A MOTHER'S CRY

Looking up to the sky, as I gaze at the clouds and feel the warmth of the sun beating on my face I wonder what could have been.

I want to let my mind wander a little longer, soaring with the wind as far away from the noise, the hopelessness, the pain ...

But I'm drawn back to reality.  

This is my child.  His lifeless body lies on the ground.  I am denied his touch.  I want to hold him in my arms and tell him, "It will be okay, momma's here."

But he can't hear me.  I can't get to him. I can't ease his fears. 

If only I knew when he left for school.  If only I could have kept him home, locked away from this EVIL world.  If only I could have sheltered him.

But I worried that if stifled him, he would not become a man.  

Where did I fail? I told him to be polite and respect his elders. I told him to do unto others the way he would want them to do unto him.

So, why was he so frightening? 

What did he do?  

Wait ... He put his hands up?  His hands .... His .... skin, flesh, and bones was his weapon?

No.  Not my baby!

15 hours ... 15 is what it took to bring him into this world. I pushed for two hours straight.  I nursed him.  He slept in my arms for two days, I was afraid he would gag in his sleep.

My son.  He was afraid on his first day of school.  He was scared of the other kids, unsure if they would like him.  

He got in trouble for being the class clown.  He was awkward because he wanted to fit in.  It gave him pleasure to see his friends smile. 

He was sad because the dog at the pound was crying.  He cried and wanted to take him home.  He said, "Mommy, it's not right, that doggy's afraid to be here."  

I can see him sharing his lunch with his sister.  He would give his last to her or any of his friends.  He wasn't selfish.  He was caring.

But, he also had a strong sense of justice.  He could never stand by, while someone was being unfairly treated, and he would speak up, if he was being unfairly treated.

I fear this sense of right and wrong was his undoing.  They said he had no right to demand to be treated fairly?

Of course, I can't blame his executioner,  I'm not allowed to.

"If only he had listened to me", they say.  (When he stopped and put his hands up)

"If only he had complied." (When he reached for his ID)

"if only he hadn't moved," (Although he was told to move)

"If only he hadn't talked back."  (When he asked Why?)

"He shouldn't have run." (When over 200 others were killed by the militia) 

"He shouldn't have .... "

No gun, no drugs, no weapon, no threat .... But my baby is now soaring in the sky.  His soul has left the vessel that carried it.  I long for one more smile; one more hug.  If only I could yell at him one more time.  I don't care if he annoys me (class clown).  I welcome it ....

He's wandering in the wind and I'm left here, asking, "WHY?"  

What was his crime?  Why was he denied a trial? Why was he executed?  Why can't I hold him?  How dare you justify murdering him?

15 hours of labor, my flesh, my bones, my blood - MINE!

WHY?

What do I do NOW!

Mr. Executioner, I ask you what would you do? 

What DID you do?

Raising a Black Man in America, with HOPE!

In the wake of Treyvon Martin, Michael Brown, and Erick Gardner, I am amazed that in 2014 my husband and I are asking ourselves, how do we raise a black man in America?  I don't have a witty example of how these tragedies have taught me some life lesson I can pass on to my son.  This post will not end with some modern moral to share with children generations from now.  This post is a letter to my children and it truly is my woe, from a mother's heart.

Dear Ariana and Nate,

First, I must tell you, Mommy loves you more then you can ever imagine.  You two have saved my life and motivate me to want to be the best person I can be.  In all my hopes and all my dreams, I pray that as you grow you have the opportunity to reach your fullest potential and when you reflect over your years, your regrets are few.

