Nine Baby Dragons

Boomerang Generation - When You Gone Go Already

2009-11-21T10:22:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting in my room in the dark reading about writing. You know what folks. I think I'm back - almost.

Yesterday, I did a snap and head roll to all of my adult dragons who presume to be under my care. Walked in the door from work, saw the table filled with dirty dishes mirrored by the sink and snapped out on some folks. Even when I was not working and was home all day, 70% of the time, at least I cleared a path for my husband. He says it's more like 40% but whatever, I did something e'er day even if it was only in my mind. When I was off the last time, I was suffering from the depression that goes along with fibromyalgia in major flare. I could barely get out of bed. I was in pain physically, mentally and spiritually YET I was still able to put the toilet paper on the roll.

Gratitude, gratitude. Where are you? Okay, I'm sitting in MY room that I share with my husband. It's mine. I'm sitting on a wonderfully orange body pillow on the floor. It's mine. I have the choice to turn off the lights, the energy company didn't do it for me. That's good. My body doesn't hurt today. Wunderbar. I'm not pregnant. Pass me a cigarette, I just wet my pants with gratitude.

Dealing with adult children is a challenge. This generation has been dubbed the 'boomerang' generation. http://www.ncfliving.org/bk_108_boomerang1.php It may not be their fault because the economy's bad and job aren't out there. Give me a break though. C'mon. Stay in school. Don't get pregnant. Say yes to McDonald employment applications. Keep your mind opened to beans twice a week. THEN I wouldn't have a problem with ya sorry a$$.

I'm getting frustrated. I'm going to check out my reserve sites regarding this issue.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boomerang_Generation
www.ehow.com/how_2187051_deal-inconsiderate-adult-children.html
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1728664/let_your_kids_grow_up_tips_for_dealing.html?cat=25
http://www.troubledwith.com/Relationships/A000001292.cfm?topic=relationships%3A%20parents%20and%20adult%20children

Loving Creator,

Thank you for the ability to parent in place of babysitting. My adult children have me as an option for care and comfort when so many others do not. Please help me to remember that I am here as a resource for them when they need help. Please help me to remember that this is their life converging with mine and not mine alone. I can allow them their mistakes and be a net to catch them when they fall yet not be marionette strings that hold them up. Please help me to remember to care for mySelf in the process.

So be it.

Collectivisim will be the death of me.

2009-10-11T10:53:00.000-07:00

A collectivist household is nowhere to be for a codependent.

Different societies have different ways to relate. Communication, of course, is a vehicle in relations. Americans and Europeans are individualistic cultures. We tend to be direct in our requests, we expect folks to be on time and our individual goals are encouraged. Asian, African and Hispanic, in general, are collectivist societies. We tend to be less direct in our requests, are pretty flexible on the time tip and the group’s goals are king. These are tremendous generalizations that I hope will offend no one. Japanese employees sacrifice to achieve company or family success. Hispanic individuals support their community keeping their services and goods accessible. Go to a meeting in an African or Asian community and after everyone has eaten, asked about family and gotten comfortable, business begins. Go to a business meeting is Switzerland or New York and if the meeting starts at 2:00, the business starts at 2:00 and anybody late is, well, just don’t be late.

I say all this to say that my house is collectivist. My children and husband very rarely ask directly for things and when they do its uncomfortable for them. Therefore, I have a hard time saying no to direct requests and get roped into indirect ones.

I think that we should all be considerate of each other. You don’t have a job, why are taking a shower in the morning 20 minutes before I have to leave for work? It’s the African in me - considerate group think.

I’m a direct person. I say no and I ask for what I want. Get the hell out of the shower. You ain’t fucking so you can take your showers in the evening. That’s the European training in me - if it don’t make dollars, it don’t make sense.

I'm a resentful person. I feel bad about saying no to your request or responding to your action, say my peace and then feel bad enough to say yes or take back my response and have a resentment FOREVER. Tomorrow, take your shower earlier and don’t use all of the hot water, okay sweetie - (say inconsiderate ass bastard under my breath and then not cook dinner later). That’s the codependent in me.

Alas, I’m a graduate student. My husband is in school also. I support him in the continuation of his degree. The children are in school and need time to study and complete homework. I get it. The difference is where you have a paper a semester to complete which is at most 5-7 pages long, I have two 70 page long chapters to read, two cited posts three pages long and four cited responses a week, a case study analysis to prep for, mind map to add to and a resume to reformulate and format. Why, oh, why am I the one going to Walgreens for toothpaste and a can opener. Why am I getting gas and bus passes? What do you mean you don't like box mashed potatoes? Why can’t they stop knocking on my door for bullshit? Why are these little motherfuckers saving Contacts in my cell phone? Why am I working so hard for non-infants? Is it the Devil or have I created these monsters? Do I slap the shit out of the kids and leave my husband? Am I not able to say no to a ride when I just got back from picking up someone else? Can I get a minute to breathe, please?

