Raise A Well Balanced Child

A black woman will play with and entertain her children at her own expense.

During the hours of 9-5 pm, I am working on stories, poems, and blogs, amongst a whole host of other things including being a mother. This morning around 10:30am my son wanted to go outside and play. I had no "real" problem with this request except I was in the middle of constructing a great sentence for a great story.

So I did what most people would do. I jumped up after saving my story, and spent the next two and a half hours playing wall ball, dancing, drawing on the ground, laughing, and making a fool of myself with my son. I had a blast.

He's a really great dancer. He jumps up in the air, shakes his butt from side to side and looks back at me to make sure I am following suit.

"Come on, mommy!"

We played until it was almost time to pick up my daughter from school.

We played in the shade of 105 weather, within inches of a gallon of iced cold water. I took several drinks, my son preferred small sips followed by one large swallow. His mouth is not yet large enough to hold greater amounts.

He's pleasant too. I enjoyed our day out on my patio. In this photo here, he is making me work for this shot. I had a hard time getting him to stay still and not walk all over the place but you could never tell.

I eventually got back to my story. I eventually got back to that sentence and it turned out great.

A black mother loves her children. PERIOD!

Like Rain When She Speaks

A black woman will take whatever rain will come her way.

Me and my oldest daughter haven't really seen eye to eye in about a month, but all of that changed today. She needed help with her fraction worksheet this evening and with my help we were able to get most of it done. I'll admit there were three different problems that caused me hell and I left those for her to work out with her teacher tomorrow. But we sat at that dining room table and went back and forth until we solved the rest of them. When we were finished and she started cleaning gathering her work together, I saw that grateful smile find its way on her face.

She was relieved that she had someone to shoulder the work with. She stunk of being "appreciative." And afterwards we sat on the sofa and shared a pint of "Rocky Road" ice cream. And no one was walking on "egg shells," trying NOT to upset the other. Instead I just took it all in. While she talked and shared, I listened... and passed the spoon.

I needed that tonight. It's been a tough few weeks in my home, and even with all of the Indian Sage I've been burning and applying to the physical, she and I have been missing each other. I miss her. I love her but she is getting older... and I am too, for that matter.

Our sharing was equivalent to when it rains in the desert. Long over due, necessary, and brief. However, I got what I needed and I am sure she feels the same way. It is enough for now. I am grateful for tonight. I feel rained upon. Showered upon.

A black mother will take whatever she can get from her children, when she can get it ---especially while her children are searching for themselves. She will not push, but be firm and gentle. Supportive and loving.

Already I miss her
she has begun preparing for her departure.
her time is coming
much like the horizon
it is not a long ways off.

I loved her even more today.

Calculate Her Little White Lies

A black mother must calculate the little white lies she must tell her children until she deems her children are ready to handle the truth.

To lie or not to lie...that is the question.

My oldest daughter has just entered the seventh grade and is now able to use a calculator in math. It was on her list of school supplies, and when I first laid eyes upon the list, I knew I did not want her to use one.

I would like for her to learn how to solve math equations without being dependent on a calculator. In my opinion, it will keep her mind fresh. I would hate for her to come across a algebra problem and seek assistance from a calculator instead of FIGURING out how to solve the equation on her own. Just a pencil and piece of paper. Will it take more time? Yes. However it is what she must learn how to do.

So, I told her the reason Asians excel in area such as math is because they do not use calculators. Now, you and I know there is more to this, and one day she will as well. However, she accepted it and felt like if they could solve their math problems without the aid of a calculator, she could too.

By telling her this, I provided her with power, energy and fuel for the upcoming year. Determination, a goal and a challenge.

In my home, there is no such thing as Santa, The Tooth Fairy, or The Easter Bunny. Those are not the kinds of white lies that I partake in. It has to benefit my children emotionally, spiritually and be able to do wonders for their self esteem. Because let's be honest, some white lies are necessary.

A black mother will calculate which white lies are worth the telling with no regrets when it comes to her precious offspring.

Go! Be Free!

The black mother understands that her child must go out into the world. They can not stay at home forever.

So, she's going through the phase where she needs more responsibility but believes that she should be free to surf the web and watch television all day. I refuse to allow that to happen, so things have been pretty much hectic between she and I. I'd like her to continue reading and writing during her free time even though she doesn't understand my reasoning.

She's a good girl, but not immune to our society like I'd like her to be. Gosh, I hate the fact that her self-esteem is constantly being threatened at every corner and there isn't anything I can do. She has to learn all of this shit out on her own. No assistance, very little support. But right now she believes the world is huge, and open for the taking.

My heart hurts for her and this world. So I remain firm. I must remain confident in my raising of her. It is necessary. I will not always be here but what I leave with her is strength and my devoted love. That has to be enough because it is all I have to give her...my gift.

Hate being the bad guy? So does the black mother.

A black woman's love for her child will cast her in a bad light at times. But, she's willing to play the bad guy when it's in the best interest of her child.

I limit the amount of television my children can watch on a daily basis. I'm trying to graduate to where we only have one television in our house. It's not easy because my husband loves watching television. So does every other member in his family. However in his defense, he comes from great stock...lol!

Now back to the issue at hand.

There are times when my children cut their eyes at me when it's time to do chores, but I understand most children hate doing chores. I don't get too upset because as adults they'll be grateful.

The difficulties come when me and my mother-in-law do not see eye to eye on the same issue. I really wish she was more supportive of me as a mother but there will be time in the future for that. Right now I stand my own ground. Her position is the GRAND mother. She has that title for a reason. And one day (God willing) I'll also be able to wear that title, but right now I am simply a mother. And what I say goes. Period.

