Nothing screams weekend better than underpants on your head! ROCK ON! IT'S FIRDAY!
This is was too cute not to share. Have a FANTASTIC FRIDAY EVERYONE!
Friday, November 12, 2010
Happy Friday!
Nothing screams weekend better than underpants on your head! ROCK ON! IT'S FIRDAY!
This is was too cute not to share. Have a FANTASTIC FRIDAY EVERYONE!
Monday, November 08, 2010
Booksi of The Week
Anyone who knows me knows I have a new booski just about every week. They are frequent like my changing of underwear but I think I found true love this time.
His name is Kero One and his a Korean Rap Artist.
I was put onto K-pop earlier this year by my cousin, Renee. I am a total Big Bang fan, TOP being my fave because he is just so damn silly but has such a serious swagger. When he actually crip walked in his music video, Turn It Up Now I thought I almost died. My husband just said "Wow, that's a gangsta asian."
Don't even get me started on his appearence in Se7en's video, Digital Bounce.
Next up is Taeyang, mainly because he has an intense love for Jesus and not for nothing, the easiest way into my heart is to love The Lord like I do. Then he plays the piano, I find that incredibly sexy. The beginning of his video Wedding Dress ...*fans self* Yeah, it's just that serious. But he's veritcally challenged. Thats a big downer. You can't be short like I am. That won't work.
Either way with ALL the love I have for K-pop, if you take a gander at each video, you'd be hard pressed to find a non-asain woman in any of them. The only exception was in TOP's vid. The chick he acted like he was playing the piano on was in fact white (I have my own theories on why that is but anyway...).
Now enter Kero One...Yeah man not only rhymes in English but has a plethora of non-asain women in his video, On Bended Knee. The first chick is light skinned black, then there were two white chicks, and then an old asain couple who were clearly still making it do what it do in the love department. But in the end he went home to his woman who was a dark skinned sista!
Big ups to him for showing love can exist outside of the boundaries scoiety has tried to place on us. You find love where you find it. Whether the person is white, black, green, or purple with orange polka dots.
Not to mention that he can actually rhyme.
So to my BOOSKI of the WEEK: Here's to you Kero One!
Wednesday, November 03, 2010
The Day of the Elections/Rant...
I am not surprised by the results of yesterday's midterm elections. Republicans taking the house seemed inevitable with the state of unrest the country has been in. All a oerson has to do is go outside their door to feel the level of hopelessness that stirs in the air. People want jobs. People want money. And they want it now!
Many blame President Obama for the Republican sweep. Both parties have voiced displeasure with his presidency thus far. He ran for president on the platform of change and yet many are not seeing it. He made a promise and hasn't delivered on it in the time table many believed it should have been.
Do I blame our President? No. I blame society and it's quick fix mentality. I blame the media that has harped on his failures. But that's not to say Obama hasn't made some missteps.
He has.
The main one is ignoring Bill Clinton's motto for winning his 1993 and 1997 elections: It's the ECONOMY, STUPID!
Bubba got away with murder. Figuratively, of course...Oh wait, literally. Anyone remember the Rwanda Genocide?
Probably not. It's one of those gloss over moments that America doesn't like to talk about because we look like douche bags when we do.
There was no humanitarian effort made on the part of the US to stop the genocide even after the US was warned by a Hutu allies that it was going to happen. All because it was happening in Africa and Lord knows we can't do anything to help Africans if it's not in our own interest. In three months between 800,000 - 1,000,000 Tutsi's were murdered. But it wasn't called genocide, but ACTS of genocide. How many acts of genocide constitute genocide? I don't know.
But I am getting away from myself...
If you look at the gaffes in Bill Clinton's presidency (and there were many, Lewinsky Scandal, the Gov't shutdown of '95 - although not to angry with him about that b/c Newt Gingrich was all kinds of out of place and in the end, suffered a political bitch slap) people didn't really care too much one way or the other because their pockets were lined with money. The economy was flowing.
People had jobs, they had money, and it kept them oblivious to whatever the hell was going on in the world.
President Obama really needs to take note.
You can literally get away with murder if you keep money in people's pockets. If he had, the American people would ignore the fact that change is NOT an instanteous process.
It is slow. At times painfully so. Epseically when you are looking to implement change that is going to last. Just look at how long since the the first presidential election in this country until now, for a person of color to occupy the Oval Office. From 1789 until 2008. That's 219 years.
Not an overnight process.
And while change does start with one person it often takes others taking up a cause for it to be seen through to it's completion. Obama seems to be doing it all by his lonesome. Now that he has even less support in the house and Senate, the change will be even slower in happening.
It's on to the 2012 elections from here. If The President wants to stick around for another term he's going to have to do something; namely give people money to pacify them, like President Clinton did. Following his example, he could murder a million folks and no one give a damn b/c they have money in their pockets.
Many blame President Obama for the Republican sweep. Both parties have voiced displeasure with his presidency thus far. He ran for president on the platform of change and yet many are not seeing it. He made a promise and hasn't delivered on it in the time table many believed it should have been.
Do I blame our President? No. I blame society and it's quick fix mentality. I blame the media that has harped on his failures. But that's not to say Obama hasn't made some missteps.
He has.
The main one is ignoring Bill Clinton's motto for winning his 1993 and 1997 elections: It's the ECONOMY, STUPID!
Bubba got away with murder. Figuratively, of course...Oh wait, literally. Anyone remember the Rwanda Genocide?
Probably not. It's one of those gloss over moments that America doesn't like to talk about because we look like douche bags when we do.
