Little Michael Evans

I realize as I type this that I need to get back to posting about our two kids and parenting. May need to give more updated background about them so that you will understand why they are still so amusing after all these years- especially if you are a new reader. They are both so comically, polar opposites, and wonderfully created!

I really thought we would have had our own sitcom by now but that would be impossible without consistent posts. And believe me they are still funny. So are "Dude" and I.

So our youngest is 13 now. He is still afraid of people in costumes and not ashamed of it. He is intrinsically motivated, loves God, does exceptionally well academically and socially, is the best dancer in the house and many affectionately call him "Little Michael Evans" from the show Good Times.

A few Sundays ago, we were sitting in church waiting for Praise and Worship to start and one of the leaders of our church made his rounds to say hello.

"Hey Buddy! What's going on?" he cheerily asked as he athletically-like, patted our son's chest. He then moved on and said hello to the rest of the family. I noticed the look on Myles's face but before I could say anything the music started.

I found out why he had the odd look once we got in the car after service.

"I don't like when he pats my chest," he told us. "It's weird."

Dude  Daddy addressed it. "He probably does that to all the boys. Not a big deal."

Oh Lord, I thought. I was waiting to see what Little Michael Evans was thinking.

The look on his face. Now I guess it's important to mention and necessary for some to get this story. The man is White.

"Back in the day, men patted little boys on their heads," Daddy told him.

Myles said something as he looked out of his window. It was inaudible. I was glad.

"What is it?" Daddy asked him as we turned slowly out of the parking lot.

"I'm not a-" he began.

"Your're not a what?" his sister asked him. She was sitting in the back next to him.

As I began to give my spill on it he finally said it:

"I'm not a monkey!"

There was a moment of silence. Then I couldn't contain my natural reaction. I squealed with laughter. I couldn't stop.
Then Dude Daddy and our daughter joined in. Myles didn't find it amusing.

"Where did you get that from?" I managed to say while wiping my eyes.

Weeks before that incident in church, we had a visiting minister (White too) who was over many of the Assemblies of God around the United States. He mentioned this when he spoke.

"I've been the over seer of the Assemblies for more than ten years now..."

Myles nudged me.

A few minutes later the speaker said something about people sitting around singing "Kum ba yahs".

Oh Lord, I thought as I closed my eyes and waited for our son to respond.

"Momma! Overseer? Kum ba yahs?" he whispered and shook his head.

I did too. At him.

No Talking!

During the last thunderstorm, our son said, "Shh!"

Laughing, I told him, "It's okay. It's just thunder."

"At Grandma's house we have to turn everything off and we can't talk," he informed me.

Shaking my head, I walked to the window to see if the rain was letting up.

"I remember those days. We had to sit quiet until the storm was over but I thought it was only for lightning."

Either way, it was one of the many stories I have about the old days of growing up. Didn't realize she was still doing that.

"Grandma said we need to do the same thing at home."

I explained to him that it was okay and that my mom had probably grown up with someone telling her that and she passed it on.

I started thinking about my younger brother. Now just behind me at 43. During those times when there was a storm, not only was he quiet, but you could find him clinging to the bed; under it. He would sweat as if he did something really bad. I would get in trouble for laughing at him.

Still can't, for the life of me, understand why we couldn't talk during a thunder storm.

"Thunder is just sound. It's a little different from lightning," I said.

Our son shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know but Grandma gets really serious 'bout that. We can barely move until it's all over."

Weighed Down

Times have been tough as I approach fifty. Yep, the BIG 5-0. Well, I will be 45 in a few months but just thinking 50 is around the corner makes my craziness feel warranted; excusable. 

I've been more forgetful than usual. Me! I'm the one who usually remembers specifics about things decades ago. I remember playing pencils with the pencils we were supposed to be selling in the school's store in elementary school. I remember how many chops it took for me to break the school's president's pencil in the back of the store.And what we she said to the students doing the right thing selling supplies. 

Nope. Now it seems that I hear, "Remember? I told you blah, blah, blah." a lot. 

I have been trying to stay proactive when it comes to my health. Even though I'm not always  consistent, I give myself credit for doing it when I do. 

