Happy Birthday Cody!

This past Wednesday was Cody's 17th birthday and I had absolutely no idea what to get a kid that has everything.

The usual things came to mind but none of them seemed special or personal enough so I figured I'd put some of my creativity to work.

In addition to providing pizza for him and some of his closet friends at school during his lunch wave, I purchased a cookie cake for our family but something was still missing. How could I make this extra special?

So, I asked our cartoonist (who's a close friend) to sketch a drawing of Cody rebounding the basketball in his school uniform. I also wrote my first born son a letter of important events which took place on February 4th.

Below is my letter to him and his response.

Please keep in mind, his response was handwritten and it will forever be etched in my heart. The first time I read it I cried. I've read it hundreds of time since then and it always warms my soul.

He has always been such a thoughtful and appreciative child. Even as a little boy he was always so thankful.

He use to say "my mom's the most beautiful woman in the world" and would argue anyone down that teased him about it. My mother still teases him about that, of course he doesn't remember saying it and shyly laughs it off.

Nowadays he's constantly taking pictures of and alongside me with his various cameras which signifies in his own unspoken way he still believes I'm kinda cute. That's what's up!

This is not to say my other children are ungrateful because that's definitely not the case. As with all children, they're simply different and express themselves in different ways.

I realized on his birthday that all we really want for our children is to be happy, healthy and productive citizens. It's the thank you note from Cody that gives me confirmation he's on the right road. I pray he continues his current course.

Enjoy!

Cody:
I racked my brains wondering what I could get you for your 17th birthday, which is today. Cologne, clothes, money, dinner and shoes are a few of the things that came to mind but I decided they weren't good enough.

Yes, I did the pizzas at your school for lunch. I wanted your friends to join in our family's celebration. I also did the cookie cake with Megan and Nicholas singing Happy Birthday, that was from your siblings - please save your REAL sister a slice. However, I wanted something extra special from me.

Therefore I decided to let you know, in addition to your birth, some of the other wonderful things that happened in 1992 and during various years on February 4th in open letter form.

Dear Son:
Did you know, on February 4, 1789 George Washington unanimously was elected the first President of the United States by the United States Electoral College? I had no idea either! How did that slip past both of us? I guess I should have really paid more attention in history class.

Now this was the real brain teaser, who led a coup d"etat against Venezuelan President Carlos Andres Perez on February 4, 1992, which was the actual day and year you were born? Huh? Huh? Stumped you didn't I???
Honestly who really cares? With the exception of Wikipedia and the Venezuelan president, regular people could care less. Just for future reference (and that Jeopardy appearance) it was Hugo Chavez Frais!

Now this next little tidbit is some need to know information for all of the tech heads like us...or rather like you. On February 4, 2004, Facebook was founded. Wow, that's awesome! What exactly is Facebook?

Next, talk about going full circle, on the day you were born George Bush Sr. was president of the United States of America and we just got rid of George Bush Jr. Thank God, Bill Clinton defeated him in November of 1992 to claim the presidency. Stay out of the Bushes America!

In the sports world, the Washington Redskins won the Super Bowl with a 37-24 win over the Buffalo Bills and the Chicago Bulls claimed the NBA Championship over the Portland Trailblazers.

Now to my main thang....dancing!!!! Some of the top songs of the year were: Michael Jackson's Black or White and Remember the Time (and he still doesn't remember the time he was black and has no clue to this day if he's black or white...WTF?); Whitney Houston's I Will Always Love You (Bobby!!!!); Jodeci's Come and Talk to Me (No thank you. KC makes my stomach hurt looking like a troll) and Mary J. Blige's Real Love (which something she didn't find until approximately 15 years later. That's the 411 Mary!!!)

Last but not least. You, my first born son, share a birthday with civil rights activist Rosa Parks who was born February 4, 1913. Ain't it a trip, when black kids get on the bus now they head straight for the back?

Well, this concludes my open birthday letter to you. I hope you've enjoyed it.

I love you and Happy Birthday!

Mom!!!


