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Saturday, September 27, 2008

Played By a Kindergartner

I think I've mentioned that I work with kindergartners... all day long. Then have to deal with my two for the rest of the day. Feel my pain?
We have a rule that after a warning or two and a student continues to break a rule then he or she has to go to the behavior chart and pull a stick- then a note goes home. Well a little boy pulled a stick for not listening (go figure). Thirty minutes later he is crying during a movie. I called him over to my desk and he cried on my lap. Forgetting about the stick earlier I ask,
"What's wrong sweetie?"
And in between sobs he tells me that he missed his mom and she's gone. Well we have a lot of military students at our school and in our class. So I allow him time to cry on my lap, gave him a hug and explained that she would be back and she still loves him.
"Did she take your brother too?" I asked.
The three previous days, his dad had come to get him after school so I ASSumed she was definitely gone.
I take the car riders outside after school to go home and I see his mom.
"I thought you were gone," I told her.
She was puzzled. So I told her the story.
"Oh when his dad got him the other days I was in the car.
I looked at her son. He wouldn't make eye contact with me.
"We have been having problems with him lieing lately. About pulling sticks in class and some other things at home," she revealed.
"Well he got me. And he pulled a stick today, now that I think about it."

"I'll Smack A Turtle!"

We were riding home after eating out and "Dude" spends about five minutes threatening our youngest, Myles. All about what he will do to him if he does this and what he will do to him if does that. Well just thirty seconds after he threatens, Myles says, out of nowhere,
"Daddy I'll smack a turtle!"
Dude- clueless, just continued to drive, (Half the time I have to fill him in or translate for him anyway- and our kids speak English fluently!) until I began snickering.
"What's up?" he asked.
I whispered to him that, "Myles really means that he would get you if he could."
Dude glared back at him.
Myles was looking out the window with his nostrils flared.
Flashback- to me sitting there after getting my butt whipped by my mom and just wishing God would just see fit that she fell down some steps. I didn't want to get rid of her but oh how I wanted to get back at her some kind of way.
This was Myles' way- in my opinion.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Just Rest Your Mouths

I really have to pay closer attention to our kids. Kids say whatever is on their little minds. When they are exposed to something they aren't cognizant of, they have to say something. Kids are curious and I respect that. I just have to pay closer attention to body language.
Yesterday, on our way to the car from school, I ran into a parent who is Muslim. Maurissa and I were already familiar with this mom and her children. One of her daughters was in the same class with Maurissa last year. So the way they were dressed (as Muslims) was no shock for Maurissa. Well this was all new for our son, Myles.
She (the parent) and I said our goodbyes and headed for our cars. Four steps later, Myles says,
"Mama, why is she wearin' that big bonnet?"
For a second I couldn't move. Too shocked... embarrassed... wishing I could grab the words out of the air and put them back in his mouth.
I just pulled him along. "Come on here and just be quiet!"
I was hoping she did not hear him.
A couple of steps more and his sister chimed in.
"She wears that over her head because her hair is messed up... Duh! You don't know nothing!" she tells him.
"Just get in the car y'all," I said with my teeth clinched.
Too late. They were enveloped in their own conversation.
"They make those bonnets in Africa," Myles said.
"Yep! You know Myles you might be right," she said.
"Mama, they live in Africa," Myles added.
"JUST GET IN THE CAR!" I shouted.
"Uh-oh, she mad at you," Maurissa whispered.
"Naw, she talkin' to you," Myles whispered back.
"Just rest your mouths," I said slowly. "Just rest your mouths."
I looked in my mirror. They were sitting there with their hands over their mouths snickering.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Educational Talk Gone Bad.

