Month: August 2005

Nights Like This I wish…
raindrops would, fa-a-a-a-alll

I couldn’t bear to open my eyes this morning.

I heard my sons talking to me, but something was drowning their voices out. Ugh…What’s wrong with me? Oh man. My head, it’s pounding. I pulled the covers up to shut out the sunlight. Ahh..that is so much better.

“We wanna eat! We wanna eat!” They chanted while laughing hysterically.

Oh great. I have to get up and make them breakfast.

“We want eggs Mama.”

“No you don’t. You want cereal.”

I trudge into the kitchen and fix them some fruit loops, pour them some juice and I dive back into bed and under the covers. I’ve never had a headache like this before. This hurts. This hurts. I feel like crap.

Is this what they mean when they say they have a hangover? Hmm? Ughh…I don’t like this feeling.

But I was feeling sooo good last night…

Saturday….

Needless to say I wasn’t in a very good mood all day Saturday. When I’m tense like this, it affects my whole day. I’m irritated, I’m bitchy and everything seems to annoy me. I managed to make it through the day without any major mishaps, but generally, I was a little miffed and I wasn’t looking forward to going out.

My only bright spot for the evening was the fact that one of my favorite bloggers, Ted, was in town and I would get a chance to meet up with him. I knew that we weren’t gonna get to hang out because he had his little brother with him and he was underage so he couldn’t really get into anywhere, but at least I’d get to give him a hug and tell him in person how much I loved his writing.

When my sister arrived at my house to babysit, my room was torn completely apart. I was looking for this ONE pair of pants and I was livid! They had dissappeared! Dammit!

An hour later I found them in the FIRST place I looked. “Yo Tee, you need to just relax. Calm down.” I told myself.

I don’t know why. But I couldn’t just relax. I’ve been in PMS mode for about 3 weeks now and it won’t go away.

Sylvia arrives still toting around a big ass jug of vodka. LOL! She is so funny! I take a shower and stand under the HOT water. I rotate my shoulders as the stream of water massages my back. The heat feels so good. I imagine someone is standing there rubbing my back for me. I’m trying to relax and calm down. I’m trying to get this tension OUT of my upper back. It works for a little while.

We both get dressed and I’m ready to go. Nothing exciting, just casual. Low heels, perfect for SoBe.

I’m so happy with Sylvia right now. She is usually so stubborn but we had a little talk about it and she is now willing to compromise. She likes to go out after midnight. I like to be on my way home around midnight. But we both agree, we don’t want to pay to get into ANYWHERE. I refuse. I mean, I’ll pay but only if it’s someone’s birthday or something and I’m obligated to hang out with them. Otherwise, no way, I’m a woman, they should and DO let me in for free.

So once we’re stepping out of the parking garage-the SAME garage where she and I spent HOURS waiting for those guys to return to their car- remember that? We head to Ocean Drive to get a drink at Wet Willies. On our way there we pass a bunch of clubs and the promoters are trying to get us to come in. No thanks!

One guy yells out, “Do ya’ll wanna meet Young Jeezy?! It’s Young Jeezy!”

We keep walking.

Young Jeezy. Name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.
“Isn’t he somebody?” Sylvia asks me.
“Girl, I wouldn’t know.”

We keep walking.

We get to Wet Willies and go to the upstairs bar and I’m looking at the names of all the drinks they serve. The drinks at Wet Willies are amazing. They specialize in frozen daiquiris that are smooth as hell. I ordered a daiquiri called “Attitude Adjustment” cuz I really needed one.

Sylvia and I are sitting on the first floor in the front just watching people walk by. I’m checking out natural hairstyles and outfits. And I’m checking out the guys. I’m thinking, “Great I’m on South Beach–again.” ~yawn~

I’m sippin on my drink and the air just gets softer. People start to look funny to me. I’m laughing and Sylvia is looking at me like, Whoa. By the time I’m done with my drink I think, “Damn, not only did this adjust my attitude, it changed my life! I need to get this recipe!”

