Well, it’s day two of this winter blizzard, and the schools have been closed both days. When you’re homebound with two young, energetic kids you have to keep a sense of humor and an attitude of faith and hope! I enjoy sleeping in, and I love my kids dearly, but boy am I looking forward to the dog days of summer! I wrote this poem for fun. It’s titled “A Snowbound Single-Mom’s Prayer”. Hope you like it:
Now I come in from the cold No help with groceries Nor hand to hold The kids are excited about the snow And my only prayer is that the lights won’t blow Please keep the heat and the television going So I’ll have a little peace and work flow while it’s snowing And after movies, popcorn and snuggling of course And the kids are finally tucked in their bed May a handsome and thoughtful neighbor arrive To lay my salt and shovel a path around my…shed.
Well, today’ it’s back to school for the kids, and getting back to the mindset of prosperity, writing and productive work for me! This year was the first year that I stayed home with the kids for their entire winter break and did not schedule them for day camp at the Y or any other place. I thought that I deserved to have just one day to myself during their ten day break, but intuition told me to just enjoy them. Sometimes when I hear that voice that whispers to me to take time out for them, I can become fearful that I’m getting a message that something may happen to them or me and that is the reason we should cherish this time. But then I realize that sometimes it may just be their subconscious speaking to mine and they just need more mommy time. So, I made sure we had groceries and that the cable bill was paid and made no plans other than to attend a local Kwanzaa celebration and enjoy our family and friends during the holidays. We had a few impromptu yet fulfilling lunch and dinner gatherings with friends, some football, board games, reading, lots of movie time on the couch, a few pajama days and even some days that they were both not feeling well, and recovering. It was the first time that I purposely chose not to try and “use” the time to cram in every library, museum or other extra curricular event that looked exciting and intriguing during the holiday break. They both get so over-worked (in my opinion) at school that I wanted them to just do nothing for a change. Yes we may have put on a pound or two and the kids may be raddled due to the relaxed sleep schedules, but their bodies are healed, they got lots of love, snuggles, family time and cultural enrichment, and most of all a break from the day to day stress of school and extra-curricular activities.
They are not over-scheduled like many suburban kids I know of these days, but I do try to balance the lack
of gross motor activities in the schools with sports and dance and other physical recreation. Aside from the recreation, they both will be taking Mandarin Chinese this semester on Saturday mornings (my son is in his sixth year, and my daughter wants to do whatever her big brother does), so we have a few commitments but not excessive. I don’t do more than one sport in a season unless it’s swimming lessons, and unless they are with their father for the weekend, or beg me to see the latest Disney movie, we spend Friday and Sunday nights at home. Even energetic and/or brilliant kids need down time too. They need time to relax and release and not worry about time and schedules and assignments. And for this reason Friday nights at our house are sacred. They are almost always reserved for what the kids refer to as “movie night”. We get early showers, get in our pajamas, pull out the fleece blankets, search for a great family movie, pop some popcorn (or grab a bag from the Wawa) and head to the couch for snuggle time. It’s the most inexpensive way to treat them to a special night and after all of these years it’s still their favorite night of the week. They love it because they get uninterrupted quality time with me and I love it because I know there will soon be a day when Friday nights will be spent with a blanket, myself and a good book because they’ll be at the mall, going to a movie or a party with their friends. So for now, for reasons I don’t necessarily share with them, it’s my favorite night of the week too!
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2013 annual report for this blog. I started this blog a little over three years ago and I have poured my heart and soul out here. I want to thank all who have taken the time to read, comment or both and I hope that I helped someone by being open and honest with you about my life’s journey. Please feel free to share and subscribe! Thanks again and I wish you a blessed, joyful and prosperous 2014!
Toni
Here’s an excerpt:
A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 2,200 times in 2013. If it were a cable car, it would take about 37 trips to carry that many people.
