Sounds straight forward, but I left out a little tidbit. Tuesday night, DH and I went out, had a great time catching with old friends, dancing to some good house music (I’m working on a visual of this) and I left that night with a sore throat from being in contact with so much cigar smoke. I had trouble swallowing, my chest was burning…all from casual contact with second-hand smoke. By Thursday night, the combination of a smoke-induced sore throat and four hours of exposure to an over air conditioned bus ride, I was sick–congested, runny nose, watery eyes, sore throat and chills. Does this not make for a wonderful one-day trip to a rock concert with your almost 13 year old daughter?

I took my books for Financial Friday, read most of them (since I could barely talk) and I am now at home with a sinus headache (which completed the deal after another four hour return bus ride home), body aches and a not as sore throat complements of the zinc lozenges I was sucking on the entire trip.

You guys are in for such a treat as my daughter and I did a v-log simulcast (she’s going to put her views on her blog…more details on my daughter with a blog in another post) and we are preparing it for tomorrow.

Of course, the guilt comes in because the drug store near Rockerfeller Plaza didn’t have poster board and we couldn’t make a Happy Birthday sign for my now five year old daughter, Pie. I did write a great birthday tribute to her last year and I’d love for you all to share your holiday stories or birthday stories to cheer me up as I am covered in the smell of eucalyptus and garlic (it’s a great natural antibiotic) and I’m dressed like it’s winter time in a sweatshirt and sweatpants even though it’s 85 degrees.

I gotta get better because being sick, especially in the summer, is for the birds. The idea of being short 4 children hasn’t even hit me yet, but as soon as I’m able (later on tonight), I’ll share with you my feelings hopefully void of most of the guilt.

Would love to hear what you all thought about the interview with Maria and what topics you would like me to touch on in the podcasts. Talk to you all soon.

I had a chance, then next, I had a choice. I’m not sure if I made the right one, but I had to get real quiet and hear my voice. I haven’t been hearing it really…well, I actually haven’t been listening. As my daughter gets older, I get to listening to who God wants her to be and I’m pretty good at hearing from Him on behalf of my children. I have to make hard choices, different choices than those made for me, so that I can carry out what He has for me to do for her. Uggh. I forgot to tell yall what happened a week or so ago.

See, I am not afraid to admit that I am in the friend choosing, well, social network choosing business and not that far from strategically arranged marriages. Ok, get the Romeo and Juliet tragedy stuff out of your mind. No, you can’t choose who your children fall in love with, but I am not afraid any more to talk about what love is/what lust is/what love can do/what love can’t do. Is anybody hearing me? Anyway, my daughter is a thoughtful, fun-loving mature 11 year old who likes to listen to pop music, reads 5-6 books a week and loves dance/musical theatre. Not too many people in our surrounding community have her same interests. So, when I find some child (who I like…let’s tell the truth) who has similar interests as she, who she in turn likes, I will do whatever I can to make their friendship/relationship fruitful. And yes that means getting into their business and talking about them behind their backs. Ok, I said it and I’m sure my DH has left the building/cut off the computer because…I’ll pick up on him after I tell you what I did. DD has a good friend. Good friend having a bad moment says something that hurts my daughter’s feelings. Nothing real crazy yall, but it hurt her nonetheless and my daughter (you know the one who is pressing me for new friends/better social networks OR pressing me to return her to school where she was teased/criticized and bored) starts to avoid the girl. I am great friends with her mom, so I tell the mom what the daughter said. Mom said Unacceptable and I will address it. Daughter comes over to my house/apologizes to my daughter sincerely and all is right with the world. Well, that ain’t all that happened. My daughter was a little huffy because she feels I should have told her that I was going to tell her friend’s mom. I reminded her that I did say I was going to do that. Daughter also felt that she should have had a chance to deal with it in her own way and not have me interfere. True dat.

“Honey, you were taking too long and I know that when stuff festers, it only gets worse. She barely remembered saying it and it was just a week ago.”

“Mommy, I just wish you would have told me because I didn’t want to get her in trouble and make her feel bad.”

“You’re right. Next time, I’ll let you know BEFORE I tell the parents.”

