Mass Class

So I’ve been visiting churches. I didn’t want to mention it because I didn’t want anyone to get too excited.

I know who I am. I know God. I love Him. My honest desire is to be used by Him and to please Him with my life. But, er, uh, I know I sometimes fall short.

The funny thing is, I’m much more happier with my life now than I was when I was a faithful church goer. Honestly, I have more peace. I have more joy. I accept myself a lot more. Back then I put so much pressure on myself to be perfect that I lived in a constant state of condemnation. That wasn’t cool- at all.

Now I feel that instead of my relationship with God being something that I strive for, it’s something that is mine, regardless of the circumstances. God is my God even when I don’t do everything the way the church says I should do it. God is my God even when I don’t have a pastor to instruct me and challenge me. My God is my friend. And friends don’t leave you hanging no matter what happens. I didn’t feel like that before. I felt like God was only with me because I was doing things like the church wanted me to. I like this new relationship.

A couple of Sundays ago I took my boys to church.Well, it was a Catholic church so I guess it’s called Mass. My neighbor’s cousin invited me after I told them I was looking for a church home.

As soon as we pulled into the church parking lot I knew I was in for it. My boys hadn’t been to church in a while and if you have any small children around you’ll understand that they ask questions about everything.

We walk into the church and immediately my 5 year old Sugarbear says, “MAMA! I want to sit in the front. I want to see!”
“Ok, Boo Boo,” I whisper. “Lower your voice and we’ll sit near the front.”

We’re walking down the middle aisle and my sons are walking on oppositie sides of me. We sit in the 4th row, close enough, but not too close. The church is huge. I look around. It’s not packed. In fact, if everyone tried, they could probably all fit into the first 4 rows. But they were all spread out, comfortably owning their own pews.

My Sugarbear’s eyes grow wide as he looks around. “Mama, what’s that?” he asks and points to a huge statue of Jesus on the cross. “Is that God?”

I cringe. “No baby, that’s not God. It’s Jesus, God’s son. Well, it’s what some people think Jesus looks like. No one knows for sure. He’s a part of God though.”

“Why is he standing there like that? Is he sleeping?”

“No, he’s not sleeping baby.”

“Is he dead?” he asks and studies my face as if he’s searching for the truth.

Yikes! I had done a good job laying the foundation for a relationship with God, or so I thought. I had yet to tell them the story about why Jesus was on the cross.

“Umm,” I muttered. Clearing my throat. “Baby, Jesus died on the cross.”
“WHY?!! Somebody killed him!?” he asks loudly, his voice echoing throughout the church.

“Baby, I’ll make sure to tell you the story later, ok?”

“What’s that in His foot Mama?”

“Baby, I’ll tell you all about it later. They’re about to start.”

The congregation stands and the man of God, the Father (?) walks down the aisle with three people in front of him. All of them are wearing white robes. The boy in front is carrying a cross.

“MAMA! Are those angels?” My 5 year old asks.

“No baby. They are helpers. They are servants.”

“Are they serving God?”

“No, they’re helping the man of God, right there.” I say and motion toward the older man in the long robe.

“Is that man– GOD?!!”

“No baby, he’s not God. He’s the preacher.”

“The creature?”

“No, not the creature,” I laugh, then I catch myself. “The preacher. Now hush your mouth.”

My 3 year old is silent, for now. Everyone sings a little song from the song book. My 5 year old wants to read along but he’s too slow. My 3 year old pretends to read along with me and he’s swaying back and forth to the music. I sway along with him until I realize no one else is swaying.

I grab his shoulder, forcing his movement to stop. The song ends.

They dismiss the kids and I go with them to the courtyard. There is an 12 foot statue of Jesus out there and my kids can’t believe their eyes. They stand frozen in amazement in front of the statue.

We sit down with the other kids but we can’t hear the lesson because the teachers didn’t have a microphone.

“Can we touch the water?” My 5 year old asks after spotting the waterfall.


“I can’t hear her. I wanna go back in the big church.”

“Wait a minute Sugarbear,” I hiss into his ear.

After some time we are allowed back into the church. Before we sit down the kids stand in a group at the door. There are two little bowls of water there.

“What’s that water for Mama?” Sugarbear asks.

“I don’t know.”

A little boy hears us and chimes in, “It’s water for the cross,” he tells us and dips his finger inside. He then touches his forehead, his chest, his right shoulder then his left.

My sons eyes light up as they eye the water bowl, then look over at me.

Don’t you dare! I tell them with my eyes.

They sing another song and we sit down. They make some announcements and we sing another song again.

Out of nowhere a bell rings.

“Mama?” My 3 year old tugs at my shirt. “Does that bell mean it’s time to eat?”

“No,” I cough to cover my laughter. “It’s not time to eat.”

“Well when is it gonna be time to eat?” he whines.

I pull him close to me and place my face next to his. “You’ll eat when we get home.” I say sternly.

“Mama?” he calls me again.


