My life is a miracle.
Everytime I write that phrase it relaxes me.
It’s funny how I know all of these people and so many claim to love me yet…the only time I can relax and talk to with the greatest of ease is when I’m writing here.
I really need a massage. What I’m really saying is, I need a hug. A big hug of reassurance from someone strong, someone who I consider to be an authority figure, someone that loves me unconditionally.
I have no one like that in my life so I have to hug myself. LOL!
I’m laughing on the outside yet trembling on the inside because like Kia said back in Houston, “I’m tired of the strong Black woman making it on her own shit!”
Amen!
Yet, we do what we have to do.
Yesterday was a most interesting day. I have my boys this weekend. They are doing extremely well, can’t complain at all except for one little thing which I will address with their father.
They got their report cards and as usual, No C’s, A few B’s and mostly A’s. They even get A’s in conduct. Their little personalities are developing and I can see them for who they are and who they will become.
They show me so much love. My sons are very affectionate with me. My Mama says I shouldn’t “baby” them by giving them so many hugs and kisses but I don’t see the point in pushing a child away when all they want is affection.
In class I learned that when you push a child away or don’t respond to a baby’s cry, it teaches them not to trust the world. They then feel that they are alone and tend to not want to get close to anyone trusting that the person won’t be there for them.
For me it’s more cut and dry. I WISH I had someone to give me a hug. Maybe if I had been hugged more when I was a child, I wouldn’t have ran through all of those men in search of that loving embrace, which I never found. Maybe if I had hugs on a regular basis right now, I’d be less anxious.
Today we had a full day, starting with breakfast and then a long wait at the barber shop. My sons say the barber hurt their heads, grabbed their heads too tightly and sprayed liquid in their faces. I’m going back and forth on this one. My gut instinct says not to take them back to that barber because he could have a thing against children and I don’t want my children to ever think that their opinion is not important enough for me to take into consideration. On the other hand, they could be sensitive.
Naw…even as I write this, I’m getting this feeling that my gut is right. If they took the time to tell me this, (they are not complainers) I think I should listen.
Today I also received another shock while we were at the barber shop. My older son slapped his brother for talking too loudly. I repeatedly tell my sons that people will treat you the way they want to be treated or copy the way others treat them so this behavior was ouut of character considering that I don’t slap my sons and I know they don’t want to be slapped.
“Do I slap you?” I asked him.
“No,” he replied.
“Does your Daddy slap you?”
“No,” he replied.
“Well then who slaps you? Who treats you like that where you think it’s okay to do it to someone else?”
My son paused. “[Insert BBDD’s girlfriend’s name].
“WHAT? She slaps you?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Stay right here,” I said and walked a few feet away as my insides raged.
If this chick was legit, I’d call her up and talk to her about it but she has already shown me that she has no respect for my wishes so I have to talk to their Dad about it.
I’m going to leave that topic alone right now because don’t want this to become a venting session.
Today I met three men who just wouldn’t leave me alone. I met two of them while I was downtown reading my book, trying to soak in the information while my boys were at their acting class.
I gave them the friendly hello and a non committed smile, but that seemed to encourage them to pursue me so I’m going back to being a bitch. Men complain all the time that women are bitches and won’t even be cordial but when you give them the slightest sign of kindness, they take that shit as a sign that you want to engage them in conversation. Not true.
The third man I met was at my cousin’s birthday party. As soon as I walked in I saw him look at me with delight. At first I was polite because if he’s a friend of the family, he has to be cool but after my third time telling him that I wasn’t interested in dancing with him, I had to go tell my Mama and she went over and cursed him out.
That didn’t stop him. He still proceeded to follow me around the party asking me for my number. ~shakes head~ And you wonder why I run from men; they don’t take no for an answer.
At the party I took the time to go and chat with my male cousin and my uncle. They were talking about how mechanics will try to test you to see if they can take advantage of you. I interjected that I had encountered this problem myself and I wished that I knew more about car maintenance.
“You don’t know how to rotate your own tires or change your oil?” my cousin asked me.
“No,” I replied. “No one ever taught me.”
He laughed. “That’s because you’re weak.”
I was flabbergasted. “My not knowing how to do those things has nothing to do with being weak. Everyone has different experiences and just because you can do things that I can’t do, doesn’t mean your experiences are more important than mine,” I told him.
“She’s very intelligent,” my uncle said to my cousin. “But there are areas that she needs help in.”
“Ofcourse there are,” I said. “Everyone has them. I’m open to learning more and hearing your suggestions. I can learn something from everyone.”
“That’s the type of woman I need,” my cousin said. “A woman who is open to molding.”
“Molding?” I questioned and wrinled my nose. “Just because I say I’m open to listening to what you have to say doesnt mean that I’m going to do everything you say. I’ll listen but ultimately I make the best decisions for myself and I’m not afraid to say NO, when I don’t feel like it’s the right thing to do.”
See what I mean? Some men think that by giving them your attention, they have full reign over your life.
~sigh~
I swear, if I hadn’t invented Steve, I wouldn’t believe that there were good and loving men in the world. Writing about him gives me the blind faith I need to continue to stay hopeful about someday meeting someone who treats people the way that I do.