Always Being Bad Cop

No one wants to be bad cop all the time, right?  Well, welcome to single parenthood!  Whether you are divorced or have lost your significant other due to death or your significant other travels a lot (I will include you in this, my friends) or you have made the choice to go this road alone—no one wants to be the heavy all the time.  Well, maybe I shouldn’t say NO ONE!  I am sure there are some people who don’t mind being the disciplinarian ALL THE TIME!  But that is a different story all together, right?

However, when looking at Team Williams’ discipline path, it can be tough to feel like you are the only voice saying things like: Please be careful!  Please use both hands!  Please don’t touch the stove!  Please hold my hand!  Please climb into the car!  Please go potty before we leave!  Please sit down on the couch!  Please pick up your cars so that Mommy doesn’t step on them!  Please turn off the light!  Please keep the water IN the bathtub!  Please use your fork and napkin!  Please put your shoes on before you go outside.  Please stay out of the street!  We wear our helmet when we ride our bike or our scooter, right?  We don’t hit, do we?  We don’t scream unless we are hurt, right?  We use our nice words with our friends, right?  We listen and pay attention when teachers are talking, right?  Please say ‘excuse me’ when Mommy is talking!  We don’t throw sand because it could hurt our friends, right?  And on and on and on and on!

I am sure that married/co-parent people still have someone who is the more “dominant” parent when it comes to discipline, but since I don’t live in their homes nor does my son, I have no clue how they do it.  I can only wing it in our home and hope that the plan I have in place, right now, is working/shaping him!  And, do I automatically become a nag simply because the only voice he hears as a yay or a nay is mine?  Am I giving the right balance of “sure!” and “heck no!”?

Always being the bad cop sucks!!!

Would love to hear your thoughts/input/opinions!

Treyvon Bandwagon

So, you know I had to do it, right?  I know that this blog post won’t be about anything that y’all haven’t already heard, read or seen in the media, but still, as I sit here listening to my 4 year old son singing “Twinkle, Twinkle” in his room, I can’t NOT say something.  I am sad, frustrated, wounded and a little scared!

I know what African Americans have gone through in this country.  I know the history of this country and how minorities are treated today.  All I have to do is look at my own community and I can tell what’s going on.  I first heard about this story and obviously, I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.  As someone who has worked in the prison system and the daughter of a civil servant (retired fireman), I generally, think that police and the like do their due diligence!  I didn’t want to automatically think anything like this was race based.  I didn’t want to think that it’s another Florida death where the accused murderer got off.  I just didn’t want to assume anything. 

However, over the past few weeks, I can only think about what this inaction and confusion and finger pointing means for my son.  It also makes me think about our community and what our “friends” REALLY think about race and race related issues.  I have read so many posts on Facebook and Twitter and heard people’s opinions about how it was or wasn’t racially motivated.  I have read how people don’t “see” race, so they don’t understand how others can just assume that this was racially motivated.  I have read people getting mad and even incensed about people of color gathering around a cause and being frustrated or hurt or confused.  I have seen how some people just want to “sweep” it under the rug and get upset when we don’t just “walk in love!”

Well, I too am confused.  I too am frustrated.  How do I, a white woman who is OUTRAGED by this, explain this kind of thing to my son?  I know the simple answers and I am not looking for advise, but it does make me think!  Clearly, K and I are not having this conversation today, but someday, we will—this I know for sure.  How do I explain why talking about race is tough for some people but we do it all the time? 
I know that most of my questions (these and the other ones roaming around in my head) will work themselves out and when the time comes, I will be able to have a dialogue with K about such things.  I trust myself on that one.  I also feel that  even if I don’t have an answer for him, we can figure things out together or I will point him in the right direction or to the person who I hope can help him.  These are conversations that can wait for now, but this is a conversation that I need to add to the ever growing list of things that I know we will need to talk about; things we should most certainly talk about: Martin Luther King, Tsegaye Gabre-Medhin, Malcolm X, Rosa Parks, the Freedom Riders, Thurgood Marshall, Zora Nealle Hurston, Colin Powell, Alvin Ailey, Robel Teklemariam, Frederick Douglas, Sojourner Truth, Medger Evers, Langston Hughes, President Obama, Nelson Mandela and the like!