I imagine my desires for you are not drastically different then the desires of any other mother.  And yet, my worries for you are distinct and specific to you, I, and other black mothers, fathers, and children across our land.  You see, a long time ago, in the "olden days" (as you call them Ariana) when your grandmothers and grandfathers were young, an evil sat over our country.  And this evil fed on the fears and terror of black people.  This evil lived in the hearts of people who convinced themselves and each other that "this is the way things are, and nothing is ever going to change."  And, these words justified their actions in their minds.  They convinced themselves that their actions were not wrong, or evil because they were doing what everyone else did.  Their actions weren't illegal according to men's laws; the laws that they wrote.  And, since only a few were harmed for not conforming, then this really isn't a society problem, rather it's a problem for the few.  In other words, they told themselves that black and brown people would not be beaten, abused, maimed, or killed if they just listened and followed the rules.  This thinking is rooted in control.

What those controlling people couldn't see were the scars that formed deep under black and brown skin.  Those same scars found roots in the souls and spirits of black and brown people.  Those who lived through these dark years learned that evil is just below the surface of everyday life, and they taught their children the same.  Those that inflicted hurt and pain on others also learned the control they had in their actions and subtle fear, and they taught their children the same.  We all learned that this pressure pot can erupt at any moment.  God forbid this pressure show its ugly head and the anger on both sides can't be controlled.  When old pains rise to the surface, it is in those moments that any black or brown person can be abused, maimed, or killed, and those doing the killing blame the victims in the aftermath.  It is also in those moments that black and brown people can hurt others in their anger and in their pain.  This, my darlings is a legacy of fear.

This fear has caused more harm then most care to admit.  Many are afraid to leave their homes.  They are afraid to travel in unknown neighborhoods or places. They are afraid to apply for jobs.  They are afraid to join groups.  They are afraid to speak up.  They are afraid to demand more.  They are afraid to ask questions.  They are afraid to say, "No!"  They are afraid to negotiate.  They are afraid to seek more.  They are afraid to find common ground with a person who doesn't look like them.  And, they are afraid to see themselves in a person whose social status is different from theirs.  This FEAR has gripped our nation.  This FEAR has crossed racial, and socio-economic barriers.  Everyone has fear, and most are afraid to admit it.

I could share with you all the horrible things that happened to Mommy, because someone else thought they had the right to judge me without knowing me.  I have been discriminated against for being a woman, for being a minority, for being young and beautiful, and for being poor.  Some people hated me because I asked, "Why?"  Others assumed that I was uneducated because of the street I lived on.  I saw police officers harass children as young as 6 and demand white children to not play with the black and brown kids in the same neighborhood.

I have watched men judge me and attempt to limit my prospects, because God saw fit to make me a woman.  I have experienced peers calling people who look like me "niggers" and "wet backs" while attending college.  I have heard elitist, both white and black, call fellow humans "poor people" and look down on them because they do not come from means.

I have lived through these judgments and attacks and survived, but not with out my own scars.

Time has not proven to heal these wounds.  The scars are fresh and they open back up every time a minority mother cries out because she lost a child, and every time law enforcement or the media or commentators blame that child, that mother, or the neighborhood for that child's death. Some mothers lose their kids to violence in their neighborhoods.  Some mothers lose their kids because of violence in their families.  Some mothers lose their kids because of violence in school.  Some mothers lose their kids because of judgments from people in authority.  Too many mothers lose their kids because of the fears of someone else.

I fear for you, my son, afraid that someone looking at you may think you are poor, or a gang member, or that you are not educated, and, therefore it is okay to hurt or harass you, or lie on you to justify their own bad behavior.

I fear for you, my daughter, that someone may look at you and think because your skin is brown you do not deserve respect or you are not educated, so it is okay to demean you, treat you and your body disrespectfully, and then say you asked for it.

I fear that the both of you will live in a world where you can easily be victimized, and that you will be left defending your character before anyone will address your pain.  I fear that you, too, will be scarred and bitter because for far too long, we have failed to acknowledge our fears.  In America, black and brown people are afraid to demand more and when they do they are criticized and demeaned for doing so.  In America, many Americans would rather deny that this pain is real, or that this fear exists, which adds to our systemic problems.  Instead, Americans would rather say your problems are your own, and that you and your people are accountable for your own actions.  These same people say that if you do have fear, the fault is your own. In America, some black and brown people have lost hope and have reverted to engaging bad behaviors.  In America, some black and brown people have accepted the categorizations and embraced the stereotypes.  I pray that you never let another's negative perception of you become your reality.

