Silence of the "Lamb"

For the past six or so months, my vehicle has sounded like a souped-up drag racing car.  The younger people in my neighborhood think the sound is very cool, me; not so much.  This was a minor vehicle repair that should have been taken care of when the problem first arose, but with everything else going on in my life, it just had to wait.  Once I found out it was something minor, I knew that when my surplus money came in, I would surely get it fixed. 

Sitting here at the computer deciding what I was going to do next on my to-do list, I decided to take care of the vehicle, since it was a pretty decent day.  My "shade tree" mechanic who I went to grade school with lives right around the corner, so I gave him a call.  He said give him about an hour to get around to my house and he'd take care of the problem for $20.00.  Such a small price to pay for silence.  He arrived and immediately went to work.  It took him no more than thirty minutes to fix the problem.  He knocked on the door to receive his payment and I informed him that I needed to take a ride in order to get the money.  Fiance' thought I should have had the money already, but seeing as I wanted a legitimate reason to drive the vehicle before paying my mechanic, I decided I'd wait.  Me and the mechanic hopped in Big Red and took off down the street; golden silence.  Wow, now my mother along with all my other neighbors wouldn't know when we left the house.  We could actually sneak up on Fourteen and Eleven Year Old now that Big Red's engine was reduced to a soft purr. 

Well, I'm getting ready to take a road trip with Fourteen and Eleven Year Old.  I have to take back the shoes that we bought for Eleven Year Old yesterday.  The boys weren't with me and Fiance' when we left the house yesterday, but I decided to bring them the shoes of their choice, and Eleven Year Old's didn't fit.  He is only eleven but wears a size 8 1/2.  He's going to be taller than me soon, and I'm sure his feet will be pass his brother's shoe size in another year, if not before.  I want to leave out before rush hour starts so...until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

I've Done My Part

Okay, so me and Fourteen Year Old go up to his school to get his homework packet.  I schedule meetings with the administration personnel to voice my concern as to him being suspended for "sexual harassment" and "sexual misconduct".  I visit his counselor who doesn't even know what's been going on.  She's the advocate for the children and also the person that I need to see in regards to his homework packet.  After I tell her what's going on, she leaves her room to talk to the principal who has ordered the suspension.  When I saw him earlier in the halls and asked him had he heard anything, he looks at me like he didn't know what I was talking about. Giving him a look like "Are you serious; you don't remember that I'm waiting on word from the accuser's parent as to how many days my son is to be M.I.A. from classes?"  He all of a sudden "remembers" and says that he left two messages for the parent and she hasn't called back. 

Long story short, the counselor needs to talk to the accuser to get to the bottom of everything.  She is wondering why the young "lady" didn't inform her that my son had been "sexually harassing" her.  If she was really bothered and not just embarrassed, surely she would have informed someone.  I'm wondering where were the boys' enraged parents, who my son had mentioned, who had actually done something to the girl?  I understand that people have to work, but isn't this something that you would take off for?   IF, I was still sitting on some one's time clock, I would have called in to take care of something as serious as this, if my child was involved.  Wouldn't you?

So now I'm waiting for a call back from someone to tell me if my child indeed has to do five days or if he'll only have to do three.  If the mother doesn't call today to set up a meeting in regards to what has happened to her child at school, as well as in her home, all I'm gonna do is shake my head.  When we were leaving the parking lot, my son said that if he was the girl, he'd be scared.  I asked him why?  He said that once her mother finds out what those boys did to her, in her home, the girl should get in trouble with her mom.  I agree.  I'll keep you posted on the outcome of this situation.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

Income Tax Refund, Yaaaaaaa!

So I got my "surplus" money and have started my home improvement projects.  The very first thing I wanted to get done is a new kitchen faucet so Fourteen and Eleven Year Old could not have an excuse as to why they "couldn't" wash dishes.  My old faucet had one of those lever thingy things where you had to turn it to the left or the right depending on what temperature of water you wanted to use.  The lever thingy had been broke for a while and although it would still work, the lever thingy was always falling off; how aggravating.  So that was my first order of business because when Fourteen or Eleven Year Old wanted to wash something out for themselves, they would use the bathroom sink.  This created a new problem because the bathroom sink drains slow and whenever they washed something out, the residue would still be in the sink; and who would have to clean that up?  Why, me of course. 

With the new kitchen faucet they won't have a need to go the the bathroom to wash dishes, they could now contribute to the chore of washing dishes without having an excuse.  So Fiance' puts the new kitchen faucet on with some degree of difficulty; he's a cook, not a handyman.  I was going to do it myself, cause I'm that type of girl, but he decided he'd do it.  Well, after being splashed with hot water because we didn't realize you had to cut off the water supply before unhooking any pipes, he finally took off the old and on with the new.  When I first asked him did he know how to install the new faucet he said no and that he'll see if this guy he works for on a VERY part-time basis could do it.  I wasn't cool with that; that's why I was going to do it myself.  Fiance' must have seen the look in my eyes and decided he'd better at least try to put the new one on; he succeeded.  Now he has experience on how to install a new kitchen sink; see how easy it is to learn to do something, after all, it did come with instructions.  Before he moved in with me, I would have done it myself.  I put in a new ball and chain and handle on my bathroom toilet, so I feel like I can do whatever I put my mind to do, especially if there's instructions. 

Anyway, while running up and down the basement steps to turn the water supply off and on, I discovered that the drain where my washing machine water empties out was flooding.  Oh boy, not this problem again.   I haven't been down there much because my dryer is broken and I've been going to the laundry mat, so I don't even know when this problem first started occurring.  All I do know is once a year I have this problem.  Well it could not have come at a better time, because if it had happened last week we surely would have been up a creek without a paddle.  After calling the plumbers, it cost $189.00 and that was after they took off $40.00 dollars cause I had a coupon.  I swear when you get "extra" money, there's always something that arises to take its portion.  I'm just thankful that they came out as fast as they did.  It was the weekend and I truly couldn't imagine going all weekend thinking about every time the toilet flushed or someone took a shower that the basement would flood.  Just the thought of that is making me gag.  I've been there before, and trust me, it's not a pleasant thought.

I still have yet to get my tub faucets fixed.  They didn't have those at Walmart.  That's next on my list.  Right now, the shower is always on when you turn the water on.  The handle that's supposed to turn it on and off is stripped and it is very aggravating to have to deal with that.  I love taking my long, bubble bath soaks and have resorted to taking only showers, which I don't mind, I just don't prefer showers over baths.  I don't know if it will be today or tomorrow, but that's next on my to-do list.  I just want everything to be in working order.  It just seems like your world is more peaceful when everything is working properly.  Once I finish the repairs, I'll work on getting essentials like, a newer/used dryer.  I don't believe in paying full price for something even if I can afford to.  Why buy new, when you can buy nice used products?  Now when I have an excess of money, I'll be able to think excessively, but until then, I spend only what I have to, to get the job done.  The boys need new bunk mattresses, they'll get those this week as well as new dressers.  They've been keeping their room pretty clean ever since I did the mass clean-up about three weeks ago.  They are growing up and probably are getting tired of living in their cluttered environment.  Once I cleaned it from top to bottom, all they had to do is maintain it.  They also need new blinds.  Their "old" ones, which were brand new ended up being casualties when I bought them B.B. guns and their friends came over with theirs and so, the blinds ended up looking like Swiss cheese.  Needless to say, no more B.B. gun purchases for this mom.  Not because of the blinds, but just because they weren't the most smartest purchase I've ever made.  We live in the Murder Capital of the Country, why should I prepare them for future combat? 

After I purchase their needed upgrades, I'm going to buy some paint and give my surroundings a new look.  My living room is a dull beige color and it's not very cheery.  I'm not sure if I'm going to go with a particular color or all white, but I know my walls need a new look.  My "old" house that I had to give up was called the "Crayon House."  Every room was a different vibrant color.  I miss my old house, but don't miss the two house payments that I had to pay.  So much for the trip down memory lane.

With spring in the air, I just want my castle to be a place that I can take pride in.  There are a lot of improvements that need to be made and gradually they will be made.  I'm trying to ration out my surplus money because we all know how easy income tax refunds come and how quickly they leave.  I also want to figure out a way where I can plant a small seed or investment that will give me lasting returns.  I 'm really tired of struggling from day to day and if I could just find something to invest in that will allow my money not to dry up completely to the point that I'm wishing income tax refund season hurry up and gets here, I'll be doing a lot better than the year that just passed.  If anyone has some real suggestions and not any MLM schemes, please let me know.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

Sexual Harassment, Really???

