actually, I had to stop and pray a moment.

Yep, you guessed it...I called Auntie Dearest.

So my fool ass is bubbling over with my new found information and although she was more welcoming then she has been in a long time (I mean at least this time she did not say some fool ass thing like I was UNGODLY). I told her the idea and guess what?


IT STILL WASN'T A DAMN 'NUFF!

Now, I must be fair. At least she was open but it still was not enough for her. Sadly, if things are not her way all the way them she does not deal well. We talk for quite some time more and I realized more and more during the conversation that she really only listened to the parts she wanted to listen to. Ain't that a bitch? We ended the conversation civilly. She did not call me a demon once! Surprise!!

I left the conversation confident that I need to handle this matter the way I have been handling it. Hopefully any ill will can dissipate over time. Right now I think she believes that I completely agree with her. I don't, but I am willing to compromise.

In the meantime WHAT KINDA FOOL DOES SHE THINK I AM?

What is the opposite of Love?

Most will say the opposite of love is hate. I used to think that. Itis not true. Hate requires some emotion and thought. It often requires more time than love. It is usually a product of love. Hate has feeling and depth. It causes pain. It takes up your time. It means that the person or thing or situation still has some control over you.

The true opposite of love is indifference.

Indifference means that there is no thought, emotion, or pain. It means that it no longer matters or even exist.

Case in point...I think that I have reached that point with my family. I think each of them is so very concerned about themselves that they don't think about how their actions affect others. They also don't seem to notice that their selfishness is ruining our family. At one point I sad I just hated them all.

Now, slowly, it seem they just don't matter to me at all anymore.

Hubby said to me the other day that I should just handle things as best I see fit, make sure everyone is treated fairly, and call it a day. For the longest now, I have fought that. I felt that I needed them to feel whole. In a way I do. Everyone should have a family link, but lately, I have felt more whole without them. Each day I seem to care about their feelings less and less. It is the same way I think they feel about me. I think that eventually this hate I have for them will have run its course and I will be indifferent.

My mom says that you cannot choose your family. You have to deal with the cards that you are dealt. It is time for me to fold. I don't believe that you can't choose your family. When I think about it, I have family. I have several mothers, many children, and a ton of neices and nephews and 5 sisters. I can create all the family I need right now.

It's a weird feeling...I want to keep hating these people. I want to keep having some kind of feeling for them. But slowly I am having a change of heart. They don't matter one way or the other.

I guess that is indifference.

Where You Lay Your Head...

Hubby has few friends. Not because he is mean and surly (which he kinda is), but because he is very selective about the folk her refers to as friends. He has one buddy from college that I have recently met and I adore. They were in band together. At an HBCU this is almost as important as being on the football team. Hopefully, it is as funny to the average person as it is to me that Hubby was a band geek. The thought of all 6'5" of him playing the tuba and dancing just cracks me the hell up.

Anyway, when I first met the SaxPlayer, he brought his girlfriend with him. I was amazed that I liked her and him so much. The two of them spent many weekends with us. This weekend he is here with a new girlfriend. You know I am shocked! True to "that's my girl" instincts all over the globe, I have given this girl the pie face since she got here. Hubby says I am wrong. He may be right, but my face is still all 'pied up'.

I asked hubby why SaxPlayer is not her with my friend and why he has brought some new chick in my home. He said that my friend wanted to get married and SaxPlayer was not ready for that. I asked why...the two of them seemed so perfect together. They finished each other's sentences and jokes. I just loved seeing the two of them together. Hubby then goes on to tell the story that the two of them had gotten into a fight a few years back about the same marriage issue. At the time SaxPlayer had lost both of his parents and was caring for a younger brother. Money was tight and they had all moved into one place. Hers. She got angry and put them out that night. He begged her to let him stay letting her know that he did not have anywhere to go. She refused (as angry Black women do) and he and the brother had to live in the car for awhile. Eventually, she cooled down (as Black women do) and they moved back in together. Things got better for him and he moved into his own place. They still saw each other, but he had his own spot. He said that from that point forward he could not see marrying her because she would be able to quit the relationship in his time of need. She did not have him "for richer or poorer".

WOW!

Hubby at that point remined SaxPlayer of something his father taught him "you don't lay your head on a pillow that you don't pay for". This might be the reason that anywhere that we have lived Hubby has made sure that he paid the rent. It's good advice. But it is even better advice for our daughters. Right at that moment I told myself that I would make sure that I had this same philosopy with Jassi and any other girl child in my world. YOU DO NOT LAY YOUR HEAD ON A PILLOW YOU DON'T PAY FOR. The only men you need to live with are your father, brother or husband. If they are paying for your pillow, cool.

We have become OK with people living together. But what more do you learn about a person when you live with them? For the most part you learn that you do not want to marry them. Hubby and I lived together for four whole months before our wedding. Some days I thought about canceling the wedding. Living with someone has you experiencing their bad habits and all that stuff without you having to deal with a true commitment. Now that I am married I have to deal with Hubby and his cigars. A habit he knows I dont' like, but he loves. If we were living together I could just say 'forget this mess" and move out as easily as I moved in. When you are married you have to compromise.

So right now, per Hubby's instructions, I will get the pie off my face and be a gracious host. I am sure she is nice. She teaches demons just like I do. What I have learned is this: Where you lay your head is important. Make sure it is a place that is yours until you are willing to completely share that space with someone. All the space...not just the pillow (that you don't pay for) and an easy way out.

I needed the break...

My two week holiday break is almost over. I needed the rest. I have been lucky enought to spend this time with friends. Note I said 'friends', not really too much family. When I think about it I needed a break from them and all their drama too. My mom said something to me the other day that is so very cliche but true. "You pick your 'friends' but you can't do a damn thing about your family. So you have to love and put up with 'dem bitches if you like it or not."

This holiday, I chose 'not'.

Now don't get me wrong, there were moments when I missed my mom and my uncles and especially my (though I hate to admit it) Auntie Dearest. But I learned over this time off that sometimes in a effort to find yourself, you have to loose a lot of folk. I think that my family has thought some of the same things. Right before I came home for the holiday, I talked to my uncle and we squared some things out. On New Year's eve, I got a call from Auntie Dearest (!!!!). I looked at the caller id and decided to let her leave a message. She left the best apology she could do, and I need to accept that. I will in my own good time. But for right now, I still need some time. She is one of my new year's resolutions.


Oh, well, three more days before I have to go back to my demons. All of them both personal and in my class room. Until then, I will continue to relax an enjoy my time at home.


Damn I don't wanna go back to work.

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.