In America, white people refuse to admit they have fears also, and they will not admit that they operate in those fears, however unreasonable.  They use their fears to justify their bias and bad behavior.  Then, they feign they are bullied, attack first, and then they point their the finger at their victims.  
And, many people (black, brown, white, and any every other shade) put whole groups of people in boxes, never looking at the individual, but internalizing personal bad experience and projecting those experiences on whole races.  Thus, unfairly adding to this great divide in our nation.

I pray you will grow to be happy and healthy adults.  I pray my generation finally looks in the mirror and sees individuals and not whole ethnic groups.  I pray that I do not have to tell your teachers or school administrators that I am a lawyer, to make them think twice about unfairly judging you or counting you out in school.  I pray that every opportunity is open to you because you are bright, amazing, young people and our society's hope rests in you and every American child.

I pray that you will have the freedom to try and fail, with out persecution or unfair judgement.  I pray your mistakes are your own and not that of the entire brown and black population.  I pray you can love whomever you want, and that your friends reflect the world.  I pray you continue to shine, despite the darkness.

And, for myself, I pray the fear of raising black and brown children in America will become a faded dream.

I pray for the day that my only concern is whether you will find love and work in the profession of your dreams; instead of my present concern that you will leave my house one morning and not return because of a passing thought in the mind of someone else.

23 years ago Mommy's brother (your uncle) died because an older black man thought he shouldn't live.  The district attorney didn't prosecute your uncle's murderer because your uncle was an 18-year-old black man hanging with his friends, smoking marijuana, in a neighborhood with gangs.  In other words, they labeled your uncle a gang member whose life was not worth much to society.  My babies, I know many white young men who smoke marijuana, I don't know one who lost his life for it.

23 years later, nothing has changed. So, understand that Mommy's Woes are real.  Presently, you don't have the freedom to try everything.  You don't have the freedom to go everywhere.  You don't have the freedom to say any and everything that comes to your mind.   But, if you do, know that Mommy's prayers are with you, and I will always love you.  I pray you make great decisions.  But, even with that there is no guarantee you will be safe.

So I commit you in God's hands and pray you will survive this world.  I pray you live to an old age and have the blessing to meet your children and your children’s children. You will be better then my generation and your grandparent's generation.  You will show the world it can be better.

Love Mommy!

When Should You Tell Your Child About Sex?

On our way home from church one Sunday, my five-year-old son asks, "Mommy do babies come from mommies and daddies or God?"

I quickly hid my disbelief and responded, "They come from their mommies and daddies and God."

"No Mom, I really want to know!", my son pled.

"For real.  Mommies and daddies get married and then they love each other and then God takes one half of mom and one half of dad to make a perfect little baby like you and your sister."

Frustrated, my son took a deep breath, clapped his hands to his head, and sighed, "Mooooom! I want to know the nasty stuff."

I wish you could have seen my eyes as they popped out of my head.  What on earth is this child talking about?  How much does he know?  Who told him!?! And, what did they say?  He's in kindergarten, what are other parents teaching their kids?

My daughter started to laugh.  She said, "You are too young to know the nasty stuff Nate.  Just be happy with mom's answer for now.  You will learn when you get older."

O.K.  I started to breath again and realized my daughter might have something to do with this inquisition, that little stinker.  

"Nate, there isn't any 'nasty stuff'.  My answer is the truth, but I am not giving you details right now.  I'll tell you more when you get older."

"When?"

"Ariana, how old were you when we talked?"

"Eight", Ariana said matter-of-factly.

"When you are eight", I told Nate.

"That's too oooollllddd - ah."  Everything ends in an 'ah' when he's stressing his point.

"Fine, when your seven", I responded.

