Author: TPatterson

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.”

Bling!

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.”
“Thanks!”

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.”
“Ofcourse!”
“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!”
“Wow!”
“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.”

“Wow!”

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!

Later!

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!

Me and Them

Before I met my Baby Daddy I met all of these great guys. We would hang out all the time, go to parties together, go on trips together and just kick-it on campus. The best thing about my relationship with them was, there was absolutely no physical attraction. So we were just friends, although their girlfriends sometimes had problems with that, until they got to know me.

After I got with my Baby Daddy, I found out that these same guys were his friends too. In fact, they were just as cool with him as they were with me, but you know guys are gonna have a different type of relationship. So when he ‘introduced’ me to them, they were like- HELL NAW!!! Not, Ms. Tee! She’s cool as hell! I’m sure my Baby Daddy was pleased that his friends approved.

The relationship was great because his friends were already my friends and we all became closer because their girlfriends became my friends and my sorority sisters. It was literally one big clique of people dating each other. When our relationship ended, things became weird. The guy friends that I loved so much didn’t really talk to me anymore. They had to choose sides and they chose him.

I see them from time to time or we communicate by e-mail and I’m careful not to mention any of the things that go one between me and my Baby Daddy. I don’t want to create an uncomfortable situation. But sometimes it feels like maybe he is telling them bad things about me. Even when I found out he was reading this blog I couldn’t quit writing like some of my friends suggested. He knows I am truthful, even if my truth is jaded by my emotions.

It’s funny how each and every friend we had together is truly a remarkable person and not one of them would ever believe the stories I have to tell about BD, so I don’t even go there. I act like everything is fine. To them he’s a hero, he’s a survivor, he’s the american dream. He’s quite the go-getter and makes you feel like you can do anything when you’re around him. I can see why they are friends with him although they will probably never see the side that I have to see.

One time I emailed my friend and said, “I don’t know what he’s telling you that will make you not return my phone calls or emails but you KNOW me, you KNOW my heart, you KNOW what kind of person I am. At the root of things I have not changed even though me and him are not together.”

I miss my friends so much. I know I didn’t do anything to them and I understand that they knew him longer and he’s a guy and guy’s stick together and all that. I just…I miss my friends. I wasn’t invited to any of their weddings. That hurt so much. But yeah, I know you wouldn’t want to make him and his girlfriend uncomfortable.

I guess I’m thinking about them because they are all at Stephanie and Jason’s wedding right now. I really, really wanted to be there. I wanted to see everyone and give out hugs and cry and be emotional and dance and drink and have fun with the people who loved me before I turned into a Baby Mama. ~smile~ They got to know the cool, hang out all night, let’s hit this blunt two times chick with the sassy attitude and the warm spirit.

We were all cool then.

We were all friends.

It’s like everyone is still in the loop but me.

Who knew that when he walked away, most of my guy friends would too?

~sniff~

I hope everyone at the wedding is having fun.

The Real Ms. Tee

Move over Tyra I have a twin too!

Every once in a while I get an e-mail similar to this one.

“Are you the same ms. tee from new orleans that has those cd’s out? lemme know, if so, big fan, totally!” Josh

There seems to be another Ms. Tee out there in the universe and she’s a hardcore rapper from New Orleans. After yet another email from one of her fans who found my blog through the search engine I had to look her up for myself.

All I have to say is WHOA!

Check the lyrics from her song beautifully titled, Getintoitwithabitch.

When I get into it with a bitch, I tote my shank,
Cut them hoes cuz they want that yay,
I gotta watch my back, because them hoes are tryin’ to handle me,
Catch me out my shank, and them hoes’ll try to get me,
Get up bitch, cuz you know I’m bout to start some shit,
You and your girls, yes you comin’ with the foolishness,
But I smack you fuckin’ hoes and then I’ll grab my nine,
I grab my shank and grab my nine because I gotta get mine

Wow. She’s just like me! I’d love to shank a hoe and smack a hoe with my nine just as soon as I finish bathing these kids.

Ms. Tee in Miami

No More Days Like This

“I hope I never have to do this again,” I thought to myself as I scrubbed the blood stained floor.