Why would I name my book Diary of a Mad, Black, Dysfunctional Mom? Gees, just read some of these blogs- myriad reasons why, but let's just add this one to the list.
My husband (not mad at him right now so I will refer to him nicely) and I were discussing child safety and the dangers of strangers and the possible things people could say to lure little ones. Well I decide to "educate" our two little ones about Stranger Danger.
So I get them together and in my nice mommy voice begin to have a Mrs. Rogers-Jackson Neighborhood moment.
"What would you do if someone came up to you- someone you didn't know and he or she offered you candy?"
"What kind of candy?" Maurissa asked.
"I don't know- any kind of candy, like a Snickers," I answered.
"But Rissa don't like Snickers," Myles jumped in.
"Just any kind of candy, okay!" I said. "The point is that you should not take the candy- no matter what kind it is!"
I was already beginning to get out of sorts.
I went on to explain to them that they didn't want to take anything from a stranger or even talk to strangers at all.
"They may not use candy- they could ask you for help. Like someone may say they need you to help them find their dog," I added.
"Well, what if it's a cat or a fish?" Myles asked.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and wondered why did it have to get to this.
"It don't matter what kind of animal- my point is that you shouldn't go!" I almost screamed.
"People can use any trick to try to get you to go with them- so you don't want to talk to them, or take candy or help them find their pet- whether it is a cat, dog, whatever," I told them.
"Mommy, what if it is the "peace" officer who need help?" Myles asked.
"Honey the POLICE officer would not need your help- if an adult ask you for help and I am not around then you tell them to ask another adult for help and you keep walking away from them," I explained.
"What if it's a peace officer with candy and he is looking for- a nice dog" Myles asked.
"Just forget it!" I told them. "Just go on and get ready for bed!"
"But the scary peace officer might be in my room," Myles said.
The things I go through.

Monday, September 08, 2008


I have been having problems with my allergies and some nasal problems for some time so I went to the doctor. Unfortunately I had to take my two little unpredictable sweethearts. I felt a little under the weather but they were feeling jubilant!
The Genesis of this little story begins in the waiting area. An older gentleman came in with some assistance and unfortunately sat in the chairs in front of us. He had an oxygen tank and was drifting in and out of sleep as he waited.
Now Maurissa and Myles were quietly reading to themselves before he came in. Something told me to divert their attention but unfortunately I didn't take heed.
"Mommy. Are they gonna bury him?" Myles innocently and seriously asked.
I closed my eyes and swallowed- hoping the man and his companion did not hear him.
"Myles he is just not feeling well- rest your mouth," I whispered.
Then the man moved and coughed. Not a pleasant cough.
Myles and Maurissa made a slight scream and hugged each other. I was so embarrassed.
"Melissa Jackson," the nurse called.
"Oh your kids are so cute," the nurse smiled. "Let's get your weight."
"How many are you mommy?" Myles asked as I stepped down from the scale.
The nurse giggled.
She didn't know... the show was just starting.
When we got in the room the nurse checked my blood pressure as the kids watched.
"Mommy, is she pumping you up?" Myles asked.
"Oh, it looks like I'm pumping her up?" the nurse laughed.
"Yes- her boobies are pumping up!" he replied.
The nurse laughed so hard. "I'll bet there is never a dull moment at your house, " the nurse said.
I closed my eyes and told her, "Nope... fortunately."

THe 'Owboys (Some of you requested it again)

I know it's silly but I recently got mad at my husband over a shirt. We both have put on a few pounds since we were married nine years ago and we tease one another about it often. Well he is also a Dallas Cowboys fan. (Don't stop reading my blogs now) The other week Dallas beat the Colts and of course he was elated. Well the next morning he put on one of his Cowboys sweatshirts to wear to work- to boast of course and that's cool. Problem was that it was a little tight. I know he is grown but I had to say something and I tried to be as nice as possible. "You cannot wear that extra medium shirt". He looked in the mirror, then looked at me as if he couldn't see how tight it was. "It's aight," he said. "You are gonna get picked on," I told him. I pulled on the shirt and raised his arms to show him that it was too small. We continued to get ready for work and I thought surely he would look at it again and change it but he didn't. I thought about bumping into him with breakfast, then he would have to change it. He finally got into his car and after a few minutes I expected him to run back in and say, "I gotcha! You know I wasn't gonna wear this tiny shirt". It didn't happen. He did wear that shirt to work. I text him all day about that shirt: Is your breathing okay? Don't eat! The stars will start looking like stripes; Honey who are the OWBOYS? (shirt was so tight that the C was hidden under his arm pit) I don't know why I had such a hard time with it- it was his shirt and his choice. I guess I felt like he was representing us... we are as one right?