Yep, her eyes went up in her head for a minute, but same friend just joined our homeschool group/has been over our house a few times this week/just joined my daugher’s dance program and the two of them are back to hanging. Was it worth it? Was I right? DH says that I’m enabling my daughter to not be able to handle her own problems and that I need to get out of it. Ok! I see his points. Would I do it again? If I thought it was worth it, YEP!
Good friendships that affirm who you are are hard to come by, even for adults. I share with my daughter certain techniques…shoot, we talk about everything. I share with her how I would do things, but she is not as confrontational as I am. I had no problem with going up to someone who didn’t like me and asking them what their problem was. I spent my whole life fighting for my place at the table and I want my kids to have that fight, that competitive edge, that “oh no you won’t diss me like that.” How do you get it across? How do you take it to the streets when your kids don’t even know where the streeet is? Can you hear me?

Now, me doing this is not the only time that I’ve contacted parents regarding some unacceptable behavior. Flat out. I got a situation now with the high schoolers in our homeschool group. They’ve lost their natural minds and if I didn’t know better I would think they went to the high school next door to where we meet. They half speak. They are doggin’ out the younger kids. They even had the nerve to try to turn one of our new members against my daughter based on a beef she had with one of their friends LAST YEAR and their friend isn’t even in our group anymore. Is that not insane? Petty? Clique-ish? I’m trying to see how to nip it in the bud without making the high schoolers feel bad, but making them accountable to the standards that we’ve set. Am I tripping? Maybe my standards, my expectations are too high? I’ve rid myself of foolishness, foolish people in my close knit circle and I don’t think people know how high of a standard I set for my children and I align myself with parents who have similar (and in some cases higher) standards as I do. I don’t live in a bubble and none of my children have problems interacting with people who are different than them, but know that I had to work damn hard to build up my daughter’s self esteem and self confidence to let some lil…confused teenagers…DH says I’m tripping, says I’m acting like my grandmother (yeah, brotha had to go back two generations on this one), says it’s nosey, clingy and that I need to let it ride its course.

“If the parents (this is based on a strong push by other parents to name our group a Christian group and the push to teach Christian principles) can’t stop them from calling folks names (yes, one of the kids, who has a load of issues, called my daughter ‘a piece of trash’), then why should you all sit down in a group and force them to deal with their issues in front of our daughter…it’s probably going to make matters worse.”

I listened to the brother. I didn’t fully agree because I see things in the big picture. I feel responsible for providing our children, all of the children close to me, with an opportunity, with the tools to be great, like not OK, not like everybody else, but great. I want to plant enough seeds that something is bound to grow up inside of them right when they are getting ready to call someone out of their name or yell at someone because they don’t like them. Am I trying to create a utopia?

I thought I was trying to build a village, kinda like the one I had on Lee Place. In second grade, when I started walking home without my grandmother but with Lolita, the already developed middle schooler. Her and her brother lived on my street. I thought I was cool because all these boys liked her and they walked with us. I had to act a little fast just to try to get some attention from all of the boys that were hanging around us. They cussed a lot, so to be cool, I cussed too. And Mama Turner was sitting on the porch when we passed by her house. I know when she started to walk in the house she was going to call my grandmother. Sure enough, Grandma was waiting on the porch and because she was everybody’s grandmother, those loud mouthed kids got real quiet, real nice-like when they walked up to the house.

“Hi, Ms. Tolbert.”

“How ya doin’, Ms. Tolbert?”

I could tell by her face that I was going down and I knew she was going to take a few with me.

“Why you boys walking home this way? Yall live across Woodrow. You should have gone home the back way.” (Hard core brothers are now looking down at the ground, feeling the pressure)

“We just wanted to hang out with Lolita and her brother, Ms. Tolbert. We weren’t gettin’ into nuttin’”

“Yeah, you didn’t this time, but you’re probably about to ‘fore Ma Turner called me and told me you got my lil granbaby talkin’ like she livin’ off of 12th Street or something.”

“We didn’t mean to cause any trouble, ma’am.”

“I know yalls better than that. Stop trying to get all up on Lolita and go hit yo’ books. Don’t make me call ’round to Ms. Lee.” (Hard core brothers close to tears. Ms. Lee was their grandmother and she always carried around a paperbag and a belt. ‘nough said.)

“Alright now. We leavin’. Sorry, Ms. Tolbert. Sorry, lil girl.”

Why were they saying sorry to me? Huh? I was the one cussin’. Why were they scared? Because Ms. Tolbert didn’t take no mess. Do you know how many folks didn’t mess with me because of my grandmama!!? Clearly the kids in my homeschool group could get checked by me. I may not carry a pistol like Ms. Tolbert, but I’m hard core. I would be checking them in love. They should have the same amount of respect as those boys who walked with us that day, right?