I woke up to all zeros on my computer screen when I checked my bank cards online; a sign of a not good day.  After the boys went off to school, I got back in the bed for my after-the-boys-leave nap.  As usual my sleep was invaded by a dream.  In the dream, I had to put my hands on Fourteen Year Old.  The last time I dreamed he was in trouble at school, he was.  He wasn't at school this time, he had actually come back home in my dream and I was getting on him about not going to school.  If only he had stayed home in real life.  Calling my bank card's 1-800 number, I was relieved to know that there was a scheduled direct deposit for the day.  That's all I needed to hear to ease my day, but before I could get off the phone with my good news, my cell phone starts ringing.  I'm still on the computer's Magic Jack phone and so my fiance' answers the cell phone.  I look over at him and he mouths, "It's the school."  "Oh Gawd, not again," I say to myself.  After getting off my happy call, I dial the school back up; it's the Principal's direct dial.  I'm not going to even type out the dialogue cause I just don't want to, but the gist of the conversation is that Fourteen Year Old is cutting up in class.  I have to come up and sit with him or take him home.  Now doesn't that sound like some kindergartner #@$%.

So I get dressed and have already let the principal know that I don't have time to come up and babysit a fourteen year old, so there's probably going to be some corporal punishment, for sure.  He told me to come on up.  After I get there, I walk through the halls like I'm going to war; I am, I am waring against my teenage son acting like he doesn't have any home training.  So I walk into his classroom and motion for him to follow me.  Everybody knows me and knows that I am a no-nonsense kind of mom, so they already know that if I'm up there, I mean business.  My son's crime was "joning" with another classmate.  If you don't know what joning is, it's when they talk about each other or relatives.  In this case the other party to the joning session was a girl who has "issues".  At least that's what the Principal told me when I caught up with him after I slapped my son around a few seconds to see if I could get him to understand the seriousness of my time.  Even though I quit my job six years ago so that I could be contacted on a dime's notice when there was a problem with any of my children at school, I still didn't want to keep running up there because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.  My son said that the girl started it and he finished it.  Finished it to the point that despite the principal telling him to settle down, he did not, thus the phone call to mommy. 

Okay, so this young lady has "issues," so does my son.  As not to divulge too much information about him, I'll just say that the school put a label on him when he was in the first grade that has followed him to this day.  My child is quite bright/intelligent when he wants to be, but sometimes he snaps when he's provoked.  They wanted to put him on Ritalin, but no can do.  I was not going to have my son reduced to a zombie in school because he was hyper-active.  At any rate, there are a lot of kids with "issues" at that school and my son wants to know why is it okay for someone to start something with him and when he takes it to another level, he's the one who gets in trouble?  I understand his question because I have the same question rolling around in my head.  So if a child has "issues" or is "special" and they hit or provoke another student, the other student is supposed to take into consideration that "Oh, they have issues so I have to let them do what they do to me?"  I don't think any fourteen year old or anyone older or younger should have to put up with someone else cause they're special.

So I ask my son do I need to take him home or is he going to be okay for the rest of the day.  I warned him that if I have to come back up, it's not going to be pretty.  He assured me that he would keep his mouth shut, especially if a person who has "issues" says something to him.  I felt like he meant it.  So I tell him that I will see him around 2:50 p.m. because he and his brother have a doctor's appointment to get the second of three shots they need.  I told him to be good and I'll see him later.  That was that.

Fast forward to 2:50 p.m. and I'm walking through the metal detectors of the school.  The security staff doesn't even wand me like they normally do and they're all saying, "Go on baby," sympathetically, like a grandma would say.  So I go to the office to request my son be dismissed for early dismissal.  They get on the two-way radio thingy and ask that someone escort him down to the office from room "whatever."  The security peeps tell me that he's not in room "whatever," he's in the Principal's office and he's been in there for a while.  What in the world?  I thought I left him in good shape. 

I get upstairs and walk into the Principal's office and my son says, "Momma, they trying to say that I sexually harassed a girl."  I'm like, "What?"  The Principal tells me that this girl came to him crying saying that my son has been bothering her for a week.  A week, are you serious?  So you wait a whole week to tell that someone has been bothering you, sexually harassing you at that?  I don't get too excited because I want to hear the whole story so that I can see what's the deal.  I'm going to school for a Criminal Justice degree so that I can help wayward children and at this moment, it's time for me to utilize my twelve months of schooling.  I sit and listen to my son's version.  He doesn't stutter and vehemently says he didn't do anything to that girl; said he didn't even really know her.  The girl's story is that he's been harassing her in the hall; I'm still trying to see where the sexually harassing comes in.  My son said that two of his buddies told him that they inappropriately touched the girl and she didn't have a pleasant smell.  My son says that he laughed.  What else is a fourteen year old supposed to do.  The girl never mentions the buddies, but my son figured since he's getting in trouble for something he didn't do, he's squealing on everybody.  Fourteen Year Old says that he walked into a class that the girl was leaving out and the class smelled musty, so he blurted out, "It stinks in here."  He said he never even said a word to her, just that it stunk in the class.  I can hear him myself.  He has no problem pointing out any one's body odor. 

The girl, thinking he's talking about him, goes to the principal and says that he's been sexually harassing her for about a week; around the time that his buddies disclosed to him what had taken place outside of the school grounds.  I'm still waiting for the sexual harassment part.  One observer of the girl's "performance" in the Principal's office is that you would have thought MY son had touched her or raped her.  Obviously he wasn't buying her story.  Long story short, they wanted to get me up there as soon as possible before the girl's mother arrived since they know that I would be there in case my son needed me.  After listening to everything, here's what I've come up with.  The girl, out of embarrassment for what the buddies were spreading around about her, needed a scapegoat and since my son wasn't involved in the initial "tampering" of the goods, she wanted to take the spotlight off of herself and put it on him since he was now privy to what had taken place.  That's just my perception of everything.  I'm still trying to figure out what the sexual harassment is.  Did my son say something inappropriate to her about what he heard?  He said he didn't, he wouldn't do that to her, he doesn't even know her.  Do I believe him?  Not sure.  All I know is, if those guys were touching that girl in her southern regions and my son laughed about it or even said something to her about it, is that really sexual harassment?  That's such a serious term.  Unfortunately, my son has been suspended for five days so that the school can cover their butts as to taking care of the situation.  I'm not upset about that, but what I am upset about is the fact that they are taking this girl's word over my son's and there are deeper issues that aren't being addressed.  Those boys told my son what they did to that girl, is no one concerned about that?  I am. 

I'm going up to the school on Monday morning to pick up a homework package so that my son won't fall behind.  The Principal said that he's supposed to be meeting with the girl's mother to find out what she wants to do about my son.  If the girl says she just wants my son to leave her alone, then everything is squashed and my son will only have to serve three days of suspension.  If the mother presses charges, then they'll contact me.  They won't have to contact me, I'll already be up there.  Being accused of sexual harassment at the age of fourteen is a serious offense and I'm not sure if what he did was indeed sexual harassment and I'm not going to rest until I find out exactly what's going on.  I'm not sure if they were trying to scare my son into maturity, but he's only fourteen, how many of us were mature at that age?  Threatening him with jail time because he repeated what he had heard to a girl is a bit extreme, if that's what happened, but we are living in extreme times where you can get into trouble for something that, back in the day, would be considered teasing.  Where's my home schooling packet at?  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

Who's Nervous

Okay, so I made it through the Black History Month program.  My whole day up until I walked into the gymnasium was a blur.  Time sure slips away from you when you're working on several things at one time.  I decided to wear something that I already had.  In hindsight, I could have done that from the beginning and saved the time I spent trying to purchase something new to wear for something else, like school perhaps?  So I'm trying to get the hairdo together and literally was still working on it while putting on my sweater and grabbing my purse to head out.  The coordinator for the program had told me that me getting there between six and six-fifteen was ideal.  When I hopped into the truck the clock was reading 6:13 p.m.  As I've said in another post, I can get from point A to point Z in seconds if I have to.  By the time we pulled up to the school, there wasn't much room left to park, but lucky for me and my fiance' there was one space left, immediately after turning into the school's driveway.  I wasn't sure if it was an acceptable place to park, but since I was running a wee bit behind, I decided to take the chance.

I jumped out the truck and besides the chilly wind chilling me to the bones, looking at all the cars on the parking lot of the school and the parking lot of the elementary school next to the middle school, I shivered, uncontrollably.  "Baby, what have I gotten myself into?" I asked my fiance' while half running to the entrance.  There was a sign-in table when we first walked in and I saw the coordinator and the look on her face let me know that I looked fabulous.  I felt so thrown together, but apparently I had pulled it off.  She ushered me and my fiance' towards the gymnasium and when I walked in, all the seats on the floor were filled and the side bleachers had minimal seating left.  I kept whispering, "What have I gotten myself into?"  She walked us across the floor and there were two seats left, marked reserved.  Wow, we were sitting in reserved seats.  We sat down and I took a  peek at the program.  I noticed that right after the Black National Anthem, I was to speak.  Well at least I was up first and could get my speaking engagement out the way and enjoy the rest of the evening. 