Well it’s the first full week of school and this is the first time in about ten years that I’ve ever had six hours of continuous, uninterrupted time on a weekday (unless of course I was ill or it was a holiday!). As a self-employed professional and full time mother, I spend my time home with my children embracing every beautiful moment with them. I try to teach them values and create experiences for them that they will cherish for a lifetime because I believe our job as parents is not to smother and dis-able them but to equip them with the abilities to survive a life without us. My baby girl started first grade this year and it’s such a beautiful yet difficult transition for me. She is the type of child who is so loving and so full of energy that she requires 110% of your attention. The love you receive in return is so genuine that you don’t resent the time, however exhausting it can be. Last year she wanted me to walk her to the doorway of the school, give her a hug and kiss, was hesitant about even walking into the school and she was only there for a few hours each day! I volunteered in the classroom a minimum of once a week and there was always a sad face when I left even though I would be back there in half an hour to pick her up from school. Needless to say I was concerned about how she would handle a full day of school, desks and eating in the lunchroom. She was so nervous about the first day and worried about it being all new until we walked into the classroom and saw one of her best friends sitting up front. I exhaled a huge sigh of relief, she turned around quickly to say “by Mom!” without even the usual hug and kiss and she quickly disappeared into the fold of children. That Friday she asked if she could walk to school and come home by herself. My mouth dropped and I thought ‘it took my son until second grade to make that request’…am I being one of those smothering moms??
The most difficult lesson about parenting I feel, is learning to let go and I was about to get yet another lesson. Monday morning I grabbed my keys, walked her out the door and down the walkway to the street and she turned around and said “by mom, have a good day” in order to stop me in my tracks. She wanted to walk across the street and off to school without me! I thought she was joking until she turned around, looked at my feet progressing forward and said “I can do it myself”. For a moment I chuckled inside because my mother used to always joke that I came out of the womb saying those exact words. I took a deep breath, smiled, said “OK” and pointed her in the direction of the crossing guard. I let go. Well, okay so I live directly across the street from her elementary school and the crossing guard is practically on my doorstep when she comes out in the morning, but it was still a huge risk for me! 🙂 Today is day two and she didn’t even want me to leave the doorway of our home, but I told her I had to at least come off the porch to make sure the crossing guard was there on the corner, so she allowed me to keep walking. She seems to be handling the transition well, and I am left to sit in quiet with no choice but to meditate on the next step on my life’s journey to joy. I have made so many sacrifices – personal and financial – in order to be the face that my kids see first thing in the morning and coming home from school in the afternoon. I’ve juggled work schedules, lost clients, lost friends, missed a lot of fun parties, workshops and educational opportunities, all because of my commitment to my children and I wouldn’t have changed a thing. I would do it for any child because they are our future and will one day be making decisions that affect my life. I’ve accepted my role here as their guardian and I’ve felt that way about all children for as long as I can remember. I strongly believe if our children grow up knowing that they are the most important person in the lives of those who have created them, they will be confident, loving beings and will spread that love and compassion to all those that they touch.
And we may just change the world. One courageous child at a time.
It’s been several months since I’ve written anything on my blog and I apologize to my loyal followers for the long absence. It was just recently that I realized that I haven’t been able to write a thing since after my father passed. I tried to think about what other than the depth of grief you feel over the loss of someone who gave you life would keep me from picking up a pen. I’ve been to numerous open mic events, recited some of my poems and my creativity has been fueled by the multitude of talented and gifted artists that I’ve heard over the past few months. I celebrated my birthday this entire month even though my born date was on the 20th, and I haven’t isolated from friends or family, so why is it I don’t feel inspired to write?