Nah. Ain’t happening. Shouldn’t’ve had them and shouldn’t’ve gotten married.

I learn to adjust. I learn to deal with a collectivist household in an individual way. I learn to suck up the horrible feelings that I get when I say no. I teach them that no is a legitimate answer to a question and not an invitation for hatred and revenge because I know you knocked over my plant because I didn't let you get on my computer. I have no proof, of course, but I know it. Well, with teenagers they hate you because they’re miserable and it’s all your fault. They can talk with their therapist about it in 10 years. With husbands, they just know that you are a domestic organizing MILF genius and wish to have 24 hour access to your expertise and tits and ass. They can look at Good Housekeeping.com and porn to deal with that.

Heavenly Father,

Please give me the strength to take care of my body, psyche, goals and dreams. Please give me the ability to respectfully and compassionately say no to requests that I just don’t want to do. Please release me from the fear and guilt of saying no and help to leave the conversation with appropriately sympathetic and non-resentful feelings for the other person for asking for what they feel that they need in whatever manner they have of asking for it.

Forever thank you and amen and amen.

Blah Blah Schmackety - It's Mother's Day

2009-05-10T20:15:00.000-07:00

I'm not really into holidays. Only when it benefits me. If it's an eating kind of holiday then sure, I'll participate. But if it's a working kind of holiday, it don't matter much.

I try to live my life without unrealistic expectations of others. I'm happier, they're happier. Life is good. When I assume what is realistic for me is realistic for you, that's when trouble starts to brew.

Example. This week, I began to get sad, oh, about Thursday. I was pretty sure that my husband and my children weren't going to go out of their way to take care of me on Mother's Day. I didn't know if I even wanted anything from anybody. I think I was just feeling unappreciated all the way around. My stepchildren think I'm a bother, some even hate me, I'm sure. My biologicals don't make a big deal out of it. Birthdays are big days. Mother's Day is something but they can't remember what.

I was actually starting to feel a bit ashamed of the feeling of anticipatory letdown. I know I ain't gonna get nothing. I know won't anybody remember.

Girl, what if they do remember and care, make a wonderful breakfast, lunch and dinner, clean up the kitchen and bathroom, run water over your feet, rub your hands and help you haul top soil to that spot in the yard where you're planting your tomatoes.

What if...? What'll ya do? What will you have left to complain about?

Let...it...go.

And so I did.

Sunday morning comes, I hear chopping and sizzling and beating. My hubby brings me this humongoid 3 egg omelet with portabello, cheese, ham and other stuff in it, whole wheat jelly toast and two crisp slices of bacon.

He didn't know that I was laying in bed looking at the ceiling trying to figure out which diet will I fail on today. Now I can't do South Beach, Carbohydrate Addicts, Low Fat/Carb or Fat Smash.

I see it's off to a good start on this Mother's Day.

That was it for feeling special. Two of my biologicals came down and asked why they didn't get breakfast never stopping the whining (where did they get that from...hmmm?)to say Happy Mother's Day. My one stepson, whom I call Thing 1, decided to play with my parent's hoe (no comments, we've laughed enough about flipping the soil with the hoe to last a lifetime) and broke it in two. He was also the only one to say Happy Mother's Day so I couldn't strangle him for it.

Add three final exams, two final projects, a homework assignment and two quizzes along with a fishing addicted husband, no internet access, phone or cable, one vehicle, a sweet, inquisitive, cutie pie, annoying grandbaby and you've got the makings of Hell.

Alright. I'm going to get off the pity pot and go do one of the many things that makes me worthy of living. But first I'll pray.

Heavenly Father, Thank you for all of the burdens that you think that I can bear. I prayed for a stable marriage, my children in my home, a college degree, and active social children and you've answered my prayers. Now Lord please give me the humility to not dismiss my blessings as burdens and carry out my responsibilities with joy. Help me to discern the abilities and limitations of all in my life and accept them as they are without judgment and filled with kindness.

Amen.
So be it.

Landlords and Gratitude - I guess dude is alright.