I dipped the scrub brush into the bucket of bleach and water and pressed firmly on the tile in circular motions as dried blood flakes disengaged and mixed with the water turning my entire floor into a pinkish grey puddle of water.

Tile by tile I scrubbed on hands and knees until the trail of blood was gone. Is this what I have to look forward to? Will I have to go through this again?

I threw up my hands in despair as I walked to my room and sat on my bed. If I live another 20 years I never want to have another day like today.

It started innocently enough, a typical Sunday morning. My sons woke up by daybreak and tried unsuccessfully to coax me out of bed. “Get your behinds in the room until I come get you. Mama wanna go back to sleep.”

They let me rest for another hour before they declared they were starving. I quickly fixed two bowls of Frosted Flakes, a saucer of Fruit cocktail and some apple juice and I dove back into bed.

By 10 am I felt refreshed and I stumbled out of bed wearing a t-shirt and some panties. I opened their room door and found them playing with these Power Ranger action figures that their Grandaddy had just bought them.

I cleared off the table and went right back to bed. Hey, that’s what the weekend is for right? My phone rings shortly thereafter and it’s Marsha returning my call. I wanted to ask if she had a referral for a photographer because I know that she once considered being a model. She told me that she used to be with the agency that wants to work with me and that she had submitted her photographs and they had actually called her a few times to go on casting calls but she never went because the money they were offering wasn’t good enough.

I wrap up my conversation with her and head to the kitchen to fix myself breakfast/lunch. Hmm… I feel like a ham and cheese sandwhich and I’ll fry that bad boy in some margarine to make it extra warm and TASTY!

I pull out the ham and the cheese and sit them on the counter. I hear the bedroom door jiggle and my son’s head pops out. “Mama, we want some peanut butter and jelly. We’re hungry.”

I smirk and turn to look at the clock on the microwave. 11:58. Ok, I guess they could be hungry. “Alright, I’ll make the peanut butter and jelly,” I tell them. “Now go back in your room until I tell you it’s ready.”

“YAY!!!” They squeal.

It only takes two seconds for me to make a good pb&j and I cut the sandwhiches diagonally just like they like them and carry them to the table when I hear a loud THUD.

The THUD is followed by a scream. I shake my head and walk to the doorway. My 5 year old is standing there holding his head and crying. I’m used to this. One of them is always bumping into the other one or falling down. I’m ready to kiss all the pain away and serve lunch.

“Come here baby. Let me see.” I coax him to let me take a peek. He’s still screaming and crying. I remove his hands from his forehead and I gasp. WHAT THE FUCK?!!!

My baby has a huge gash in his forehead. It’s about the size of a quarter and as soon as his hands uncover it blood starts gushing out. He leans forward and it runs out of his wound onto the kitchen floor.

OH SHIT!!! I start to panic.

I know! I have to get him to a hospital! Let me get my clothes!

I snatch off my t-shirt and throw it on the floor. I run into my room, then out again.

WHERE’S MY BRA?!!!

I can’t find it. My son is screaming, blood is pouring everywhere. I grab my cell phone and call 911.

I can’t drive with him screaming like that! Please let him be ok!

The operator comes on and asks what is my emergency. I can barely hear her over my son’s screaming but I can tell she’s a young Black woman.

I grab a towel and press it to his forehead and the lady on the phone is saying something.

“WHAT?” I scream.

“Grab a clean towel and press it on the wound to stop the bleeding,” she says loudly.

“I did that!”

“Ok, give me your address so I can send fire rescue.”

“There’s no fire! I SAID my son hit his head on the bed!”

“Ma’am it’s the same thing,” she tells me. “Calm down.”

I tell her my address and cross streets in a frenzy. I’m freaking out!

“Don’t let him eat or drink anything. Have him sit down and you have to relax so that he will relax.”

“Well I’m standing here NAKED in the kitchen holding a towel over my son’s bloody gash! The paramedics will be here any minute and they don’t want to see me like this!”

“Well, they’re on the way, so we can hang up now,” she says.

My 3 year old is standing near us looking worried.

“Sit down, Boo Boo,” I tell my Sugarbear. He’s still crying, a little more quietly though. He wasn’t bleeding anymore but he was scared.