Still not sure as to what I’m going to do. I’m the President and I have high standards. If this was anywhere else I would be afraid that the parent wouldn’t understand that I was being critical, but helpful. I don’t want anymore selfish, self-centered people loosed into the world. I don’t want another spoiled, inconsiderate hypocrite being loosed out of a loving, church going, spirit filled household. Had a chance to say something to the parents involved. Chose not to. Had a chance to develop a program, a workshop on God’s love and kindness. Chose to put that to someone else who is interested. Still trying to figure it out, but I still think that I will proudly stand with the trophy…”I’d like to thank the Academy for this prestiguous award. Being a nosey, clingy mom has been the highlight of my existence…

Invite a young sistah who’s smelling herself (as my grandmother would say…modern-day translation: Think she’s gotta goin’ on/thinks she’s a woman in physique, in mind, in deed) to spend some time with you, a little mentorship situation. Pick her up from school around 3 p.m. with the kids in the car and begin training with the 300,564th rendition of Eensy Weensy Spider (or your version might be Itsy Bitsy Spider…not important) blaring when she gets in the car. Of course, she would rather hear Chingy or T.I. (neither of whom I know, but I saw them on the BET award one year which means they must be cool, right?) but she is going to be polite and probably comment on how cute it is. Next, start your errands and leave her in the car with the kids, no snacks and no music. Now you could do this while in the store, but some kids know how to act in public, so she won’t get the full effect. After taking about 30-40 minutes in the grocery store, she’s probably ready to quit, but you ain’t done yet. Once you’re done shopping, take Ms. Thang and the kids back to your house and pretend your electricity is cut off–no TV, no microwave, no DVD, no music, no phone, no nothing except the video camera that you’ve been charging all day. I tell you that even if she is superbad, superstrong, is great with kids, by the time she has danced around with the baby while the other one is pulling on her leg wanting a story or while the two bigger kids are arguing over who ate the last fruit snack, she’s going down.

After today and I am a mama, I’m convinced that we need to stop taping all of these mushy, gushy stuff and get real! Start taping the Terrible Twos that start at 18 months. You remember…oh, you don’t…let me help you. BBB had to go to the Imani’s dentist appointment. I am at the dentist office, small waiting area and BBB knocked over 30 magazines off of various tables, threw blocks at all of his siblings along with a few choice employees, screamed at his brother for picking up the crayons that he had knocked all over the floor and threw a toy drum (of course, I had toys, books, snacks…and none of the sh#$ worked) on my leg. In just one hour. Of course, I had a revelation (trying to replace revelation with mental brekadown). What if I had taped this season instead of the first birthday or when my babies were sleeping or playing nicely with their siblings? What if? I dare to speculate, but I could probably guess at least I wouldn’t be crazy enough to schedule an hour long appointment and expect a toddler to act like…an 8 year old.

Alright, ladies, find your mentee and help her get understanding. They are only cute for a minute and if you ain’t get yourself together, it’s a dayum short minute!

I’ve been praying during my devotion plus I went to intercessory prayer and had a prayer conference call with my telephone Bible Study gurlfriends. In short, sistah is prayed up and I, right now at this moment, am so glad that I chose to turn to God and not let my mind jam me up. I turn to God for everything, but this request was rare. I needed the words to say to a young woman, younger than me, who has a child and desperately wants another child that everything is going to be okay, even though she just had her second miscarriage in 6 months. I’ve been praying for her family, for her strength, for her emotional and phsyical needs to be met and I believe. It looks like I’m believing enough for the both of us. In all of my pregnancies, never a miscarriage. I…I don’t want to sound like a Hallmark card. She looks to me for guidance. What can I say? I know God is able. I know His timing is perfect, but she doesn’t want to hear that.

I…I should listen (which I did) and as I heard her voice sound so, so without possibility, I realize how different we’ve become. I’ve been distracted from church (the institution), but I stayed connected to people who lifted me up, encouraged me. People who were concerned about doing street work (that’s the activist in me…I’m always looking to connect with hurt people and seeing how I can help them, which always helps get the fire in me hotter) and people who were about acting on His word, not just listening. They were some of my closest friends. She doesn’t have that. She just has me and I…I just listen.

I feel ungrateful, inappreciative because I have 5 beautiful, healthy children who are often driving me up the wall. I don’t talk about them a lot (well, I used to didn’t talk about them much) because that’s not how I am. I’m not as mushy and as sentimental as she is. I’m not as particular as she is (My son needs a haircut so bad, but I am not beating myself up about it or feeling inadequate on this one). She wanted the big family. She wanted the girl twins so that she could do their hair alike and dress them the same–in designer clothes, no doubt. Her six year old is lonely and really wants siblings. I don’t understand it. See…I needed to be prayed up.