I call Ted and tell him where we are. And I agree to wait on him, but Sylvia is getting restless. She wants to leave. So I shrug and figure we’ll see him as he makes his way our way. I’m laughing all by myself and feeling sooo nice! I’m just happy to be alive and grown and A WOMAN! I am on TOP OF THE WORLD!!!

Ahh..I’m also a tad bit drunk!
(That is what having a strong drink will do to ya, after giving up drinking for the past month.)

So as we’re walking through the crowd on Ocean Drive, Sylvia reminds me that she wants to meet some hot guys. I KNOW ALREADY! LOL! That’s what she came down here for. I see hot guys all around. But concerning men, I’m actually more liberal in the looks department than Sylvia is.

“Look at him, ” I say to her and point. Oohh Daddy, I’ll try one of those.
“Ughh.. He’s only like, 5’10” and his face is not all that,” she says.
I laugh. OKKK.

Before I know it I see him. B to the C. Brutha Code. I recognize him from his pictures but dayum— never did I think he’d be so adorable. As soon as I saw him I gave him a hug and a once over. He reminded me of my highschool days. He looked like one of those guys that I would see back in the day and say to my girl, “Damn. I want that one.”

As I ran my mouth a mile a minute still floating off of my daiquiri and my own natural runny mouth high, we started walking toward Fat Tuesdays. I kinda heard Ted and his friends laughing at me. I definately heard Sylvia telling me to calm down but I’m like, “F*** it. I’m out. I needed this time away from my kids. I ain’t hurtin nobody… This is South Beach and I’m having fun.”

Then I catch a quick glimpse of this man’s walk. Hell naw! Ted is bow legged like a mutha! And he’s wearing shorts so you can see them legs turn in. GOT DAMN! I had to look away. That shit is too sexy.

We reach Fat Tuesdays and I give Ted a hug. He’s on his way back to his hotel room to change and hang with his friends. I tell him to enjoy South Beach and Sylvia and I walk into Fat Tuesdays. She wants a drink but I don’t. I am still buzzing from that daiquiri. We hit the dance floor and this chick wants to dance in the corner. I’m like, “Why? How will the men get to us?” But I shrug and shake it on down by myself.

~Um, Get it Mama!~
~Shake it Mama!~
~Work that thang!~
~Shake that thang!~

After a few songs Sylvia has to go to the potty so we head that way. I’m standing there waiting for her when I notice the towel lady sitting on her stool in front of the sink. All of her “equipment” was spread out over the counter. She has ANY and EVERYTHING a woman could ever need. Tampons, pads, deodorant, perfume, advil, tylenol, purses, hair clips, rubber bands, floss, chloraseptic, oil sheen, hot curlers, emory boards, lipstick, lipliners, phone cards, snickers bars, eyelash curlers and even condoms!

Damn!

I’m just standing there in awe at her collection. I’m challenging myself to see if I can think of something that she does not have. But I can’t.

She gives me a smug look as we leave. Do your thang Mama.

We don’t go back to the dance floor because Sylvia doesn’t like any of the guys that she sees. I don’t care really, I met Brutha Code, so I’m done for the night, whatever she wants to do is fine with me.

She suggests going to Opium. I’m down for whatever. But after walking a block we realize that this is going to be a challenge. See by this point we were on 11th street. Opium is on 1st street. Yeah. That would mean we would have to walk 10 blocks, which wouldn’t have been so bad except Sylvia is wearing 4 inch heels. ~shakes head~

I always go out with women who INSIST on wearing stilettos on South Beach. That is a HORRIBLE idea. There is too much walking for that. And if a man won’t think I’m attractive cuz I’m wearing one inch heels, too bad for him. I ain’t tryin to be uncomfortable all night.

We look at each other as we near 6th street.

“Do you think you can make it dawg?” I ask her.
She looks at me and pauses.
“We HAVE to,” she says seriously.”
“Let’s do it,” I say as if we’re on a mission.

When we reach Opium, there’s a nice crowd waiting outside. I’m feeling the guys. I nudge Sylvia. She turns up her nose at them. I can’t do anything but laugh at her. She’s hilarious!