“You didn’t you brush your teeth this morning?”

Huh? I place my hands on the pew in front of me and lower my head so that no one can see me laughing. You would think I was praying.

He stands beside me and asks again. “Why didn’t you brush your teeth Mama?”

“I did!” I hiss and lower my head again. Any minute now I’m gonna fall out from laughing.

“No you didn’t Mama? I smell your teeth. It’s stinky.”

I shake my head and compose myself as I look at my beautiful little boy.

Oh my gosh, it’s going to be along afternoon.


It’s funny because people often think I’m PMS’ing because I’m always so emotional. I’m not really, I’m just very sensitive. I don’t know, I just have this abundance of heart, gooey stuff going on and I feel things on a level that I guess most people don’t feel.

When I appreciate someone, I really appreciate them to the point where it can bring me to tears just thinking of how much their presence in my life means to me. And since I have a lot of wonderful people in my life, I cry a lot.

Today was extra beautiful. When I got to work there was an e-mail in my inbox inviting the faculty and staff to visit the faculty lounge for a chocolate treat. Gourmet chocolate! Then I saw an e-mail reminder that today was the day we would get our free massages.

I went into the room they had set up with scented candles and soft music.

When my turn came the man asked me, “Where’s your problem area?”

I cringed. “Um, I don’t know. My shoulders I guess. I. I, uh.. I’ve never had a massage before.”

“Oh really?” he asked raising his eyebrow at me. “Well, you’re about to fall in love.”

He adjusted the seat for me and I sat down and put my face down in the little hole, just like they do on TV. As he began to push on certain parts of my back, I couldn’t help it, I began to cry. I felt so stupid. I’m such a weirdo. I began to think about how good this school has been to me. Because of this job I have had my first taste of caviar. I’ve partied with the wealthy. I’ve enjoyed countless parties and I learn a lot from the professionals that I work for. I’m so comfortable here. The people are so nice. My director is great. No one is rude or mean to me.

The best thing about this school is, the teachers actually CARE about the students. Seriously, if you listen in on their conversations you hear them express worry over whether or not they are reaching them. Or you’ll hear them express frustration over a student who is non chalant about his education. This is definately the type of place where you can get really comfortable and stay for years.

I would never leave except, I want more for myself than being an assistant. I have more to give to the world. I want to use my gift as a means to take care of my family. Until my turn comes, I’ll be here, content and appreciative of this blessing from God. It’s almost been a year since I started here. Remember when I was a temp at the receptionist desk? Who’d have thought it would become permanent and I’d be loving my job right now?

As the masseuse kneaded my neck with his bare hands I thought about another first I had this year. Aside from those free concerts at the bandshell in college, The Kanye West concert was the first real concert I’ve ever been to. The greatest thing is those tickets were a gift from a man who wanted absolutely nothing in return.

I’m not used to that. I’m used to giving to men and dealing with men who have nothing to give to me. I still feel kinda overhwhelmed by his generosity.

And you know that Late Registration CD I’ve been listening to everyday at work and at home? Well, it was a gift from my friend Kenya. She lives in Brooklyn and she sent it to me because she thought I would like it. She was never more correct. I love it. If it wasn’t for her, I would never have gotten it, I don’t really buy anything for myself anymore. Well, I bought a $5 candle last week but that’s about it.

Oh here we go again, Ms. Mushy, Gushy Tee, crying about how happy she is.


This blogger can keep steppin if she thinks I’m not gonna give Kanye props for his part in my recent happiness. I feel connected to him. It’s as if his success is my own. Everytime I see an interview or hear about him winning an award I become giddy. He was the underdog and he came out on top. I’m feeling that…

You know, I think I’m just happy that I finally get to see a man that is worthy of admiration.

Yeah… I’m so blessed and so happy and looking forward to enjoying the kind of success that Kanye has. The kind of success that comes from doing what God placed you on this earth to do and actually being appreciated and recognized for it. I believe he is annointed and his energy energizes me.

Life is funny, but life is good.

Looking for Him

I’m looking for a new doctor.

I’m frustrated because if I don’t find one soon, I’ll probably just brush it to the side and I really need to go. Truthfully, the last time I’ve seen a doctor, for ME, was when I had my baby 3 and a half years ago. I never even went back for my 6 week check-up after I had my son.

It’s not that I don’t like doctors. I just need a certain type of doctor. It can not be a man simply because I don’t believe a man can be sensitive enough with me and treat me with respect. I’ve had interactions with male doctors before and the first one, though highly recommended didn’t even bother to TRY to pronounce my first name.

I mean, it’s different, but it’s not that hard.

After I had my first son, I took him to get circumcised when he was 6 days old. The doctor was a man. He walked into the room with barely a hello and asked, “How old is he?” without even looking me in the face.

10 minutes after the procedure began the nurse called me back in from the waiting room. The doctor had cut the wrong way on my baby and he needed to be taken to the emergency room. You know I looked all over for that doctor but I couldn’t find him. We rode to the emergency room in an ambulance, me and my brand new baby. He wasn’t even crying, but I was.