I don’t know… maybe this is just me brain dumping—it most likely is.  But please, parents, let’s have these kinds of talks with our kids.  Let’s open the doors of conversation about race and race related issues—not forcing them, but dealing with them.  Let’s celebrate how different we are, in a good way.  Let’s also put politics and religion and whatever aside and be outraged that this kid was killed. 

"It's Natural... Everybody Poops!"

Scenario: K in the bathroom a LONG time.  He usually asks for help by this time, but there is just grunting and deep breathing happening in there.  I open the door to ask if he needs any help.

Me:  You need any… (I see his head almost between his legs while he is on the toilet)  What are you doing?
K:  (Very matter of fact like) Trying to see my poop as it comes out of my booty.
Me:  (No response)…
K:  It’s ok Mommy! It’s natural.  Everybody poops!

*Thanks Son for that revelation!  I might never have known that, if you hadn’t told me!  Love this kid!

Conversation about “dunder” clouds

Scenario:  In the car on the way home from a rainy day!

K: Mommy, are those dunder clouds?

Me:  Yes baby!  And what do THunder clouds do?

K:  They make loud sounds and crash us!

M:  Crash us?

K: Yes!  Dunder and lightning are loud and bright and can crash us!

M:  Konjo, thunder clouds can be loud, but they won’t crash us!

K:  They could though maybe.  They can be scary but we aren’t scared of anysing.  We are brave.

M:  That’s right.  And thunder clouds bring us rain and we love the rain!

K:  Oh yes Mommy!  I love rain! I can jump puddles and wear my boots and… look at that tractor!

*And done with the dunder cloud talk!

K’s First World Problems—Things that, in his mind, really SUCK!!!

*In no particular order

When the pink computer (AKA the iPad 2) battery is low

When his light saber batteries are dead

When the batteries in his RC truck are dead.

Wailing and gnashing of teeth occur if I don’t let him push the “start” button on the microwave.

When he isn’t allowed to push the garage door button to watch the door close

When I let him choose which shoes he wants to wear to T-ball—he can choose between 4 pairs.

When all 4 of his Buzz Lightyear shirts are dirty and that’s the shirt he REAALLLLY wanted to wear to school.

Having to choose between his two sets of rain boots

Only getting to go on the Casey Jr. train at Disneyland 2 times instead of 3 (or any ride since we go at least once a week).

When I only let him play at the park after school for 30 minutes because, um, it’s DARK OUT!!!

Only going to 4 pumpkin patches instead of as many as he wanted.

And the list goes on and on and on!!!

PumpkinStein

K’s school always participates in the annual “Treats in the Streets” in Old Towne Orange.  Each year that class goes as a theme—this year was “Peter Pan and Friends”.  His teachers put it all together and they do an amazing job!  And the kids always look so cute!!!

Afterwards, we go back to school and do a pizza party, but this year, we did a new thing—a pumpkin derby!  When I got the flyer about it, I thought, “Cool, stab some sticks through a pumpkin and strap on some wheels and let’s do this thing!”  However, when I showed the flyer to my dad (AKA Grandpa), he told me, “I will take care of this!” I left this task in his capable hands!

Four days of brainstorming and measuring and researching and painting wheels and stabbing the pumpkin, and looking for the perfectly sized pumpkin and FINALLY, it was ready for us to “decorate”.  I had some leftover “potato head” pumpkin things from a party last year, but asked K how he wanted to decorate it.  He wanted to do the Frankenstein potato head stuff!  I was all for it—not having to whip out paint and brushes (and painting shirts and plastic for the table and…well you get the idea) was a dream come true!

Now once we got to see the competition, I admit, I was a BIT intimidated, but hey, it’s just all in fun, right?  Hmmmmm.  Even if ours sucked, no one would care, would they?  Well, I thought, at least our pumpkin had a cool name—PumpkinStein!