“The ambulance is on its way,” I tell him as I find a pair of jeans and a green t-shirt to wear. My 3 year old moves toward the front door looking sad.

I’m STILL running around because I can’t find my briefcase full of important papers. It has the boy’s insurance card in it.

The fire dept arrives and my son is calm now. They take a look at his wound and tell me that he’ll be okay but he definately need stitches.

“I don’t wanna ride in that truck Mama!” My son says.

“I’ll drive him to the hospital,” I tell the paramedics.

They place a band-aid on his gash and leave.

I call my Mama and tell her to come and pick up my 3 year old. She and her husband are there within minutes and she looks as if she’s about to cry when she sees all the blood on the floor.

“You’re okay Baby,” I tell my son. “We’re going to the doctor and he’ll fix you up.”

I pack a lunchable and a capri sun along with a couple of small toys for the hospital trip. We arrive at the emergency room and sign-in. It’s 30 minutes before they even call our name. The nurse takes one look at his forehead and tells us we are going on the fast track because it’s urgent.

By this time my son is playing and laughing as we wait for a bed. The waiting room TV is on BET and they are showing The Disorderlies featuring The Fat Boys! I hadn’t seen that movie in forever! My Sugarbear thought it was soo funny!

Part-way into the movie they call my baby’s name and we are escorted to the back where they have set up bed #17. “It’s the sewing bed,” the nurse tells the medical assistant as she asks him to gather up all the necessary materials.

My son is laughing and playing around and I’m joking with him too. The doctor arrives and asks him what happened.

He repeats the same story he told me and the paramedics, “I was trying to show my brother a trick and I fell down and hit my head on the bed.”

“That’s okay, we’ll have you feeling all better. Why don’t you lie down,” she says and he leans back. “Watch out now, we’re gonna FLY THROUGH THE AIR!” she says and raises the bed.

He laughs, “WHOOOOOOOAAA!! COOL!” he says.

“Now watch this,” she says as she slides him on his side and places a folded sheet underneath him. She flips him over and wraps him inside the sheet like a mummy.

“Hahaahaaa!” I laugh and tickle him. “Look at you, my little mummy.”

“Mama, look at me! I’m all wrapped up!” he says and giggles.

The medical assistant brings out the tape and tapes from one side of the bed across his body to the other side of the bed. He does this over and over until my son can’t move at all.

“Hey baby!” I say and tap his foot. “Look at you! How funny!”

My Sugarbear laughs. “Hey, what are you doing doctor? This is fun! I can’t move!”

The medical assistant points the bright light towards his forehead and I cringe as I see the doctor pull out a big syringe. She walks toward my son and…and… my knees get weak as I hear him scream.

“MAMAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!”

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!’

“HELLPPPPPPP!!!!!!!”

The doctor is numbing his forehead so that she can give him stitches. With every scream I hear, my breathing slows down. One of the nurses notices my trauma and brings me a chair. The patients in the next bed bring me some tissue. I sit down near the foot of the bed and try my best to offer encouraging words to my son who is screaming BLOODY MURDER!!!

I’m crying and sobbing quietly as he calls for me. “I’m right here baby,” I manage to choke out calmly. “They’re almost done.”

A lifetime later, they are done and I peek at my baby’s head. It’ a bloody mess so I have to sit down again. When they are all done cleaning him, I stand and help remove the tape and unwrap my baby.

He jumps into my arms and I hold him tightly.

“See!” I say, “All better. Now we get to go to Grandaddy’s house and see your brother.”

“Ok Mama,” he says quietly.

The doctor comes over and gives him a sticker. He smiles and shows it to me. It has a picture of a shark on it.

“Call your doctor and make an appointment for a week from tomorrow,” she tells me. “His stitches will need to be removed then.”

“How many did he get?”

“Three underneath because the wound was so deep, and five on top. There will always be a slight scar, but he’ll be okay.”

I take my baby’s hand and we walk out of the emergency room and get into my car. My stomache growls. Damn, I forgot that I haven’t had a thing to eat all day.

Lord, please let this be the last time I have to call 911 for either of my sons. I don’t think I can handle another day like this.