2009-04-30T20:51:00.001-07:00

My landlord is just an average Joe. Working stiff who can't sell his house in this market. Wouldn't be a landlord otherwise. He's building me a fence so that I can get a dog. I will believes it when I sees it. They say all kinds of stuff when you have a checkbook in your hand. That's all I got to say. We moved in today. Sorta. We moved most of the stuff in today. It seems to be all the things that I use to brush, wash and grease various parts of my body. And the food. We had Sunny D, cinnamon rolls and Pringles for dinner. Pizza flavored does not count as a protein.

I just wanted to let y'all know that I overreact to things sometimes like the mom that I am. It comes with the territory. I can yell at you and be completely out of order AND wrong but it's okay because I'm The Mother - Queen B....

I am tired. I go night night now.

Heavenly Father, thank you for placing me on the mountaintop where I can see the road ahead a little bit clearer.

Trifling Moments - Series Premier

2009-04-30T09:21:00.001-07:00

Trifling: lacking in significance or solid worth: as a: frivolous b: trivial c: dialect : lazy, shiftless

We're going to go with c. Yeah.

I plan to show picture highlights of the surprising and unique trifling moments from our home. It will help to illustrate the life I live.

These moments will be the stunning, amazing, breathtaking moments that leave you speechless and not sure whether to fuss or laugh. I’ll ignore the mayonnaise jar with a spoon in it and no top in the refrigerator. I’ll also ignore the bundled up baby diaper sitting in the stroller or the mysterious condom wrapper. You’ve seen those before. Don’t front like you haven’t. Please don’t tell me how you’d beat them. It would be like beating a cat. They don’t get it. They just hide.

Yup, it’s a dirty mop in the top of my Rubbermaid cake holder. Never mind, the two mop buckets that we have in the house. Don’t go into another room to look for them. Oh, no. Take the cake holder top out of the pantry and make mop water in it. Doesn’t matter that it can’t stand straight because of the handle on top.

Priceless.

I won’t find out who did it. They never snitch or confess. Silver lining – Part of the kitchen was mopped. I didn’t say clean though. Big difference. I’m off to hide my new washcloths before someone washes dishes with one, ignoring the bag o’ sponges in the cabinet.

Inside every great woman is a substantial amount of coffee.

Landlords and gratitude. Working on it.

2009-04-30T08:37:00.000-07:00

I’m at a time in my life where I’d rather be sick of mortgage lenders than landlords. My husband just called to ask for my social security number. I gave it to him and then I asked why do you need it? Backwards, I know, but he’s not going to be collecting child support from me, so why not?

The new landlord wants it on the application. Uh, he doesn’t need to confirm my US citizenship. We’re just renting his house until we buy one. Well, um, yeah, considering I just recently paid an $1850 doctor bill judgment for prenatal care that was incurred back in 1997. My daughter was born in 1996. Wasn’t me, couldn’t prove it so it didn’t matter. Someone stole my ID and used it for medical, employment and housing purposes. I fought everything and lost out on the fraudulent charge. I had to pay that so that we could buy a house. My husband thinks that I can be difficult. He gave him his SS#. I’m finding out that he’s an oppressed individual. Only I can say that, though, alrighty?

Why am I trippin’? Why aren’t you trippin’?

I told him to just say his wife asked ‘Why he needs my SS#?” Kind of like the landlord’s wife asking if we could include the last months rent in our check along with the security and the rent. Sure, she said this the day before we were to move in and sign the lease. Her language was in the form of a question but it struck fear, dread, understanding and disgust in my heart. Why didn’t you say this crap when we were first talking about renting your place.

Can you say storage containers and homeless shelter?

I am tired of giving these people dang near $12,000 a year and because they’ve gotten burned in the past, I’m paying for it. I don’t go with you. You’re not my man. I don’t want to mentally work out your trust issues. If you are disgusted by tenants, buy a house to lease somewhere far from the hood. Get some tenants that aren’t on SSI or working a Popeye’s and McDonald’s. Nothing against disabled folks but you if you get a check because your kid is dumb, that’s discrimation against my smart kids. And why is your kid dumb? Because you’re dumb. And they get a check? Nothing against hustling either. Believe that. I’m a true hustler. That’s why I pay my rent. So I’ll have a house to hustle in.

But I digress. Okay, I’m grateful. The house is large enough for my 9 baby dragons. It also seems like it could withstand the damage that they can give. The 9 baby locusts destroy anything and everything in their wake and yes, my husband and I fix, repair and pay for the damages every time. He’s got me thinking that I may not even consider buying this house. Full disclosure just may not happen here. I can feel it.

Dearest Landlord,

Landlord/Tenant relationships are simpatico. We’re looking out for each other. You have two full time employed people, one of which you work with daily. You can do reference checks and call all of our landlords EVER and see that we pay our rent every month and on time. If you don’t believe me, don’t rent to me. Oh, and by the way. I don’t trust your a$$ either.