When we got to the emergency room the emergency room doctor came in and looked at my son. Then he left and came back again. He tried to explain to me how to take care of his wound when I got home but when he opened the bandage and I saw all of that blood gushing out I flipped the hell out! I was crying and repeating, “I can’t do it. I can’t do it. My baby!”

The white male doctor looked squarely at me and said, “If you can’t take care of your child, you shouldn’t have had him.” He then left the room.

Yeah, that’s how they do you.

I have a couple more horror stories involving male doctors but I don’t even need to go there. I am a firm believer that no man will touch me again.

Damn. I hate that my life ended up this way. I hate that every man that I ever tried to trust and show some admiration or appreciation for made it his mission to control or diminish my spirit.

Or maybe I am so desperate to trust a man that I give too much, allowing the man to take on a role as my favored leader and I pledge strict obedience.

I say I don’t want a man to control me but secretly I do.

I want a man to take the reigns so that I can relax. I want him to decide what’s for dinner. I want him to drive. I want him to make the decisions. I want him to push me toward excellence and applaud my efforts and point out my inconsistencies. I want to make him proud of me. I want to be the woman he shows off and brags about and daydreams about. I want to be protected from all of the other mean men in the world, the shady car repair people and the electronics salesman who try to take advantage of you. I want to walk hand in hand and sit in the sand and laugh.I want someone to look up to.

I want…I want…

A father.

Wedding Blues

My weekend went well. I was able to go out and buy a Christmas tree for my boys. They love it! They’ve been asking for one for the longest.

It’s a fake one. I put it together on Saturday morning. I had them follow me around the tree as I put the lights on and we danced to some Christmas music. The looks on their faces were priceless. ~sigh~ Yeah, this is why I signed up to be a Mom.

All I got was lights. I didn’t buy any other decorations. And I got the multi-colored lights which made my lil sister comment, “That is sooo ghetto!”

Hey, I didn’t buy anything else because I was overwhelmed and I never really had to think about Christmas decorations before.

When I grew up, we broke out the old dusty plastic tree and pulled out the same garland and threw away the bulbs that were broken and added some iceicles and that was that! A few years ago everything changed when I went to visit my sorority sister Stephanie in Tampa for Thanksgiving.

It was a WONDERFUL Thanksgiving in Tampa. She had to work those few days and I was able to sleep all day and all night with no one bothering me. But when we went out shopping she spent a lot of time looking for decorations for her tree, saying, “This year my theme will be white and gold angels.”


There’s supposed to be a theme for your Christmas tree?

So late Friday night as my sons and I perused the wares at the local KMart, I was overwhelmed by the choices and I went home basically empty handed.

I don’t think they even noticed.

“We need a gold star for the top!” my 5 year old said as he smiled in satisfaction after the lighting of the tree.

“I’ll find one soon, baby.” I promised him.

Speaking of Stephanie, this coming weekend is her wedding. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it. Same issue, no money. Well, Nadia said I could ride with her boyfriend so I do have a ride, but I would have no place to sleep for the two nights and I don’t know anyone who lives in Sarasota, Florida. I feel really, really…unsuccessful. Yeah, that’s the word.

I BEEN finished with college and I still can’t afford to do simple stuff like attend my good friend’s wedding. I missed her graduation for the same reason although I tried to make it seem like that wasn’t it. I was too embarrassed to show up without a gift and I felt like a scrub because at the time I couldn’t come up with money for gas to drive to Tampa where she lives.

So I said I overslept and I hoped that she knew that I loved her with all my heart and I really wanted to go, but I just couldn’t.

Tonight I emailed her and told her what’s going on with me financially. I hate to back out at the last minute because I try to be a woman of my word, that is very important to me.

I hope she understands. I’ll make it up to her one day.

It won’t always be like this.

The only good thing about missing this wedding is I won’t have to face my Baby Daddy (who will be the best man) and his girlfriend. I really wasn’t looking forward to being at a social function with them. But I really, really wanted to see everyone else. My Baby Daddy and I have tons of mutual friends from college who we both keep in contact with, independent of each other. It’s going to be a pseudo reunion of sorts. But I’ll just have to miss out this time.

All I keep thinking is, it can only get better from here!

The Waiting Game

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She frightened me when she burst into the room.

She wore a thigh length white coat that opened in the front revealing a pudgy midsection peeking through blue scrubs.

She paused before closing the door behind her and walking over to me.

I sat nervously on the edge of the examining table wearing nothing but a thin paper gown that had ripped in half while I was putting it on.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, nervously pulling the white paper cover from in front of me so that she could see that I had already ripped the gown that had been given to me. “I guess I don’t know my strength.”

“That’s okay. I think they are defective anyway. Everyone does that.”

I giggled a little and smiled at her as she extended her hand.

“Hi, I’m Karen,” she said. “I’m your nurse practitioner. The doctor was busy today so I fill in the gaps.”