We both look at each other at the same time. We’re not waiting in this line. We agree without saying a word. We both turn around and walk the 7 blocks back to the garage.

We’re teasing each other because it’s so early and we’re already done for the night. It’s only 12:30. We are definately getting OLD.

As we climb into the car I get an idea. I know what would make this night a little more fun.

“I have a friend we can go see, if you’re down.” I tell her.
“Hell yeah I’m down.”
“Not the best neighborhood, but we’ll be straight.”
“Fine with me, it’ll be an adventure!”

I laugh at her and call my friend. He’s happy to hear from me.

We make it down his way and are up in his spot freeing our minds. We must have talked and laughed for hours because before I knew it, it was almost 4am.

We leave and laugh as we head back to the North side. It was funny because this was my first time chillin with him like that. I remember he played a song for us. This guy sounded JUST like Eminem and I thought that was soo weird. I mean, how you gonna sound like Eminem? That’s not gonna work. I felt sad for him. And then at the end of the song, the artist goes, “I wanna say thanks to everyone who ever listened to me.”

Awww. I felt heartbroken.

Why was my friend playin this mess?

So I head home and when I get there my sister’s boyfriend is outside. Apparently my sister locked the car keys inside the car. When I walk inside the door, I hear my sons.

“They’re in their room playing,” she tells me.
WHAT?! It’s after 4:00.
“Look, they woke up around 2:00 and looked for you and then they never went back to sleep.”
I laughed and undressed.

“Boys!” I called out.
“MAMA! MAMA!” They ran in and gave me big hugs.
“You know what the deal is, get in that bed.”
“YAY!” they cheer as they climb into my bed.
We all cuddle up and fall asleep quickly.

The next thing I hear is them chatting happily as the sunlight peeks through my window. I pull the covers over my head..

Ugh.. My head hurts.

Wine Up Your Bumpa?

No offense to the Jamaicans in the house, but, er, uh…

I HATE REGGAE!

Naw, I’m serious. I can’t deal with it. I won’t listen to it and I cringe everytime I go out with my friend Tamara cuz she’s always trying to find the reggae room when we go out.

When she finds it, she looks at me and smiles. I point to my watch, reminding her that we both have kids at home. Her eyes light up and like the good friend that I am, I frown and follow her to the spot, to sit sadly in the corner and watch her gyrate like a hand mixer in a bowl of cake batter.

I hate sitting in here. I hate listening to this and worst of all I hate watching these limber hoes wine their bottoms.

Why?

Man…

~taking off mask~

Cuz I can’t dance a lick.

Yeah I’ll admit it. I’m the only Black woman I know who can’t dance at all.

With hip hop, you can fake it. You can bop. You can nod your head. Throw them bows. Brush your shoulders off. But with reggae, you have to have rhythm . Which I don’t have.

~singing~ We are a part of the RHYTHMLESS NATION…

I can’t keep the beat. I get tired after three ass wiggles. I have had men WALK AWAY FROM ME on the dance floor.

Countless times.

~hangs head in shame~

I don’t know what happened to me. All my friends can dance. I LOOK like I can dance. But I missed that gene somehow. ~wiping tears away~

So I’m often reduced to being the purse holder in the club. The geek at the table watching the drinks. The buck toothed nerd looking sad, waiting for the reggae set to end.

And that’s why I turn you down when you ask me to dance.

Cuz I can’t. And I’m tired of embarrassing myself. ~pouting~

So leave me alone! That’s why I hate men anyway! Get on my damn nerves…

The 2005 Black Weblog Awards

Stole this link from Solitaire!

Visit

Nominate

Celebrate each other!

Click HERE…

My nominations:

Blogger Of The Year- Humanity Critic

Best New Blog- The Heiress Diaries, A Diva In Scrubs

Best Entertainment Blog- Crunk & Disorderly, Hollyhood

Best Humor Blog- Duh! Brutha Code

Best Writing In a Blog- Brutha Code, Suezette, Solitaire, Mata Hari, Serenity

Nominate Whomever you like…

Good Luck!