I don’t have a prayer for this issue yet. Well, the ones I have aren’t nice and they aren’t to God.

KFC Grilled Chicken Review

2009-04-29T14:12:00.000-07:00

It looks very delicious on the ad and since we are all trying to eat healthier and we love our KFC, I though that I’d give it a try.

It was $4.99 for two pieces of chicken, two sides, a biscuit and a drink. I got a thigh and leg, mashed potatoes and gravy and corn. I bought my husband a breast and wing, coleslaw and macaroni and cheese. I forgot about the drink and pulled off. I’m just remembering it now. You all don’t know me very well yet but you can bet that after work, five hours later, I’ll be at the KFC asking for my diet Coke.

Okay, I gotta say, as soon as I ever get a KFC meal, I eat my mashed potatoes first. Every time. Always the same, always good. Nuf said. Corn. Good. Fine. My husband told me to never buy him mac and cheese from anybody because it never tastes right. Married four years – gave me that info a little late. I wanted to say ‘well next time you buy yourself lunch you can get whatever you want.’ But I didn’t, not outside of my mind anyway.

To the chicken.

It was aiight.

My chicken could’ve used about three grains of salt and it would have been on the other side of good. Almost great. It looked beautiful in the container which made me suspicious automatically. Nothing that pretty tastes good. Messy food is the best. Give me a sloppy, lopsided Big Mac over a picture perfect one any day. The skin was nice and golden, there were obvious fake grill marks on the pieces which made me giggle but –saving grace - the meat was uniformly cooked chicken color inside and neatly juicy. There wasn’t grease shooting out of it like we like it. My book had not one greasy fingerprint.

I ate my meal while watching my husband fish at the park nearby. Twenty degrees warmer and it would have been the perfect workday lunch. I have to admit that I didn’t savor the chicken like I usually do. I chewed as fast as I could so that I could hurry up and get it out of my mouth. It wasn’t that it was bad, it just wasn’t that good. It was boring. It was sustenance.

I hope that they keep it as an option for those of us who turned 40 years old today (Happy Birthday to Me!) and want to eat healthy most times. If keeping the grilled stuff means limiting the Extra Crispy or Original, I’d say give it the boot.

Just a greedy big girl’s opinion. Everyone’s got one, you know.

Finnegan, it begins again again

2009-04-28T09:55:00.002-07:00

Okay, my daughter A- is a smart, funny, cute 12 yo with a great smile, ambition and the skills of a social climber. I am a pretty objective parent so I could foresee some issues when the hormones hit. This is the child that went to a party in our cul-de sac and told her friends that ‘if my momma comes by, I ain’t here.’

She was four.

I waited for this child to reach adolescence so that I could experience the beauty of womanhood with my burgeoning female daughter.

Got-damn, I was wrong.

Chick is nuts!

I am the alpha female. I get PMS and it matters. I don’t give no f---. That’s my role. How dare some chick that I pooped out years ago decide that she has a say in how her life should be run without the practical experience of caring anything about other people’s feelings.

Whuhh?

My Teen Daughter Logic 101 – what goes through my teen girl’s mind. Follow each logic problem with the following teen girl mantra:

I don’t know why it’s okay, Mom, it just is. Whatever.

1. It’s okay to not come home after school because I have plans that I didn’t tell you about so could you put your life on hold to pick me up from my friend M-‘s house who lives in a suburb west of where you are because it’s raining and I wore a really short skirt, but with leggings and it’s cold and I have homework and I can’t carry my viola on the bus and did I mention it’s cold and that I didn’t ask permission but you should stop watching Lost, your favorite show, on the only night that you don’t have school or your husband to deal with?

2. It’s okay to forget to tell you about the field trip money due today so could you please get out of bed early to go to the ATM and get me a $20 dollar bill for my cost of $2.00 and since you have no time to get change, I’ll take the entire $20 dollars and forget your change until you forget your change and then I’ll go to Starbucks with it.

3. It’s okay to write on Facebook, ‘that my mother is tripping about me going by K-‘s house without calling for permission in advance or checking with K-‘s mom in advance.’ Calling to ask for permission is okay once I get to her house because you should say yes anyway because I don’t understand no so once I get to her house I’ll ask for permission to go to her house and then proceed to not understand why I’m grounded.

4. It’s okay to be embarrassed by your lack of cool and make you cry at my solo viola contest because I don’t want my friend’s parents to meet you because I said mean things about you when I stayed overnight because I wanted to stay another night without future concern of the consequences that it could have when I go to school functions. You don’t mind being stared at Mom for having a false reputation that I created of you being a loser parent. You don’t know that because I lie to you about what I told M-‘s parents. You don’t know that’s why they don’t say hello anymore. You think it’s you because of the disgust in her parents’ face and the tone in their voice when they offer to bring me home.