I looked her over. She was a white lady. She must have been in her early 40’s, a little chubby but I got this very, very warm feeling from her.

“Hi Karen, I’m Ms. Tee.”

“So, what’s going on today?”

“Well,” I say and look away. I’m so embarrassed. “I haven’t been to the doctor in a very long time and…I, sex a couple of weeks ago and I haven’t felt right since. I think something is wrong.”

She begins to write on a paper inside a manila folder. “So, you had unsafe sex?” she asks, as if she already knew the answer.

“No way!” I tell her. “We had safe sex, but I still don’t feel right.”

“You had safe sex?” she asked, eyeing me.

“Yes we did. I’m too grown for that other stuff. Besides, the night we did it, I shaved beforehand and I’ve been irritated ever since. It’s so horrible. I don’t know if he gave me something or if it’s just me.”

“Well I always recommend waxing over shaving. Using a razor helps to spread any infection you may have in such a sensitive area.”

She looks down at her folder and continues to write.

“Ok, let’s go over your history. Have you ever been hospitalized for anything?”

“Yes, I have two kids.”

She laughs and continues, “Are both your parents living?”


“Does your mother have any serious medical problems?”


“What about your father?”

“Uh..I know he has asthma, that’s about it.”

She smiles at me and continues to ask me detailed questions about my family’s medical history and my history.

“Well,” I say, interrupting her. “All I’ve ever had to deal with was my asthma and I’ve had that since I was in elementary school.”

“Well I like to go through my entire list just in case there’s something you may forget. Just to be on the safe side,” she said and smiled at me.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Do you smoke?”

Oh no! Does she smell the black and mild on my breath? That was the last one– I promised myself. So technically, I don’t smoke- anymore.


“Do you drink?”

“As much as I can,” I say and laugh.

She raises an eyebrow and asks, “Does that mean every night?”

I smirk and laugh. “No way. I drink socially and I rarely socialize.”

An image of the nearly empty bottle of Vodka on my kitchen shelf pops into my mind and I snicker.

“Do you abuse any drugs?”

Abuse? Man, I don’t have enough money to abuse any drug. That blunt over Thanksgiving break doesn’t count.

“Nope,” I say aloud and bite my lip to keep from smiling.

She examines my eyes, throat and nose. She says I have some inflamed something or other in my nostrils. Whatever. My nose is just big.

“Ok,” she says and stands up. “Let’s get a pap test done.”

That’s pretty much why I’m sitting here naked. I think to myself.

She calls the medical assistant to come in and set things up for her as she looks at my folder again.

“You have excellent insurance!” she exclaims. “Sometimes with other plans we have to find a way around things but your plan covers everything.” I know, I know- My job is the bomb!

She picks up a long thin stick with cotton on the end, it looks like a q-tip. “See this? This costs $130 and the one next to it is $140. Your insurance covers it all. We’re gonna give you the works!”

“Great.” I say stoically, trying to remember what a pap smear felt like.

My thoughtful expression slowly turns into a delightful one. From my recollection it felt quite –good! LOL!

“Scoot down,” the medical assistant guides me as I place my feet in the stirrups.

Karen positions herself directly in front of me and the medical assistant turns on the overhead light.

“Hand me a speculum.” Karen says to her assistant.

“A small one?” the young assistant asks.

“No, give me a medium one, she has two kids.”

“That’s right.” I grin and smile. “I only mess with the big boys.”

I feel a little discomfort as she inserts the speculum but it doesn’t hurt. I see her insert one, two, three of the long q-tips and hand them to the medical assistant.

“We’re gonna go ahead and test you for all of the STD’s and if you’d like we can draw blood for an HIV test and give you a flu shot.”

“Wait!” I call out when I notice she’s about to get up.

“Yes.” she answers and looks at me.

“Um, well, I was um, looking down there and I saw some, um, bumps and..Didn’t you see them?”

“Oh, let me look again. Where are they?”

“On the side, near my pantyline.”

“Well, those are just hair bumps, Tee.”

“Are you sure?”

“I can’t be 100% but that’s what they look like to me. I don’t want to speculate until your test results come back but, I think you have a bacterial infection.”

“I do?” I ask and gulp.

“Yes, but don’t worry, no one gave it to you. You gave it to yourself. Those are caused by germs that most people aren’t prepared to combat. Wearing thongs is a bad idea. The thongs slide from your bottom to your vagina and all the germs slide with it. If you wipe from back to front, you’re spreading germs too. Even not using bleach on your underwear will cause the germs to continue to live and grow.”

“For real?”

“Yeah… That would explain the discomfort. But it’s perfectly treatable if we catch it in time. “Come on and sit up and let’s get the rest of the tests out of the way.

My head is spinning as I sit up. “Sure,” I answer weakly.

“Great! Go ahead and get dressed. I’ll be back with a prescription for some new inhalers. I want you to refill those prescriptions every month until you have an inhaler stashed in every room of your house, in your car even at your job.”