There was no humanitarian effort made on the part of the US to stop the genocide even after the US was warned by a Hutu allies that it was going to happen. All because it was happening in Africa and Lord knows we can't do anything to help Africans if it's not in our own interest. In three months between 800,000 - 1,000,000 Tutsi's were murdered. But it wasn't called genocide, but ACTS of genocide. How many acts of genocide constitute genocide? I don't know.
But I am getting away from myself...
If you look at the gaffes in Bill Clinton's presidency (and there were many, Lewinsky Scandal, the Gov't shutdown of '95 - although not to angry with him about that b/c Newt Gingrich was all kinds of out of place and in the end, suffered a political bitch slap) people didn't really care too much one way or the other because their pockets were lined with money. The economy was flowing.
People had jobs, they had money, and it kept them oblivious to whatever the hell was going on in the world.
President Obama really needs to take note.
You can literally get away with murder if you keep money in people's pockets. If he had, the American people would ignore the fact that change is NOT an instanteous process.
It is slow. At times painfully so. Epseically when you are looking to implement change that is going to last. Just look at how long since the the first presidential election in this country until now, for a person of color to occupy the Oval Office. From 1789 until 2008. That's 219 years.
Not an overnight process.
And while change does start with one person it often takes others taking up a cause for it to be seen through to it's completion. Obama seems to be doing it all by his lonesome. Now that he has even less support in the house and Senate, the change will be even slower in happening.
It's on to the 2012 elections from here. If The President wants to stick around for another term he's going to have to do something; namely give people money to pacify them, like President Clinton did. Following his example, he could murder a million folks and no one give a damn b/c they have money in their pockets.
Tuesday, November 02, 2010
Get out and VOTE!
I don't care what party you are a part of or what candidate or ideology you support, words are meaningless unless you put actions behind them. Get out and vote!
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Facebook...The Distraction Network
Over the weekend (and a few glasses of sangria) my husband and I came to a conclusion: Facebook is a distraction.
I know that some of you may not agree but just here me out. What does one really do on facebook? constantly checking updates of your 'friends' or seeing who has responded or either liked an update you posted.
Accepting friend requests from ppl you went to grades school, middle school and high school; some of which you really weren't cool with when you were in these places anyway.
Then there are the games such as mob wars, mafia wars, farmville or whatever is out there, perfecting make believe societies, earning make believe money.
Then there are those lovely inbox notices from those 'friends' of yours who are promoters (That really annoys me, b/c my slight OCD makes me check the messages just to get rid of that red balloon on the screen.)
Then you have those brave soul who engage in cyber beef. I mean I'm bold as brass when I need to be. I'm known for having a mouth. If I have something to say to you I'm going to say it TO YOU! Not via status update and be passive aggressive about it.
Then there's that whole unfriending business which seems to be the ultimate diss these days.
And what does this amount to? A bunch of nothing. You've spent time on a site distracting you from whatever it is you could be doing.
But then again this is just my POV. I would like to know what anyone else thinks...
I know that some of you may not agree but just here me out. What does one really do on facebook? constantly checking updates of your 'friends' or seeing who has responded or either liked an update you posted.
Accepting friend requests from ppl you went to grades school, middle school and high school; some of which you really weren't cool with when you were in these places anyway.
Then there are the games such as mob wars, mafia wars, farmville or whatever is out there, perfecting make believe societies, earning make believe money.
Then there are those lovely inbox notices from those 'friends' of yours who are promoters (That really annoys me, b/c my slight OCD makes me check the messages just to get rid of that red balloon on the screen.)
Then you have those brave soul who engage in cyber beef. I mean I'm bold as brass when I need to be. I'm known for having a mouth. If I have something to say to you I'm going to say it TO YOU! Not via status update and be passive aggressive about it.
Then there's that whole unfriending business which seems to be the ultimate diss these days.
And what does this amount to? A bunch of nothing. You've spent time on a site distracting you from whatever it is you could be doing.
But then again this is just my POV. I would like to know what anyone else thinks...
Monday, October 25, 2010
Great Women Doing Great Things!
This is a story birthed from my LOVE for Kick Ass Woman! Point of No Return, G.I. Jane, A Long Kiss Goodnight, these movies are all on my top ten list of "Great Women Doing Great Things!"
My Grandmother (R.I.P) was one of those kinds of women. While my mother won't admit it, she is too :) Growing up I have always gravitated toward women who are strong in mind, body and spirit. So to you all who have loved me, nutured me, and shaped me into the woman I have become, THIS is for YOU!
The Name of This Story is called Kissing Koi Fish...
Japan, date unknown, time unknown…
There is usually a beauty attached to death. A macabre kind of beauty, but a kind of beauty nonetheless. But there was no beauty in this. No honor in this.
Hiroko Katsura struggled against the bonds of braided rope as the as the iron was burned into his flesh; his screams absorbed by the cement walls. The hanging flood light above him was the only light in the room. Seated beneath it, he was surrounded by darkness.
“Lift him up.” The voice of his tormentor echoed in Japanese. There were at least two others in the room carrying out their leaders orders. Strong hands pulled at the back his hair, forcing him to look up. Smoke from a cigar preceded the man that came into view.
“Where is the girl, old man?”
They were searching for his Kiyoko-san. His young, vibrant, Kiyoko-san.
His silence was met with a backhanded slap.
“This can all be over when you tell me what I want to know. You will have your freedom.”
The only freedom Hiroko sought was to pass on into the spirit world. He knew he wouldn’t get out of this alive. The vision he’d had months ago revealed to him that much. Just like the vision he’d had 8 years ago that had led him to the girl, this man desperately wanted. Just like the vision that had told him when and how to send her away almost 3 years ago.