HIS RESPONSE:

Dang. I don't even know where exactly to start or how to thank you for making this my favorite birthday- hands down! I don't think I've ever, ever cried on my birthday before....but that note was hilarious and so original; I love you to death mom always know that!!!! I could never have expected such a wonderful gift!

I LOVE IT, it came straight from the heart. :-)

Excuse the misspelled words and tear drops, I can't see too well past them.

Love,
Cody Mac
02.05.09

Who Are These People?

This past weekend my parents along with my boys and I drove to Thomasville, Georgia for my brother’s final basketball game of the regular season.

My youngest brother is a middle school basketball coach there and we all try to make at least one basketball game/tournament per season.

So in typical fashion, the day started out hectic Friday morning, or rather, my day started out that way.

Dropped Nicholas off at school, headed into the office and returned home around 3 p.m. So far, so good right?

Because we were going out of town and Cody had a basketball game out of town, he drove his car home and I dropped him back off at the school. I dropped him off AFTER taking him to Sonic’s for some monster burger full of calories and a quick eyebrow wax at my favorite nail shop.

I returned home did a phone interview, played phone tag with my editor and eventually finished working for the day around 5:30.

My parents arrived thirty minutes later and if was off and continuing to run.

Stopped by Mickey Dee’s, drove about 45 minutes to Cody’s ballgame and cheered like crazy and flirted with a state trooper. I couldn’t help it, he looked and sounded like Vin Diesel. Seriously!!!

After the game, headed for gas and Cody some McDonald’s before making the trek to Georgia.

Mind you this particular city in Georgia is 40 minutes outside Tallahassee, which is easily a four hour drive for most (three for me).

My mother and I have made the ride before, several times and each time the conversation flowed easily but I was a little nervous about throwing my father into the mix.

To be honest, I thought he might fall asleep which would allow my mom and I a chance to get our gossip on. We were looking at a 2 a.m. arrival at the earliest, hell I wanted a nap.

But he survived like a trooper, they both did. More importantly, we ALL gossiped!

I was like WTF?!! I’m am gossiping with my parents AND enjoying it! We were even laughing!

"When did this happen?" "When did they get a sense of humor?"

We discussed everything from the election (come on folks you know Obama-mania is still alive), the birth of the California octuplets, the Super Bowl, Cody’s game and the Young and the Restless.

That was, in a word, cool.

Remember when your parents weren’t human? They were these beings that didn’t understand anything.

Not your fashion style, hairstyle, music, your friends. Not anything!

You thought:

"Of course the "members only" jacket is hot! Are you kidding?"

"What do you mean, you don’t understand the shag haircut?"

"Prince is a musical genius and turning rain purple is very possible, thank you!"

"Why can’t I date him just because he already has two kids and is a high school junior?"

You thought, who are these people and who are they to tell me what to do...and mean it!!

Looking back over this weekend’s drive, I realized those people are ME!

OMG! I’m old!!! LMAO!!!

I’m doing the same thing with my kids, only I’d like to think I’m much cooler.

Although my kids would probably disagree!

Thank goodness they hang with a great group of kids, they're all pretty healthy (at least right now they are), decent students and none of the over-the-top teenage theatrics have taken place.

However, if my three kids turn out as successful, healthy, happy and close knit as my parent’s trio, they will be some blessed youngins!

Magnetic Energy

When you look at me I become restless, anxious, nervous.
Your stare penetrates my body with a fierceness that cuts so deep
It stirs my soul.

As you move close to me, I'm forced to catch my breath.
Your presence is dominating; your scent's intoxicating; your spirit's magnetic.
The energy between us electrifies the room.

When you speak to me, I become hypnotized, mesmerized.
My eyes are focused on your lips as they form each and every word.
I'm completely under your spell.

When you touch me, every pore in my body opens up with a hunger
that only your hands can satisfy.
Your caresses are spine tingling; toe curling, teeth gritting

Without penetration you send my senses into a frenzy.
The very thought of us moving in perfect harmony sends me into overdrive
You stimulate my soul, my mind, my senses
In three simple words, you are climatic.