“Ok, um, could you actually pass mine to me right now? I’m kinda tight in my chest.”

“Ok, but while we’re at it I’ll give you a prescription for Flonase to help with your allergies. You’ll be on it for the rest of your life but at least you’ll be more comfortable.”

She walks out.

Great! I have always HATED the idea of being dependent on any kind of medicine. I am not taking Flonase and becoming dependent on it!


I get dressed and the medical assistant walks back in. I sit down and she draws some blood and gives me the flu shot. I used to be deathly afraid of needles when I was younger. I remember singing Hangin Tough by The New Kids On The Block extremely loud while the nurse put in my IV when I had bad asthma attacks. But now, shots don’t hurt anymore.

I gather my things and walk out the door. Once inside the elevator reality hits me. Damn. I’m waiting on the results from an HIV test again.

This really, really sucks.

I know I don’t have unprotected sex anymore. I know I get tested every year, but damn. People are dropping left and right. I’m no different from anyone else. Man, the messed up thing about it is, my random sexual encounters only happen when I get bored. I have sex when I’m bored, how dumb is that?

Sure, I try to choose men who are cool with me and I trust, but…you never know. What if I chose the wrong friend to do it with?

I always believed that I would make a difference in this world but I don’t want it to be because I am an AIDS activist. I want to do something good, help some people have better lives, but I don’t want my life to end. I can’t even lie, this would be the perfect punishment for all the stupid sex I’ve had.

The worst part about it is, if my test comes back positive I may never get to accomplish my dreams or see my boys grow up to love God and respect themselves and others…and…I’ll never get to experience the love and covering of a man that I can trust enough to simply, be myself.

And so I wait…

Waiting For a Dream

Today was a rough day.

Sure, I saw the little genie lamp flashing next to my speedometer for the past two days but I just said a little prayer asking God to allow my car to hold out until the 15th when I get paid.

I was preaching to my kids (I love to do that because they are a captive audience for my sermons) as I drove up the street. I was telling them about the importance of family and how we have to stand by each other and how we belong to each other and that we need to take care of each other.

All of a sudden, my car sputtered and slowed down. Uh, oh. I pulled into the turning lane and the car stopped.

I tried the ignition.


I turned it again.


Once more.


I called my sister and she came to rescue me. We dropped the boys off to my Mama’s house and went back to the car. We pushed the car to a side street and she worked on it for a while while I stood there looking helpless. Still no luck.

So my car is sitting there on the side of the road right now. Damn, I left the boys bookbags in there too.

For some reason I’m not stressed.

No, not stressed. Just tired. Very tired. My body and my mind is tired. I think my heart is tired too. What do I do now? Maybe the answer will come to me in my sleep.

I’ll let you know what dreams may come…

Time to Refocus

“Hey, this is Ms. Tee.”

“I know, what do you need?”

“My car broke down. It’s on the side of the road. My sister came to pick up me and the boys but we can’t get the car to start. You know I don’t have any money.”

“Ok, what do you want me to do?”

“Get my car fixed.”

“Why should I? I don’t call you for help when I need my car fixed.”

“But I have to take OUR children to school everyday.”

“Look, I’ll find a bus service for the little one starting Monday. If you can’t find rides for the next two days then that means you’re not trying. Other than that I don’t know what to tell you. I mean, it’s YOUR car, it has nothing to do with me.”


I call him back.

“Did you just hang up on me?”

“Yes, I hung up on you because I can’t hear you and I’m working. I don’t have time for this.”

“But how am I supposed to get the boys to school and from school with no car? How am I supposed to get the car towed or fixed with no money?”

“That’s not my problem, it’s your car. You figure it out. I’m WORKING. Don’t you understand that?”


My sister says I must love the way he talks to me because if I didn’t like it I wouldn’t call him. I sometimes wonder if I’m simply too sensitive to his words. I second guess myself all the time when it comes to him. I try not to blame him for how he treats me. I know I’m sensitive, I know I get hurt easily so I try to make myself believe that it’s my fault for getting hurt by him. Or that I deserve it because I should have my shit together. If I could do it all by myself, I wouldn’t have to ask him for anything. I know he’d be happier that way. I would too.

Funny how, I’ve stopped receiving child support. Yep, No more $85 checks every two weeks. I questioned him about it and he said it’s not up to him. He says someone wrote a letter to his office saying that his wages would no longer be garnished. Huh? Our case is still tied up in court.

Sooooo…that is why he came to me a couple of weeks ago saying he would try to give me more money. I thought he was beginning to understand that it was hard for me but it wasn’t that. He knew that he didn’t have to give me money anymore so he decided to be nice and send me the money on his own. He even gave me a raise. Instead of $170 a month,which is the amount he’s been paying for the past 4 years, he promised I’d get $300 a month. How nice of him. Very nice considering my younger son’s daycare is $250 a month.