5. It’s okay to stay up most of the night watching videos and practicing dance moves and then sleep through the alarm and then get angry because you won’t give me your breakfast bar OR take me to the bus stop so that I won’t miss the bus and have to walk from the mall that I walk to after school. I think the distance changes – it’s farther from the mall to school than it is from the school to the mall.

6. It’s okay to sign up for five activities with fees, get angry when you say that I can’t do them all and really disrespect you by saying that if you got a better job and move to the suburbs I could hang out with my friends more.

How dare she? This chick just stopped taking naps in school last year I also thought that I was going to have to buy Depends after she snuck and watched a horror flick and wouldn’t get out of bed to go to the bathroom. That was last year also.

Is this a uniquely modern experience allowing these people to grow at their own pace and to learn about boundaries and socializing and goals and respect? Is this a maddening experience for parents who look at the news and wonder why there aren’t more stories about parents killing teen girls.

Shaken teen girl syndrome?

Infants are a ba-reeze compared to teenagers. I’d take twin pissy, shitty, bawling, awake at 4 am, vomiting infants of an enemy over a teen girl any day.

All damn day.

I’ll live. I believe that she’ll survive also.

Lawd, thank you for intelligent, physically healthy children. Please give me the courage to continue to care for them the way that is best. Please give me the compassion to treat them the way that I would want to be treated without asking for it in return. Please give me the humilty to reflect on how life is for children these days and infuse all unsolicited advice, comments and questions with love, empathy, discernment, grace, mercy, firmness and consistency.

Amen.
So be it.

Finnegan, it begins again

2009-04-28T09:55:00.001-07:00

Teenagers...hmpf.

Day 5 - It's not you...it's all Me

2009-04-21T21:11:00.000-07:00

***It's Day 5 aka Day 20. I never promised that the 30 days of this challenge would be consecutive. ***

Okily dokily.

I’m sitting here in the computer lab of school one hour early out of class two hours from my husband picking me up thinking about what just transpired.

Okay, so I’m having this wonderful conversation with one of the girls in my class. She’s YT and she’s again singling me out as the black spokesperson.

“Why does he always have to talk about white people like that?”

“Why does he assume that all white people are that way?”

“Why is it okay for him to say certain stuff but us white people can’t?”

I walk along with her and on one level I want to be the spokesperson. I want to enlighten this young lady on how affirmative action is kind of like a handicap in golf, we’re catching up…or how he’s generalizing because it’s a class lecture, let it go…and you do know that this is an Africology class, that’s how we talk. Go take Russian history or something if you can’t hang.

Anywho, after we’re walking and she’s asking why Black people don’t tip, I realized that my husband will not be picking me up for 2 hours and she’s still yacking, intelligently. I’m involved but I only planned to be talking to her until we both hit the door and then the deep thought provoking racial consortium would be over. I had no intentions of carrying on a profound, philosophical conversation for longer than five, maybe, ten minutes.

“So, uh, would you like to go downstairs and have a drink until your husband picks you up?”

We all know someone who thinks that EVERYBODY thinks they’re hot and wants to go out with them. Well, I’m one of those people. I’m flabbergasted and flustered. It takes me a minute to realize that she’s not asking me out. Go, have a drink, have a stimulating conversation with someone other than your children and husband. Sure, have fun. You remember fun, don’t you April?

I think about it and frankly, I still don’t want to go. I just can’t wanna. No thanks.

“Um nope, I’m just going to go study. You know, I’m busy. I don’t get as much time to study as I need. I’m going to the computer lab. Maybe we can plan to do something after class sometime. Okay? See you later.

What’s that about? Where did the fun loving woman go that just loves to talk to people and have them talk to her? The woman that could have a 20 minute invigorating conversation about the crunchological benefits of Cheetos vs. barbecue Fritos…where’d she go?

Dunno.

She’s been replaced by the woman sitting here now, relieved, that she’s not downstairs having a stimulating conversation with fun people, chilling. The woman who can’t wait to get home so that she can work on a knitting project that she needs to finish for a gift. The woman who is missing Fringe. And guess what, the new Me is cool with that.

So the take care of myself thing today challenge was to just be me. Allow myself to feel what I’m feeling and do what I do. Stop mentally masturbating and enjoy myself.

Shit that’s what a blog is anyway. Me tickling my thoughts with my right hand while I ponderously rub my chin with my left.

