Can't a girl have a drink?

I'm posting because I need to write. An update I suppose. This weekend is my school's Black Alumni Reunion. I am THRILLED. I am currently enrolled but I am alum too. Got my first degree here. And my friends are coming! (I know you wanna scroll down and say, didn't this chick say she ain't got no friends?) But they are and I'll be nice and inebriated. *sigh*

Hubby and I had a lunch date today and I told him, "I've never been to the vineyard. That'll be fun. I am so ready for the drinking to begin." Because that's what we did in undergrad. We drank. And what better way to commemorate our experience than by drinking. To which he responds, "I think you should stay as far away from alcohol as possible." I politely told him no. I will be drunk. Thank you.

Where does he get off!?! I NEVER drink. The last Black Alumni I was nursing (no drinking) and the one before I was pregnant (no drinking). My kid needed me, so I didn't go out except to a BBQ. I am not an old maid nor a "mama" meaning my life is defined by the fact of my child's existence. I want to have fun. I think hubby just wants me to jump aboard his purification train. He's an athlete and wants to be in top shape. But also for his own spirituality. Which I think is lovely. Honestly. But I'm just getting over caffeine (I say as I sip my iced mocha with soy). I love people but don't fully enjoy myself in "party" situations without alcohol. Why you ask? Because I only like to be around Black people. And unfortunately, where I live, black parties only play bullshit music which I will spend my entire night complaining about and breaking down the degrading and destructive messages if it where not for alcohol to drown out the lyrics and keep my head bobbing to the nonsense. And I don't go out anyway. Just once in awhile. I last went out one night in May and before that the last weekend in February and even that was to my girl's house where we all sat around and watch the BET version of Malcolm X followed by a game of taboo til 4 in the morning. That is my going out.

Anyway, Hubby wound up saying, just have a good time. Enjoy yourself. I'm glad he did, because otherwise I would have felt guilty drinking around him.

This is why I look forward to moving to Atlanta. I'm going ahead of him. Perhaps I will find some stimulating places to visit that don't require me to drink in order to enjoy them. I'm told in L.A. there are all sorts of Black people "like me" that gather in convenient nightlife spots. We'll see.

Dear Mama

I have this ongoing love/hate relationship with my mother. Nothing I do is ever good enough. I thought the problem was solved when I delivered the world's most gorgeous grandbaby for her to call her own. But that has seemed to only complicate matters. At ten months, I put him into daycare after acquiring my real estate license. Both my parents decided this act was a hostile one. I became the world's worst mother and my child was doomed to be molested or abused. "You can't expect stranger's to love your child!" is what I was told. And I didn't. I'd leave him there for four hours a day max. He's still at the same daycare. Three days week. We gave him the month off and were considering an entire summer off, but he keeps asking when can he go back to school. He's only three, but he has friends he misses. He's an only child (and will be, at least for a while)so the opportunity to play with other kids is a good one. In August, he will be in the preschool part of their program. We considered moving him to the PreSchool in the local school district or even headstart. Both would save us money, seriously. But he loves his school so much we are going to pay for him to continue at private PreSchool. He has college students as parents. Any money we get goes to bills. And the kid goes to a private PreSchool. Yes, I am a terrible mother. My mother thinks every decision I make for Sun is the wrong one. She basis this on the fact that it is not the decision she would have made. Several times over she says, "I'm not going to say anything else anymore." A week later she's telling me what I did wrong. Always.

About 3 weeks ago we visited her in Chicago. I do this often but limit myself to a 3 day 2 night stay. Any longer than that and I may want to commit suicide. This time I planned a Monday - Sunday stay. My brother was graduating on the Sunday. I figure the weekday couldn't be too bad. She works all day and doesn't make it home until about 7 in the evening. Unfortunately, we had a derecho storm in my town, which is also called and "inland hurricane," that took out power for a week the Friday before I was to go to Chicago. So we left early. I got to spend the whole weekend with my mother. Ignoring her jabs and low blows. "Why don't you comb that out of his head and let me braid it?" Sun's hair is locing. *SMH* Saturday, she told me I need to give her my schedule of activities so she knows what's going on each day. I didn't have any "schedule." Any friends I have remaining in Chicago are crappy and always forget to return calls, or that I'm there, or whatever. Ok, that's just one. The other sleeps all day because she bartends at night. The third, lives here, she was up there, but still. We don't do anything but go to each other's houses and watch TV, play with Sun, and cook. She kept demanding my schedule on Sunday and I told her, rather than stress and disappoint myself by calling folk to see what is going on, I won't do anything if this schedule is needed so badly. I was sincere. It didn't bother me none. I just wanted to relax anyway. I did decide to take Sun to the zoo. Mother was thrilled. She let me take the car, which by the way is a pothole magnet, and gave money for parking ($19 yikes!)and food and toys. We went to the zoo. He saw the penguins, a hippo's butt, rode the train, ate some popcorn, saw a wolf, and then there was the jungle treetops. Think of McDonald's playland, except suspended really high in the air. Oh Sun was all for it. No problem. I am a cool mom and had sanitizing wipes in my bag. Up he goes.



