Tag Archives: work
I think we all have done enough for other folks,
Trying to get them to
It’s high time we did something for ourselves
Something big and positive
Something awesome and explosive
Something to be remembered for a long time
Let’s do something selfish
Really selfish so that we can leave it as a legacy for our children and theirs
Not the selfishness but the magnificence
Let’s do something earth-shaking world-changing unimaginable
And then pat ourselves on the back and smile
Something that will make everyone else who is not doing it sad that they didn’t join us!
Come on, let’s do it for real just for ourselves
We can start right now and love each other all the while
I’ll go first if you promise to follow
And we can motivate each other to
If I have not said it fifty-eleven times, I became a mother rather late in life. I am really enjoying being a Mom to my son…but it is not everything I thought it would be. You see, I thought there was some kind of a unity, some unspoken bond, some kinship among mothers. I always look for that from other mothers. I mean, isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?
Yesterday, I was driving home with my 10 year old in the backseat. It had been a long workday for me and I had navigated rush hour traffic in the rain to pick him up from aftercare and make it home. He was upset because we stopped at the grocery store but we didn’t stop at the game store. In the store parking lot, I calmly explained to him that we really needed to eat dinner but could certainly survive for a few more days without the latest electronic game. Well that was not the response he wanted so he became pouty and annoying. (Yes, I said it! My kid was being annoying. Does that make me a bad mom?)
So after a few minutes, I was more than a little frustrated. I mean, there was the traffic and I was really tired. My kid was whiny and I still had to get home, cook dinner, and help with homework. What a day! We had a dog at home that needed to be walked, a load of laundry waiting for me and, on top of that, this was my husband’s lodge meeting night.
Finally, I was at the corner waiting to turn out of the parking lot into the street. This corner is notorious in that it takes forever to turn during rush hour. So here I am sitting at corner trying to ease my way into nonstop traffic. I was at a standstill.
And then, there she was! Another mother stopped at the traffic light wearing a pinstripe suit in her blue–gray minivan. I could see car seats in the back and little heads bobbing around. Then, she turned around and mouthed some words. I don’t know what she said, but I could tell by the look on her face and the tension in her neck that those kids understood every word.
For a brief second as she turned back to the front, we exchanged a weary glance. I thought, Oh thank goodness! She is going to let me into the lane. She understands!
I waited a few moments for some sign of recognition from her… didn’t see it. I thought okay, maybe she is distracted. So I kind of eased my mini-SUV forward just a few inches, just to grab her attention. Again, she looked over my way with a glum expression and then turned her head away from me. I thought, Oh, okay is that some kind of mom code that I don’t recognize?
I waited for a couple of moments as traffic was still at a standstill but I knew that any time now the light was going to change. I waited a couple of moments and then inched forward another couple of inches. I tapped my horn very lightly to get her attention and kind of smiled like Can I get in?
After couple seconds, I realized she was ignoring me. What kind of stuff is that, I thought? Why would she not want to help out another mother struggling with the same issues that she is struggling with? I mean, obviously there we were, career women in our career women’s suits in a car with a whiny kid(s) with obviously other duties waiting for us at home.
I realized that she was not going to let me into the lane. As soon as traffic began to move forward, she drove right on past me as if she’d never seen me.
In a light degree of shock, I waited a few moments and lo and behold, a young guy in a Jeep beckoned and allowed me to get in through the traffic. How kind, I thought. And he’s not even in the Mommy Club! Or maybe he’s got one of those wife/mommies waiting for him at home and understands how frustrating it is to be in traffic with the kids in the backseat and dinner to be cooked.
I made it home that day not the worse for wear but I realized that I could not count on a bond between Mommies, at least not in rush hour traffic. Maybe I just imagined that there was a Mommy Club. Maybe I made it up in my head during all those years when I daydreamed that being a Mom was all Mother’s Day cards and hugs. Is there really no such thing?
It seems odd to me that, at this time of year when I am usually sad about and missing my mother, my father has been on my mind so much. A lot of recent circumstances and conversations have focused my thoughts on him and who he was and how I became who I am because of him and, as you will soon learn about, the lack of him.
I wrote this piece about my father a while back. I have never published it and have only allowed one person to read it before now…but it seems I am in a period of healing and prayerfully, renewal. I guess it is time that I let go of some of the things that I have held onto so tightly for so long. So, here it is.
It was 5 AM. Early morning early cold 5 AM and he had just finished his shift.
Gray workshirt and pants black workboots over full body thermals under dark work jacket against early morning early cold 5 AM cold.