A serious misunderstanding

Everyone knows someone that's either been deployed or will be deployed to Afghanistan because of the war.

Our youth minister is currently serving his second tour. The senior deacon has done a tour as well as a couple of members' sons and daughters being deployed.

Obviously these soliders are always on our prayer list. All of the soliders are on the prayer list of the church.

Since meeting J.T. (let's give the current beau some identity) I wanted to be a more active citizen. He's been deployed three times, each time for at least a year, and is constantly saying how nice it is to hear from folks back home.

I am by no means a stranger to having friends and/or relatives participating in a war. In 1991 when my daughter, Courtney, was coloring her heart away in kindergarten, her father was a Marine doing battle in the Gulf War. So were several of my cousins and high school classmates.

As I enjoyed the comforts of my apartment during my senior year at Jackson State University, Derrilyn and I watched the battle unfold. She's watching on her television, I'm watching mine, we're both lying across our respective beds yelling back and forth.

We were simply amazed at the amount of fire power taking place. I remember her saying "It looks like a fireworks display. It's like the freaking Fourth of July."

By the way, her then brother-in-law Micah was a solider in that same war.

We questioned whether or not it was necessary, as many of us are doing with the current war. We wanted to know how many men or women would have to die, as most of us are asking today. More importantly we were active with our loved ones overseas.

There was no internet. No webcams or any of this other fancy stuff we have today. We communicated the old fashioned way - we wrote letters. We mailed care packages and we wrote more letters.

So in listening to J.T., I thought "why aren't I that active now?" It might even be easier with all this modern technology. I want to send someone a care package!

I mentioned this to J.T. and he thought it was a good idea. He also warned me not to be disappointed if wives weren't very enthausiatic with the idea and that deployed husbands might get the wrong idea.

I thought, surely no one will care if I ship a care package to send their husband, wife, son, daughter, or whomever. I mean they will have to give me the address! And as for the men getting the wrong idea, I thought why would they? If I was interested in anyone romantically, I certainly wouldn't have waited for them to leave for war to express it. Not my style.

Low and behold I take my idea to one of the individuals from the church. I expressed my desire to be more active, "I feel a need to do something....blah, blah, blah, yada, yada, yada. Please call me with the mailing address." She seemed very pleased with the idea, even suggested some items. I thought GREAT! "I knew he didn't know what he was talking about."

The call never came and I never asked again. Had she recommended I send him a set of encyclopedias I would have, that how's amped up I was about performing my civic duty. Plus it was the holiday season. I wanted to send a "hang in there" note and more importantly, I wanted to send a care package!

Needless to say I was disappointed but maybe next time. So a couple of weeks pass and my son, Cody, comes home and tells me his barber is being deployed. I was on it like a pit bull. Get me an address, we're sending a care package.

Of course he's 16 so that never happened. However, I did track down a email address and with that I was off and running.

I sent a very basic email. "Hi, hope you don't mind my writing just thought you'd like to hear from a friendly voice back home. Nothing happening in the sports world. Cody won't let anyone else cut his hair, I don't know what he's going to do about the prom"....that was the gist of my message. Seriously.

The next morning I had a response. Great! It starts out super fantastic. Talking about everything from the atmosphere, to why he's there (as part of a clean up crew), when he's returning home and the stench.

Then it takes a turn that left me thinking WTF?

"I've always wanted to get with you. I've always thought you were a beautiful woman. You're cool, down-to-earth, blah, blah, blah, yada, yada, yada."

WTF was that? This was sooo not my intention. No. 1: you're married. No. 2 you're married. No. 3 you're still married. Can I just speak to a brotha? Can't I just be nice? All I could do was exhale!

How do I respond to that? Should I EVEN respond to that? Way to much thinking is now going into something that was suppose to be an act of kindness. I don't need this occupying space in my brain, I have enough clutter up there.

I feel as if I'm back at square one because I certainly wasn't trying to send that type care package.