When they called my name, I stood up, walked up to the stage's steps and silently prayed that I wouldn't trip up them.  "Jesus, help me," I said under my breath, walking up each of the three steps.  I walked up to the podium, thank God for the podium, and grabbed the microphone.  I said good evening to the crowd and they said good evening back.  I proceeded to do as Fourteen Year Old had instructed me not to do and that was introduce myself and let everybody know that I was his mother.  He should have been there, but I was nervous enough without having to worry about saying the right thing in front of him, so I didn't insist on him or his brother coming.  It wasn't like either one of them were interested in the least.

I nervously read one poem out of my book, My Naked Mind: An Intimate Collection of Poetry, and the one that I had barely finished about two hours before the program.  I must have done great because the crowd clapped for me.  While walking back down the steps and passing the girl's basketball team, I heard one young girl say, "I liked your poems."  I thanked her and sank back into my seat, shaking like a leaf.  My fiance' said, "You did great, babe."  The older lady sitting next to him, reached for my book and asked how she could get one.  I pulled out my order form paper that I had brought along and she put her information on it.  I had sold the last of my book supply around December of last year and didn't have any on hand.  I could have sold as many as I had brought, if I had brought some, but I wasn't too worried about book sales as much as I was worried about getting through my speaking engagement. 

Since I had made it through my portion of the evening, I was able to enjoy and appreciate the rest of the evening.  There were young girls reciting the works of others, a projected presentation that brought tears to my eyes because my two poems were in sync with what was being said, the band performed twice and there was also a dance presentation.  I truly felt honored to be a part of the celebration of Black Women in history.  Being included as a guest speaker was a part of the history that I was making; a truly monumental moment.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

A Black Woman Can (Recited at the Black History Program)

A Black Woman can be anything

she puts her mind to be

she can help run a country

or be the richest woman on T.V.

She can even drop out of high school

but then get back on track

all while carrying the weight of her world

heavy on her back

She can lead generations to safety

bringing freedom; guided by a star

getting help from another race

as she traveled near and far

She can even make history

by being the first Black Woman millionaire

showing women how to take pride

in taking care of their hair

She can even go from silent mode

to inspiring the world through her words

never doubting herself, no matter

what she’d heard

A Black Woman can be anything

she puts her mind to be

and every Black Woman in this room

can make her own history.

Uuuuugggggghhhhhh

That is the sound I made as I tried to slip this body trimming thingy over my body-meat.  It was almost painful as I squeezed it over my shoulders and tried to get it past the little rolls on my back.  After struggling to get it untucked and pulled down over my belly, I had to laugh because again I realized, you get what you pay for.  I've been eyeing this body trimming thingy ever since Christmas and I finally needed it and so I bought it.  Well, I'm sitting here with it on, after having to hoist and push my "girls" into the underwire bra thingy like I was hiding them from the titty bandits.  Believe it or not, with all of this discomfort, the thing isn't even hiding what I bought it to hide.  My poochie belly is still sticking out proudly as if to be saying, "Humph, you thought you could smother me and make me go away; not going to happen. 

I don't even want to talk about the outfit that I bought.  I visited the store I used to shop at when I was still wearing a 5/6 because I knew that it would fit my budget.  The visit must have taken me all the way back in time because for some strange reason, I thought I could fit into a size medium pair of leggings and a medium dress thingy.  They both are made out of stretchy material, but guess what, neither of them gave as I pulled and twisted my way into them.  I told you how much I despise shopping for clothes and I'm sure that little cashier was just being polite when she said, "You're barely big as a minute."   People used to say that to me back in the day and it most certainly was true, but now, how dare they patronize me. 

Well the hours are slipping away and I still don't have an outfit for this evening and I have yet to finish that poem.  I guess I better gone and get off of my blog and handle my business.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

Crunch Time

Sorry I'm just now posting, for those who've been here and saw no changes.  I've been up since 6:45 trying to get my final edits to the publisher.  I'm done.  I'll be relieved when everything is finished and I'm promoting my second book along with my first one.  Perhaps the second book will jump start the first one's interest again.  Sometimes when people see that you're not a "one-hit wonder" they support you.  I'm banking on that. 

Anyway, now it's time to finish the poem I started for the Black History Month program.  I started it over a week ago and still haven't finished it.  I'm such a procrastinator and really need to get rid of that bad habit.  If I was finished with it, I could spend some time on my school work, which I've been neglecting, this week and all the other weeks since I've started blogging.  I've really got to get my act together so that I can be successful in all areas of my life and not just my blogging life.  I'm really on a roll and the threat of not blogging isn't even on my mind.  It has become a part of my being.

I still have yet to find an outfit for this evening.  I'll probably do that while running my step father around on his errands.  Once I get home from that, I need to make sure my boogie's hair is freshly done.  He still wears his hair braided straight to the back, and I'm his, as well as my sons' hairstylist.  So much to do and so little time, but, hey, that's the life of this mother, student, author, entrepreneur, etc., etc.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

What Outfit

Okay, so you know I was supposed to go get me an outfit for the Black History Month program.  Well, my budget has just gotten a little smaller for my proposed purchase.  I should have gone already to pick something out, but I already told you I don't like buying clothes.  I mean, you buy something and then months or even weeks later, it's too small or tight.  I've told you about my dilemma of not being able to fit into anything except things that are stretchy.  The jeans I bought that are a size eleven, only fit for about a month or so.  If I feel like fighting with my clothes, I try to put them on.  I twist and pull and jump around trying to get the snug fabric up past my thighs.  I haven't been able to fit into them for about a year.  When the funds were slim and the cupboards were bare, I remember being able to slide them on with ease.  I was happy to get back into them seeing as I didn't get much use out of them when I first bought them, but being able to fit into your clothes because you've lost weight due to a limited food supply was a bit extreme.  Those days are over though because I tried to fight my way back into them this past weekend and they won.  No can pull up, was the final answer.  

I held onto my winnings from that lucky day and of course with children, there is always going to be something to spend it on, besides yourself.  So I've given each of the boys three dollars to splurge and that was that.  I figured I'd wait until tomorrow, the day of the program, to go looking for something to wear.  It's not like I'm gonna be all dressed to the nines or anything.  A nice shirt or sweater and a skirt or a pair of slacks would suffice for the occasion.  I know where to shop for bargains so I'm not really worried about finding something nice at the last minute.  Me and the boys are sitting here and I'm working on the poem for tomorrow night's presentation.  A commercial for Papa John's Pizza comes on.  They're advertising a large spinach and Alfredo pizza that looks scrumptious.  Eleven Year Old was like, "Don't that look good, don't you wanna order it?"  I've just polished off some baked chicken left over from yesterday's dinner but the thought of spinach anything is enticing.  It doesn't take much for me to give in to his coaxing.  When I do have money, if my children want something we normally don't buy on a regular basis, I consider it a treat and get it for them.  Well, the treat has been eaten and I still don't have an outfit for tomorrow, but what I do have is two satisfied boys who may not always get what they want, when they want it, but if I've got money on hand, you better believe I'll spend it on them before I spend it on myself.  That's just the way I am.  Tomorrow will be fun because I get to play, "what can you buy for ?$? and still look good?"   Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

You've Got Mail

Okay, so I'm checking my email accounts; yes I said accounts, I have a different one for every phase of my life.  Anyway, I'm checking one of my yahoo accounts this morning and notice three emails from my publishing company.  They came through yesterday afternoon.  I really must check that account more often, or perhaps I've been distracted by my blogging, YET again.  At any rate, I have now, less than 48 hours to proof my next book and make any changes.  I'm so excited because I'm doing what a lot of writers want to do and that's publish; but I'm also nervous because I'm wondering will this book do better than my last book.  Not that it didn't do well, I just think I need a marketing team, other than myself.  For every person I told about my book, they bought it; but as for the masses that I was trying to reach, I think they're still out to lunch. 

So this will be my second book of poetry and I'm wondering will it be my last?  Umm, just answered my own question, of course it's not my last book of poetry.  I still have yet to publish my "good" poetry.  My first book had several subjects and my latest book is about love gone bad.  Now that I'm in a really great relationship, of course I have to write about the good side of love.  I already have that book started and just need to finish it.  I haven't decided on a title for the good poetry, but the current book is titled, Fed Up Woman, Starving for Love and Affection.  Anyone who's been in a not so great relationship will be able to identify themselves between the pages of this book.  I figure it can be a tool for when you need to have that "good cry".  Who wants to read a book that reminds them of some of the saddest days of their life?  Hey, I wrote it, the least you can do is read it.  We can both have a pity party together and get it all out. 

Well, I've attempted to do a little pre-marketing of my latest book, Fed Up Woman.  It should be out in about another three months.  You'll be hearing more about it as I continue blogging about my daily happenings.  Hopefully since I'm blogging these days, I'll be able to reach more people and gain more fans of my writing.  I'll probably post a few excerpts from the book so that you'll know what to expect in case you want to purchase a copy.   Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

You Get What You Pay For

I'm up bright and early, making sure Eleven Year Old is up and at-um.  I heard Fourteen Year Old wake him up as he was leaving.  "You better not go back to sleep," I heard him warn, before I reminded him to mind at manners at school.  I lay in the bed for about ten minutes after Fourteen Year Old has left; no squeaky door opening.  I don't even have to get up to know that Eleven Year Old hasn't made it off the top bunk.  I climb over my sleeping boogie and go into the hallway seperating our room from the boys' room.  I open their door and call out for Eleven Year Old to get up.  He's already taken his bath last night, but I'm sure he'll need time to locate some misplaced article of clothing even after the threat of dismemberment last week. 