My clothes were fitting me a little looser recently. It was almost unbelieveable. With getting back into the teaching groove, still transporting our kids around daily and other things, I hadn't truly noticed how much weight I'd lost and how quickly. But with all the chaos of life it hit me- like a big truck of chocolate and potato chips. I had to talk to somebody fast!

As I stood on the scale, I talked to a close friend on the phone. 

"I told you I'm stressed out or something," I whispered as I closed the bathroom door. 

"How much weight have you lost?" she asked. 

I began to weep. I smothered my cries so my husband and kids couldn't hear me. 

"How much weight? It's okay. You will be okay girl," she tried to convince me. 

I was almost inaudible. "Thirty pounds," I managed to say. 

"Woah," she whispered. Not sure why she was whisperingt. 

"And no one noticed that you've lost  that much in just almost a month?" she questioned. 

I slowly slid down the wall and sat on the cold floor. "Nooooooo. And that's the sad part. My husband. My kids- none of them have noticed." 

I couldn't take it. She tried to calm me. After we hung up, I just stayed there, on the floor, sobbing. 

Knew I need to get a grip but geez- I was down to what I weighed before having my son!!! H'e's 13 now. 

After a few minutes I wiped my face and went to bed. I was thinking I would need to possibly talk to a counselor or someone the next day. Losing this amount of weight in a short time- meant stress city and instability. 

The next morning, I woke to the sounds of my husband yelling in the bathroom. 

"Myles! Maurissa! Which one of ya'll been messing with this scale again?" 

I sat up. 

Good Intentions

Always trying to do good, we decided to apologize to our two kids before nightly prayers. We wanted to show them that adults make mistakes and we weren't beyond apologizing. If you have read any of my previous posts, you know where this is heading.

Things started off well, as they should have, considering we had good intentions.

"Before we pray tonight, we just want to apologize to both of you for not always being the best parents. We can't lecture the two of you about things if we aren't doing the right things. That's not right," Daddy began.

We went on to apologize for specific things we'd done, the main one being about having disagreements in front of them when they were a little younger.

Feeling good about our good intentions, we prepared to pray.

I noticed the kids looking at each other. They had this look of "one accord". Any other time this would be great, especially since we talk to them about having a great bond and not having the common said "sibling rivalry".

So the first one started: the youngest one.

"Well we have some things we want to talk about that you all didn't mention."

His sister sat up with great posture and a little too much confidence and poise.

Before we knew it the two of them were tag-teaming as if they were headlining a WWE fight! They were on a roll.

It got to a point where Daddy and I were about to skip prayer all together. It suddenly got really hot.

"You know what. We are just gonna go back downstairs and pray for you. We just aren't in a good place right now!" we said, fanning.

Luckily we all simmered down and prayed. With limp hands.

Purple Rain

The world lost a talented and giving artist today. Decided to post because I remember posting the day Michael Jackson passed away years ago too. Two great artists I grew up on. While I appreciate the coverage I also had to turn it off because I could feel a spirit of heaviness just as I did sitting through all the coverage of MJ. Prince seemed so healthy (vegan and conscious of what he put in his body) so we are all in shock.

This coverage also brings a smile when I think about his music. I was young when Purple Rain came out- the movie and album. I was only 12, the summer the movie dropped. I had Purple Rain buttons. The thought of singing some of the lyrics to some of those songs makes me smile and shake my head. So there are amusing stories from these memories. Sneaking to listen to songs but getting busted. I remember a friend learning the steps to the dance in the video, When Doves Cry, and teaching me the moves in the foyer of a church during a wedding rehearsal. We live in NC... the Bible Belt. I can still feel that slap upside the head.

I also believed the world was going to end in 1999. Hello? Didn't Prince mention something in the song about a "...bomb and we could all die any day." The party was going to be over in 2000 so we would be out of time.

It's sad that such a talent who defied the norms and did what he wanted to do is gone. His music will certainly live on. He will be unmatched. Let's be grateful for his time and music. Music brings us together. He'd want that. We will miss the purple highness. Prayers for his family, friends and fans like me. Nothing Compares to You.