"When I'm six."

"Six and a half."

"O.K.", he said.  And with that the matter was settled. 

Then he said, "I'm five and a half right now."  In fact he was five and two months.  I  he doesn't try to renegotiate his birds-and-the-bees talk on his sixth birthday.  I am just recovering from my mild heart attack this little conversation caused.

I guess well cross that hurdle later.  But for now, I'm trying to figure out what was the 'nasty stuff' I told my daughter.  

Life is never dull with these kids.

My Louisville Slugger Learns Sex Discrimination Lesson in Little League!

Who could have guessed a seemingly happy and innocent past-time like little league baseball would turn into a lesson of civil and women rights!  What a lesson for my eight-year-old daughter to learn. 

When I signed my daughter up to play baseball I expected her to learn team work, accountability, and responsibility.  I also expected her confidence to increase as she learned how to play and continue to advance in the game.  I was unprepared for the discrimination she would face because she is a girl playing little league baseball with little boys.  What do these second and third-graders know about gender discrimination?

I can hear you now asking why I didn't expect the little boys to tease her because she's a girl.  The truth is up until now her gender has never been a problem.  I just assumed that times were changing and much of the ignorance of my generation and my parent's generation had gone by the wayside.

I remember my first run in with race discrimination.  In kindergarten a little boy told me he could go ahead of me in the big wheel line because I was a "*igger".  That was the first time I recall being exposed to that horribly hateful word and even though I didn't understand what it meant at the time, I knew by the context it wasn't a term of endearment.

A generation later, my little brother (14 years my junior) had his first racist encounter in the first grade.  A little boy told him that the other kids couldn't play with him because he was African-American.  Even though the name was more politically correct, being singled out because of how God made you still cuts deep. 

I remember being angry because of my brother's hurt.  I also thought how peculiar that the little racist boy was of Asian decent (not white).   I reserve this statement as a topic of an entirely different conversation.

Turning back to my daughter. 

I dreaded the day my children would come to me crying because the other little kids made fun of their skin color or their hair.  And yet, because of my own experiences, I have been waiting and expecting it.  But ... my daughter has successfully maneuvered through a predominately white preschool, into elementary school and up to the third grade with no such occurrence.  Hence, I believe that the generations are changing.

My daughter is a girl.  She likes being a girl.  I love that she's a girl.  And, nothing is going to change that.  She also likes baseball and so far loves playing with the boys.  And, I am so happy to say that she can hold her own on the baseball field. 

This past spring, my little slugger inspired a revolution of sorts in her little league.  While she was the first girl on her team, by the end of the season her team had more girls than boys. Ari was even asked to play in a post-season tournament.  The only girl on that team, I might add.

Unfortunately, all the girls on Ari's team also had to learn a valuable lesson about sexism and bullying.   One little boy decided to ridicule all the girls.  He would say "girls can't play baseball",  "you're suppose to play softball", and "you suck".  During practice, when the adults were looking the other direction, he threw baseballs at the girls' heads.  Yes, at their heads.

While I can generally be level headed in most situations, I had an instant flashback to fifteen hours of labor and the first time my daughter and I met face to face.  Every instinct inside of me wanted to tear this juvenile delinquent apart.  How dare he try to break my baby?  Momma Vesuvius almost erupted on this second-grader ... but cooler heads prevailed.

The mothers circled the wagons and lead their daughters on a preemptive strike.  First, the league president addressed the entire team about team work and respecting one another.  Then, each mother did something unexpectedly, we gave our daughters the same advice.  It went something like this (please note that names have been changed to protect the jerk wads of the world).

Daughter (sobbing):  "Mom.  Little jerk wad is being mean to the girls when coach isn't looking.  He told me on the field that I suck and need to go home.  He said the team is losing because I can't play and he threatened to throw the baseball at me."

Mom (fuming):  "Well baby.  The next time that happens you have to tell the coach."

Daughter (sobbing): "But the coach isn't around.  And, if I tell, he will just get mad and do it more."