As I'm typing this, I'm admiring my lovely nails; all nine (9) of them.  Yep, you read right, nine.  I officially only have nine natural nails because of an accident that occurred on one of my part-time gigs in 2007.  I've since informed the Man upstairs that if He didn't want me working, He could have hinted more sultley.  Instead, after working at the factory for three months, about to get promoted to line leader, the day I was to get paid, was the day I lost my wedding ring finger tip, starting at the first joint closest to my nail.  Although it didn't really hurt because my finger immediately went numb after it was crushed and severed, (sorry for the graphic language) it is an experience that I wished I hadn't had to go through.  I stayed in the hospital for ten(10) whole days.  Imagine leaving for work Thursday evening and not seeing your children for ten (10) days.  Thank God that my two eldest were still at home and very responsible. 

Anyway, I really wasn't trying to send your belly on a rollercoaster ride by telling you this squimmish news.  I started this post because I am sitting here admiring my nails.  I normally spend as less as possible on nail polish since it's really not a neccessity, but on the day that I was feeling selfish and purchased my granny panties, I also bought me a bottle of nail polish for a wopping $6 bucks.  Yep, I spent six dollars on a bottle of nail polish.  I walked around with it for awhile, questioning my sanity and finally decided that I was worth six bucks; after all it was Sally Hansen.  I picked a pretty pink color called Pink Proposal and it is still on after four days.  Normally my nail polish chips and looks a hot mess after I've washed dishes.  I've washed dishes for the past four days and it's still on, looking as lovely as the day I put it on. 

I'm glad I purchased my high end priced nail enamal.  My nails look all girly and well taken care of, even though they are short.  I'm not sure why they aren't growing like they used to, back in the day.  I'm wondering if my constant tapping on these computer keys is slowing their growth.  If that's the case, then they will continue to be short.  As for my tenth finger tip, not to worry.  I had a very kind lady who owns an Etsy shop, custom make me a gold finger tip with a simulated nail tip.  It's a little banged up because I wear it everytime I'm out and about, but hopefully I'll be able to pay her to make me another one when I get some more surplus money.  Well back to blogging about important stuff.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

I Did It

Finally put my new yellow cleaning gloves on and got busy with my bathroom.  I'm happy to report that the dirty deed has been done and I'm all smiles.  I sprayed, squirted, wiped and mopped everything in sight in my "powder room".  I lit a candle after I was done to mark the end of my agonizing chore.  Although it is my least favorite room to clean, it is the room that I'm most proud of when I'm done.  I'm the only woman in the house and although my sweetie can get down in the kitchen, his bathroom cleaning skills leave much to be desired. 

After cleaning the bathroom and mopping my kitchen floor, I even had the nerve to prepare this evening's meal.  Like I said in an earlier post, my boogie does most of the cooking and he did cook brunch today, but since I was in my house-wifey mode, I went on and baked some chicken and mashed potatoes.  It felt good to hand my three men their plates that I had prepared and to hear, "This is good."  I'm usually the one being handed a plate and saying, "Baby, this is good."  I know my sweetie doesn't mind cooking almost all the time, but I bet he doesn't mind when I'm the one sweating it out in the kitchen.

Well, it's been a pretty good day.  No phone calls from the school, no phone calls from anyone looking for a ride, no drama period.  I think I'll go snuggle with my honey.  He's feeling a little under the weather and he's trying to act like he's not getting sick.  I told him that he was going to be sorry for going outside with shorts and a T-shirt on, on the days that the weather was feeling all springy.  I call it "fool's weather" because it is clearly still winter and even if the temperature is in the 70s, I wasn't caught without at least a jacket on.  I saw folks in shorts, T-shirts and flip flops.  I said to myself, "Come next week, they're gonna be sick as a dog."  Let the coughing and sniffling begin.  The temperatures are back in the 40s and most have jumped back into their winter gear.  Me, I'm gonna make sure the calendar reads June before I go putting on any summer attire.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

Let's Pay It Forward

Okay my blogging sistas, let's get this party started.  The Paper Princess over at Create With Joy got this idea from one of her blogging sistas, Shirley Ng-Benitz of Shirley's Illustrations and I'm passing the information and love to you my dear reader.  The concept of "Paying it Forward" is to extend an act of kindness to someone just for the pure joy of it, never expecting anything in return, except a warm and fussy feeling.

What each "Pay It Forward" participant is to do is offer your loyal readers something that will let them know how much you appreciate them, you know, share some love.  I'm offering the first three (3) commenters on this post, one of my Message From the Heart Pillows.  After you comment, I will ask that you send me an email with your physical address so that I can send it to you.  If you would like it to go to a P.O. Box, just give me that address.

Anyway, go on over to The Paper Princess' blog and get the official details on how this thing REALLY works.  I'm sure she explains it better than I did.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

Alligator Skin Be Gone

Winter will soon be coming to an end, and I sure can't wait.  For the past three months, my skin has been shedding like an anaconda snake.  No matter what I soaked in or applied to my skin, the end result would be, only hours later, scaly skin reappearing on my legs.  I'm not used to rough looking skin.  In the past, I've been accused of being soft as a cotton ball, how so, now that I have alligator skin?  Baby oil should have knocked the problem right out, but I guess my very adult skin was too much for it. 

So I'm out of baby oil and in dire need of some skin emollient.  My sons share whatever I buy, so I really need to get some quick because sometimes, Eleven Year Old looks like he's been playing in flour.  Dry skin after showering leaves my poor baby in need of extra moisture.  I don't spend a lot of money on such things because frankly, I can't afford it any more.  When I was childless, I splurged on all kinds of Victoria Secret scents and Bath and Body Works, but now, on my shoestring budget, I buy whatever goes on smooth from Walgreen's.  I'm at Walgreen's getting some toothpaste and deodorant, I remember that I'm all out of lotion.  There's a jar of Nadinola, Cocoa Butter Creme for only $.99 cents; my kind of price.  If it has cocoa butter in it, I know it has to be worth something.  So I purchase it and wow, does it work. 

I've been using it for three days now and I've noticed a difference in the skin on my legs.  Gone are the scaly flakes that usually are present after I get up in the morning.  I'm really pleased with my $.99 cents purchase.  For $.99 cents, I could not have asked for better results.  Once I get some more surplus money, I'm going to stock up on this product before it goes up or others find out how good it really is.  I'm glad I can't afford or choose not to spend a lot of money on personal care products, just because of the name; except my cleaning products,of course.  I've tried the products from the dollar stores and although they may be knock-offs of name brands, I don't use them unless it's absolutely necessary.  Give me my tried and trusted, old school products that I remember from my childhood.  To find out what those are, read my post after this one.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

Just Do It

No, I'm not practicing for a new Nike commercial.  I'm willing myself to get started on my spring cleaning.  The weekend has come and gone and I still haven't popped open my new cleaning supplies.  Hold up, yes I have.  Since I wash my dishes on the daily, I did pop open my brand new gigantic bottle of Ajax dish washing liquid that smells like grapefruits and has bleach alternative.  I did open up my Bounty Basic paper towels since I'm always washing my hands and need something other than my face towel to dry them off.  But my Clorox toilet bowl cleaner and new yellow plastic gloves and double pack of O-Cel-O no scratch foam scrubbers have gone untouched.  Hey wait a minute, what's that wonderful smell in the air?  Okay, I did open up one of my Air Wick Fresh Water scented plug in refills.  What a wonderful smell.  Come to think of it, I did put the can of Glade Crisp Water scented air freshener in the bathroom over the weekend.  I thought I smelled it when Eleven Year Old came out the bathroom yesterday.  I'll be buying another one by next week; he thinks the more he sprays, the less likely he is to share his "business."  He might have a point, but dang, go easy on the poor can. 

Okay, maybe I have started spring cleaning but I'm not too satisfied with my progress.  I still have yet to use my Lysol Bathroom Cleaner, my Pine-Sol Fresh Garden scented cleanser and the Clorox with Bleach toilet bowl cleaner.  Those things will be utilized in my least favorite room of the house.  Don't get me wrong, I just cleaned the bathroom last weekend, so it's not too grimy.  It's just the last place I run to, in my cleaning regime.  It's raining right now and since I'm not expecting to leave out until later on to go look for my outfit, I just might skedaddle in there and get it over with.  If the" aimers" could just learn how to aim for the bowl, I'd be fine.  You're probably wondering why I don't let them clean up the bathroom.  I have, and you know what the old saying is..."If you want something done right, you do it yourself."  Enough said, right?  So there.