I don’t want to hang out with fun, cool people, drink and have a good time. I did that shit in my 20’s. I want to put on my old lady housecoat and knitted slippers, grab a spoon and the rest of the Haagen Dazs strawberry which was better than sex before I met my husband, and watch Lost, CSI, Criminal Minds and Fringe on my DVR until I fall asleep.

Nothing Personal. That’s my motto.

Heavenly Father,

Thank you for everything in my life. I am truly grateful. Thank you for letting me survive the self destruction of my 20’s. Thank you for allowing me the ability to accept myself and others as they are, where they are. I am truly grateful for a home of my own to relax and reflect. I ask that I continue to trust that I don’t have to do, be or have anything that does not reflect the Me that I’ve discovered.

Amen

So be it.

Off Topic - That ain't why, N-word!

2009-04-16T16:38:00.000-07:00

Obama girls’ hair is pretty because he’s half white.

“Those girls have some pretty hair. You know that’s because they daddy momma is white.”

My husband is still mad at me because I called him stupid, changed my mind and called him ignorant. Their hair is not pretty because their daddy is mixed. Their hair is pretty because someone takes care of it. He replied ‘Well April, you can’t say that them having good hair doesn’t have anything to do with it looking that pretty. They got white in them.”

Okay, these are the times when I rethink why I married dude and who the hell am I yoked with. I have worked so hard to get away from the stigma of good and bad hair in my own mind that it hurts my militant heart to hear the love of my life sound like an ignorant fool.

You know, once, my cousin’s cousin said that only baldheaded girls have the good hair/bad hair debate. If I had good hair I wouldn’t be talking about it at all. I think that’s stupid (could be true) but I hate to think that she could be right - about my motives anyway for the discussion. Maybe I wouldn’t be on my soapbox about good/bad hair if my hair was a 2b/3a and grew to my shoulders without the best of care.

We are color struck as a people but more so we are hair texture struck. Lighter straighter is better. Self hatred in denial.

I guess I could identify in my own way whenever skin color is discussed. Although I have two dark boys and two light boys, people would flock to my lighter boys as babies.

Now mind you, Jacob, my third son, looked like a cabbage worm when he was a baby. He didn’t get a bridge on his nose til a couple years ago. But because he was yellow as the sun is bright, people said he was just the cutest thing.

TJ, my oldest, who looked like a papoose with his red mahogany skin and shoulder length hair, was looked over. Even his Charlie Brown looking brother got more attention.

I’m a lighter color than my sister and a darker color than my brother. I’m paper bag brown, my sister’s mahogany and my brother is Justin Timberlake. Guys love her – she’s petite, dark, with long wavy Ashley from the Fresh Prince hair and a wicked slicing wit. Girls love him – 6’3”, slim with blond hair and hazel eyes and a Will Smith sense of humor.

Dude’s just liked me because I had pretty caramel legs from running track. Otherwise, I was Whitney Houston with red thin fine nappy hair and no weave and a pizza face. Oh yeah and really good at Social Studies and spelling.

My sister wanted to be light. They called her Blacula in grade school. I would have killed for her hair. They made rhymes about my kitchen in grade school. A is for apples, J is for Jacks, April ain’t got no hair in the back.

I would have been a star with her hair. Sometimes I go there and put on hair and get attention. Then I snatch it off because it feels so false. I don’t feel beautiful with fake hair. I look good though, can’t lie.

I did get a little huffy with the hubby. I just don’t want our people to think that way about ourselves. We have enough folks hating us. I don’t want us to hate ourselves anymore.

Dream on.

We’re only a generation away from overt discrimination. My mother couldn’t put in an application at Briggs and Stratton because ‘We aren’t hiring coloreds at this time’. She was pregnant with my sister who is not much older than me.

I love to watch Barack greet folks with his black man shake and shoulder touch. I love to see those girls’ with their skippy tooth grins and healthy hair. I love to see Michelle letting her man shine. This be an amazing feat for those of my mom’s generation.

I hate when we say that he only won because he’s black. I hate when people say he’ll be assassinated. I hate when people rag on Michelle’s clothes and her ability to let him be upfront.

I don’t know. My husband is not atypical. His comments are very common. His belief brought about a tirade that he did not expect. He doesn’t understand my fury or my own personal history with good and black hair. He hasn’t read the books or researched the history of our self hatred.

So…

When he rolled his eyes at me when I leaned over for my goodbye kiss, all I could do was laugh and pray and hope for change.

You have to admit that it is getting better y’all. I may still plan my vacations around the ‘yehaw’ factor but I wish a n-word would tell me they ain’t hiring my kind at this time.