“Even a sheet of paper has two sides,” He rasped out in broken Japanese. His head was thrown forward forcefully as hard eyes stared down at him. Uncharacteristically he laughed. His left eye swollen shut, he could still make out the expression of confusion on his executioners face.
“Waste him.”
A butcher knife glinted in against the light and his head was yanked back again.
“What you seek, will be your downfall.”
Because the last vision Hiroko had before his timely capture, was the one of Kiyoko-san avenging his death.
Norfolk Virginia, present day
Cutting across the back alley was not a short cut Eneida took most nights. But tonight someone was following her. She spotted him when she exited the bar at the end of shift. And at after one in the morning she didn't need too many guesses on why a masked man would be following anyone.
Pulling her shawl tighter, Eneida quickened her pace. But it wasn’t quick enough when the distinct barrel of a gun was shoved against her back halted her in her tracks.
“Keep quiet and I’ll let you live.” A gloved hand grabbed tight hold of her arm and marched her farther into the darkened alley.
“I have money in my wallet. Just take it and let me go.”
“Quiet!” he threw her against a brick wall while turning her to face him, the gun’s barrel now pressed against her throat. His movements were no longer hasty but his breathing became harder as his free hand touched the exposed skin below the hem of her shirt, inching higher.
“You don’t want to do this.” She warned.
“I said QUIET!” He backhanded her across the face. A groan of pain that followed but it wasn’t from her, but him. She moved so fast he never saw it coming. Enieda’s left hand was securely locked on the pressure point of her attacker’s wrist, while she kneed him squarely in the nuts. He fell to his knees, his arm still in her grasp. Bending down, Eneida picked up the discarded gun.
“I told you didn’t want to do this.” She pressed it against her attacker’s hand and listened to him beg. “I told you to take my money and go, but you didn’t listen.” She pulled the trigger and shot right through his hand.
He roared in pain and she lifted the ski mask over his face. His cries producing tears that streaked across his grime covered face. She picked up his other hand and imprinted the barrel of the gun on it. His wounded hand held close to his body, her would be attacker mumbling his pleas.
“What was that? I can’t hear you.” Enieda egged on.
“P-Please don’t.” he stammered, looking up at her.
“Sorry, but I can’t let you live.” With that she aimed the gun at his head and pulled the trigger.
My Grandmother (R.I.P) was one of those kinds of women. While my mother won't admit it, she is too :) Growing up I have always gravitated toward women who are strong in mind, body and spirit. So to you all who have loved me, nutured me, and shaped me into the woman I have become, THIS is for YOU!
The Name of This Story is called Kissing Koi Fish...
Japan, date unknown, time unknown…
There is usually a beauty attached to death. A macabre kind of beauty, but a kind of beauty nonetheless. But there was no beauty in this. No honor in this.
Hiroko Katsura struggled against the bonds of braided rope as the as the iron was burned into his flesh; his screams absorbed by the cement walls. The hanging flood light above him was the only light in the room. Seated beneath it, he was surrounded by darkness.
“Lift him up.” The voice of his tormentor echoed in Japanese. There were at least two others in the room carrying out their leaders orders. Strong hands pulled at the back his hair, forcing him to look up. Smoke from a cigar preceded the man that came into view.
“Where is the girl, old man?”
They were searching for his Kiyoko-san. His young, vibrant, Kiyoko-san.
His silence was met with a backhanded slap.
“This can all be over when you tell me what I want to know. You will have your freedom.”
The only freedom Hiroko sought was to pass on into the spirit world. He knew he wouldn’t get out of this alive. The vision he’d had months ago revealed to him that much. Just like the vision he’d had 8 years ago that had led him to the girl, this man desperately wanted. Just like the vision that had told him when and how to send her away almost 3 years ago.
“Even a sheet of paper has two sides,” He rasped out in broken Japanese. His head was thrown forward forcefully as hard eyes stared down at him. Uncharacteristically he laughed. His left eye swollen shut, he could still make out the expression of confusion on his executioners face.
“Waste him.”
A butcher knife glinted in against the light and his head was yanked back again.
“What you seek, will be your downfall.”
Because the last vision Hiroko had before his timely capture, was the one of Kiyoko-san avenging his death.
Norfolk Virginia, present day
Cutting across the back alley was not a short cut Eneida took most nights. But tonight someone was following her. She spotted him when she exited the bar at the end of shift. And at after one in the morning she didn't need too many guesses on why a masked man would be following anyone.
Pulling her shawl tighter, Eneida quickened her pace. But it wasn’t quick enough when the distinct barrel of a gun was shoved against her back halted her in her tracks.
“Keep quiet and I’ll let you live.” A gloved hand grabbed tight hold of her arm and marched her farther into the darkened alley.
“I have money in my wallet. Just take it and let me go.”
“Quiet!” he threw her against a brick wall while turning her to face him, the gun’s barrel now pressed against her throat. His movements were no longer hasty but his breathing became harder as his free hand touched the exposed skin below the hem of her shirt, inching higher.
“You don’t want to do this.” She warned.
“I said QUIET!” He backhanded her across the face. A groan of pain that followed but it wasn’t from her, but him. She moved so fast he never saw it coming. Enieda’s left hand was securely locked on the pressure point of her attacker’s wrist, while she kneed him squarely in the nuts. He fell to his knees, his arm still in her grasp. Bending down, Eneida picked up the discarded gun.
“I told you didn’t want to do this.” She pressed it against her attacker’s hand and listened to him beg. “I told you to take my money and go, but you didn’t listen.” She pulled the trigger and shot right through his hand.
He roared in pain and she lifted the ski mask over his face. His cries producing tears that streaked across his grime covered face. She picked up his other hand and imprinted the barrel of the gun on it. His wounded hand held close to his body, her would be attacker mumbling his pleas.