Another thing that I just need to do is, get to school.  You will hear me gripe about my lack of interest in school,  right now, ever since I started blogging.  I've really got to get my head back in my books.  It's not that my lessons are hard, I just don't have the same drive as I had before.  Writing on whatever I want to on my blog has left me not wanting to be disciplined in my essay assignments.  I need to focus.  I have twelve more months to go and if I just concentrate, I'll be done before I know it.  Once I get my degree, hopefully I can orchestrate a way to still be self-employed while continuing to blog away.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

Lucky Day

Yesterday was a pretty lucky/blessed day for me.  Perhaps some of you don't know it, but I live on a shoestring budget, if I can even call it that.  If there is anyone who knows how to stretch a penny, I'm the Stretch-a-Penny Queen.  I don't work outside my home for a number of reasons, number one would probably be, because I don't want to, close at second would be that I've become a recluse and don't think that I could deal with being around idiotic people just because I want to pay my bills, three would be, because I have to be on call when my child's school calls so that I can come mediate a situation that has occurred and fourth, if I'm sitting on someone elses clock, I might miss out on all the golden opportunities that await me out in the "free" world, waiting for me to discover them. 

So I choose to stretch the pennies that I receive through child support, my SMALL secretarial business and the money my boogie makes.  Collectively, they take care of our basic needs.  Any extra money is a surplus and I stretch that too.  Yesterday while hanging out with my mom, she purchased us some scratch offs.  Sometimes we win a few bucks, most times we don't.  It's a game of luck for sure and although there are a lot of lucky people out there, Lady Luck has only shown up a few times to give us anything worth talking about.  So she purchased herself two tickets and then gave me two dollars to purchase two for me.  I purchased the same two that she had purchased.  I get home with my house cleaning products and hand the tickets to my boogie.  He scratches them off, "Hey baby, we won eight dollars!" he exclaimed.  We were going out later that evening and the extra eight bucks would be used instead of going into our budgeted funds.  So we decide we're going to spend some of the money on a couple of personal beers for the party that we're about to attend; the rest was spent on another scratch off.  Lady Luck must have been in the area cause from a three dollar ticket, fifteen dollars was won.  I sit in the truck while my sweetie goes in to cash the tickets.  If Lady Luck was in the area, he figured that she might not be finished with us.  So he took five of the fifteen and bought a ticket labeled, Pure Gold.  Now let me tell you, we have bought so many one buck tickets that were losers, with our luck last night, we were just getting paid back. 

My sweetie sat scratching off the Pure Gold ticket and with the second number 36 scratched off, he knew we were going to be winners.  The number 25 appeared several times as well.  By the time he finished scratching off several more 36s and a few more 25s, our total winnings were $100 bucks.  We both went back into the store to claim OUR winnings.  After getting back into our truck, my baby turns to me and hands me $50 dollars.  He had a broad smile on his face.  Waiting for the spring season to start so that he can start his barbecue business has been draining on him.  Although he does odd jobs with a construction worker from time to time and helps the "Tree Man" when he calls, he does not have a steady income.  Not being able to provide on a consistent basis can take it's toll on a man's ego.  Handing me the $50 dollars and telling me to get me something nice, I'm sure made him feel like he had handed me a thousand dollars.  To me, it was a million dollars. 

I'll take the money and buy a nice outfit to wear to the Black History Month program, next week.  You know I've got to look snazzy because it's at Fourteen Year Old's school.  I can't be standing all in front of people looking like I'm not the mom of the school's star seventh grade football team.  I've got to represent, at least that's what Fourteen Year Old says.  Thanks to Lady Luck, I'll be able to buy something for myself and not feel guilty.  After all, it wasn't taken out of our shoestring budget, Lawd knows that budget's pennies are already stretched to the limit.  So thank you Lady Luck for gracing us with your presence yesterday, we look forward to you dropping a bigger load on us, in the near future.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

Grantee Pantees

OMG, I bought me some new underwear yesterday.  I must admit that gone are the days of the cute lil size 6 or even 7's I used to wear.  It's been a year and a half since the weight crept its way onto my thin frame.  My barbie doll figure took a vacation and has been missing in action for some time now.  I haven't been on a scale in a while and while dropping off some aluminum cans at a recycle place, I stepped on the scale and was alarmed to find out that my once 135 pound body, was now a whopping 175; ten pounds more than my sweetie, who's only gained weight in his face.  Later, while at one of my sons' doctor's appointment, I apprehensively stepped on the scale and learned that I had dropped ten pounds; wonderful!

So I'm looking at the undergear attire and checking the back of the packaging, according to the package I wear 8/XL; wowsers!  Extra large, oh my.  I went from a medium to extra large; how tragic.  I have to purchase my grannie panties because I'm sick and tired of walking around half mooning the world, even though they don't know it.  If you will, imagine a full moon with a piece of fabric covering only half of it.  Yep, that's what my poor derriere looked like when I was wearing my "old" panties.  I've been needing to buy me some fitting undies, but you know, with taking care of all the other people's needs in the house, mommy has to wait until she's sick and tired of something before she breaks down and buys a much needed anything. 

Yesterday was the day that I was feeling a bit selfish out of desperation and so I splurged a whopping four dollars on a three pack package of underwear.  Hey, I'm frugal and don't believe in paying more, when I can pay less and that's not just with my shoes, which by the way, I'm gonna be needing some soon.  I tried wearing my lil comfy boots the other day and Fourteen Year Old was like, "You're not wearing them are you?"  I'm looking down and saying, "Yes, what's wrong with them, I'm just going up to your school."  "No, momma, they are run down and I can't be having my momma walking around with run down boots on," he said, as if I had committed a crime.  I pulled the lil fabric boots off and examined them.  The right boot's heel was run down on the inside.  I guess walking like a pigeon has its draw-backs.  So, I'm definitely gonna have to purchase some new kicks since the weather is breaking and I can't keep wearing my brown riding boots that I found at Unique's Thrift Store for $10.00.  

Back to my original topic of granny panties.  I purchase my panties and get home and before going out for the evening, I take me another shower and lotion up.  I get my new undies out of the bag and open the package.  I hold them up and yep, they sure do look like granny panties.  "Baby, look, my butt has to fit into granny panties now," I say to my fiance'.  He chuckles.  He likes the extra meat on my bones.  When we first met, I was wearing a size nine in jeans.  We looked like two attractive bean poles standing next to each other.  Bean pole no more, I am.  When people see me who knew me from before the past two years see me now, if it's a guy, "Damn, you done got thick," they say, looking like the hungry wolf in Little Red Riding Hood.  If it's a female, "Girl, look at them hips, where you get all them hips?" they ask claiming they want some.  They have them already, just not packaged like mine are. 

Anyway, I thought since I blog about everything else, I'd share my plight with my new granny panties.  I was watching the first Big Momma's House with Martin Lawrence and when the real Big Momma rushes into the restroom to relieve herself and later gets into the shower, I swear I was just looking at myself the other day and that's what I look like to myself.  My eyes must be playing tricks on me like an anorexic chick sees her self.  I know I'm not THAT big, but in my own eyes, yes I am.  Oh well, plans of toning this extra meat need to take effect immediately.  Summer is on the way and I've got to look right in my own eyes.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself." 

Sweet Saturday

It's Saturday morning, and my world is pretty quiet.  The boys are still asleep; no getting up early today.  So why am I up so early?  Well, for one, my sweetie gets up early regardless of what day of the week it is.  He gets up to watch the morning news; wants to see what craziness occurred while we were tucked away in our safe haven.  There's always plenty of craziness because we live in the "Murder Capital of the Country," I think that's what they call our state of Missouri, also known as the Show Me state, but also knows as the State of Misery.  Even with all the negative name calling, my world within the state of Missouri is quite peaceful, sans my child's school day experiences.

Since it's early, I'm gonna log into school and try to do my best on my individual work that's due by 11:59 p.m.  I really surprised myself last week when I turned in a really rushed, really last minute rough draft of an essay on welfare in the U.S.  On this past Tuesday, I opened up my grade book and was pleasantly surprised to find a "B" waiting for my apprehensive eyes.  Yes!!!  I did it.  Now don't get me wrong, I usually, before starting to blog, of course, spend as much time as needed on my homework to get the best grade possible, but now, I do as little as I need to because quite frankly, school is interfering with my blogging life. 

After I attend school for a few hours, I'm gonna go out and get my spring cleaning supplies.  Today is pretty gloomy, so it's a perfect day to freshen up around the house.  There's not too much to do because I've been doing a pretty good job of tidying up during the week, between blogging and running to my child's rescue.  I'll get the house smelling all Pine-Solly and bleachy and that will make me know that I've done something.  Saturdays are my time to do my major housekeeping chores.  During the week, I keep my floors swept up and dishes washed, but it's not until the weekend that I get down and dirty with my mop.  I hate cleaning the bathroom, but after I'm done, it's the room I feel most proudly of.  There's nothing like walking into your bathroom and smelling bleach and Pine-Sol as opposed to the scent of the missed target; the toilet bowl.  For the life of me, I can't understand how hard it is to aim; they are holding IT, aren't they?