Midwestern early cold wind cut across his head and face, so cold he pulled a dark wool cap from his dark work jacket pocket and against early morning early cold pulled it over his needing a haircut head and ears
He walks tucks metal lunch bucket under his arm other hand casual waves
with that you know upward nod to his boys and heads off to home.
Him, a husband now not so new anymore but still amazing after five years
that he goes home,
home that word so amazing that he has to say it twice sometimes
I’m going home Man home to a wife so pretty and sweetmean
and his son just three and looking exactly like him
still sleeping now and his baby daughter tiny brown delicate smelling like a new baby daughter
powdery and made to be hugged
thinking about her made him smile and more warm so
he walked faster
faster to home
home where his pretty wife now awake and shuffling softly through the house,
would be rubbing sleep from her brown eyes and ironing her skirt for work
so she would be dressed and in the kitchen stirring soft scrambled eggs
glancing at two strips of bacon and hoping for enough butter for toast,
coffee in the old percolator that her mother gave them
said it made coffee good enough for his father in law while father in law
worked at the steel mill and now that son in law was on at the plant
he would need good black coffee too.
Thinking of his pretty wife moving her lovely hips back and forth in front of the stove timing his eggs so that the eggs would be hot soft scrambled the way he liked
just as he walked in the door not too cooled down or not yet ready so he would have to wait
made him move faster
he started a jog to get home faster
his home where his pretty wife would be warming a plate and cup for him
and son who looked just like him big headed and long brown legs
already the eyes of a son who knows his father works but plays with him too and
delicate baby daughter who needed lots of hugs.
The jogging became a run
a feeling good in the early morning early cold run that would get him home and
when he got home sooner because he ran,
she would pretend to be angry and it would make him smile while he ate his soft scrambled eggs that she would pout and
he would smack her lightly on the behind
Him only 27 and not spotless but now with a home with a pretty wife
a lookalike son and tiny new daughter
Oh he ran faster
on the early morning early cold sidewalk past the bus stop where he didn’t stop
because to catch the bus meant a quarter the he needed to save towards the car that
he wanted to buy so she didn’t have to catch the bus in the early morning early cold to get to work and
some of the fellows from the neighborhood on the way to the dayshift hollered
Hey Man Where you going in such a hurry
but he only ran faster
home Man home
If he got home in time he could watch her finish getting dressed
tucking her blouse in her skirt while he finished his toast and sipped his coffee
then help her bundle the children for the trip to her mother’s so he could sleep,
running past the barber shop and Best Place In Town for Ribs
Black Man Running! Slow down Man! HaHaHa You running from the law?
she would pretend to fuss over what to have for dinner running so he could tell her not to worry he would cook before his shift
and she would turn and smile at him in their house with his son who looked like him and knew daddy worked but played with him too and his delicate baby daughter who needed hugs
Running home to the reason he worked lived breathed ran
running to home his pretty wife and looks just like me son and tiny new daughter who needed hugs
he only heard the sound of his pretty wife saying to his son
You can sleep a few more minutes until Daddy gets home
so he could wrap his son up warm in a blanket and his delicate baby girl for the trip to her mothers before she went to work
Stop or I’ll shoot!
he heard a loud bang
he began to turn but the bullet spun him around
away from home
BANG OHMYGOD BANG
Home! I need to get home!
warmth spread over his chest and stomach but he wasn’t running anymore
Did they just shoot that boy?
Get in the house. It aint our business. Go now!
Oh my God! The police just shot that boy lives down the way!
Did you see that?
Hey, why yall shoot that boy? He wasn’t doing nothing.
His legs still wanted to move kicking a little now and again
Home Man Home
to his pretty sweetmean wife and his lookalike son who would yell
Wake Up Daddy Wake up!
at the funeral and his tiny delicate baby daughter who would not get his hugs
but would grow up to write about how he got killed
in the early morning early cold on the way home to his pretty wife who was making him soft scrambled eggs two slices of bacon hoping for enough butter for toast.
For My Father, William (c) May 2, 2006
Last week, a coworker asked me who I was planning to vote for. I told her Barak Obama. She, a white female, said that she had heard some famous African American on television advising other African Americans not to vote for Obama just because he was black.
I asked this coworker who she was supporting and she stated Hilary Clinton. I told her it was a shame that she would waste her vote on Hilary just because Hilary is female. She got offended, of course, and said that she was not voting for Hilary just because she is a woman. She said she was supporting Hilary based on her merit, her record and her stand on issues.
So why would you assume that I am voting for Barak just because he is black, I asked her.
Well, I hope that is not the case, she said before stomping away.
I called after her, I hope the reason you are not voting for him is not just because he is black.