“Mommy, why don’t you call the big truck and tell them to come get your car and take it away?Then you can get a new car like my Daddy.”

I laugh. “Well Boo Boo, Mommy doesn’t have the money for a new car, but don’t worry I’ll figure it out.”

“Well why don’t you call my Daddy and tell him to buy you a new car?”

I chuckle. “Um, yeah, how about next time you talk to him, you tell him that? Ok, Boo Boo?”

I laugh and shake my head. Funny!


You get no results when you turn to the wrong person for help.

He Never Fails Me

I’ll admit it, I was a bit shook.

The first person I turn to in my time of need always turns coldly away from me. What’s wrong with me? I continually run to the wrong person. Is it because I hope that one day he’ll be different. One day he’ll care. One day he’ll recognize my worth in his life and the lives of our children. Why am I still seeking his approval when at the end of the day, there is only one who never fails me?

I find a ride for my sons to school. Their paternal grandmother says she will drop them off but she will be too busy in the afternoon to pick them up for me. Strategy time. Who can I call? I’m sitting in my pj’s at my computer early this morning thinking.

I’ll call my sister. My faithful sister. She is such a blessing and an inspiration to me. She agrees to pick my son up from his daycare in Liberty City and I’m relieved for about 30 seconds. Hmm. My car is on the side of the road. I have no money to get it towed or fixed. What do I do?

I smile to myself- Anna. I love to brainstorm with her. I call my bestfriend Anna at work and explain the situation. She asks if I asked my Mama. No, I haven’t. My Mama already feels bad enough. Even though she won’t say it I know she hates the fact that she can’t step in and rescue me. She suggests I call my biological father for help. Negative. We go back and forth and reach a dead end. With no money, nothing’s happening. But I didn’t leave my car in a good neighborhood so I needed to get it out of there fast.

Next I call my other bestfriend Tamara. I know that between the three of us, we’d come up with a solution. I am prone to panic and exhaustion while both of them are more calm and reasonable. And Tamara always says, “No matter what sticky situation you get yourself into, you always get your miracle.” So she says she never worries about me.

I explain the situation to her. “Ok,” she says as if she’s reading from a textbook. “Call Pepboys. They tow for free. Once they get it there they can assess what’s wrong and you can get an estimate. Even if you can’t afford it, at least you got it off the street and you know what needs to be fixed.”


I love me some Tamara!

I did just that. I had my car towed to Pepboys and went on in to work. Sometime after I was settled in I got a call from Pepboys telling me that they had received my car and they wanted my permission to run a diagnostics test. Sure, go right ahead.

An hour or two later I get another phone call. The total for a list of repairs that I honestly have no idea what they mean: $541.

“Um, so how much will it be if I can’t have my car repaired there?” I ask the guy on the phone.
“Well, we’ll just charge you for the diagnostics test. $75 plus tax.”
“Well, I’ll try to come up with the money, but I don’t think it’ll happen.”
“Call me back if you get it, if not, you can come pick up your car at any time.”

Damn. Damn. Damn.

I don’t have money like that. I allow myself a small pity party. It felt pretty good. It ended with me in the bathroom standing in front of the mirror peering dissapointedly at my bare face. I look sooo crazy without makeup, but this morning I didn’t have the impetus to apply any.

“Something is gonna happen,” I tell myself. “It has to. I can’t call their Daddy again. I can’t take his rejection one more time.”

When I get back to my desk my phone rings. It’s a co-worker, Sandee.

“Are you really at your desk? Oh my! I can’t believe it! I actually caught you!”
“Whatever!” I say with a giggle.
She laughs. “Hey Tee, I’m looking for that fax I emailed you about yesterday.”
I pause…two…three.
“Ohhh. The hotel invoice. I called them right after I saw your email and they told me they’d check the numbers and fax it this morning. I even had them put it to your attention.”
“Really? I didn’t get it.”
“Ok, I’ll call them back now and ask them to fax it again.”
“Great, oh, do you guys happen to have anymore Biscotti in your office?”
“Plenty! They’re right here.”
“Would you mind bringing me one?”
“Ofcourse not, I’ll bring them after I call the hotel and get an update on the invoice.”

After I order another invoice I check the fax machine and smirk. The fax had already been delivered. I guess she never checked it.

When I reach her office I quickly hand her the fax and place the Biscotti on her desk. I turn around quickly but I shouldn’t have. Usually I stay and chat so my abrupt departure made both Sandee and her office mate Rachel, look at me funny.

“Tee!” Rachel called out as I exited.

I walk backward and peek back in. “Sorry, I’m just so busy. What’s up?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m so tired.” I lie.
Rachel raises her eyebrow at me.
“Um,” I sigh and explain with what I thought was a hopeful expression. “You won’t believe it but my car broke down yesterday. Crazy huh? Now I’m trying to figure out how to get it fixed.”
“Well, how much does it cost to get fixed?” Sandee asks.
Damn, they nosey!
“Um, Almost $600.”
Rachel’s eyes get big. “And just before Christmas too!”
“I know,” I say and step back out the door. “But I’ll figure it out. I’ll let you know what happens.”
“Wait!” Rachel calls to me again. “Why don’t you talk to Helen (the business manager) she may be able to offer you an advance. She does that sometimes for employees when things get hectic.”
“Hmm. I’ll do it. Thanks!”