“What was that? I can’t hear you.” Enieda egged on.
“P-Please don’t.” he stammered, looking up at her.
“Sorry, but I can’t let you live.” With that she aimed the gun at his head and pulled the trigger.
Fallen: Tale of The Dark God Review
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0044R8ZCK/ref=cm_cr_mts_prod_img
This month I had the pleasure of reading Fallen: Tale of the Dark God by Violette Dubrinsky. As a lover of quality writing that makes sense, has an enjoyable story line, and is scortching hot, I have to say Ms. Dubrinsky's work definitely fit the bill. The Paranormal element was just the icing on the cake :)
Thanatos, was THE MAN! Period. Case closed. End of Story! He was everything you expected a Dark God to be and then some. Even when he is cursed to earth by Aphrodite, he is still a magnanomous specimen of man. Simone was as endearing as a heroine can be. In the end, they made a nice match. The build up was believable, the sex climatic, and the end result satisfying. I am looking forward to more of Ms. Dubrinsky's work. She's definitely won herself a fan!
This month I had the pleasure of reading Fallen: Tale of the Dark God by Violette Dubrinsky. As a lover of quality writing that makes sense, has an enjoyable story line, and is scortching hot, I have to say Ms. Dubrinsky's work definitely fit the bill. The Paranormal element was just the icing on the cake :)
Thanatos, was THE MAN! Period. Case closed. End of Story! He was everything you expected a Dark God to be and then some. Even when he is cursed to earth by Aphrodite, he is still a magnanomous specimen of man. Simone was as endearing as a heroine can be. In the end, they made a nice match. The build up was believable, the sex climatic, and the end result satisfying. I am looking forward to more of Ms. Dubrinsky's work. She's definitely won herself a fan!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Slow and Steady Wins The Race
Good Morning All! It has been a while. With moving, unpacking, trying to get the family adjusted to the new neighborhood, gearing up for the summer and the upcoming school year, I haven't had much time to sit down at my computer let alone update you guys on the ongoings of my life.
My last post dealt with my weight loss so I'll pick up with that.
Absolutely nothing happened.
I did the detox and within a few weeks, that weight came back...talk about a BUMMER! In all fairness, the book did say that it was a quick temporary fix of sorts. Having a liquid only diet for 6 days your bound to drop some lbs. But I am not dissuaded.
I was on this Food Lover's Fat Loss Program, by Robert Ferguson, which is working more for my husband than it is for me. He's lost 12 lbs so far!
Me? A measely 5.5 lbs...
Somehow I have managed to keep the greeneyed monster in check about that!
After watching portions, writing down what I ate, the times I ate them, and counting carbs, none of it worked.
Okay, so that's not entirely true...My family is eating healthier. And the honey and I are more conscious of what we eat.
That's a plus, right?
And...I have added hot yoga to my weekly regimen. The last time I dropped a substantial amount of weight, hot yoga or should I say Bikram yoga was involved. So I have started up my pratice again. It's been a week, I've taken four classes and my body is already hurting. That's a good thing!
While many would get dissuaded by the lack of weight loss, I'm not. I am standing of Phillippians 4:13 and know that it will happen. Slow and steady is going to win the race on this one, as it does with almost everything in our lives.
Living in an instantenous society, we want what we want, when we want it. Microwaves, the Internet, Cars are all ways out society has gotten faster over the last hundred years. So much so that we expect snap results in every area of our lives. That isn't always the case. With the changes of eating better foods and incoroparting more exercise, there will be changes (for the better) in my body.
Slow and Steady will win this Race!
Have a Terrific Tuesday Everyone!
My last post dealt with my weight loss so I'll pick up with that.
Absolutely nothing happened.
I did the detox and within a few weeks, that weight came back...talk about a BUMMER! In all fairness, the book did say that it was a quick temporary fix of sorts. Having a liquid only diet for 6 days your bound to drop some lbs. But I am not dissuaded.
I was on this Food Lover's Fat Loss Program, by Robert Ferguson, which is working more for my husband than it is for me. He's lost 12 lbs so far!
Me? A measely 5.5 lbs...
Somehow I have managed to keep the greeneyed monster in check about that!
After watching portions, writing down what I ate, the times I ate them, and counting carbs, none of it worked.
Okay, so that's not entirely true...My family is eating healthier. And the honey and I are more conscious of what we eat.
That's a plus, right?
And...I have added hot yoga to my weekly regimen. The last time I dropped a substantial amount of weight, hot yoga or should I say Bikram yoga was involved. So I have started up my pratice again. It's been a week, I've taken four classes and my body is already hurting. That's a good thing!
While many would get dissuaded by the lack of weight loss, I'm not. I am standing of Phillippians 4:13 and know that it will happen. Slow and steady is going to win the race on this one, as it does with almost everything in our lives.
Living in an instantenous society, we want what we want, when we want it. Microwaves, the Internet, Cars are all ways out society has gotten faster over the last hundred years. So much so that we expect snap results in every area of our lives. That isn't always the case. With the changes of eating better foods and incoroparting more exercise, there will be changes (for the better) in my body.
Slow and Steady will win this Race!
Have a Terrific Tuesday Everyone!
Monday, April 19, 2010
6 Day Detox....
It's been a long week. My husband and I embarked on a six day detox last week, and all I can say is that I am SO GLAD to be able to eat real food again.
This was step one on our journey to lose weight together and I figured I'd write about it, and maybe somewhere down the road this will be of use to someone.
I've always been a 'big girl'. Through out high-school I was a solid 14/16. But after nearly five years of marriage and two children later, let's just say I am no longer sporting my 'girlish' firgure.
