Mommy Meltdown

 It was a special day. At least for Team Red 2 it was. We had earned a team breakfast, and we were so excited. My friends and I had it all planned out the day before. We were going to sit in Mr. C’s class right up front by the only TV that was on. The teachers had bought hot chocolate and donuts, bagels and muffins. It was a whole 2 blocks with no classes. We had, as a team, worked so hard to save up for a team breakfast. Just loads of time to hang out with my friends and talk about all the things teenage girls talk about. It was a Tuesday, so we didn’t have plans for the weekend yet but I’m sure we could come up with something to talk about. Two classrooms with a wall that split open in the middle to make one large classroom. It was such a great way to start off our last year of middle school. We knew being in front of the TV we could sway Mr. C to turn it on something good. What we didn’t understand was why we had to watch some kind of action movie, especial...

 I find myself getting mad at inanimate objects quite often. I've learned over the years that the anger radiating from me at the moment is not meant for those poor objects but for my kids. How about I just take you through a few scenarios (that have actually happened). **My children love to drive me the craziest when I'm trying to cook dinner. That is when I started arguing with the onion skin. "Damn onion skins, you just don't know when back off! I mean seriously, why must you be so damn difficult!" 🧅** ** "How come you never have any matches. You go into the damn wash together but yet you always end up alone." Socks, am I right? 🧦** ** "Why are you always in the middle of the damn floor?! You just lay there without a care in the world, right out in the open. You need to move." That poor backpack didn't deserve that at all. 🎒** ** "So, what, you just got up and walked away? You were sitting right there before the kids got on the be...

I’m never white enough for the white community I’m never black enough for the black community My hair is too straight for black society My hair is too curly for white society My skin is too tan for white humanity My skin is too light for black humanity My words are too ghetto for the white race My words are too proper for the black race I have no right to speak on black culture Yet I don’t fit into the white lifestyle I dance too white I act too black “I didn’t know you were black.” Says white people “I thought you were just white.” Says black people When I “act” white it means I hate being black When I “act” black it means I’m hiding that I’m white I can’t find my place when I’m always being judged on what I’m not enough of. Why can’t I just be me? Why do I have to choose? I love that I’m black, but I also love that I’m white. I feel more comfortable saying I’m black, but I don’t deny that I’m white. It’s not easy being mixed Sometimes it’s hard to check a box Are you black? Or Are yo...

  I don’t know about you but sometimes my kids say the craziest stuff. Let me take you through a journey of stupid, silly, and downright crazy crap my children have said to me over the years. Just keep in mind that I have three girls ages 16,14 and 10, and two boys ages 14 and 9.  Mom how do you clean the oven?” (My child) 1.     “Mom how do you clean the oven?” (My child) “It has a self-clean thing on it, why?” (Me) “So, you just clean in yourself?” (My child) “Please go away.” (Me)   2.     “I wish I was white” (My child) “You are part white.” (Me) “No, I wish I was full white” (My child) “Why do you wish that?” (Me) “Because then I can eat all the lemons I want, and I’d be rich” (My child) “Please go away” (Me)   3.)      “Mom, can I get a robot for Christmas?” (My child) “Are you serious, it’s April” (Me) “I’m just letting you know early, so you’ll be ready” (My child) “If you don’t get ou...

  Outdoors is where she feels most calm, bright beams of sun that appear to only shine on her seize all her fears of motherhood. Hearing her children laugh and play makes the world seem so much easier to handle.  She knows life can be difficult, although it became easier to understand when she was required to look at it through the eyes of her children. The future is hers to mend by teaching her young ducklings the compassionate ways of the world many have lost. The fear of forgetting scares her most, but her love helps them never to forget her or her love.   “There is no way to be a perfect mother…but a million ways to be a good one.” -Jill Churchill-

I was a model at 4 years old. I loved to look pretty and wear beautiful dresses. I loved getting my hair done and wearing big girl lipstick. I was very nervous and sometimes didn’t want to walk down the runway by myself. Sometimes my mommy had to hold my hand and help me walk down. Sometimes I didn’t want to do it at all, but my mommy said I was too pretty and needed to be a model. That one day I will be famous. I guess I wasn’t pretty enough because Mommy took things that made her not be my mommy anymore. Eventually, we had to go live with grandma and granddaddy. I still got to model but I also got to sing, I loved to sing. I loved singing so much that I was going to be a singer when I grew up. I didn’t want to just be a model anymore, I wanted to be a model and a singer. I told any and everyone that would listen to my dreams. I tried out for every talent show, joined the drama club, did plays at church, and sang in the choir every Sunday. I got lots of lead parts and I absolutel...