I don’t blame God for things in life that don’t seem right. He is the master of all and He has a great plan for all of us. Pain will come, but joy will come in the morning. Uggh. Sounds good to me. She’s not feeling it. She’s just sorta kinda listening. I stayed awake past my bedtime again because I wanted to just get this off of my mind and not go to bed feeling…guilty, I guess. I’ll make a better effort to go to bed tomorrow, but she deserved the extra prayer time.

I love you gurl. I’m so sorry and as much as I’m not touchy feely, you always know that my prayers make changes in the Earth. You will have the family you desire. God planted that desire in your heart. Acknowleddge Him and he’ll direct your path. In bed by midnight, check! Up by 5…we’ll see.

Bag lady, you gon’ hurt your back
Draggin’ all them bags like that
I guess nobody ever told you
All you must hold on to is you, is you, is you-”Bag Lady”, Eryka Badu

I’m trying to hold on to me or better yet, uncover me. I now have to think about what I’ve avoided for a while-my desired lifestyle. And honestly, I’ve allowed the constraints, the reality to take away the dream, the vision. Then I wonder Did I ever have one? I’m often, well I should say always, put off by people who appear to have or to emphasize material gain when their character/when their persona needs development and growth. I think I’ve seen that too often and unconsciously, I’ve spent most of my life developing my character and given that I’m an activist at heart, I put a humble/restrictive/be grateful for whatever spin on my vision. But that’s not what I’ve really believed about my life. I’ve always expected to have a big house (because I expect my family in transition to come stay with me. That’s the servant in me) and I expected to have a lot of money (again, the servant. I expected to always have because I always give). I changed my expectations though and I’m not sure when, but I’m thinking it was somewhere around the birth of my second child. I can’t pinpoint it, but I’m thinking it was around there.

Bag lady you gon’ miss your bus
You can’t hurry up ‘cos you’ve got too much stuff
When they see you coming they just take off running
From you, it’s true, oh yes they do–”Bag Lady”,Eryka Badu

I got a lot of stuff that I’m carrying around, a lot. And I need to hurry and drop off some stuff because although people aren’t running yet, a lot of baggage scares people. For real, it scares me because in order to live in my world, I had to swallow my pride (not a bad thing, but sometimes you need your pride) and allowed myself to shrink back so that those around me could feel comfortable. Now, my children, especially my oldest daughter, need what I have. They need determination. They need a conquering spirit. They need the guts that it took for me to take over a newspaper that was started by someone else and make it award-winning in less than a year of my involvement. They need the heart it took for me to give my new jacket, worn only once, to that boy they teased and pushed in the mud at my elementary school. They need the fearlessness and the humility of that woman who kicked a cohort off a political campaign for her indiscretion and who tolerated being bullied while working for…should I say it? Ugghh. Let’s say a well-known male civil rights advocate who ran for President. (Go with that.) She got swallowed up, oh (sarcastic snarl) I just laugh because the people closest to me are often the ones who forget the essence of who I am…I let ‘em, so it’s not their fault.
So, I sit here and maybe I need to pick up some ol’ luggage. I’m gonna drop off my Accept Whatever luggage and pick up some What I Want, I Can Have luggage because of who God made me and who I am through Him. Now this It’s All my Fault luggage needs to get dropped off and I need to pick up the Shared Responsibility luggage. I’ve dropped off most of my Overachieving Perfectionist collection, but the same carrier offers the High Standards and Excellence package which I won’t put down for ANYBODY (this is probably the one that people covet the most, but don’t want to buy their own because it’s pretty heavy). Actually I checked my bags and my luggage has never been light, but I’ve accepted that part as long as it’s my luggage. MY luggage.

Other folks with the Live Beyond Your Means luggage tried to get me to buy a rolling garment bag with a matching backpack. The folks over at Be Phony and Stuckup offered a 3-pieces-for-2 discount package (a few folks in my family like this company). And my favorite carrier, Fraile/Fragile/Frumpy, sends me their catalog quarterly (since I do homeschool 5 kids and all) which comes with a toiletry bag for your meds (Prozac and Valium give coupons with your purchase) and your tissues (crying spells often) plus they have great accessories for your journey like neck and back braces (gotta have those for when you’ve lifted one too many laundry hampers) and a wide assortment of checkered and floral apparel perfect for your travels to the grocery store.