But I want it back. And dammit I WILL have it back! I actually want to be smaller than that, but that is one goal on my road to better health. At the size I am now (22/24), I am not healthy. Not as healhty as I could be. I have children to think about, a husband who I adore. I want to be around for them.
Recently, I lost my father due to poor health and eating so all of this is really hitting home for me. I don't want my husband to bury me. I don't want to bury him, so together we are making this change for the better.
The detox was pretty much a six day liquid fast in which you drank assigned smoothies and juices every 2 - 3 hours. This detox drop is a part of the Food Lovers Fat Loss System which I had to re-order b/c I lost some of the key components.
This is the second time I've done the detox and I have to admit this go round as A LOT easier than the first. My dreaming about food didn't happen until about day 4. Last time it was from the moment I started that food was ALWAYS on my mind.
I think the most difficult thing was not being able to eat food. I wasn't necessarily hungry, but the mechanics of physically eating were missed. This detox also makes sure you are hydrated demanding a minimum of 2 quarts of water a day on top of what you are already drinking.
I lost 9.4lbs so far.
I can honestly say I have more energy now than I did before and am more focused. We'll how it goes when I start the 21 day metabolism makeover (when it arrives)
Until then!
Sebine
This was step one on our journey to lose weight together and I figured I'd write about it, and maybe somewhere down the road this will be of use to someone.
I've always been a 'big girl'. Through out high-school I was a solid 14/16. But after nearly five years of marriage and two children later, let's just say I am no longer sporting my 'girlish' firgure.
But I want it back. And dammit I WILL have it back! I actually want to be smaller than that, but that is one goal on my road to better health. At the size I am now (22/24), I am not healthy. Not as healhty as I could be. I have children to think about, a husband who I adore. I want to be around for them.
Recently, I lost my father due to poor health and eating so all of this is really hitting home for me. I don't want my husband to bury me. I don't want to bury him, so together we are making this change for the better.
The detox was pretty much a six day liquid fast in which you drank assigned smoothies and juices every 2 - 3 hours. This detox drop is a part of the Food Lovers Fat Loss System which I had to re-order b/c I lost some of the key components.
This is the second time I've done the detox and I have to admit this go round as A LOT easier than the first. My dreaming about food didn't happen until about day 4. Last time it was from the moment I started that food was ALWAYS on my mind.
I think the most difficult thing was not being able to eat food. I wasn't necessarily hungry, but the mechanics of physically eating were missed. This detox also makes sure you are hydrated demanding a minimum of 2 quarts of water a day on top of what you are already drinking.
I lost 9.4lbs so far.
I can honestly say I have more energy now than I did before and am more focused. We'll how it goes when I start the 21 day metabolism makeover (when it arrives)
Until then!
Sebine
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
The Black Donnelly
o quote Erykah Badu, 'I'm an artist and I'm sensitive about my sh*t!', so keep that in mind as I post this.
I am a writer. Been writing since grade school. Hopefully, it can take me somewhere. In any event, this is a one-shot I wrote about a show that is no longer on the air (due to the gayness that is NBC), The Black Donnelly's. It came about from a monthly challenge that was posed on one of the forums I am apart of. Fanfiction has never really been my forte but the challenge was to write something you've never written before so this was my attempt.
The Black Donnellys, about an Black Irish family in the area known as Hell's Kitchen, in New York.
If you've never seen the show and want to get a better grasp of what is going on in the story, you can catch the pilot episode on Youtube. This clip takes place right after episode 8: In Each One A Savior.
This fabulous banner is the work of TokenBlackGirl. Thank you so much for lending your extraordinary talents to my story!
As far as disclaimers go, I don't own The Black Donnelly's, but this particular storyline as well as Sia Gregory definitely belong to me :)
It was 'Family Above All' until she came along...
2007
Kevin sat back against the building’s railing, waiting. It was dark and desolate on the corner of 14th street and 10th Avenue. His hands in his pockets, he took in his surroundings: The highway, the bridge, gas station across the street. Everything seemed crisper, clearer. Having a death warrant over your head could do that.
As much as he liked to consider himself lucky, he wasn’t. It was his ‘luck’ that landed him in his grave. A winning bet placed on the phone of a murdered bookie, was how he landed himself in this hole. He should have listened to his older brother, Jimmy, and gotten rid of the phone when they dumped the body. He didn’t. The idea of having a bookie’s phone seemed too good to pass up. And that’s how Cottero figured out he was involved with Louie Downtown’s murder. He was the mysterious ‘Cloudy’ that owed him a g-note. But instead of getting paid, he got found out.
His day had officially ended in the shitter.
He looked at his watch again. It was almost eleven. He was tempted to pull out his phone and call again when he spotted her walking towards him. He’d never seen a walk like hers before. It was kind of hypnotic, seductive and made him think of things he really shouldn’t. Like that time he cornered her in the kitchen and buried his face between her—
“All right, Kevin.” She faced him. “What was so important that you insisted I meet you down here?”
Kevin pushed his hoodie off of his head and readjusted himself on the banister to keep hidden his semi-hard on, until he could get under control. But, damn if she didn’t look good.
“Hiya doin’, Sia?”
“Fine, once you tell me what I’m doing down here.” She was annoyed, not that she didn’t have a right to be.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“And you couldn’t do that over the phone because...?”
“Okay,” he tried again, “so I wanted to see you.”
Their relationship had never been about what other relationships had been about. They had gone to the same high school; were lab partners in chemistry. She’d saved his ass more than a few times since he never had enough of an interest in science to know what the hell was going on.