My Cutie Pie

My 3 year old son walked into my room this morning whispering, “Goodmorning Mama.”

I picked him up and swung him around. I placed him on my bed and started kissing his belly.

“Mama…”

“Hmm?”

“It’s stank in here Mama.”

“What you said?”

“It’s stank in here.”

I laugh. “What does it smell like?”

He pauses and sniffs again.

“Chinese rice.”

I fell out laughing.

Eva and Me

I receive lots of compliments on my looks, but really, I know people notice me mainly because of my electric green eyes.

But lately, I’ve been walking on air after receiving the BEST compliments ever!

All my life I have never heard, “Hey, you look just like (insert celebrity here).” I don’t look like anyone. And no one looks like me. I often wondered why. Until this year, when a certain top model emerged onto the scene.

Eva The Diva

People tell me I look like her. ~raises eyebrows~

Why ya’ll lieing?!!!

There ain’t no way I look like a SUPERMODEL! Duh!

Peep the differences:

Her Hair: Eva has soft curly hair that she styles in the most funky manner and is oh so chic.
My Hair: I go to the barber shop with my sons and we walk out looking like triplets.

Her skin tone: Eva is a coffee with creme kinda chick. Very smooth.
My skin tone: I’m about the same color as Michael Ealy. We both need some sun.

Her eyes: Dazzling with a brownish undertone
My eyes: Green

Her smile: Straight, natural and even.
My smile: I have more gums than teeth. If I don’t close my mouth carefully, I’ll bite my chin.

Her height: 5’7″
My height: 5’1″

Her credits: Covergirl, Cover of King & Essence
My credits: Um, um- biting lip- I cook great steaks.

Her Personality: bubbly, cool, sparkly
My personality: About the same if you catch me when I haven’t been drinking

So now you have it, me and EVA the DIVA don’t have much in common besides having funny colored eyes and sparkling personalities.

Yet and still I LOVE EVA and it is the best thing to even be mentioned in the same sentence as she is. I’m still floating off of this weekend because in the ONE NIGHT I spent on South Beach I heard:

“Excuse me, I just want to let you know that you hair cut is very nice. You look better than Eva.”

Me: Giggle, giggle. blush, cheese!

“You know what, you remind me of Eva the Diva.”

Me: Giggle, giggle. blush, cheese!

“Have you seen Eva on the cover of King magazine? That could be you. You really got it like that.”

Me: ~thinking~ If one more person says that I am going to die on the spot. I am sooo happy! Yay!

After all these years I am finally compared to a celebrity and it is someone that I admire very much. This makes me feel so great inside. I bubble with joy at the thought.

I’ve never thought I was ugly, but every so often I look in the mirror and only see my imperfections. But it’s so nice to know that when all those imperfections come together, they make up one helluva woman!

I am comfortable in my skin.

I am just right.

Blogshares?

Can anyone tell me what THIS is all about?

Everyone’s blog is listed here and has some sort of dollar value associated with it, with Brutha Code’s being the most valuable. Who signed me up for this? LOL!

I don’t get it.

Tight Work

My girl Sylvia called me this afternoon, as usual in an over-excited mood. This time she was pissed off because one of her co-workers had dropped a dime that she was ‘probably’ gonna be asked to do some housekeeping office work, which Sylvia and her co-workers call, “bitch work”.

I laughed because the “bitch work” in question was one of my regular tasks. LOL!

“Well, I’m not anybody’s assistant,” Sylvia explained. “I shouldn’t have to do stuff like that. It’s not in my job description.”

True.

When we hung up I began to think about my job. I’m basically everyone’s assistant. I love my job. I love to help. When someone needs a back-up person I am delighted to do the little things to make their projects easier. I have a servant’s heart and I like that about myself.

Yeah, it doesn’t feel glamorous when I have to make all the name tags for our events, then stand there and pass them out at parties while everyone else is mingling. It doesn’t make me feel so great when everyone else is on vacation and I have to take my vacation time last because I have to make sure that I’m there to cover for everyone else in my department. I’m the low man on the totem pole. I’m the last chick out the door. I’m the office “bitch” cuz all the tasks no one else wants to do are given to me.