Mom (fuming x2): "Okay baby.  What do the other boys say when he does this."

Daughter (sobbing):  "They don't say anything, most of the time.  Sometimes one or two of them add to it."

Mom (seeing red):  "What do the other girls say when he is doing this?"

Daughter (sobbing): "They don't say anything because he does to them too."

Mom (light flashes on): "Okay honey.  Here is what you need to do.  When he starts speaking like this to you, or any of the girls again, you all have to stand up and tell him he's stupid.  Then you have to tell him he's just mad because he sucks and the girls are better than him.  Then tell him that nobody likes him and then stop talking to him altogether.  When he comes around, shun him.  Don't play with him, don't include him in your conversations.  But, you have to include all the other boys and make all the other boys your friends.  Then, when no other adult is looking ... tell him that if he ever threatens you again you are going to kick his butt."

lol ...  I know what many of you mothers are thinking.  How can I give my child advice that promotes violence.  And, what if he hurt her?

In truth, my daughter is not aggressive and would never have threatened that little boy.  However, she didn't have to.  The girls united and the other boys followed suit.  Their collective unity caused enough peer pressure to stop this little monster in his tracks.  I suspect one or two of the other little girls actually threatened to beat him up. 

At the end of the day.  My baby learned that he was jealous of her because she was a solid ball player.  And, he was embarrassed because he played with so many girls.  Even though their team performed well and won a fair amount of games.

Later in the season, his mother came up to me and engaged in casual conversation.  She started by saying, "Your daughter is good.  Do you practice with her?"  She then asked why my daughter wasn't playing softball with the girls.

Really?  My response, "She wants to play baseball."

One day at school his father approached me to talk.  He made a statement as if it were an after-thought or some realization, "Your daughter is in the third grade.  She's older than the other kids on the team." 

I understood in that moment he was trying to justify why she was better than his son, so I smiled and refusing to give him the satisfaction, I said,  "She started school early.  She's the same age as your son."

This little snot was the spawn of ignorant misogynistic people.  It takes big monsters to breed little monsters. 

So I looked in the mirror and was so glad Ari and the other little girls were able to work out their issues with out their Momma Bears breeding new bullies!

BATTER UP ARI!  Make Daddy's Louisville Proud!

Do You Have a Favorite?

Do you have a favorite child?  Should you feel guilty if you tend to like one child more than another? What about your spouse?  Recently Giuliana Rancic has been criticized for declaring that she puts her marriage before her child.  Many critics have ostracized her for ranking her love of her husband higher than her love for child. However I can't say I disagree.

Can you really rank the measure of your love?  I love my parents and siblings on a completely different level than my husband and children.  However, if anything were to happen to any of them I would be just devastated.  So what does that mean? Is it possible to measure the level of your grief? 

I ask these questions because I am having family time with my little ones.  My daughter has decided that she needed time with her mother all by herself, away from her daddy and brother.  We needed girl time.  Well that allowed my son and husband to have one-on-one time to do whatever it is that guys do. 

At the thought of this isolated time my son began to protest.  He wanted time with his mommy first.  He cried harder at the idea that he had to spend time with his dad.  "I don't want him, I want you", Nate cried. 

I can't help but think this hurt my husbands feelings.  However, both kids tend to compete over time with their mom.  My husband tells me that I have been so busy over the past few years that they jump at the chance to spend time with me.  This revelation adds to my mommy guilt.  Am I too busy to spend quality time with the kids and is this adding to their constant need to compete for my attention?

Or, is there another answer.  Perhaps I am their favorite.  Maybe they just like spending time with me more than dad.

Now panic is starting to take over.  I am having a hard time with trying to balance time with my son, daughter and husband.  Who comes first, the rooster or the eggs?   I want to spend time with my husband and work on our relationship, but that's hard to do when my four-year-old is playing with my face like its an origami hand puppet. 