Hmmph. Check this out. Whenever you wonder if this conversation is relevent. Play it again.

Day 4 - Sleep Deprivation mimics Schizophrenia

2009-04-08T19:55:00.000-07:00

I haven’t been feeling too good y’all. I missed you.

I have bronchitis, sinusitis and a broken second toe. If my second toe wasn’t longer than my first, I might be straight. Big toes can take a lot more damage. I’ve been living on whatever food that I can put together in five minutes or less because the monster called Arth Ritis in my neck has been awakened by my coughing fits.

So Day 4 of caring for me is titled Get enough rest or your body will make you. As I’ve listed in other posts, my life is WILD with responsibilities. I have so many things to do that sometimes I just don’t do nothing. Well, my body decided to make this decision for me.

I started having problems breathing over the weekend. Then came the aches and pains. Then the massive coughing fit that brought on the inflammation in my neck. Lawd, I was a mess. My doctor gave me the week off and I’ve been in and out of drug fugues. I lived on apple pie and ice cream today because no one was home to care for me. Boo hoo.

Sitting here is excruciating. My big head – no comments – is too heavy for my neck. My body betrayed me and decided to get sick so that I could realize that this house does not revolve around me. The only thing different since I’ve been layed up is that there are extra socks balled up in the corners of the living room. I think they’re mine. I can’t remember. Did you know that when you mix Hydrocodone, ibuprofen, cough syrup and ice cream, you see things that aren’t there? Hmmm. Learn me something.

I’ m starting to ramble more than usual. I’ll be back, good as new.

Sleep deprivation mimics schizophrenia. So, take care. Get rest. At least eight hours a day. This bout did get me out of starting my new workout routine and diet….

Wonderful creator, I thank you for the ability to heal. I thank you for the fever because it is a sign that my wondrous body is fighting infection. I thank you for my cough because it expels sickness from my lungs. I thank you for being alive. I ask that you give me the sense to take better care of myself.

I am healthy and complete and able to heal.

Amen
So be it.

Day 3 - Moving and Shaking -- The Beginning of Purpose

2009-04-01T20:19:00.000-07:00

I's be tired y'all. I did two full grown man pushups and my arms hurt. My goal is to be able to do 15 full pushups and 5 chinups by the 6 week mark.

My day 3 taking care of me habit is exercising with a purpose. You know, I can get on the treadmill three times a week while watching Lost and do a few situps on the fitness ball and maintain. I've been losing and gaining the same five pounds for the last year. I'm sick of myself. I'll be 40 years old at the end of this month. I want to avoid the familial curse of diabetes by adding purposeful exercise and respectful eating to my life. I want to fit in the dress that I got married in by our anniversary on May 15. I trust God to help me because it fits the will He has for my life.

Loving Creator, I am grateful for the ability to walk. I am grateful for the ability to chew with my own teeth. I am grateful for the faculties of my mind. I ask for the strength and guidance to respect this body that you have given me.

Amen
So be it.

Affirmations for today:
I stretch and strengthen my muscles daily.
I eat for sustenance and enjoyment. I do not abuse food.

As I said, I's be tired but I'm still hyped to take care of myself. Peace.

Day 2 – Affirmations Defeat a Feeling Sorry for Myself Day

2009-03-31T07:59:00.000-07:00

Yesterday ended on a good note. My evenings are busy on Monday and Tuesday. I have an advanced level Communications class on Mondays and an Africology class on Tuesdays. Yesterday between the hours of 5:30 pm and 11:00 pm, I did the following:

I reviewed my notes for my midterm.
Drove to campus and found a parking spot
Took a midterm exam in my 2.5 hour class
Remembered where I parked my car and drove to grocery store for fruit and veggies for myself and family
Made a salt brine for some chicken quarters – the beginning of chicken and dumplings for Wednesday
Washed a load of sheets
Finished statistics homework while watching a DVR of Big Daddy’s house - fried flounder sandwiches, cheese steak soup, carrot salad and sweet potato pie. My husband thinks that the show should be called “That Negro can Cook”
Massaged my son’s sore shoulder
Retrieved my exercise ball from kid bouncing it like a basketball.
Analyzed data for a group project
Hid my notions box so my kids wouldn’t steal my good shears
Planned clothes for next day
Took a shower, greased myself
Moisturized my hair
Washed my face, brushed my teeth
Took supplements,
Scanned an article in my sewing magazine
Cuddled a bit
Finally fell asleep.