Mostly though, the girl knew how to gamble. Her luck, or instinct, as she called it, was unerring. For every bet he’d been wrong about, she’d been right on. It was like they were two sides of the same coin. Then again she was smart enough not to gamble. Risky ambition that it was.
But that was in the controlled environment of school, in science class, and whatever other classes they may have had together; a safe, controlled, environment.
Not on the outside, where things were different. Where people were quick to harp on them being different.
“To see me?” she shook her head with a humorless laugh. “I must have stupid tattooed across my forehead, if you want me to believe that one.”
She started to walk away but he grabbed the arm.
“C’mon Sia. Don’t do this.”
She yanked herself free and faced him.
“Don't tell me what not to do! You call me and brow beat me into meeting you on one of the most desolate streets in the city, just to see me?! I'm not playing this game with y—"
“You know I’m not into games.” Kevin spoke over her. He stepped closer, closing the space between them. “If there was anything, you know that.” Sia averted her eyes and breathed a sigh of reluctance. He sighed too. This was not how he wanted this to go.
“Just please, aright?” he tried again. “Don’t leave.” She didn’t move to leave immediately but Kevin could see she still toyed with the idea. “Ten minutes, okay? Just give me ten minutes then you're free to go.”
Okay, so maybe their relationship was like other relationships: He liked her, she liked him, and the first time he kissed her had been during his 11th grade year in the 3rd floor stairwell. He didn’t know what he was doing then, just like he didn’t know what he was doing now.
Sia looked at her watch to mark the time and squared her shoulders in acceptance. “Fine. Ten Minutes.”
She could really be a hard ass. Normally, he’d tell her to shove that shit but he was already on borrowed time, in more ways than one.
“So,” Kevin walked himself back towards the banister and sat down again. Sia moved with him but continued to stand facing him. “How ya been?”
“Good.” She put hands in the pocket of her cropped mesh motorcycle jacket. Her locks had grown longer since he’d last seen. Or at least it seemed that way. They were curly now too. Like a bunch of swiggly lines all drawn together.
“How’s ya mom?”
“She still hates you.”
He’d walked right into that one. Her mother didn’t care for him, much in the same way his family didn’t care for her.
“Yeah well,” he shrugged his shoulders, “the Donnelly Charm only works on certain Gregory women.”
She pursed her lips together to keep the hint of a real smile at bay. “Sweetie, you wouldn’t know charm, if it came and slapped you in the face.”
“Speaking of, how’s Marcus?”
It was true, he didn’t like any guy that hung around her too much or too closely. He was man enough to admit that, but that Marcus-guy…the visual of them together made Kevin see red.
“Still breathing, I last heard. He didn’t come back around after you handed his ass to him. ”
Kevin smiled at the memory of the pulp faced bastard. He even took pride in it. When he’d seen the damage that asshole did to Sia’s face and body, the relative cool he possessed flew out the window. The beating he put on him, made the one he and his brother’s handed to those drug dealers by the old flats look like child’s play.
Sia still carried a faint scare across the right side of her neck. His eyes were drawn to it and Kevin felt himself getting angry all over again. He really shoulda killed that guy.
“And Ian? How’s he?”
The somewhat jovial mood deteriorated. The faint of a smile she’d worn seconds ago, suddenly fell flat.
“Let’s not do this, Kevin. I’m not in the mood for this conversation or where it leads.”
“Just humor me, okay?” he pleaded. “I wanna know.”
She rubbed her hand over her face hesitantly. He could see her debating whether or not to answer his question. Arguments always ensued when they did. It was the price they paid for having a kid he could never publicly acknowledge.
“With all your talk about family, you know you could never bring home a brown skinned baby. Or even worse his darker skinned mother. There is no way in hell I’m gonna give my son that kind of complex.”
He hated that’d she’d been right. His family meant everything to him. He’d ended lives for the sake of his family. It was always ‘Family Above All.” But…they wouldn’t see Ian as one of them, as their family, all because he had the wrong skin color.
It was why he gambled so much. If he couldn’t acknowledge Ian as his, he at least wanted to give Sia money to help out. But he couldn’t even do that right.
“He’s good. Ten months and all. He's even trying to walk.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She answered with fondness she always did when she talked about their son.
It hurt he wasn’t around as much as he wanted to be. It hurt because in an ideal world he’d be there to put his son to sleep at night and wake up with him, with them, in the morning. But choices had been made and in the end it all worked out. At least as much as the present situation could be considered worked out. Besides, Sia never kept his son from him, or worse, used him as a tool against him like he’d seen happen to more than a few guys in the neighborhood. Whenever he called or just dropped by, Ian was always available to him.
“That’s good.” Sia never knew how precious those moments were to him. It was in those moments that he had everything he wanted. “Where is he now?”
“I dropped him off at my mother’s.”
That was another reason her mother didn’t like him. Well, that, the fact he’s white and she thought him to be the worst kind of hooligan. In the eyes of Diana Gregory, her daughter was too good for him. And him getting her pregnant ruined Sia’s life.
“Right.” He nodded. “See? No argument.” He held up his hand in surrender, lightening the mood.
“I see.” The sound of car approaching caught their attention and they both turned to take a look when her hair caught his attention again. It had grown even more than he’d originally thought. She usually wore it in some kind of ponytail, but seeing it down, it hung between her shoulders.
Giving into his temptation, he tugged on one to get back her attention. The feel of it against his skin felt like his favorite sweater.
“C’mere,” he grabbed the edge of her jacket pocket and pulled her toward him.
She didn’t move. “It’s getting cold, Kevin. And, “ she brought her wrist up to see her watch. “You have four minutes left.”