Anyway, I've been working on this post ever since I woke up and that was around 8 something, now it's 10:45 a.m.  I've also been turning around watching the T.V. which is tuned into the National Geographic channel and they're showing our home-town's Criminal Justice Center, on Lock Down.  I swear I've seen some of these dudes before, but perhaps it's just because they sound familiar.  Well, I've been distracted enough by the T.V. and I really need to get to school.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

When Adults Pass the Buck to Children

Okay, so I'm up at my son's school, trying to make sure that he gets a permanent bus pass, so that yesterday will NEVER happen again.  After "holding his hand" and securing a permanent bus pass, I go to seek out his principal to find out what's going to be done about what happened yesterday.  He tells me that from what it looked like, and from the reports he's been getting, my son planned on walking home to have a ONE ON ONE fight.  Nope, not going to believe that.  First off, my son was walking home alone, without any of his crew with him.  He's not crazy enough to walk home by himself to possibly get jumped by a group of guys.  He's just not that type of child.  His story is more believable than what the principal and all his reporters are wanting me to believe.  He mentioned that my son was seen walking with his shirt off.  Is that a crime?  Yesterday was hot as hell, and I can see my son taking his shirt off to showcase his ripped abs, cause he's at that age and didn't think anything was wrong with it.  The principal mentioned that one of the boys that approached my son,  his father is chief of police or something or another...OKAY, WHAT DOES THAT MEAN???  We all know that the preacher's children can be something else. 

Anyway, his main argument was that my son should have told him that he was walking home because he didn't have a bus pass cause he would have made sure that he got on the bus with three other students who didn't have their bus passes either.  The principal said that he told my son to call me several times and my son was like, I'll walk home, I don't have to call my mother.  My question is, if my son didn't, which he did attempt from another principal's phone, why didn't the principal call me?  My number is programmed in his phone.  Was it too much trouble for him to call me up, instead of waiting for me to call him and then say, "I was just getting ready to call you, blah, blah, blah...?"     

Like I asked yesterday, what fourteen year old who you know, follows up and goes that extra mile?  The adults aren't doing what their supposed to do, but wanna say that the children know better and this and that.  Well if the adults are passing the buck and blaming the children for them not going the extra mile, then what can we expect from the children?  One thing is for sure, I won't pass the buck to anyone, child or adult.  I follow through until I get the results that I am seeking.  It may not be a payed position, but I will continue to sit at home and await the phone calls of distress concerning my children and come to their rescue if need be.  In no way am I saying that my child is perfect, but when you have inadequate adults in positions of trust and they drop the ball, as a parent, you better be ready and available to go that extra mile for the ones who are depending on you to be there for them in their time of need.

What is Wrong With Me

Okay, I haven't been outside for the past two days.  What's wrong with that, you might be asking?  Well, the weather has broken and it's been beautiful outside.  Today got up to 70, probably beyond.  Did I go out?  Nope.  Why not?  Hummm, might have something to do with the fact that I'm tired of putting on these too small clothes.  When absolutely necessary, I squeeze my plump rump into a pair of stretch jeans; thank God for stretchy materials.  I'm tired of pulling and tugging.  I don't own that many pair of anything, and I'm sure anyone who watches me leave my home, when I have to, are like, is this part of the Groundhog Day movie, didn't she have that on yesterday?  I try to space my "outfits" out, but it's getting harder and harder to keep up with if I had this on last time I left the house.  Don't get me wrong, my clothes are clean, but hey, the people don't know that.

I really need to start my work-out regime, but don't wanna loose my curvy hips and sure don't wanna loose the "girls," who've returned after twenty-three years.  My boobies haven't been this big since I was expecting, and that's over eleven years now.  This is the first time in over twenty-three years that they've returned "home" to stay.   They left while I was still in the hospital with my first child.  They're home, where they belong, and I'm not trying to part with them again.  Do I sound crazy or what???  I'm sure I do, but it's how I really feel.

I've got to do something.  Within the next coming week, I will have the opportunity to purchase some new clothes, but I don't want to.  I hate spending money on clothes as it is, and to buy clothes that I know I really don't want to fit in, to me, is just a waste of money.  I've got to work on thinning down, just a little, so that I can fit comfortably into the new clothes I'm needing to purchase.  I want to go out into the world, but I'm tired of looking like a stuffed sausage or someone constantly going to yoga class.  I don't even know what kinds of clothes I want to buy.  My daughter says that I need to start dressing my own age.  How do people "my age" dress?  I mean, no one can believe I'm forty-three years old; why should the way that I dress give my real age away? 

Well tomorrow, after I take care of fourteen year olds' school issues, I'm coming home and try to get something accomplished in the exercise department.  No one is used to me being "this big" and neither am I.  In my defense, I'm telling folk that this is my grown woman body.  Hell, after staying model thin well past my child bearing years, it's about time I put on some hips, don't you think???  Anyway, I haven't eaten since lunch time, and I'm kinda hungry.  Guess I'll go have a lil nibble of something, after all, I gosta start watching my figure.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

#1 Reason I'm a Stay-at-Home Momma

It's 4:00 p.m. and my fourteen year old has not made it home.  Twelve year old has made it in, safe and sound.  I asked him did he see his brother walking home, he said no.  Okay, where could he be?  I'm thinking maybe he's in after school detention.  So I call the school and inquire how I can find out if he's been detained.  I call the school's main number and am transferred to his principal's phone line.  I only get a message.  I call his cell phone.  Yeah, I have all access to the people who are supposed to be in charge of my children.  So he answers and I inform him who I am and inquire about my son's whereabouts.  "Oh, I was just about to call you," he says, sounding like he's lying.  "Sure, sure," I'm thinking to myself.  "It's 4:00 p.m. and my son is still not home," I said, very annoyed and a little worried.  "He walked home," he said,  "and from what I'm hearing, he was about to get into a fight with someone," he said, matter of factually.  Okay, so I'm very upset now.  My son should not be walking home.  He rides the school bus to and from school.  He recently lost his bus pass and I had given him three dollars to purchase another one. To this day, that purchase has not occurred.  They have given him a temporary bus pass, which is a sticky thing that is attached to his clothes.  Of course he peels it off as soon as he gets home.  Who wants to walk around with a sticky thing on their clothes, especially after they get home from school and go back out into the world.  I know when I leave his school, I immediately take the sticky thing that they give visitors off of my clothing.

My son finally makes it home and he is heated.  On the way home, some eighth graders tried to jump him.  He is furious.  Walking home alone can be a very unsafe thing to do when you have so many people who may be jealous of you cause you look better than they do, dress better than they do, play football better than they do, have a bangier body than they do, have a momma that looks better than their momma, the list is countless.  Anyway, he's pulling off his clothes and about to go collect his boys.  I order him to calm down and tell me what happened.  He tells me that there were several boys and just him.  One boy pushes him and calls him the "B" word and calls him soft.  I'd be soft too if I was surrounded by a group of guys I barely know, trying to beat me up.  He said he put up his dukes and the boy never did do anything, but one of his boys said if he teed off on my son, he would follow up.  I can't imagine my boy in this predicament.  I am just as furious as he is now because he should have been on the bus.   

I call another principal because I couldn't reach the one I had spoken to earlier.  He says that my son did try to call me while he was on the school grounds.  Unfortunately, he dialed two numbers that he thought were mine.  Neither were, because I've been sitting here all day.  That's why I'm at home all day, so that I won't miss an important call concerning my children.  I'm almost embarrassed to say, but my son doesn't know my numbers, he never calls me, and if he does, it's programmed in the phone that he is using.  The school has my numbers.  He should have went back into the school to get the number and none of this would have happened, but that would have been going the extra mile and what fourteen year old that you know, goes an extra mile? 

I will be up bright and early tomorrow morning to take my child to school to make sure that he arrives safely, and you better believe I have a bone to pick with all of these adults who keep giving my son the run-a-round, when they should have been giving him the bus pass that I sent money to school for him to get.  They can't say that he didn't try to purchase one, because if you're giving him sticky things to put on his clothes, then you are aware that he needs a permanent one.  I swear, this is so wrong on a lot of levels.

Quiet Morning

This morning, unlike yesterday morning, was very quiet.  Even though I got woke up by both of my boys, it was okay.  This was after my fiance' had gotten up and made sure that the boys were up and at-um.  My youngest came in to show me his home work, and by now, I've forgotten what the, oh, yeah, my fourteen year old wanted to know where the iron was.  He found it without me ever having to leave the bed.  It was great not having the threat of busting a blood vessel this morning.  Yesterday, after my youngest got home from school, I apologized to him about having to verbally beat him up.  I told him that his brother had worn his grey shirt that he had been looking for.  The fourteen year old comes home yesterday and takes off of his uniform shirt, displaying a very tight fitting grey shirt.  I informed him that his brother had been looking for that shirt, and it almost cost him his life.  I told him to keep his butt out of his brother's stuff, looking like Baby Huey.  He wanted to know who Baby Huey was, whom he thought I was talking about a rapper from our home town; NOT.  I pulled up Youtube and showed him the duck from back in the day.  We had a good laugh.