This is not an unusual day for a working mother attending school. Actually, it was a pretty easy day. I’m always amazed at what I do. I’m also amazed that when I don’t do it, things get done anyway. Co-dependents Anonymous meetings just don’t fit my schedule. With that list of items, I have to make time to take care of myself. So, in order to get those things done, it is important to have depressurizing time - mental debriefing time as I change my hat.

After I got home at 5:15, I took 15 minutes to lie on my bed and be still. My mind raced for five of those ten minutes. I was filled with self pity, sadness and fear about what needed to be done now and in the future. I worried about my almost adult and adult children, my special needs stepdaughter and my husband’s seeming apathy. I knew I was tripping, I just couldn’t stop. As a response, I began to recite an affirmation that I had learned from a friend who had gotten it from a friend. I usually begin this particular affirmation when I’m feeling overwhelmed, fat and ugly, and/or not worthy.

I have enough.
I do enough.
I am enough

I continued to love myself through the negative thoughts (that ole Satan shooting darts) until it seemed time to begin my evening.

Affirmations are positive phrases that are spoken from the present tense in order to shape our physical, mental, emotional and spiritual environment. The present tense is the God tense. The Creator has no ‘was’ or no ‘will be’ so I always stake my claim to healing in the present where God is able to help me. I choose or design a short, memorable phrase that addresses something about my self that I would like to change. I then phrase the change as if it has already been done and I embody the trait that I seek. Example: “I eat only foods that are good for my body.” Now I know that yesterday I had a bag of hot cheetos, so I’m lying, right? Nope. I get to start from right now where I am not eating a bag of hot cheetos. I get a do over.

There are many ways to find affirmations online, in books and in your own head. Take 15 minutes a day to remind yourself that you are enough, that you have enough and, as busy women with careers, school and family to care, please remember that you do enough and you don’t have to do it all.

Peace.
So be it.

Some Good Sites
http://www.gems4friends.com/affirmations.html
http://www.dailyword.com/

Book sources
Bible – proverbs is a good source
Anything Iyanla Vanzant
TD Jakes

30 Day Taking Care of Me Challenge

2009-03-29T20:42:00.000-07:00

Baseball, fedora, Stetson, tam, skull, beret, bonnet, - How many hats can April wear?

Roles and responsibilities help to define us. I’m my mother’s daughter, my husband’s wife, my children’s mother, my stepchildren’s stepmom, my co-worker’s peer, my director’s subordinate, LHCF supporter, and on and on. The choices that I make are determined by these roles and their responsibilities. Whenever I am unable to fulfill what I believe are the responsibilities of each of these roles, I don’t feel …right.

Every once in a while, my brain becomes so overloaded with the tasks for which I feel responsible; I have to sit with pen and paper and write. Before I start blowing spit bubbles and crawling under my desk, I write down everything swimming in my head.

Get a mani-pedi, study for Communications midterm, take Statistics quiz, email my teammates at work and school, remind husband of MD appointment, schedule dentist appointments, get gas, donate clothes, finish sewing project, knit booties for new great niece, read my bible, read my assignment, read my email, kiss my husband, hug my kids, call my mother, help my aunt with her taxes, buy son’s cap and gown and plan his party, plan, shop and cook dinner, save enough dinner for son and roommate at new apartment, sign permission slips, buy track, baseball and volleyball shoes, uniforms and protective cups, research breeds for new dog, pack to move, watch Lost, pre-poo, wash and dc hair and maintain the proper moisture/protein balance, clip Ulta coupon and remember to bring it. Do sleep, meditation, exercise and downloading the pictures from my camera fit into the picture? I didn’t even mention nooky because dude falls asleep before I’m halfway through the list.

I’m beginning to wonder if I am actually responsible for all of these things. Can I say no to some of it? Could someone else do it and would I let them? Out of all of those things, which ones do I want to do?

I don’t even know who I am without these roles to define me. I’ve used these hats to avoid looking at myself. If I’m taking care of you, whether you want me to or not, then I won’t have to take care of me.

Do I have to knit booties for my great niece; can’t I buy a gift card? Can I plan rotating menus and let the kids or hubby shop and chop veggies? Are B’s and C’s good enough? Can a D get a degree? Can I listen to the Bible in the car and ask one of the kids to research dogs? My son is 18 years old and pretty mature. I can transfer money to his account and let him pick and order his own cap and gown and DVR Lost. Who am I trying to impress anyway?
All of these things can be broken down and delegated in order to facilitate me taking care of me once every day.

Every day, you say? Yes, every day.

I look forward to eating well, walking, sleeping and breathing. I vow to find ways to enjoy finding out about me and my likes, dislikes and desires.
I challenge myself with the 30 day Taking Care of Me Challenge.