For me parenting is not a popularity contest. I am not looking for the quickest way into my children's heart. I don't have to prove myself to my children or try to be their best friend. Like my mother-in-law's support, all of that will come in due time. Right now I am here to teach them the ways of the world. My job includes teaching my children how to survive, how to take time out for themselves, how to speak from their souls, and how to maintain their sanity in this materialistic world. I can not do that if I cave in every time one of them asks for something new when they have NOT proven that they can take care of what they already own.

So I'll play the bad guy for now. Why not? I'm strong enough to endure my children angry looks, their comments, and anything else they throw upon me.

A black woman's love for her child will sometimes portray her in a bad light, but she learns to deal with it. Why? Because it is still light.

Even out the playing field a little bit

A black woman's love for her child will cause her to make the necessary adjustments in order to give her children a fighting chance. She will always even out the playing fields whenever her children are involved.

I'll share with you all what I shared with another female blogger lately;

About a year ago, my family relocated to Arizona from Georgia. We're ex-military and we have the bug. The every six year or so you have to move to a different state, and experience different cultures bug. We went from Philadelphia to Germany to Georgia and Arizona. In between all of that we have traveled extensively.

My children are all use to playing and socializing with children from all across the world. Different races, faces and places. My oldest is a social butterfly. She's use to having friends of all ethnic backgrounds and has proven to be a wonderful supportive friend with a huge heart to match; however, she is extremely sensitive.

She had just graduated from the fifth grade and was excited about starting middle school in another state. Making new friends, and forging new bonds.

For the first few months, she was a bit frustrated because she seemed unable to fit in amongst the children at the new school. We talked extensively about it during Christmas break, and she decided that she was going to give it another try. But when spring sprung, she didn't and I began to get concerned. However, whenever I asked her about it she couldn't put her finger on it. She just kept saying, she didn't fit in. Finally, after spending the day together she began to tell me some of the things she had to put up with in order to fit in.

She had to constantly correct some of her fellow school mates about their beliefs concerning blacks here in America. More often than not, she found herself clarifying some of the stereotypes that her school mates had about black people. For example; one day I braided her hair up into some corn rows and two little boys wanted to know if she had went to the "hood" to get her hair done. When she told them that her mother did them, they broke out into a stream of endless laughter. The two little men seemed to believe that you could only get cornrows done in the "hood".

There were many incidents of this kind that went on for one year. She realized that she was no longer in the comforts of the military where almost all children played together.

A few weeks before her summer vacation started (May 18) she came to me in the kitchen and said, "I am not going to be very productive if I stay here in Arizona". She told me that the racism and comments were going to cause a lot of damage to her soul. Finally, she said, "I hate it here....despise it".

So, my father-in-law came for a visit and suggested a charter school. It seemed like a great alternative and one day as I was at the computer doing the research for a charter school she said, "I believe Arizona is going to be like that regardless of what school I attend."

Well, this is the same state that refused to observe MLK Jr. Day as a holiday, right?

As a mother, I was frustrated and upset. Racism had found its way into my children's life. I knew it was just a matter of time.
What could I do now?

Well, I decided to even out the playing fields. Give my daughter a fighting chance. Next year this time, we're relocating back to Pennsylvania. We're moving to a more "diverse" neighborhood, and she'll attend a more "diverse" school. Put the odds in my daughters favor -ya know?

In the end, I had to realize that the school she was attending had no problems with providing her with a Blue Ribbon education, but they were going to do so at a cost. The price? Her self-esteem. And that is not for sale.

It would be different if my six year old daughter was in this position. She would just give out directions with the quickest route to her ass. But, my oldest is sensitive and hurts deeper. And an issue like racism pierces the underlining wall of the soul. It would have bypassed her heart and went straight for her spirit. And what good is an intelligent articulate young woman, if she has no sense of self. If she trades it all in to fit in.

So, she'll have to deal with it for this year. I'll keep a very close eye on her, but she is my daughter; I know she'll be fine. However, the next school she attends, the odds will be in her favor.

Black mothers do what they can to even out the odds for their children. This is just one example of that.

To sleep with well-wishes.

I would have to say that the black woman is extremely passionate about her children.

I find myself staring at my son more especially now that he is beginning to pick up more phrases. Last night, after we all had went to bed, he got up and spent an extra thirty minutes at the window with the blinds open staring up into the sky. I joined him.

He's MY two year old and I love him.

At first, he was interested in finding the plane that he heard just a minute before. Like any quick swift two year old, he made it to the window in time. I watched his eyes watch the fixed-winged aircraft until it was no longer in sight. I was certain he was going to lay back down after that, but he remained in the same position until I made my way over to the window, and asked him in my most sing-song voice, "What cha doing?"

He looked up at me briefly before making room for two at the window sill.

"Up?" he asked pointing to the sky.

"Yes, that's up."

"Sky?" he asked. Now he was showing off.

"Yes, that is the sky. The sky is all of that space up there." I position my pointing finger on the window directly beside his pointer.

Although he didn't stop looking at the sky to acknowledge me, I know he heard me. I take this time to kiss him directly on the top of his head. He's a really sweet and kind boy.

I spend the ten minutes with him at the window where we laugh, squeal and almost get hushed up by his father who is a co-sleeper by default.

"Let's be a little bit quieter." I whisper.

"Okay." he whispers back.

His voice is both innocent and honest. I know that I'll always feel as over-protective and passionate about him as I do at that very moment.

Eventually, I left him at the window with my well-wishes and climbed back into the bed with his father. The next time I opened my eyes he was laying right in the middle of us. Sleep.