I go to Helen’s office. She’s sitting in there eating a bag of potatoe chips and staring at an Excel spreadsheet.

She turns to look at me. “What’s going on, Tee?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Well, have a seat.”
I sit.
“See, um, my car broke down and it costs $541 to fix it. I was hoping you could give me an advance on next week’s paycheck so that I could pay the mechanic.”
“For real?”
“Sure! We’ll make it out for $600. And instead of us taking all of the money out of your next paycheck, we’ll break the payments up. You can pay $50 a pay period until it’s all taken care of. We don’t want to ruin your Christmas!”
“I’ll get the check ready for you by the end of the day.”

I walked back to my desk in disbelief. An hour later she walks in and hands me the check. I call Pepboys and talk to the guy. “Hi, I can’t believe it, but I actually came up with the money.” I tell him. “So you can go ahead and fix my car.”

“Hey! That’s cool. You know what? Let me give you another discount.” he says. “The new total is $490.”

“Thanks!” I exclaim. “When will it be ready?”

“Oh, you can pick it up by 6:00 tonight.”


My little sister picks up my son from his daycare and then comes to pick me and my other son up. She even brings dinner for the boys. When we get to Pepboys I write a check and it doesn’t clear. Uh, oh. The cashier calls the manager.

“Look, the money is not in the account.” I tell him. “I have the check right here and I can’t deposit it until the morning, but I need my car.”

He looks at me. He looks at my 3 year old dancing in front of the store room window.

“Ok,” he says. “Here’s your key. Just come in as soon as you can tomorrow and pay for it.”

“THANKS!” I tell him and run out of there before he changes his mind.

I drive my sister back to her car and me and my sons ride out, IN MY CAR, less than 24 hours after it broke down.

And I didn’t have to beg Baby Daddy to get it done.

All I had to do was wait while my Father took care of everything.

Thank you so much Lord for your provision and your mercy. Thank you for all of the prayers of my readers, the kind words from my blog friends and loved ones. Thank you for being who you are to me. For taking such good care of my sons. Help me to come to you FIRST as I recognize who is really the PROVIDER in my life.

Thank you Lord!!!!

It Looks Like Rain

The rain forced us to stay inside last night, but it didn’t keep us down for long.

My Stepfather’s brithday is Monday and I really wanted to take my sons to get him a gift. He does so much for them. He spoils them literally and although I know no trinket from Walmart will ever repay all he’s done for me and my sons, at least he’ll know we put in some effort.

Another reason I took the boys out last night was to practice how to deal with them in public. Maybe your kids are the type that go out and stay still and quiet and never ask for anything and never get excited about what they see, but mine aren’t. It frustrates me a little because my greatest desire is to have obedient and respectful sons and mine are sooo inquisitive and active. I wouldn’t call them “bad”. I would NEVER call any child “bad” unless they try to kill me or something. My sons are just active and they want to know what everything is and they talk very loudly.

“Mama! Why is that lady in the chair? Is it because she can’t walk?”

“Lower your voice. Yes, it’s because she can’t walk. And don’t point at people, it’s rude.”

I don’t wanna be one of those parents that have to beat their kid down to keep them in line. Most times a look of disappointment will do with my 5 year old. But my 3 year old doesn’t work like that. I really don’t know sometimes. I try different things with them. My desire is that they will listen to me and just…behave. But I guess our desires don’t always match up. I had to take sometime to pray and ask God to puhleese show me how to successfully discipline them.

I’m waiting for His answer.

You know what? It seems like the single mother is often put under a microscope as people pass judgement about her methods of child rearing, while any single father who is in the same situation gets ample amounts of praise for simply being there.

Look at the way she dresses.
Look at the way her kids are acting.
Um, she shouldn’t have done what she did to get herself into that situation.
Hmph, she’s probably just another slut who drove their father away.
I feel sorry for those bastards.

The really funny thing is the people who most often make these comments are people who have not experienced the spiritual evolution of giving birth. I often stand back and notice those who are so quick to pass judgement. I consider where their judgement comes from. I look at the root. Are they sincerely concerned about my welfare and the welfare of my family? Are they pointing out my inconsistencies to inconspicuously show that they are not lacking in that area so they will feel better about their lives?

I have learned that most people who condem others were heavily criticised in their lives. Those who cast a judging eye on everyone they meet often judge themselves just as harshly. But they’ll never let you know that. They’ll be sure to keep the focus on YOUR faults so that you’ll never notice theirs.

All I’m saying is, motherhood is the most difficult task you will ever undertake. If you see a mother, show respect and encouragement. You may be one of the few people who ever offer kind words or praise.