Follow his lead

At a very young age, girls are taught to follow the lead of their partner.

The man is the leader house and that ladies should stay in their place.

We're told and taught to especially follow a man's lead on the dance floor.

He steps forward, you step back. He steps back, you step forward. He goes left so it's left we're going. So on and so forth.

Recently I was talking to my grandmother about wanting to dance with my current beau. Not my "out with the girls" dancing because while I'm certain my Bigmama loves me dearly, she might not appreciate my getting low to the floor with her. And I certainly wouldn't tell her about my one-leg up routine, learned from my girl Greta in Orlando, or my pole dancing session on stage at Martini's following my 40th birthday party. I might get disowned - scratch that- I'd definitely get a beat down Madea style!

Anyway, at the end of the conversation she said "remember to let him lead." Her last statement stayed with me the rest of the night and I thought why should it apply only us dancing? Why can't I follow his lead as far as our relationship is concerned?

At times I find myself stressing about things when he doesn't seem to care. Why can't I follow his lead then?

Example: Now that the hoopla of the holidays is over, we've tried to coordinate schedules and nothing is looking good so far. Or shall I say I'm trying to coordinate schedules. He's Mr. "baby it will work out" in his very laid back and nonchalant way.

It's challenging enough being in a long distance relationship and not able to see the person whenever you'd like but to go months is downright painful. The stars are definitely NOT aligned where our we're concerned.

Don't get me wrong, the distance truly doesn't bother me. However, most of you that know me are aware of my physical needs and how important fulfilling them are to me. At the risk of sounding salacious, a sista gotta have it....at least once every month. Is that too much to ask?

Nevertheless, whenever we're discussing this particular topic it's no big deal to him. So I'm sitting here with the devil on my left shoulder and an angel on the right and trust me folks they are going to war.

"If he's not getting it from you, he's getting it from somewhere else. You should do the same, you have people you can call." We know which voice this is.

The good voice counters with: "the man has been deployed three times for at least a year each time and he says he went without sex each time for the duration. According to him, his body's temperance is very high."

"Yeah right! And if you choose to spend eternity with me, I'll give you a glass of good ole ice tea."

"You have to trust him, if you want this to work."

"Don't be no fool. Fool!"

Will everybody shut-up! Is this what schizophrenics go through? Dayum!

You can imagine my plight.

It's not like I'm sitting home taking up knitting. I mean, I have a social life. I have work, the kids, the gym (and we all know there are plenty of men there) and I have my address book.

I have not been deployed by the U.S. military or anyone else and my body certainly has not been programmed to go without.

But do I really want to call up someone else? Am I truly interested in meeting someone new? If I were honest with myself I'd say the answer to both those questions is no.

So I was finding myself in a bit of a quandary. Until this weekend.

"Remember to let him lead." This one, single statement has changed how I view our relationship.

If he's laid back, I'm going to be laid back. If he becomes frustrated that we hadn't seen each other, frustrated I will become also. If he develops a "fierce sense of urgency" to get together, I will clear my schedule. But by the same token, if he wants to take a page from Tony! Toni! Toné!, "It never rains in Southern California" single when he says "I haven't seen your face in a year, I can't wait until I get there" and take it that long, I can TRY that too. No guarantees but I'll try.

Looking back, I've actually tried following a man's lead before and he didn't like it.

Everything was cool as long as I was wound all tight, fighting to make the relationship work. But as soon as I adopted his attitude, there was an immediate problem.

Eventually we got a divorce. My laid back, cavalier attitude rivaled, if not surpassed his - which was not good. As he laid back chilling, I started surveying the room. I returned some smiles, even held some glances and eventually moved on. So let's see what this spin around the dance floor holds. As my girlfriend told me recently "enjoy the ride, even if it's a merry-go-round."

I'm not sure if that's what my grandmother had in mind with her advice but I'm riding it till the wheels fall off.

Then again, knowing my Bigmama, I could be following her advice to perfection. She doesn't strike me as the type to have followed his lead to misery.