But I don’t mind. I feel like I’m learning from the inside out. I’m that chick who will be able to step into any open position because I am always eager to learn, always observant and always willing to serve.

Every season of your life is not about being on top. I know myself and I will advance. I am secure in that to the point where I focus on learning as much as I can so that when my time comes, I will be able to run things smoothly.

I’m not a bitch, I’m not a doormat, I’m not a scrub. I just understand the order of things and no great leader started out that way. In order to lead you must learn to follow. In order to give orders you must learn to take them. I am the type of employee that I would want if I was my boss.

And I try to be the same kind of friend that I want my friends to be to me.

It doesn’t always work out that way, sometimes I mess up. But shit, what can I do, but tighten up and keep struttin…

Come on Baby, Light My Fire

Home with the flu

Here we go again.

The thermostat says 75, but my body is in conflict. I’m freezing cold, even though I’m wearing an old oversized t-shirt and some sweatpants. Simultaneously I’m hot. I’m buried in my blanket, yet I want to kick it away. I’m sweating and my entire body feels like I just got hit by a fire truck.

My throat hurts. My head hurts. My heart hurts. I wanna cry. I think I have the flu.

I hate being sick, number one, because I feel so guilty about using my sick time for myself. I mean, what happens when my boys get sick? I need to keep all the sick time saved up for that. But at 3am, when I know that I should be sleeping and I’m wide awake and feeling nauseaus, I know that I will have to miss work the next day.

I manage to get up by 6:30 am. I feel dizzy. My breath is short. I take a quick puff of my inhaler to open me up a bit. It works. I walk into the kitchen with only one eye open. Reach up into the cabinet and pull down the instant oatmeal. Take out two bowls and open the packets. Pour the packets into the bowls and add some milk. Stir and stick in the microwave for about 35 seconds. Stir again. Put the bowls on the kiddie table and add two glasses of milk.

“Wake up boys!” I say and push their little legs. They don’t budge.

I’m getting frustrated because I want to go back to sleep too. And I feel like a zombie. They better get up!

“Get up!” I say again. They open their eyes and smile.

“What day is it Mama?” My 4 year old asks. “Is it August 8th?”

“Yep, it’s August 8th baby. You’re going to Elementary School today.”

“YAY!” he squeals.

My baby is starting kindergarten today.

They sit down to eat while I dress myself. I don’t have the strength to get too cute. Just a little eyeshadow and eyeliner. A simple black dress and heels. I feel like I’ll fall over at any moment, but I can’t miss this big day.

After I dress myself I call them into my room and dress them. My 3 year old doesn’t want to wear the new shoes his Daddy bought him. He prefers his Star Wars shoes. Funny how my 3 year old hates wearing ANY new shoes.

But not my 4 year old. He is prancing around in his new school clothes. “These are my cool clothes!” he announces.

Yeah, I agree as I check him out. From the size of his polo shirt, to the khaki shorts to his brown shoes, his Daddy really did a good job picking out his clothes. I’m not surprised. His Daddy has a nice little style and I’m sure it’s his honor to dress up his little men.

“May we drink Capri Suns in the car?” my 4 year old asks.

“Sure.”

I drop my 3 year old off at his school in the City (inner city) and drive back up to my neighborhood where my son will be attending elementary school. On the way I call their Dad.

“This is *baby daddy*”
“This is Ms. Tee. Where are you?”
“I’m almost at the school. Where are you?”
“I’m still in the City. I’ll be there in a minute.”

By the time I found a parking spot and walked to the school, Baby Daddy was there waiting for his son.

My son saw him and ran to him, hugging his leg. His Daddy smiled and whipped out his camera to take pictures. I laughed. After he was done, we all walked around the school and got lost, looking for the classroom. We finally found it and knocked on the door.

My Sugarbear walked right in like it wasn’t nothing. I introduced myself to his teacher and showed my baby his little name tag. Baby Daddy took more pictures as my sons got settled. I laughed because I could tell he was a proud Papa and it was so cute.