“C’mere,” he pulled her again. This time she went to him. His hand slid around her waist and to his surprise, she didn’t fight him. They were close enough that he could breathe in her sent. The one that smelled warm and enticing at the same time.
His green eyes bore into her brown ones before they fixated on her lips. He didn’t give into the impulse to kiss her. He wasn’t sure she’d let him, but he did have something to say. Pulling back a bit, he looked in her eyes again.
“I know I kinda dropped off the face of the earth for a while. I’ve had a lot goin’ on. But, um, I want you to know that you matter to me. You and Ian are important to me. ”
He’d never been that guy to say those three words. That had been one of their many problems. But since staring a painful death in the face, he was going to.
“I love you, Sia. That’s what I wanted to say to you. Face to face.”
She stared at him, shocked, as he moved closer to her. Slowly, his hand slid around her waist, under her jacket and shirt. Her breath caught when he gently kissed her cheek.
When he pulled back, she still looked confused. “Kevin—”
“Don’t worry.” He laughed her unasked question. “The world’s not ending. I just thought it’s time for me to say it.” He stood up off the banister and put his hand in his pocket. “I’m pretty sure my ten minutes are up now.”
He walked towards the busier street of Eleventh Avenue and whistled for a cab. When he turned back around, Sia was catching up. He held the cab door open for her and waited. She looked at him cautiously, still clearly confused.
“Get in.” She did and he closed the door. “70th Street and West End Avenue.” He told the cab driver.
Kevin watched the cab pull off, his chest constricting the farther it got away. He’d done the right thing though. Sia’s speechlessness told him that much.
He’d never love another.
For now, she was safe, as was their son. When this bullshit with Cottero was all said in done, there would still be a Donnelly out there.
And he’d brought a whole new meaning to the term, Black Irish.
I am a writer. Been writing since grade school. Hopefully, it can take me somewhere. In any event, this is a one-shot I wrote about a show that is no longer on the air (due to the gayness that is NBC), The Black Donnelly's. It came about from a monthly challenge that was posed on one of the forums I am apart of. Fanfiction has never really been my forte but the challenge was to write something you've never written before so this was my attempt.
The Black Donnellys, about an Black Irish family in the area known as Hell's Kitchen, in New York.
If you've never seen the show and want to get a better grasp of what is going on in the story, you can catch the pilot episode on Youtube. This clip takes place right after episode 8: In Each One A Savior.
This fabulous banner is the work of TokenBlackGirl. Thank you so much for lending your extraordinary talents to my story!
As far as disclaimers go, I don't own The Black Donnelly's, but this particular storyline as well as Sia Gregory definitely belong to me :)
It was 'Family Above All' until she came along...
2007
Kevin sat back against the building’s railing, waiting. It was dark and desolate on the corner of 14th street and 10th Avenue. His hands in his pockets, he took in his surroundings: The highway, the bridge, gas station across the street. Everything seemed crisper, clearer. Having a death warrant over your head could do that.
As much as he liked to consider himself lucky, he wasn’t. It was his ‘luck’ that landed him in his grave. A winning bet placed on the phone of a murdered bookie, was how he landed himself in this hole. He should have listened to his older brother, Jimmy, and gotten rid of the phone when they dumped the body. He didn’t. The idea of having a bookie’s phone seemed too good to pass up. And that’s how Cottero figured out he was involved with Louie Downtown’s murder. He was the mysterious ‘Cloudy’ that owed him a g-note. But instead of getting paid, he got found out.
His day had officially ended in the shitter.
He looked at his watch again. It was almost eleven. He was tempted to pull out his phone and call again when he spotted her walking towards him. He’d never seen a walk like hers before. It was kind of hypnotic, seductive and made him think of things he really shouldn’t. Like that time he cornered her in the kitchen and buried his face between her—
“All right, Kevin.” She faced him. “What was so important that you insisted I meet you down here?”
Kevin pushed his hoodie off of his head and readjusted himself on the banister to keep hidden his semi-hard on, until he could get under control. But, damn if she didn’t look good.
“Hiya doin’, Sia?”
“Fine, once you tell me what I’m doing down here.” She was annoyed, not that she didn’t have a right to be.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“And you couldn’t do that over the phone because...?”
“Okay,” he tried again, “so I wanted to see you.”
Their relationship had never been about what other relationships had been about. They had gone to the same high school; were lab partners in chemistry. She’d saved his ass more than a few times since he never had enough of an interest in science to know what the hell was going on.
Mostly though, the girl knew how to gamble. Her luck, or instinct, as she called it, was unerring. For every bet he’d been wrong about, she’d been right on. It was like they were two sides of the same coin. Then again she was smart enough not to gamble. Risky ambition that it was.
But that was in the controlled environment of school, in science class, and whatever other classes they may have had together; a safe, controlled, environment.
Not on the outside, where things were different. Where people were quick to harp on them being different.
“To see me?” she shook her head with a humorless laugh. “I must have stupid tattooed across my forehead, if you want me to believe that one.”
She started to walk away but he grabbed the arm.
“C’mon Sia. Don’t do this.”
She yanked herself free and faced him.
“Don't tell me what not to do! You call me and brow beat me into meeting you on one of the most desolate streets in the city, just to see me?! I'm not playing this game with y—"
“You know I’m not into games.” Kevin spoke over her. He stepped closer, closing the space between them. “If there was anything, you know that.” Sia averted her eyes and breathed a sigh of reluctance. He sighed too. This was not how he wanted this to go.
“Just please, aright?” he tried again. “Don’t leave.” She didn’t move to leave immediately but Kevin could see she still toyed with the idea. “Ten minutes, okay? Just give me ten minutes then you're free to go.”