"Daddy said"

Yesterday's drive home started out great.

I was ahead of schedule picking Nicholas up from the YMCA's after-school program, so I decided to stop off and treat myself to some quick pampering. I got my eyebrows waxed (after a month this was LOOOONG overdue) and even decided to get a manicure since I was there.

Afterwards I dropped into Office Max and picked up some school supplies for both of the boys and headed over to the Y.

Since this is the same gym I've been working out at for the past 10 years, everyone knows me, the ex-Mr., Nicholas, Cody and Courtney. Some of them can't even believe Nicholas is old enough to be in the afterschool program; they first saw him chilling in an infant carrier in the nursery. Therefore on days like yesterday when I'm a few minutes late they will take him from the afterschool program to the nursery. I know, I know...getting your brows waxed and nails done does not constitute being late to pick up your child, frankly it's a little ghetto fab! But on this one occasion that was me, Ms. Ghetto Fab!

So I pick him up to find, he's taken off his outer shirt. It was nearly 70 degrees on Thursday and I'm sure he got pretty hot with all the running and playing they do afterschool. Not a problem. What got my goat was the fact he didn't have his jacket. It's the third jacket that's gone missing in action since the cold weather moved in, and that's counting Christmas break. Needless to say I was not happy about that. But he's six and more importantly he's a boy. I am impressed most days when he can find his book bag.

His father took him to school on Thursday morning. I guess he figured he'd better do something after getting shot down like a black man by the New York Police Department Wednesday morning.

Anyway, we're walking to the car and he says, "Mommy, why did you take daddy's toaster? He needs his toaster."

I wanted to say, "WTF" but of course you can't say that to the 6-year old, therefore, calmly I asked him what he was talking about.

"When I wanted a pop tart daddy said he couldn't toast it because you have his toaster. My daddy needs his toaster."

Inhale.

Exhale.

"Nicholas I didn't take your daddy's toaster. That was my toaster. I bought it with my own money. Maybe daddy can get a toaster soon."

That's what I said but what I wanted to say was: "Tell your sorry daddy if he'd give me my divorce settlement money I'll gladly buy him a toaster; with damaged cords of course."

If that wasn't bad enough, after we get all buckled up in the car, he says.

"And daddy said he's not happy about YOU not putting medicine on my ear everyday. He said you need to put medicine on it everyday."

He even emphasized "you."

I'm steaming by now! Who tells a 6-year old this type of stuff? How can he be a well-adjusted little boy if this is the crap you're feeding him during your time with him?

Keep working with me God. PLEASE keep working with me! Because I was about to blow a gasket!

Me: "Daddy is more than welcome to put medicine on your ear everyday if he'd like."

Nicholas: "But he doesn't have any medicine, you have the medicine."

Me: "Trust me son, the store will sell your daddy some medicine just like they sold it to me. I'll email him the name of the store. Okay?"

Nicholas: "Thanks Mommy, you're the best mommy in the world."

You dayum right I'm the best mommy in the world! Because what I wanted to say was: "Tell your daddy he can kiss my azz with his short, ninja turtle-donald duck looking azz." On second thought don't tell him that, he might take it literally and want to take me up on it! So why don't I stick with "go to hell, doused in gasoline."

Why do adults put children in the middle of whatever their issues are? I've never understood that. Once you're finished with a person, relationship wise, be finished with them. At least I'm that way.

When I filed for divorce, I had already left the marriage. Emotionally, physically, spiritually. The get-up-and-go had got-up-and-went. I knew I could leave with a clear conscious and a wide-open heart to love again. I was through with him. And other than raising these children, we had nothing else to discuss.

Apparently he didn't see it that way a year ago and still doesn't. How long can a person hold a grudge? Am I suppose to continue to pay for wanting to be happy?

Everyone that knows me is aware of my flip lip and smart mouth. I am definitely not a tongue-biter, I say what's on my mind.

However, in this case I will attempt to keep the peace and keep my son out of the unnecessary wars divorce brings on.