Do I love my kids more than my husband?  Is that possible?  Do I spend enough time with my husband so that we are showing our kids that we have a committed relationship and mutual love for one another above all others?

I needed answers and decided to ask the kids.

Interview with Nate:

Question: Nathan I am going to ask you a very serious question? Are you listening?

Answer: Yes. 

Question: I need to know from you, what makes a good mommy and daddy? 

Answer: "You have to be kind to each other, and nice and respectful to each other.  Mommy and daddy don't fight each other or don't spank each other.   They have to be nice to little kids and God too.  They love each other, and hug each other and kiss on the cheek."

Question: Ariana should parents love each other more than their kids?

Answer: "I can't make that decision because I don't know.  Parents should like each other more than the kids, because you guys made us and we wouldn't be here if you didn't like each other.  That's just my idea."

The Resolve:

I guess I am worried for no reason.  My kids have taught me that the relationship I have with my husband is a blessing to them.  They aren't competing for their dad's attention.  They are watching us and learning from us.  Deep sigh.....now on to the next hurdle!

My Third-Grader is Being Bullied: What Can a Parent Do to Help?

Prior "Gun Violence" with the Sandy Hook school shooting, "Bullying" was the buzz word in mainstream media.  There have been a number teens and young adults committing suicide because they have been teased or tormented by peers.  I would assume some of these people (in extreme cases) have also turned to gun violence and mass shootings, taking frustrations out on their peers.

However how these atrocities emerge in our society and become household discussions on a national level is beyond me.  But I can't help but think somewhere a parent may have missed their opportunity to help their child.   I am not pointing fingers and I am not dismissing that some of these people may have had serious mental conditions that required professional help. 

Yet as a mother, my daughter has turned to me in great despair because she's being bullied at school.  And no, I am at point where I have to decide what is the best course of action so that she will have a positive and productive childhood.

Can I fight my child's battle?

I must admit I am tempted to go after anyone that would hurt my child.   I know I can't fight a fourth-grader.  I understand that he is a child as well.  I also understand that if another adult (who I don't know) tried to discipline my child I would see a different color of red and have whole other set of social issues.  As well as the school has a responsibility to protect all the children in attendance and if I did seek this kid out that could cause another legal discussion.  So, I can't approach the kid for socially acceptable reasons. 

But what happened to our society?  Why do we protect bad behavior?  We use to know when wrong was wrong.  We use to call out bad people, bad behavior and identify when correction was needed.  Now, we have all these different perspectives.  People saying, you don't know what this person or that person is going through.  Or, you don't know their side of the story.

I know my side, and here it goes.  No one should put his or her hands on anyone else with the purpose of trying to control their behavior.  No one should extort another with the purpose of trying to control his or her behavior.  No one should be allowed to call another names to make themselves feel better (especially in elementary school).

Training for life?

While I have my rules, reality sets in and tells me that my daughter must learn how to navigate this bully.  She has to learn how to stand up for herself.  She has to learn not to be intimidated by his antics.  She has to learn to not be concerned with what he thinks of her. 

This is my challenge as a parent.  She feels all these things.  She can't concentrate on homework.  She's debilitated at home and only wants to be held.  Her stomach is nervous and last night she had to sleep with me.  I had to hold her most of the night.   She has a natural inclination to help others and maintain peace.  Unfortunately other students have seen this as weakness and have attacked her.

I am at a lost?

I had a rough upbringing which essentially stomped out all of my innocence and left me a hard core fighter.  I fight over small issues. A fact that just wears my husband down. There's no wonder why I became a lawyer. 

I know what she's feeling, but I don't know how to advise her.  I don't want her to fight like I did.  I don't want her to lose that lovely spirit.  I don't want her to be angry and mean.  But I don't want her to be a victim either.

I would love her to learn a balance, but how do I teach her that, being slight off-balance myself. 

To be continued.......

I am seeking advice and need help from other parents.  Have you gone through something similar?  What steps have you taken and how have they worked?