And what I believe the answer is has something to do with control. Normally when I write, I know what I’m going to say, I know what picture I will use and usually how it will end all before I sit down at my laptop. I am in full control for the most part. Yet grief does not lend itself to such consistency. Grief is less predictable than an ocean wave, and just as powerful when it hits. I can almost assure you that it will rear it’s ugly head a week or so before any major holiday and the birthdays of my parents who were born two days apart. And then sometimes it is equally as unpredictable. Sometimes I feel passionate about something (or someone) and I feel the urge to write and a piece of mail comes through my doorway with his name on it, or I need to take care of his last cable bill, and I lose the urge to create. As the administrator of my father’s will, I have numerous duties to perform which alone can be exhausting. My daughter struggles with closure after his sudden death and I sink deep into grief for a while as I empathize and help her to understand and honor his transition. And it think it hurts a little deeper when I look around and see that not only are both my parents gone, but both sets of grandparents as well, and grief tells me that I’m all alone. Ebbs and flows..ups and downs..highs and lows..around and around. When will it end? I don’t know but I have begun to pray for the willingness to let go of my high expectations for myself. I pray for the strength to bounce back from this sudden and profound loss; that I don’t have to do it perfectly or feel happy to write, and that it’s okay to feel what I feel for however long I need to feel it. And I can take the time to heal from it all and I’m worth it.
I am writing now from a beautiful beach home that I’m sharing with some family and friends, listening to the waves crash as I summon my dad’s spirit to guide me and encourage me. I wasn’t sure at first about sharing a house with a dozen people, but somehow the combination of the calm and the chaos awakened my spirit. And the love and laughter abound as a warm healing balm for my soul.
So I don’t have anything fabulously witty or poetic to write just yet, but I am thankful that once again I am writing, and that is a huge step in the right direction for me. Just for today, I am moving forward remembering that it’s progress, not perfection.
This is the first time in my life that I am unable to pick up the phone and wish my dad a Happy Father’s Day. As much as I know and feel his spiritual presence and understand that he is at peace, it still breaks my heart and makes me feel sad and cheated. It is life on life’s terms. It’s grief and loss and there’s no way to get beyond it but to go through it. Some days it feels like a dream, other days like a nightmare. Some days I just want to be held and some days I wish I were on a beach all by myself. Grief comes in waves and it’s unpredictable, and I am so blessed to have people in my life who may not know exactly how I feel but accept and love me at whatever point I am on the grief roller-coaster.
I expected father’s day to be tough but I really thought yesterday would be more emotional than today. Almost ten years ago my youngest brother Joel, founded Daddy University a support organization for fathers, which has also produced a popular Daddy Daughter Dance for the past five years. I’ve volunteered every year but almost backed out this year because I thought seeing all of those little girls and grown women arm and arm with their fathers would be too emotional for my tattered heart to manage and I didn’t want to have to touch up my concealer all night. But I didn’t know anyone I could count on at the last minute to fill my shoes. I am also intimately aware of the impact the bond fused by this elegant and rare occasion has on the growth and in some cases healing, of relationships between father and daughter, and I wanted to contribute.
I was so stressed during the day that my head hurt all over and I could feel the tension in my shoulders so intensely that I could hardly turn my neck most of the afternoon. It’s amazing how stress can sneak up and almost paralyze you, forcing you to take notice and counteract. I wanted everything to be perfect for my daughter’s first time going to the dance with her dad, yet my body was screaming “what about me???!”. So I slowed down a bit, stopped stressing about the time and her anxiousness and took a lot of deep breaths. When I checked into the hotel near the Convention Center where the dance was held, I started to relax. Just the beauty of the foyer of the Downtown Philadelphia Marriott Hotel caused you to inhale the energy, beauty and life around you. We both dressed for the occasion and she looked just like an angel! Adding the details of the pearls and glitter lip gloss, I almost felt as if I were helping her get dressed for her wedding. I was so thrilled for her and it kept me from getting sad or thinking about the fact that I would never have the opportunity to attend a daddy daughter dance with my Dad. As the evening went on, I helped out and watched the event unfold. One by one, the caring men, gorgeous gowns and dresses and whispers of “daddy can I have…” danced by me and the air was so full of love and excitement that I was swept up into the energy of it all and not once felt sorry for myself. I had expected to have a full-blown pity party, but the opportunity never presented itself. Several times I looked into the dance to make sure my daughter was enjoying herself. She found her way to me a few times and I encouraged her to go back in, enjoy this time with her Dad and dance the night away. I knew that she, like me, felt the fervor and spent most of the night taking it all in.