When my youngest got home from school, like I said, I apologized to him.  I told him that his brother had worn his shirt and that I had told his brother that he looked like Baby Huey.  He, too, thought I was talking about the rapper from our home town; NOT.  I pulled up Youtube again to show him the cartoon from long ago; we had a good laugh.  While standing in front of the television watching something, my youngest puts his arm around me and kisses me on the cheek.  Obviously he has forgiven me for almost jacking him up, that morning.  At that moment I realized that when I have to be tough with my kids, they don't hate me.  They know that I'm only being a mother and that as long as they do what they're supposed to do, then I don't have to get jiggy with them.  Even after putting my fourteen year old in a headlock one evening, the next day I talked to him about the incident and he understood that I'd do it again if I had to, but that I never wanted to get to that point again. 

Like I said, somewhere else, my three sons will all tower over me before they are finished growing, BUT, they do know that momma will rule, no matter how tall they get.  I truly don't like fighting with my children and I know they don't like fighting with me because, by now, they know that I will win.  I'm saying that to say, women who have children, never give up your role as mother, never let your children think that they are in control.  Don't wait until you have to prove yourself, to prove yourself.  Once you lose control, you might not ever get it back.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself." 

Paying Homage to the Blogging World

Good morning, my dear readers.  Sorry I'm just now getting a post up.  I've been up ever since around 8:00 a.m., and I've been being a good follower and reading some of your blogs.  I've eaten breakfast, which consisted of three tacos and my morning "coffee," a can of Busch beer.  Hey, I'm sure I'm not the only one who drinks beer for morning coffee, so don't start nothing with me.  It will probably be one of two cans of beer I have today.  Who knows what the day will bring and I just might need one or two more.  Don't get me wrong, I am in no way an alcoholic, which I very well could be, seeing that I spent my developmental months inside my mother's womb floating around, perhaps in some gin and juice.  I'm just a woman who likes to have herself a beer in the morning from time to time, especially if there's one left over from the night before.

Anyway, I've been sitting here reading some of your blogs and leaving comments.  I am officially a blogging junkie, for sure.  It's okay though, because I love it.  Not only do I get to see what's going on in other blogger mom's lives, I get to encourage them along the way.  I truly am grateful for this outlet as I've been a participant on network sites before, but this is somehow different.  We, women, are opening our worlds up to complete strangers who might judge us negatively, but for the most part, it's been all positive.  No one said mothers are perfect, but for those of us who are comfortable with our lives and don't mind sharing in order to get through another day, the world of blogging has been a godsend.  Most people who are still working out "there" say that they can't imagine sitting at home all day, doing nothing.  Who's doing nothing?  The blogging world is a world full of possibilities and there's plenty to do in it.  Now that I'm a part of it, I can't imagine spending my time any other way.  Well, I just wanted to let you know that I am really feeling this blogging thing, once again, and will make sure I keep you interested in coming back.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

Feeling Much Better

After my last post, you all must think I'm a mean mommy, huh?  Not mean, just fed up.  If any of you have children who are old enough to grate your nerves and who know better, I'm sure you sympathize with me.  I thought I'd write a follow-up post to let you know that I am cool, now.  I'm actually felling horrible about what happened this morning.  I love my children to death, but sometimes as we all know, who have teens or older, they can make us turn into monsters.  My eleven year old is my buddy.  He's the one who jumps up before I even have to ask him, to help me.  He's the one who wants to go with me to the grocery store to make sure no one is looking at me too hard.  He's the one who talks to me just because he likes hearing his own voice.  He's the one who is most like my sensitive side.  He's the one, who, when I'm between boyfriends, has shared my bed with me, just because I needed someone on the other side of the bed.  Don't get any ideas, he was still young enough to snuggle with mommy.  Anyway, I'm telling you this because he is my buddy, but he truly gets on  my nerves sometimes.  Sometimes he PURPOSELY annoys me.  He's still a baby to me and it hurts me to have to get jiggy with my baby, but he was asking for it.  I just wanted to get that off my chest, but this post isn't about my buddy as much as it's about my fiance'. 

Knowing that my nerves were all bunched up, he offered to go grocery shopping for today's dinner, my home-made tacos.  You better believe we'll be eating 100% ground beef, for sure.  He made it home with more than just dinner.  We hadn't ate breakfast yet and since he was helping his cousin move at noon, he wanted to make sure that I ate something before he left.  The picture you see is our breakfast.  It's no wonder I've gained over thirty something pounds since meeting him.  He does most of the cooking around here.  Actually I cooked yesterday, but usually only cook when I'm cooking one of my specialties, like my home-made chili, spaghetti and mixed greens. 

Well, I haven't been to school this week except to see what my grades were for last week; not too pleased, thanks to my blogging life.  Yes, I'm going to keep blaming my blogging life, because it is the reason why I haven't wanted to go to school.  I swear, I wish I had started blogging on a regular, last year, before committing to accept a student loan, which I'll have to pay back someday.  No sense in crying over spilled milk.  I know that it will be beneficial in the long run.  After all, it was a big decision to go to school and it is an accomplishment just to be going in that direction.  I'll be fine, just have to come up with a schedule and stick to it.  Now that my nerves are calm, my belly is full and I have my ice to crunch on, I think I better head on over to Everest University online.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

Truth Hurts is Right

Thought I was going to be blogging about how aggravated I am with my children, especially my eleven year old.  Almost popped a vein this morning yelling at the top of my lungs.  I try to instill organizational skills within their beings because it's so much easier getting up every morning when you've prepared for the next day, the night before.  So, I'm already annoyed because the fourteen year old didn't wake the eleven year old up before he left for school.  By the grace of God, I woke back up around 7:33.  I climb out of bed and go into my sons' room.  The eleven year old is fast asleep, like he doesn't have a care in the world.  I wake him.  I go back into my room and climb back into bed, complaining about having to wake up to wake someone else up...it just doesn't make any sense.  I'm laying there, listening for the squeak of their door.  No squeak.  I lay there for a few more minutes; still no squeak.  Uggghhhhhh, I climb back out of bed and stomp back into the room.  The door squeaks when I open it and he lifts up.  I'm annoyed now, foreal.   "GET UP!" I shout.  I climb back into bed.  I must have drifted back off, only to be woke up with, "Momma, where did you say my notebook was?"   "IT'S ON THE FLOOR BY YOUR DRESSER!"  I said, my nerves beginning to twitch in my neck.  "Fourteen Year Old must have taken it because it's not there," he says, not knowing the danger that's brewing.  I layed there for a minute, trying to collect myself.  If he had put the notebook in his book bag yesterday EVENING, we wouldn't be going through this.  Time is getting away from him; he only has ten minutes before it's time for him to leave.  Soooooooooooo, I get out of bed ONCE more.  I go in the room, looking around and fussing the whole time about it doesn't make sense for his brother to have taken his notebook because I JUST bought both of them and myself one apiece.  I'm looking all around and he's in the bathroom brushing his teeth.  I check his book bag, where it should be; nothing.  Then I catch sight of the underside of a notebook under the little table that holds their radio.  I flip it over and low and behold, HIS red notebook.  "HERE IT IS!" I shout as I took the poor, defenseless notebook and slam it onto the floor like an opponent in the wrestling ring.  I leave the room and immediately sit down at my computer.  There's no way I'm going to climb back into bed; my fiance' is probably shaking like a leaf from the earthquake that has just occurred outside the bedroom door.  When I get upset, you can hear me as far as two neighborhoods away.  So I'm sitting at the computer and here's my son looking around in the laundry baskets OUTSIDE of their room.  Two nights before, I had told them if I catch them looking for their stuff outside of their bedroom, where it should be, I'm going to jack them up and what is he doing, LOOKING FOR STUFF OUTSIDE OF HIS ROOM.  I'm like, "What are you looking for?!"  "My grey t-shirt," he says.  Okay, what happens next, I'm not even gonna blog about, alls I gotsta say is, it wasn't pretty.  I hate to send my children out into the world after I've verbally beat them up, but it's a lot better than when I used to send them to school after whipping their butts.  He leaves out, and I don't even tell him to have a good day like I normally do.  I am pissed beyond pissed.  My fiance' finally makes his way out of the bedroom and asks me if I'm alright, NO I'M NOT ALRIGHT, I GET SICK AND TIRED OF SAYING THE SAME THING OVER AND OVER AGAIN EVERY DAY.  WHEN I START JACKING THEM UP, THEN I'M GONNA BE WRONG, BUT IF I HAVE TO JACK THEM UP IN ORDER TO GET THEIR ATTENTION, I WILL AND I BET THEY'LL GET THE MESSAGE THEN!!!  He agrees that it's ridiculous for me to be saying the same thing over and over.