Check your luggage. You got some Abandonment luggage or some All Men Are Unfaithful luggage? Have the Live Beyond Your Means people been sending your preferred customer premiums? Oh, don’t forget the duffel bags like If You Want It Done Right, You Have to Do it Yourself (I lost that bag some years back, but they keep me on the mailing list for good reason) or the cosmetic bags like My Interests Don’t Matter as long as The Kids are Happy (I’ve seen a few people with this bag and the compact with the little mirror that comes with it ain’t pretty, especially when you look in it and you don’t even know what who you’re looking at). Lastly, you carrying some phat purses that your family gave you like You Married into the Wrong Family or I Can’t Believe How Big You’ve Gotten.

Yep, check your luggage and once you’ve cleaned it out, picked up the pieces YOU need for your journey, don’t miss your bus. You got some places to go. See ya there.

As I mentioned in the earlier post, my husband missplaced (ok, lost) his driver’s license (which was a Missouri license with no record of a Maryland address, so the chances of it being returned to us are nil to mull), so he now has to get a Maryland license. Of course, to get a driver’s license, you have to have a social secuirty card and a birth certificate. Well, in a normal household where the household manager is organized and committed to accessible and convenient record keeping, this would be as easy as the fire proof safety deposit box, but in this case, Carol Brady doesn’t live here. I just don’t have it together like that. Not yet.

I admit it. The fact that I share with you some periodic wisdom from the trenches doesn’t mean that I don’t have issues. Big ones. Organization or the lack thereof is one of my really, REALLY big ones. Now even though it’s my husband’s license, you do understand I take total responsibility for not making this process as easy as getting in the car and heading to the DMV. Why, you ask? Because I neglected, rejected the idea of household administrator for a LONG time. I have the gift of administration, but I didn’t want to have to work at home like it was a job or a business. Pure laziness, idealism,feminism,delusions of grandeur…whatever you call it, I didn’t think being a wife and a mother was so much WORK!

I am so mad that I just didn’t adjust quickly or, better yet, that I didn’t adjust without a ton of emotions. Emotions. The brunt of my struggle. I’m just too doggone emotional which is why I sat down to write this post. I gotta pull myself together because my husband is not acting half as crazy as I am and it’s his license. I guess this is one commercial for why people need to be married and in complementing relationships, huh?

When stuff isn’t perfect (ok, perfect is my goal, but I’ll save that for another post…let’s just say “out of workable order” to be nice), I feel this twinge in the pit of my stomach and my head begins to pound. All I can hear are the voices that love to point out how absolutely ridiculous it is to try to have a smooth running, sane, safe household AND a personal life separate from husband and children. “There you go again. Living in that dream world. All of that big, positive thinking is nothing but horseradish.” (this is a family blog…I try not to swear unless it’s absolutely necessary, but you know bullshit would have fit so much better than horseradish).

Anyway, I don’t know why I beat up on myself so bad. It’s not like my house has ever been perfect and it has improved since I’ve accepted my role in administering and directing the flow of the Spence machine. I guess I go back to how I was successful and productive in an office for a paycheck and at home, I am frustrated, frazzled and not even sure if I’m having a nightmare or is it really 9 p.m. and I’m locked up in the bathroom trying to hide from the screaming baby or the nagging “I’m hungry” kids. Could I have taken a class on household managment or is therapy and prayer my only release?

Whew…I feel better just by venting with you, but I didn’t have time to write one post, let alone, two today. My husband has to order his birth certificate and it will take a minimum of 7 days to process the order. I have to get him off to work, keep the kids cool on an almost 100 degree day/no central air in the house, and since I started writing this post, the baby has been bathed, made to look so cute and is now playing in the toilet.

Gotta go.

Thanks for listening to me rant in the midst of Mini Breakdown #43 (yes, I’m crazy enough to count them, but I’m not sure if the number is totally accurate since I try not to count the ones that happen in the car, at the park, over the phone, while shopping…oh, forget it, the number is closer to 20043, but who’s counting?)

Finally, it is here. Yes, The Parenting Post is up and running and you can check it out right now. Scroll down to the bottom of the page and check out myself and the four other great bloggers. PLEASE leave comments so that they can know that people are reading it and want them to keep it. I will be posting new material on Wednesdays, so make sure that you check in often. And if you found your way here from The Parenting Post…Woo-whoo…welcome to a place where you can “read and think a little, laugh a lot and cry just enough to know you’re human.” Grab a chai tea, a lemonade or a glass of White Zin, complement whatever you got with some chocolate and have a good time. In the words of the Beverly Hillbillies, “Yall come back now ya here!”