People say that the best way to take your mind off of your own troubles is to give of yourself and do something for others and that wisdom really rang true last night. As the only girl, my father and I had a special bond. He spoiled me, called me “pretty girl” and tried to give me anything that I asked for. He loved me and tried his best to show it all of the time. He was proud of the woman I had become and even more proud I think of the Mother that I had come to be. He loved to call me his “one and only” and not once, unless he was in the hospital, did he miss sending me a card for my Birthday, Valentines day, Christmas and even my wedding anniversary. And oh yeah, daddy also LOVED to dance.
To a daughter, a father is the first love in their life, responsible for teaching her how she should be cared for and treated by what will hopefully be the last love in her life.
I feel sorry for the last love in my life because he has a hard act to follow.
Happy Father’s Day daddy! I miss you and hope you are still smiling…and dancing! Love, Neet
I always thought that I acquired my gift of writing from my mother because she always kept a journal and I knew that she loved to write. It wasn’t until my father, as he began to age, passed along some of his writings to me that I became aware that it was his passion that I inherited. I was instantly transported to the time and place in his short essays and recognized the similarities in our writing styles. I now know that my love for words and my lyrical style was passed to me from Dad. I read this short essay at his memorial service this past Saturday (more to come about that) and several people have asked for a copy of it, so I am posting it on my blog. It was one of many small glimpses into the sensitive side of my dad that until his later years, was only uncovered in his writing. I can’t wait to put all of his thoughts into book form but for now, I’ll share one of my favorites so far:
In the middle of a street in Camden, NJ
Four of my grandchildren came to visit me on my 69th birthday, Jameel, Aamir, Naim and Hammad. They brought me a cake, a shirt, a food mixer, a birthday card and their wonderful company. As we laughed and talked together my mind began to rewind , but first I thought about my other four grandchildren and my great-granddaughter. After my grandkids had left, I looked at all their pictures and my mind lapsed again and tears came as I thought about a time long ago when two young people stood in the middle of a small Camden, NJ street. It must have rained that day as I remember the street glistened. They had been on her porch when she suggested that they take a walk. The young couple walked hand in hand down the sidewalk and started across the street when the girl stopped, looked up at the boy with tears in her eyes and said “ I’ve missed my period.” She put her head on his chest and sobbed. He imagined she thought he might leave her. His head was whirling. He thought , how’s he gonna support a wife and kid when he can’t support himself and then thought about the doctor at Hamilton Air Force Base in California who told him that because of the VD he had contracted overseas, he could never have children. So was this his child?? But when he looked down into the big wet eyes of HIS girl who was having HIS child, he kissed her, smiled and said “let’s get out of the street”. Well, they walked and talked, kissed and held each other. Two young people, in love, who didn’t have a clue how life was going to treat them but they started out together. So as I look at all these people we’re responsible for – four children, eight grandchildren, and one great-grandchild – 13 people who came here because of those two young lovers in the middle of a Camden street beginning to learn about life. The tears really begin to fall as I think “Well, ‘Fat Cheeks’, we didn’t do so bad, not bad at all!”