We were in the last heat, and I had witnessed some pretty serious contenders wipe out big time—like all the wheels disintegrating before it even hit the pavement!!!  So I wasn’t wholly hopeful that ours would kick butt—but WE DID!!!  In our first round, our pumpkin beat everyone for distance!  It was AWESOME!  And K (and my dad) were beyond stoked!  K chased it down the street but couldn’t keep up!  He was beside himself!

In the championship round, we completely kicked butt!  Not only did K win a prize for longest run, he also won the overall race!  It was so great—not only for K, but for my dad!  They are best friends, and I was so glad that they got to share this moment! 

*And not only that, the other dad’s were trying to pimp the winning info outta my dad as to how he built that mutha of a machine!  He certainly DIDN’T share any trade secrets!!!*

Just call me proud Mama (and daughter!).  Go PumpkinStein!!!  Go Team Williams!!!

Tuesday Truth-day! September 27, 2011

*I will use each Tuesday to rat myself out about something!  It’s all in good fun and I am sure that these “truth-day” revelations won’t be things people don’t already know about me!

Thank you lady in the Honolulu airport for your “kind” comments to me.  It would have been nice if you had just stepped to me like a grown up to share your thoughts about my raising a black child, but I guess not.  Sadly, you are clearly not a mature woman who can ask questions about our family, but make assumptions and then speak them loudly enough so that I can hear you.  And I know you were talking about us because, let’s face it, how many black kids with white Mamas were there at the Honolulu airport.  Jus sayin’!

I pity you, but at the same time, I have compassion for you, so that’s why I stepped to you and “confronted” you.  I know it caught you off guard, but oh well.  I know you weren’t prepared for me to want to sit next to you in the crowded gate area to ask you why you felt it necessary to make such comments about me or my child.  I know you were caught off guard when I asked you if you really wanted to know how we became a family and what I teach my son about his Ethiopian-American heritage.  I know it caught you off guard that I speak his native language and know how many countries make up the continent of Africa (not that this takes rocket science to know, but you didn’t know how many there were, so…).  I know you weren’t ready for me to tell you that I have taken my son to culture class, that we hang out with other Ethiopian-American kids, and that I take pride in and love his culture.  I know you weren’t prepared for my kindness towards you. Actually, you probably didn’t think that I would even say anything to you. Well, you were wrong.  And now you know that you were wrong on so many levels. 

So, thank you fellow traveler who lives in LA, but couldn’t tell me where “Little Ethiopia” was.  Thank you for making me even more determined to educate ignorant folks and to make sure that my son isn’t one of them!

PS—beware of the Mama Bear lady, and you best be thankful that I love God!  Believe that!

Conversation of the day in Hawaii—three times a charm

Scene:  Beach

60-something married couple (60SMC):  Is that your son?

Me:  Yes he is.

60SMC:  Would you mind if we asked you some questions about him?  It’s obvious that he wasn’t born in the US.  He is breathtaking and such a happy kid!!!

Me:  Thank you!  And you are correct—he was born in Ethiopia.  I agree—he is pretty amazing!  We became a family a little over a year and a half ago.

60SMC:  How wonderful!  We have some friends of friends who just adopted from Haiti right before the earthquake.  Since we don’t know them very well, I would love to use the correct verbiage when talking to them about their son.  We haven’t met anyone else who has ever adopted.  Is that weird to ask you?

Me:  Not at all.  I wish more people would ask.  Go ahead and ask away…

Twenty minute conversation that turned into an appropriate adoption terminology.

60SMC:  Your son is so lucky to have you for a mom.  We can’t tell you how much this means to us.  We know how precious family is and to be able to become a family—no matter how it happens, is a miracle.

Me:  Thank you!  But I have to tell you.  I am the one who is blessed.  He has changed my whole life for the better.

60SMC:  Well, it shows on both of your faces.

*We parted ways!  This conversation left me smiling!