For My Viewing Pleasure

I’ve been stifling my feelings and I can’t take it anymore. I don’t care what anyone says or thinks about me, I have to get it out. If you laugh, so what? If you think I’m crazy, oh well. I just have to say it:

Kanye West is the most wonderful man in the world. He makes me all tingly inside. He’s so silly! Did you see him on Punk’D? Oh my gosh! Dude wasn’t having it! He was sooo gangsta!

I think everyone thinks I’m crazy because he’s a celebrity and maybe I’ll never get to meet him but he is the epitome of all things I admire in a man. I may never be able to get married to anyone because I can’t imagine meeting a man as amazing as Kanye and I will not settle for less.

I always imagined a man I could admire and look up to who would challenge me to be better while at the same time making me feel GREAT because I can’t stand men who try to motivate through criticism. I always wanted to meet a man who I felt was tighter than I am and could change the world with his presence in the same way that I hope to. He uplifts me. He inspires me. He makes me wanna touch the sky. In fact, I know I can and I WILL. I recognize his spirit and his anointing and it’s an amazing feeling. There’s something about his spirit that connects me to him.

I imagine this is what it feels like to be in love.

Yes, this is it.

I am so happy! Because of Kanye I know that dreams do come true. I dare you to name one man on this planet that is more phenomenal than he is.

That’s all I ever wanted, someone different, someone new and fresh who speaks to my soul and ignites a fire in my spirit I never knew could burn so brightly. If I can dare to dream about one day having a positive impact on the world then I can dream that one day someone as extraordinary as Kanye West could possibly be a part of my world.

I needed this. I needed to believe that a man is worthy of my attention and affection.

And he definately is.

She’s gone.

I hadn’t spoken to her in so long but I’ll never forget how much love I had for her.

I met her through this white girl named Suzy that I tried to be friends with back in the day. We didn’t make it. We’re both crazy in the same way and there can only be one crazy friend in the group. Even still, I check up on Suzy from time to time, because we came from the same place, battled the same spirits and dreamt the same dreams. Even though we don’t speak often I’m proud of her. I’m happy how her life turned out and I relish in all of her accomplishments. Seeing her happy gives me hope and makes my day, even though we can’t stand each other most of the time. ~shrugs~ It’s a weird kind of love, I know. I guess only God can do that.

One day, Suzy introduced me to her little sister, Yelena. From the moment I saw her I knew I loved her. Isn’t that strange how that happens? You meet someone and you just…know. You know you have similar spirits and my heart went out to her because I wanted her to live for the Lord and I wanted to fix all of her heartache and I wanted to rescue her but I couldn’t because only God can do that.

All I could do was listen to her, laugh with her and pray for her. When I saw her I saw myself and I wish I could have been the balm which would ease her soul, but only God can do that.

I got a comment from Suzy earlier today asking me to read her blog. I clicked her link and these two words stood alone on the top of her page.

She’s gone.

Who?

I read further and discovered that Yelena had been getting sick since Thanksgiving. She had been having seizures and had even been hospitalized.

But she was supposed to pull through.

Doesn’t it make a more powerful testimony if things turn out well in the end? Where’s her happiness? Where’s her wonderful husband? Where’s her chance to shine and show everyone that a rough beginning doesn’t mean a rough ending?

How does God get the glory in this?

I just don’t understand.

Your latter will be greater.

Where’s her latter? When do I get to rejoice with her?

I’m going over and over with this in my mind. I’m trying, I’m trying, but I can’t figure out how a young single mother who came from so much pain can leave her little girl to remain and we still praise His name. What am I missing? What don’t I see? I need you God to come speak to me. Were my prayers unanswered? What did I lack? I’m trying to make sense of this, but I guess…

Only God can do that.

I affirm Myself

I appreciate my life.

I will not take any day for granted.

I will smile like my joy is contagious.

I will hope like it’s one breath away.

I will allow myself space for mistakes.

I am a beautiful Black mother.

My future was predestined by God.

I must concern myself with being more in tune with Him.

My Body is important.

I am important.

I will walk proudly with the knowledge of who I am, even if no one else recognizes it yet.