Janai getting comfortable with the piano at Suburban Music School
Here we go. Time for Parent/Teacher conferences, and once again I anticipate hearing the dreaded and extremely over-used words “we need to work more on focusing, and transitioning.” Ugh!! {deep breath} I have to meditate twice as long on days like this because I get so tired of trying to explain to teachers why my kids don’t fit inside their square box. “No, he/she is not like Johnny Appleseed because he/she is gifted/talented”. I get frustrated with the need to defend them and it sometimes gets exhausting trying to compensate for the enrichment that they are not getting in school because everything is so “standardized”. All of the intense focus on testing is torture for their little creative minds and it sends the message to them at an early age that the way they process information is not “normal”. Because of it, instead of teaching and it’s the teacher’s job to spend the rest of their elementary school days helping them to conform to the norm. It makes my skin crawl. But I digress…
Although I was identified gifted in middle school and the gene is reportedly transferred from the mother (though I often feel motherhood slowly reverses my intelligence), I still did not identify the traits in my son. I was told by my pediatrician that most two-year olds, especially male, cannot count to 30, recite the alphabet, and identify all shapes and colors. Really?? It was my first child, and I knew he was ahead of the doctor’s normal checklists, but those Baby Einstein commercials made me think all toddlers could read! Even still, after being tested, identified and accelerated, I was faced with the same comments by teachers who just didn’t get him. And it’s so frustrating for the child and the parent because we know there are so any resources out there and we don’t understand why the teachers aren’t educated about the pros and cons of being gifted and/or talented. He was in preschool reading chapter books and about to start on multiplication tables, yet the school’s director never thought to have him tested. Even more so she received a copy of his IQ test results, and never once mentioned them. She, the founder and Director of the school – an educator – never met with me to discuss their findings and never said another word about it. So, we left.
I am so thankful for the S.E.N.G. http://www.sengifted.org/Organization’s conferences on the Gifted, and the conference I attended on the education of blacks in suburban school districts, because they both armed me with the courage and information I needed to be his advocate and get him the support, effective teaching and curriculum that he deserved and needed. It took a few years of personal and academic success before his elementary school was convinced that acceleration could be effective, even with a male student. When he was admitted into his elementary school’s gifted program, he was the only African-American male in the entire school district who was identified gifted. That’s four elementary schools. How sad and intolerant… and a whole other blog post!
So here we are again. Now my daughter Janai could care less about reading or memorizing sight words, hasn’t been given an IQ test, nor exhibited any academically gifted tendencies (as of yet), but I do believe she has an extraordinarily creative mind and ear for music. James’ strength is visual, and hers is auditory. He has a photographic memory, and she has sensory gifts that even astound her new piano teacher. Janai has more energy than the Energizer bunny and it takes a lot of effort for her to have a full course at dinner without getting up to dance or taking a quick spin around her seat. She is constantly singing, and I am convinced that she hears music in her head most of the time. After all,my grandmother MaryBelle Bumbrey was a trained pianist, and her cousin is Grace Bumbrey http://www.musicianguide.com/biographies/1608000604/grace-bumbry.html , a world-renowned opera singer so it is quite possible.
The other night, after practicing at home to prepare for her piano lesson, she asked if she could play her own composition for me. After she was finished, I suggested she play it for her instructor later that evening, and she did. I adore him because he sees past her age and her occasional spins around the classroom, applauds her creativity, honors her musicality and is going to work with her to fine tune her piece and put it onto paper. After only five lessons, and not quite six years old, she is already attempting to write her own melodies. I don’t know about you but at that age I was making (and eating) mud pies with not a thought about composing music!
And all this from a kid who’s teacher thinks that we need to “work on focus”. Yet when I watch her at the piano, I see nothing but.
And yes I understand the concerns of the educators, the importance of structure, transitioning, and testing, etc. – well maybe not the testing – but I also believe that it’s the role of parents and educators alike to make sure that the two worlds meet. We both need to educate ourselves, seek out the resources that these young, gifted and talented beings need to embrace their truth and ensure that the gift and or talent is experienced as a joy and a pleasure rather than a burden and a curse. These beautiful souls have so much of their world to share with ours if we just let them be perfectly themselves.
How do you support yourself and your children in recognizing and embracing your/their gift(s)?
Well, it’s day two of this winter blizzard, and the schools have been closed both days. When you’re homebound with two young, energetic kids you have to keep a sense of humor and an attitude of faith and hope! I enjoy sleeping in, and I love my kids dearly, but boy am I looking forward to the dog days of summer! I wrote this poem for fun. It’s titled “A Snowbound Single-Mom’s Prayer”. Hope you like it:
Toni's Room 