I will hold my tongue, not even bringing it up to the ex-Mr. which is probably what he wants me to do. Anything to argue, even if it means using the toddler to do so.

It's times like this I wish Nicholas was still chilling in his infant carrier while traveling to the nursery.

Entangled with my locks

Did you ever get to the point where you thought, I'm kinda hating my hair?

Not in a terribly bad way. But to a level that you want a change and you want it NOW!

I'm at that stage.

Letting my hair grow (as black folks say) for the past six or so years, I've gone from a frequent perm to a quarterly perm and even a semi-annual perm.

I tried to go natural. I rocked the curly fro when a radical "power to the people" attitude was needed. Sported the wavy layers for the wild, carefree and flirty look and when I felt the need to be soft and sexy, to my ceramic flat iron I went.

Needless to say, I got restless. I got antsy and I got bold.

I colored my locks a shade called "tanzanian sand" (Whatever the hell color that is! I call it brown, my friends say honey blonde...whatever) and I got a haircut.....well sorta.

Instead of going completely crazy, I went from a fairly decent and near shoulder length, my hairdresser agreed to do layers.

At first I was all over it. I could do a wash, a blow dry and then flat iron curl completely to the back. And with the right makeup, it was flat out sexy!

I was getting compliments on my hair. That's what's up!

However, three months and a couple of photos later, I realize I'm not feeling the hair at all.

For one, it's grown to that intermediate stage, hence the layers no long exist.

I had to follow my own advice: "That ain't sexy!"

So I decided to try something new. I opted for the perm every six weeks and flat iron almost daily (which is never a good idea.)

Thank goodness I have true African tribal tresses because no major damage was done, it rarely is.

My hair is a solider within itself.

As a child I hated it. It was thick, nappy and a flat out mess if not washed and pressed at least weekly.

My mother loved battling it out after a washing (or at least she pretended to love it, probably more for my benefit) and my aunt was the press-and-curl queen. She had seven sons and I was the lone niece living in the South, therefore she got a chance to put the heat to my ears and neck.

If you've ever felt the steam from a hot comb, you're traumatized for life. Definitely something you'll never forget.

Anyway, even with all of my extracurricular activities, Aunt Louise's magical touch with the hot comb would hold, all week.

Yet I still hated it. Now I see that I was a typical teen and pretty much hated everything.

Anyway, once I packed my bags and trotted off to college it became a different story.

Having given birth to my daughter Courtney by this time, needless to say my hair was beautiful. It was full, long and as healthy as it had ever been.

But was I happy? Of course not.

I wanted a perm like everyone else. I wanted a cut like everyone else (especially Anita Baker.)

I wanted to fit in. You have to understand, I attended a historically black college, Jackson State University, where appearances is all the rave.

Black folks don't play about their looks! Never have, never will.

Along with my newfound independence came a perm and a cut - the Anita Baker cut.

My mother was not happy! Neither was Aunt Louise.

But I needed to fit in! I needed to be able to fix my own hair when a weekly trip home wasn't possible. That makes sense right?

Soooo....I went through the normal back and forth spell and for the most part I was happy with my decision.

Fast track to today, what was I thinking?

I had it made! My hair was healthy; my hair was happy.

Now there are days I feel as if I've pissed it off!

It refuses to act right and no amount of styling is going to satisfy it or me.

Looking at a picture my girlfriend Debra and I took at a recent Debutante's Ball for her niece, I thought "I hate my hair!"

She said I was crazy. As did Derrilyn and a couple of others but the ultimate meeting of the minds had to be between me and my coils.

Last night an agreement was reached.

My hair and I signed a peace treaty...so to speak.

I will stop it with the perms every six weeks and go back to my quarterly touch-ups. I will go back to the curly fro and when there's too much new growth, it's time for the wavy locks.

Isn't it funny, the more things change, the more they stay the same?

In short, I will take another stab at going natural along with millions of other African-American women who's vowed to take the heat off their hair.

Unbelievable, over 20 years later, I'm still trying to fit in.