And two hours later, he's yet to come down. All the other kids come down when called. Mind you, they also had other kids they came with. If there had been another kid he came with, and that kid came when called, so would Sun. But no. He said he wasn't coming down. At one point he climbed to the highest point and said he was going to sleep. I feared that threat was real. Which meant me, in my pretty mommy makeup, heels, and cutesy outfit, would have to climb up and in this thing to retrieve my child. Finally, he asks if he could take off his socks. YES! I tell him he has to climb all the way out the exit and I would take them for him. This works. He tells me as he makes his way down, "we're not going home." I hate to betray him, but as soon as he got to me, I snatched his behind up and straight to the bathroom we went. He will remember that moment. Even now, he no longer outright defies, but slowly makes his way to us when called from the park and playlands. Come to think of it, since that time he has not cried when leaving those places which he ALWAYS did. Point is, I told my mother all this. She had a fit. I obviously have no control over my child. Children are to be molded exactly the way we want them to be. She NEVER experienced what I am with my Sun (mind you I'm having a ball). I got to thinking, hmmm..... yep, she molded us pretty well. Maybe that's why all three of us started herbs by 14? One of my brother's just got his degree from and artsy school, that should explain him. The other is about to spend five years in high school. And me, I'm a hippie who let my hair loc into a bird's nest one summer. I had four or five boyfriends another summer. I'm a proud career student. And I'm considering rearranging my family into and African Matriarchy. I'm pretty sure she saw never that coming.

See, my thing is, not only does she have no issue with inserting her opinion, she also believes it's okay to tell me what a failure I am as a mother. She can't believe I don't give my child beef or bacon. Or that he eats at random times. Or that he is not a fat butterball. She told my father I am starving my child. My Sun is slim and has muscles. I don't know anyone who is suffering from starvation with muscles. He's three and has muscles!!! She also told me, with her hand about a foot from the ground, I'm that little. And that I will always only be a child to her. So whatever I have to say doesn't matter. Hmmm.... what she said didn't bother me, but that she actually attempts to say hurtful things does. This is why when I left for college in January 2001, I have never been back to her home for longer than two weeks since. I just don't get it. Then I think, maybe all parents are severely condescending and insulting of their children. Maybe it's me. Maybe telling her I refuse to allow anyone to consistently negatively criticize me for the sake of making themselves feel better, was wrong. She also told me people who can't take criticism are weak and will be ate alive. Come to think of it, I didn't say I can't, I said I won't. I just don't get it. Why fight with me? We are not competing for anything. Maybe she thinks so. She keeps saying I'm not smarter than her no matter what I think. I never thought I was. Or said so.

This stresses me because I really want her to be nice and loving and not evil. She's not evil. She's hateful. I didn't go to my brother's graduation. My husband came up that Thursday to pick up my Sun. His parents, who live in the Bahamas, were going to be in Indiana for his sister's track meet. It bumped with bro's graduation, so the plan was for him to grab the kid so he can spend time with his other grandparents. I just left as well. There was no way I was going to stick around that woman by myself. I could have went to my father's house. But his wife thinks I'm possessed with demons. No joke. They're Jehovah's Witnesses. Long story. I have decided I will no longer visit my parents unless I have my own hotel. And have brought my car. **sighs**

No Drama Mama

People who are around me these days will say one of the things I champion most about myself is that I've no drama in my life. That might be a teensy lie as my drama is of another sort. I am married, 4+ years with a 3 year old boy. My husband and I argue sure, but about dishes and laundry. I had drama yesterday. Baby boy is, for lack of a better term, anal retentive. He hates to poop. He rather do it in his pull up than in the toilet. I do know why, but whatever. Usually, he'll go in his room and close the door thinking he is hiding from us. Last night, we tried sitting on the potty three times. Oh he screamed and fought. So I let him have his pull up back. The fourth time, he ran to the bathroom and I after him. He said, "No Mommy!" and shut the door on me. Fine, I left him. I figured he would poop in his pull up as always and be fine. At least he's in the right room. Two minutes later I hear the toilet flush. I run in to him. His pull up is still on put somehow, there is a thick layer of poop smeared across the bathroom floor with a radius of a foot. Seriously. The wall looked as though it had been attacked by monkeys. And poo was all over the toilet seat. None in the bowl of course. I look at my smiling boy and ask what happened. "There's poo poo everywhere!" Yes. Indeed there was.

Later, after all the poo was gone, my husband and I had a talk. We have the same talk over and over. We've been married over four years and we have definitely become a married couple. We just live. Which is a problem because I am a person who thrives on spontaneity and romance, passion and tingly feelings. We wake, eat, dress, drop our boy at pre-school, and go class. I am a grad student and he is pursuing a second bachelors. In the course of our day I work in an organizational office, do research for a professor and attempt to get school work done. He goes to class and works out. He is an amateur athlete/personal trainer. In the evening, if neither of us are at meetings, we manage dinner, playing with our boy, and homework. Then we sleep and start again. I think I'll meditate my woes away. Reading over this I feel silly complaining. He's a good husband.