I will recognize that discipline is doing what needs to be done, regardless of if I want to do it or not.

I will only become better if I focus less on criticising myself and start applauding who I am right now.

I have a secret and I’m sure you want to know what it is… ~wink~

Get it MAMA!!!

She’s a BITCH

I was being bitchy today.

Usually when I am being bratty it’s because something is bothering me and today was no exception.

For the past few weeks I knew that this day would come and I dreaded it like Biology final exams.

Today was my Director’s Holiday party at her house.

Shocked? Disappointed?

Well, don’t be. Your worst fear may be dieing or falling down the stairs but mine is being stuck in a social environment with people and we have nothing to talk about. That is the WORST!!!

Sure, my co-workers are all sweet and kind people it’s just I haven’t taken the time or the given the effort to get to know them beyond our work environment. They all are friends with each other. They borrow cars, sporting equipment, call each other on the weekend and everything but you know I’m not a part of that loop.

And I don’t want to be. Is something wrong with that? Why do I feel so guilty?

I have no desire to make friends with the people in my work place.

I am cordial as their assistant. I do whatever they ask of me in a timely manner and I will even go beyond just to make their lives a little easier, but when I’m off work, I don’t want to be bothered.

It’s not just my co-workers. I’m like that in a lot of different areas. I don’t know any of my neighbors names. Well, except David because his mail keeps coming into my box, but otherwise I smile, say Hi and walk in the door. I don’t want them knocking at my door unannounced asking for sugar or bread or to see what’s going on. I want my space. I won’t bother you, please don’t bother me.

Usually when I talk to people our conversations are either about goals, dreams, issues or sex. I don’t see myself talking to my co-workers about those things because:

1) They are all older and have accomplished their goals and are well into their careers and I don’t want to seem like the doofus who is always asking career building questions.

2) They are White and I hate to show my vulnerable/less than perfect side to White people. They already see that I’m a single Mom and they know I’m in court battling my Baby Daddy because I have to leave every so often to meet with an attorney who ends up NOT taking my case because I have no money for a retainer. Stereotypes, stereotypes… I’m a freakin statistic. That is not cute.

Plus, you can learn a lot about a person by watching how they talk about others.

You KNOW how I am. If I’m feeling funny about a person I will just talk to them about it. I don’t whisper behind backs and try to convince my friends to feel the same way I do. I can’t be in the gossip circle because I think people who spread unflattering rumors about others are extremely childish. If you want to say something about someone else, build them up. ~shrugs~ Why not? When you tear someone down in vicious gossip, you look like an ass.

So instead of sitting and sipping wine with my co-workers I fabricated a story about my son being sick to avoid the social obligation.

And my heart has been sick ever since. I hate to lie.

I do like them, But I like being by myself more. I’m used to it. I feel NORMAL when I’m alone. I don’t need a million party invitations or friends stopping by. In fact, I rarely have company and I’m content with that. Besides, I’m never really ALONE. Hell, I have two kids! If that’s not enough company I don’t know what is!

When they go to bed I just wanna take off my bra, clean up the mess in the kitchen (if I feel like it) and just chill.

I remember once I was trying to explain to an old friend from church that I liked being by myself and she said, “Are you depressed?”

No, I’m not depressed, I’m just over the part of my life where I felt like I had to be the center of attention and admired by others. I don’t think of myself as particularly sexy or pretty (sike!) but I get dressed up and socialize so infrequently that when I do it, it’s a big deal and that makes my life more exciting.

When I go out, I’m not the life of the party. I’m the chick with a drink in her hand standing to the side– just peepin. Then if the music is good I’m the chick on the dance floor dancing all by herself all night.

A friend of mine told me, “You just like to be bothered on your own terms. You’ve been that way forever. You like to control the depth of your relationships.”

Yada, yada, yada. I’m just being mean by not going. These people reach out to me all the time but I just can’t bring myself to accept their friendship. I don’t trust them. I hate this feeling of always putting up a wall so that others can’t get through to hurt me. That’s what I do, especially with White people.

I am so standoffish until I feel like it’s safe to open up.

I guess that means I’ll holla at you when I’m in the mood.

Ewww… That’s not too nice.

But damn. That’s just me.