Playing the Dozens

Oh, You Got Jokes?!

HE GOT JOKES Y’ALL!! What started off as an innocent question quickly turned into a rapid fire battle of Wit and Foolery. Last night my son and I were hanging out it in my room. My mom, who’s visiting was there too. He asked me about what appeared to be a speck glitter on my face and the following is what ensued:

DAVE: Why is there glitter on your face?

ME: It’s because I’m a rainbow inside.

DAVE: No, You’re a THUNDER STORM!! (cackle, cackle)

ME: You’re a Monsoon!

DAVE: You’re a Typhoon!!

ME: WHAT? You’re a mudslide!

DAVE: YOU’RE AN AVALANCHE

ME: AND YOU’RE A DROUGHT, NOW GO PUT ON SOME LOTION! #POW

iWin

My mom who’d watched this exchange in awe was laughing so hard. She’s like there’s no way I could have kept up with you guys with those comebacks. I must say I’m quite proud of the kid for his speed and agility. My cousins and I used to joke each other ALL the time. You had to have thick skin to roll with the best. Playing the dozens is an art form, especially in the black community. Welcome to the family son, you did good!

In Honor of Michael Jordan turning the big 5-0 today, this Seemed like an appropriate time to reblog “Fake Jordans and That’s What You Get” enjoy and comment! Have you ever had to learn/teach a lesson the hard way?

30and11

Let’s just file this one under “Trying to be slick”. So my son decided he wanted some Jordans. Every time we went to the mall he wanted to take a look at the shoes, he’d point them out on other people’s feet, he’d even print pictures of them.  Subtlety is not his strong suit. So finally he asked me to by him these kicks. They’re not cheap and since I KNOW my son really isn’t the kind of kid that’s pressed to have the latest sneakers, I knew it had to be a couple of other driving forces behind his request. 1. Some kid in school must be stuntin (styling) on the rest of the kids with a fresh pair of J’s or 2. Dave just really likes these and thinks they will help increase his cool factor on the playground. I told him I’d get him the shoes if…

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Crying in the Car is For Wusses

I went outside. I went even further than outside, I went outside and got into my car and cried my eyes out. Crying sucks big time especially when you’ve been trying to hold it in. Crying sucks even more when you do it in the car while it’s snowing outside. Why was I crying?  It was out of sheer exhaustion with life. I’m trying to hold a lot together, my business, my home, my son, my sanity. I feel like i’m failing at all of those things.  I had a meeting with a well respected veteran in the fashion industry today and he reviewed my brand and gave me his very direct opinion of my work. It made me want to give up. Half way through our meeting I wanted to pack up and leave but stuck it out because I needed to hear these things. I asked for this but that didn’t mean I had to like it. My skin is no where near tough, let’s just get that straight. I’m extremely sensitive on the inside, I try not to let it show but today was just too much. I didn’t just cry, I wept.  I had come face to face with the reality of my circumstances. You ever look around one day and notice that the carpet is threadbare, your sweaters are moth eaten, and the paint around the windows is peeling, when only just the day before everything seemed alright? That’s the feeling that over took me today as I sat in my car with my disconnected phone, and the last $3.00 I have to my name.  I wondered what am I doing?  What have I done? This is not the life I signed up for and why have I pushed and worked so hard to be in this place? I want to write more about this but right now I just can’t because my head hurts from crying like a sissy in my car.

Happy Valentines Day from the Tween Ages

My son is too old to make me a handmade card without an ulterior motive, and he’s too young to buy me anything without using my own money. Welcome to the Tween Ages, I hope you saved all of those homemade cards because we’re now entering the dark ages. I’m single, not dating, nor reconciling nor even pretending to be upset with any love interest to get some “forgive me flowers”. I’m not unhappy or anything like that, I just know that at this juncture in the mother/son relationship I will not be expecting a thoughtful gift from my kid until maybe his junior year in high school.

 

mid-life M.A.S.H

M.A.S.H Game

‘Member dis? We used to play M.A.S.H. (mansion, apartment, shack, house) back in the day. The limo was obligatory up until somebody realized that rich and famous people don’t actually own stretch limos. I also kinda remember playing this by myself and putting my 4th grade crush in the husband column then finagling the results to make sure he was chosen.   I decided to take a trip down memory lane two nights ago. I thought it would be fun. It wasn’t. It was actually stressful and depressing. I could only come up with two fantasy husbands, the housing situation was a bust too. I finally just started putting whatever, but this little exercise got me thinking about my current mental state. Am I really that jaded with life, that I can’t even dream about the unrealistic future or have I…dare I say it…lost the magic and grown up? I feel like the adults in the Polar Express that couldn’t hear the bell ring because they had stopped believing in Santa Claus. As I’m writing this I’ve figured out exactly who’s to blame!!! My financial advisor!!.. well he’s not “mine” per say but it sounds good and really grown up when you place ownership on a financial advisor.  I went to go see this guy more as a return on a previous favor, than because I needed advice about finances that I don’t actually have. That meeting was like a 2 hour long game of M.A.S.H. seriously, only we didn’t stop at houses, husbands, and cars, Mr Northwest Mutual added a few other columns like, Debt, Retirement homes, Insurance, Current Expenses and a whole host of other headers that bit by bit chipped away at the gold leaf I’d thinly layered over my very real, very impoverished state. This real life M.A.S.H was more like SQUASH. As sobering as it was to go through the intimate details of my life and future plans (or lack there of), it was an experience I cherish and have recommended to all of my friends. I realized that reacting to life instead of directing your life is not a good pattern to fall into. My advisor was amazed at the simplicity of my needs, while it was something to laugh about it made me realize that I’d stopped dreaming big. That is the toll that parenthood has taken on me. I didn’t have a dream car, dream salary, dream house, or dream future beyond wanting to pay for my son’s college tuition and be able to take care of my mom. It was pathetic really, but I’m saying this in the past tense for a reason. That meeting opened up my eyes and I started to focus on the happiness factor and creating the quality of life that I’d really enjoy, to consider the possibilities and not the liabilities of life.

Burnt Offerings

Burnt Toast

Guess who just got a visit from Virginia’s Finest? SOMEBODY who shall remain nameless, sacrificed toast to the convection gods and set the oven on fire. I called 911 and was hoping that they would just tell me what to do, instead they sent the whole fire brigade. which is em.bar.as.sing, especially when the fire GOES OUT before they get there. Trust me, I’m grateful for their efficiency ……but………………………………………….. i have a confession……………………………………..i’m so ashamed…………..i. had. a. SHALLOW MOMENT: in the midst of me talking to the dispatcher, and shuttling the boy outside and away from the flames, I started to think about the manliness that was about to be delivered to my front door, FIRE MEN ARE FOINE! At the time the fire broke out I was in the middle of working out, and had on these knee length workout pants. Whilst outside waiting i stepped into the light of the street lamp looked down at my bare legs and, to my horror, what did i see? ASH, from the ankles up! I heard the trucks coming and knew it was now or never, i made a mad dash for the house, and dived for the lotion next to my bed. Two pumps and a couple swipes later I was back outside, on the curb looking appropriately distraught. (don’t judge me)

We’re ok, the fire was contained in the Toast-r-Oven and all is well. oh and the firemen were, very, very, very nice 😉