Well that's how my morning started, and this post wasn't supposed to be about what I just wrote, but about the teacher who blogged about the "lazy, whining" children.  Since I've already typed so much, I'm not even gonna talk about her too much except to say, I ABSOLUTELY, TOTALLY, UNEQUIVOCALLY AGREE WITH HER, WHOLE-HEARTILY.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

Patiently Waiting

I'm sitting here, patiently waiting for my fiance' to get home.  He's done the dishes, took his shower and hit the road, but not before putting on a pot of boiling water with Old Bay Seafood Seasoning in it.  OMG, my stomach is growling and my mouth is watering.  Once a month we eat our guilty pleasure of crab legs.  I'm trying to take my mind off the smell that has left my house smelling like Red Lobster, without the actual food.  OH, GOODY, HE'S HOME.  He has just informed me that he had to drive halfway across town to find some.  We forgot that others celebrated the traditional February 14th holiday, yesterday; we didn't. 

Anyway, he's here now, feeling a lot better than he has in the last two days, singing as he's putting the legs in the pot and preparing the butter dish.  This is our little thing.  Every couple should have a little "thing" that they do together that is exclusively theirs.  I mean, at first I used to feel guilty.  My younger boys, the ones who are still in the house, love seafood too.  One can eat anything, the other can't eat shrimp.   In better days, we used to visit Red Lobster on a regular and eat until we thought we would bust. Those days are coming again, soon.  Like I was saying, at first I was feeling guilty, but now I don't.  All through the month, they get all kinds of stuff that they only eat.  Can't we have our, only thing that we eat, too?  Yes, we can!  I consider it our payment for putting up with having to say the same thing to them fifty times, for going behind them and doing what we already told them to do, fifty times and they still didn't do it, or didn't do it right, for having mercy on them and no making them stay in the house until they're as old as we are for cutting up at school, and other stuff I can't remember right now.  I know that that's part of a parents job, but we rarely get paid for our efforts, so if we wanna eat a bundle of crab legs once a month, then so be it.  We'll the leg are almost ready and I want to proof this post before I devour them.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."

It's a Man's World, But...

I just crept out the house.  It's 5:15 in the morning and I'm at the laundry mat writing this blog.  I made sure that I packed my old pen and pad for the journey.  Once my tax refund gets here, no more trips to the laundry mat.  I don't mind being here this morning, it's quiet; no one here except me and the attendant.  Thank God for twenty-four seven laundry mats. 

The boys are all asleep, at least that's what they want me to believe.  My fiance', and not to make him sound like a cad, but I guess he can be considered one for the moment, never sleeps through me getting up to go to the bathroom, let alone, piddling through the house, turning on lights, opening up squeaky doors and dresser cabinets.  In his defense, he does have a bruised rib, which for the life of both of us, don't know what he did to get it.  He's been walking gingerly around the house like an old man.  Two hot bath soaks and he feels a little better than when he first discovered the pain the day after we celebrated one of his cousins' birthdays on last Friday.  Note to self:  Never have that much fun again to the point that no one knows how they injured themselves. 

I'm thinking back now, last year after trying out a new drink called either Hurricane or Earthquake; I'll call it "Natural Disaster" for now, things got kind of crazy.  See, I like trying out the latest sweet drinks that come in the can.  This particular one, "Natural Disaster" was 12% alcohol.  I had had a Tilt earlier, which is another 12% alcohol beverage.  So, between the Natural Disaster and a drink that sounds like an amusement park ride, I almost emptied my bladder before making it to the restroom.  Let me take you on the journey.  I had been watching my fourteen year old practicing football with his team.  It's a rather boring act, so I figured I'd entertain or should I say medicate myself, while waiting for the two hours to pass.  I had had the Tilt earlier in the day; oh, don't act like I'm the only stay-at-home mom that partakes of grown-up beverages during the day, while the children are away, but perhaps I am?

Anyway, I popped opened the can of Natural Disaster and sipped slowly.  By the time practice was over, I was feeling no pain, except in the southern regions.  I thought I could make it home, I only live seven minutes away; okay, it's probably really like fifteen if I actually drove the speed limit.  So I'm getting closer to the house and from the feel of it, I only have a few seconds to make it, okay, I'll say a whole minute, before I wet myself, and if you've ever...okay, don't act like you've never had an accident in your adult life, okay, maybe I'm the only one that's going to be honest here; that's fine.

So, I'm running as fast as I can, after barely shutting off the car.  My sons are looking at me like I'm crazy, but I've already warned them that I HAVE to go.  Actually, I had instructed my youngest to go ahead and open the front door so that all I had to do was run straight to the bathroom.  Of course that would have been too much like right, what was I thinking?  Well, he wasn't moving as fast as I needed him to, so I ran past him, opened the front door, tripped over my coffee table, went skidding across my living room floor, sliding face first into the dining room area, got up, fell into my dining room table, which didn't budge, ripped my too-tight pants down and plopped on the toilet.  DON'T YOU DARE JUDGE ME!  I guess I forgot to tell you that I am brutally honest, even if it makes myself look bad.  Needless to say, I've never put my lips on another can of Natural Disaster, nor will I ever.  I don't even know if they still sale that stuff; they shouldn't, it should be illegal.

Now that I've probably told you TMI about my personal life, which I'm thinking, if more people would be like me, this world would be a better place.  Oops, let me clarify, not the drinking part, but being real about who they are, used to be, whatever.  Getting back on topic, if I can find my way back, I was just saying, in my house, I feel I'm the "man" of the house.  I left my sleeping men to go into the, not yet lit up sky, to make sure that they greeted the world with fresh, clean clothes.  We were originally supposed to do it yesterday, but because of my blogging addiction, the time got away and before I knew it, my crew had fallen asleep.  I woke them up to let them know that we'd do the laundry early in the morning, before school.  Well, like I said when I started this post, I crept out the house at 5:15 a.m. and here I am.  Until the next time..."Live yourself by loving yourself."

Sometimes I Wonder

Before I begin, let me say that I am not in no way saying this to get book sells, T-shirt sells, craft sells, or any kind of sale for that matter.  I am merely posing this question to the universe, because only it holds the answer.  Perhaps when I go to sleep tonight, I'll dream the answer in my sleep.  Anyway, I just wanna know why I'm not good enough for people to spend their hard earned money on.  That includes most family and "friends," and they're the ones who know my struggle, who sit on the sidelines and cheer half-heartily for me to win.  I've been on my road to success for a long time, too long to even think back on when it all first started. 

All I know is people spend their money on what they want and that's okay with me, I just wanna know why they don't support what I'm doing?  If you don't have any core supporters on your team, then it just makes getting there, that much harder.  Again, let me stress that this is just a "get this off my chest moment" and I'm not looking for anyone to feel sorry for me or throw me out a charity dollar.  I'm just asking a question on my blog, you know?  I know times are tough for everyone, but I also know that there were a lot of people who had a very Merry Christmas, thanks to Black Friday and Cyberspace Monday.  I marketed my goods since I am an entrepreneur too.  Most of the people who tweeted or facebooked the deals they got, saw my advertisements as well.  I only have a few items, you know, my book and my t-shirts, and if they bought something, just once, I wouldn't be writing about this subject.  It's not like I'm gonna keep asking them to buy the same product over and over again.  One purchase of my book, one T-shirt; one, anything. 

Support is so essential for someone who has hopes and dreams of making a difference in the world.  How can they do it alone?  They can't.  Even though they don't have the support of all who are close to them, each supporter who does step up, holds a special place in their heart, as well as in line for the "great hand-out."  The joke that I secretly tell myself, is, the very people who aren't supporting me now, bet not even dare stand in my soup kitchen line when I get it started.  Oh, yeah, I have grand plans ahead.  Every dog has his day, and the Good Book does say something about the first being last and the last being first.  I think I'm well on my way to the front of the line.  Not sure when it's gonna happen, but one day I'm gonna wake up and this life of struggling is gonna be all over and I won't be walking on the streets of gold either.  I'll be climbing out of my futon bed that I really need to get rid of, open my front room blinds, look out at the bright sunshine, sit down at my computer and check my emails and within one of the ones that isn't actually junk, will be an invitation from some influential person who recognizes the gift that I am and want to help cultivate me into my new world of success.  Yep, that's exactly how it's gonna happen; I just know it.  It's not long now.  I can feel it.

Let this blog post be my witness that I am calling into existence, my success, TODAY.  I'm ready for it, I think.  At least I think I'm ready, if not, I know it won't come just yet, but Lawd knows, I'm in a position to accept my new life simply because I feel I deserve it, if no one else does.  Anywho, it's getting late and I still have a few things I need to do before I jump in my, comfortable for now, futon.  There are people sleeping in cardboard boxes, and steel beds thanks to the Criminal Justice system.  So things could be a whole lot worse, but I know they could be a whole lot better, too.  Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."