I’m a little anxious because today will be a busy day. We have to get haircuts (a line-up for me) and do some shopping for our household stuff and then we’ll take the metrorail downtown because I have my first appointment with a talent agent. It’s kind of a gag to me. I have no idea what to expect and I’m going in there with a smile and nothing else. I hope my sons will sit quietly while we do our interview, but it’s not likely.

Hey, Ms. Tee, what’s your talent?

Ummmm….We’ll see when we get there. LOL!

Honestly, I have a very nice speaking voice. I’m not shy at all and I blossom in front of the camera. Can I act? Probably not? But I do think I should at least explore all of my options as part of Holiday’s 30 day challenge.

My number one goal for the month is to CLEAN MY ROOM. ~shrugs~

You know, I realize I never really catalogue the effort I take toward achieving my goals. Some things work out, some never pan out, but maybe I’ll start sharing just so that you can laugh or cry with me.

Have a beautiful day and do some good today- find a single mother, call her and tell her you’re proud of her. It will definately make her day!


I’m Ready

Hit or miss, you have to at least TRY. It may sound so crazy but whenever I put real effort into doing something I am very successful. EVERY TIME! It never fails. EVER!

So ever since my inspiration shed his light into my world, I have been going crazy with that feeling you get when it’s 5 seconds to midnight on New Year’s Eve.

I’ve tried so many different ways to get started in my career in the communications/entertainment industrusty, so many times, so many tries. Wow. I can’t believe as I write this I’m still a bit apprehensive about talking about my works in progress. I guess since I’m not 100% sure I should/can write about it all, I guess I won’t. I WILL say, however, that if something wonderful comes out of my letter writing, auditioning, networking, writing, querying or all around EFFORT, I’ll be sure to let you know.

Today I visited my first modeling and talent agency and since ya’ll know I’m not the model type, I definately went in there to convince them that I can do commercials and movies. It was weird walking in there with my two kids. There were pictures of all of the ‘winners’ on the walls. The clients who were successful and made it big as well as pictures of the founder with a lot of different celebrities.

The waiting area had about three other hopefuls.

One was a young Black woman who looked to be about 19. She had a curvacious body and her face was alright. She was dressed in a cute skirt set and cropped corduroy jacket. She was there with her Latino boyfriend. I looked at them and thought, “Damn I been in Miami all this time and I still haven’t gotten me one of those.” He looked bored and left when she went in the back to be interviewed.

There was also a Haitian couple there with their baby. She was a chubby little cute thang wearing a white dress. Boy I’ll tell you, there’s nothing like the classy look of all white on a very dark skinned person. This just screams, ‘I love my skin’!

There was another girl there with curly hair and a nice smile. She reminded me of a friend I had back at my old church named Audrey. She laughed as my kids had fun playing with the magazines and asking me a million questions.

After I filled out the forms asking what kind of modeling I was interested in, (um, none really- Did you check out this Baby Mama belly o’mine?) I sat and waited for about 30 minutes for him to call my name. I guess I went in hoping for a chance to be a TV show host or be used as a voice talent or something. I really didn’t know what to expect.

He called me into his office and I sat my boys down in one chair and I sat in the other. He explained to me what an agent does. He said they are the contact person for entertainment and movie producers. They find out about the casting calls and they select the people they think will be right for the job (talent) then they send the people they select to the casting call. If a talent gets the job they have to give 10-20% of their earning to the agent. But only if it’s over a $100.

He asks me a few questions about myself and I answer them while trying to get my sons to sit down and be quiet. Yeah, I KNOW! ~shakes head~

But by the end of the conversation he says, “I like your presence, I like your personality. I think I’d like to work with you. What do you say?”

I’m a little confused at first. “Huh? You mean, you will represent me?”

“Yes, I think there’s a market for you to get some work.”

“Wow. That’s great!”

“Now all you have to do is get a comp card done with professional pictures and we can start sending you out. You can get your pictures done anywhere you want to, but we do have an in-house photographer that we like to use. Just let us know when you have your pictures or call to set up an appointment with our photographer and we’re set.”

“Ok, thanks! Nice to meet you!”

As we’re heading down in the elevator I’m thinking, “Wow. I didn’t think it was going to be this easy. I was prepared to go all Kanye West on him but he didn’t reject me. I have to do even more research on this company because that seemed a bit brisk. It’s probably a scam of some kind. I’m not a model, I’m a writer. Why would they want me?”

Then I realized what I was doing- again. Sometimes I talk myself out of believing that I am worthy of the good things that come my way. Maybe life isn’t supposed to be all about fighting and kicking. Maybe some people recognize a good thing when they see it. Maybe I have favor. Whatever the case, I have to allow myself to rejoice in the good times and not automatically assume that just because someone approves of me, they are being insincere. I am worthy of great things. I have a lot going for me. I DO have talent! Why not me?!!

Good things can and WILL happen to me!

I deserve it!