I blew a kiss to my baby and we left. It was kinda weird, walking with him when we don’t have a relationship, so I just said, “I’ll see you later” and went in the opposite direction to my car.

As I walked to my car I allowed my thoughts to drift. Damn this man. We were both looking very nice that morning. We looked like a little family. Why couldn’t my son have BOTH his parents? I sighed and let it ride. I don’t have any emotions for him, but sometimes I wonder what the hell he was thinking when he walked away from me. Ok, I’m a bit MUCH at times, but damn. Oh well. Such is life.

I then drove to the grocery store on my last wind. I had fought so hard while I was at the school to stand up straight and look presentable although I really wanted to pass out. I felt like death. I felt like crap. But I needed to get some food in the house. I shopped a bit and came home. Ate a bit and got into my bed.

Anna returned my call because her daughter had started kindergarten that morning as well so we shared our stories. When I told her about meeting Baby Daddy at the school and how he took pictures she gushed. “Ohhhh. I wish I had a Baby Daddy that cared. Damn girl. I just wanna be cool with my Baby Daddy. Everybody called to check on her first day. Even YOU called. But did I hear from him? No. Did he even bring a sock or a notebook for her? No.”

Yeah, I’ll admit, as much as my Baby Daddy is an idiot to me and tries to make me feel like scum whenever he gets a chance, he does love his sons. And sometimes his attempts to control me backfires on him and ultimately causes him to hurt his boys- I know that he doesn’t mean for that to happen.

He is so proud of them. He loves them so much. He thinks they are so handsome and he should, cuz they ARE- thanks to ME! I don’t know why, but I can’t hate this man. If there’s anyone I should hate, it should be him, but I can’t and I don’t know why.

Anna can understand that cuz she just broke up with her boyfriend. “Girl, it’s so crazy,” she says. “Cuz I know that he’s not much to go back to yet, I still miss him.”

“You and these thugs!” I tease her. “I know how to find you a new man. All I have to do is find the first nicca sitting on the corner on a crate!”

“HELL YEAH!” she laughs. “It’s Tupac’s fault. Ever since I heard that song Thug Passion, I been ON EM!”

“You dumb!”

“Naw, it’s Tupac and my Mama fault. My Mama used to tell me that I couldn’t bring a man with dreads home. As soon as she said that I was out to prove that she shouldn’t judge a person based on his outer appearance. So everytime I meet someone like that, I try to get to know them and I always find out there’s more to them than dreads and golds. She’s not open like that.”

“Ughh.. Not me dawg. Never that! Hanging on street corners. Hell naw. No job. You get no play.”

“Yeah, tell that to one of them and watch what he’ll say.” she said and started to immitate a thug in a rough voice, “No bitch I ain’t got no job, but this DICK work!”

I laughed so hard! “You crazy!”

“Then maybe you won’t be writing no poetry talkin bout how no man has ever handled you. Them thugs be laying it DOWN! You gotta try it!”

Whatever….

~raises eyebrow~

Theraflu is the SHIZNIT!

Ahhhhh….I feel so much better.

While I was on my deathbed, I wondered if I would ever make it through. Sweating like a fat man at his first aerobics class while simultaneously shivering like I was trapped butt booty naked in the meat department would make you wanna get right with God too.

But then, the clouds parted and the sun came out, well, uh, that is, my little sister showed up with some THERAFLU! I had no idea how powerful this stuff was. But I think they should change the name to God’s Miracle powder. I warmed that water up in the microwave and stirred the powder in and I PROMISE, after the FIRST SIP, I felt better. By the time I finished the entire cup I was crying. Cuz I didn’t think I was gonna make it ya’ll. And I just knew I had so many more stories to blog about. So many more parties to attend. I wanted to see my boys grow up and now, because God loves me, I will. Thank you Lord! Sincerely…

You don’t even wanna know what I was just doing. I just spent 30 minutes filling out parental forms for my son’s school. Right in the middle of signing my name for the hundredth time on the line that says; PARENT SIGNATURE; I froze.

Damn. I’m the Mama.

Not the MAMA! Not the MAMA!

Yes I am.

I have to give this boy lunch money everyday.

I have to pick him up from aftercare.

I have to go to conferences with his teachers.

And you BETTA BELIEVE come time for that P.T.A., I’m gonna be all up in that mutha! ~Get it Mama!~snap, snap~ Bake sales. ~snap, snap~Community Enhancement. ~snap, snap~ Dances ~snap, snap~ I’m ready!!!

~smirking~ I’m the Mama.

This morning I took him and his brother to his school for breakfast. The aftercare lady told me about it.

“Is Breakfast free?”
“Yes it is.”
“What time does it end?”
“I think it ends at 8:15.”
“So I just take him to the cafeteria. And then when he’s done what do I do?”
“He’ll walk to the basketball courts to line up with his class.”
“But how will he get there?”
~hiding a laugh~ “He’ll walk ma’am.”
“By himself?” I was shocked.
“Well, there will be other kids going to. And security guards will be there to direct him.”
“But that’ll mean he’ll be standing out there on the basketball courts with ALL THEM other kids, by himself?”
“He’ll be alright.”
~shaking head~ “I don’t know about this.”
“He’ll be alright.”

So this morning the three of us, me, my baby and his baby brother, all walked into the school cafeteria for his first public school breakfast. There was hardly no line at all. We walked up to the lunch(man) and my son grabbed a chocolate milk (remember those?) and asked for some scrambled eggs (yuck!) and a biscuit. He then asked for a juice and that’s it.

He carefully balanced his little tray until we found a seat. He smiled and picked up his eggs with his fingers. I raised my eyebrow and hissed, “You betta not embarrass me boy! Use that spoon!” He carefully ate every drop of food on his plate and finished his chocolate milk with a loud slurp. His lil brother climbed onto my lap, “I’m hungry too Mama.” Aww.. Next time, I’m just gonna go ahead and fix him a plate too. Shoot, breakfast is FREE all across Dade County this year.

When he was all done, we walked over to the garbage and I told him to throw the tray in. He did and smiled. “Now what Mama?”

“Well, now you go and sit with the other kids in kindergarten. It’s too wet to go outside. So you have to sit here until they call your teacher’s name. And when they do, just go to where they tell you and you will see her. Do you remember her name?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now sit right here and be a good boy. Listen to the man. When he calls your teacher’s name, go line up where he tells you too.”

A parent nearby touches my arm. She looks like she is about my age. Light skinned with short golden hair. “Hey. Your son is in my baby’s class. I’m gonna wait with my lil girl until their teacher comes. I’ll make sure he gets there.”

I smiled and thanked her, said hi to her lil cute daughter and told Sai to listen to the lady. I then left and took my 3 year old to his school in the City.

By the time I got to work I was feeling like I hadn’t been there in ages. Two days off and I was a little jittery. Well, I was mainly jittery because I am so strict about being the perfect employee and I knew missing two days was not a good idea, but DAMMIT I was sick! Give yourself a break girl. To add to my paranoia, the night before I had a dream that when I got back to work there was a long line of contestants auditioning to take my job!

I love my job! I don’t wanna lose it.

But I walked in and everyone asked if I was feeling better. I was feeling a lot better but not COMPLETELY, but I was grateful to be at 80%. I went to work doing my daily tasks and laughing and getting used to being back again.

~sigh~ I love my job. Our department is always going the extra mile to make our parents and faculty feel special. Check out our newly decorated faculty lounge. Isn’t it beautiful?

And ofcourse when the students and staff start back next week, our department is giving them all welcome back gifts in their mailboxes. And all week this week, the school is having catered lunches for all faculty and staff- for FREE!

I can not believe this place!

We take care of each other. It’s unbelieveable.

And I am so grateful.

Anyway, I gotta go shower. A guy is being really nice to me and tonight I have decided to be nice back. I’m going to give him a call. To talk. Nicely. Without any mean or sarcastic remarks. I am going to be pleasant. You know why? He deserves it.