Okay, so maybe their relationship was like other relationships: He liked her, she liked him, and the first time he kissed her had been during his 11th grade year in the 3rd floor stairwell. He didn’t know what he was doing then, just like he didn’t know what he was doing now.
Sia looked at her watch to mark the time and squared her shoulders in acceptance. “Fine. Ten Minutes.”
She could really be a hard ass. Normally, he’d tell her to shove that shit but he was already on borrowed time, in more ways than one.
“So,” Kevin walked himself back towards the banister and sat down again. Sia moved with him but continued to stand facing him. “How ya been?”
“Good.” She put hands in the pocket of her cropped mesh motorcycle jacket. Her locks had grown longer since he’d last seen. Or at least it seemed that way. They were curly now too. Like a bunch of swiggly lines all drawn together.
“How’s ya mom?”
“She still hates you.”
He’d walked right into that one. Her mother didn’t care for him, much in the same way his family didn’t care for her.
“Yeah well,” he shrugged his shoulders, “the Donnelly Charm only works on certain Gregory women.”
She pursed her lips together to keep the hint of a real smile at bay. “Sweetie, you wouldn’t know charm, if it came and slapped you in the face.”
“Speaking of, how’s Marcus?”
It was true, he didn’t like any guy that hung around her too much or too closely. He was man enough to admit that, but that Marcus-guy…the visual of them together made Kevin see red.
“Still breathing, I last heard. He didn’t come back around after you handed his ass to him. ”
Kevin smiled at the memory of the pulp faced bastard. He even took pride in it. When he’d seen the damage that asshole did to Sia’s face and body, the relative cool he possessed flew out the window. The beating he put on him, made the one he and his brother’s handed to those drug dealers by the old flats look like child’s play.
Sia still carried a faint scare across the right side of her neck. His eyes were drawn to it and Kevin felt himself getting angry all over again. He really shoulda killed that guy.
“And Ian? How’s he?”
The somewhat jovial mood deteriorated. The faint of a smile she’d worn seconds ago, suddenly fell flat.
“Let’s not do this, Kevin. I’m not in the mood for this conversation or where it leads.”
“Just humor me, okay?” he pleaded. “I wanna know.”
She rubbed her hand over her face hesitantly. He could see her debating whether or not to answer his question. Arguments always ensued when they did. It was the price they paid for having a kid he could never publicly acknowledge.
“With all your talk about family, you know you could never bring home a brown skinned baby. Or even worse his darker skinned mother. There is no way in hell I’m gonna give my son that kind of complex.”
He hated that’d she’d been right. His family meant everything to him. He’d ended lives for the sake of his family. It was always ‘Family Above All.” But…they wouldn’t see Ian as one of them, as their family, all because he had the wrong skin color.
It was why he gambled so much. If he couldn’t acknowledge Ian as his, he at least wanted to give Sia money to help out. But he couldn’t even do that right.
“He’s good. Ten months and all. He's even trying to walk.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She answered with fondness she always did when she talked about their son.
It hurt he wasn’t around as much as he wanted to be. It hurt because in an ideal world he’d be there to put his son to sleep at night and wake up with him, with them, in the morning. But choices had been made and in the end it all worked out. At least as much as the present situation could be considered worked out. Besides, Sia never kept his son from him, or worse, used him as a tool against him like he’d seen happen to more than a few guys in the neighborhood. Whenever he called or just dropped by, Ian was always available to him.
“That’s good.” Sia never knew how precious those moments were to him. It was in those moments that he had everything he wanted. “Where is he now?”
“I dropped him off at my mother’s.”
That was another reason her mother didn’t like him. Well, that, the fact he’s white and she thought him to be the worst kind of hooligan. In the eyes of Diana Gregory, her daughter was too good for him. And him getting her pregnant ruined Sia’s life.
“Right.” He nodded. “See? No argument.” He held up his hand in surrender, lightening the mood.
“I see.” The sound of car approaching caught their attention and they both turned to take a look when her hair caught his attention again. It had grown even more than he’d originally thought. She usually wore it in some kind of ponytail, but seeing it down, it hung between her shoulders.
Giving into his temptation, he tugged on one to get back her attention. The feel of it against his skin felt like his favorite sweater.
“C’mere,” he grabbed the edge of her jacket pocket and pulled her toward him.
She didn’t move. “It’s getting cold, Kevin. And, “ she brought her wrist up to see her watch. “You have four minutes left.”
“C’mere,” he pulled her again. This time she went to him. His hand slid around her waist and to his surprise, she didn’t fight him. They were close enough that he could breathe in her sent. The one that smelled warm and enticing at the same time.
His green eyes bore into her brown ones before they fixated on her lips. He didn’t give into the impulse to kiss her. He wasn’t sure she’d let him, but he did have something to say. Pulling back a bit, he looked in her eyes again.
“I know I kinda dropped off the face of the earth for a while. I’ve had a lot goin’ on. But, um, I want you to know that you matter to me. You and Ian are important to me. ”
He’d never been that guy to say those three words. That had been one of their many problems. But since staring a painful death in the face, he was going to.
“I love you, Sia. That’s what I wanted to say to you. Face to face.”
She stared at him, shocked, as he moved closer to her. Slowly, his hand slid around her waist, under her jacket and shirt. Her breath caught when he gently kissed her cheek.
When he pulled back, she still looked confused. “Kevin—”
“Don’t worry.” He laughed her unasked question. “The world’s not ending. I just thought it’s time for me to say it.” He stood up off the banister and put his hand in his pocket. “I’m pretty sure my ten minutes are up now.”
He walked towards the busier street of Eleventh Avenue and whistled for a cab. When he turned back around, Sia was catching up. He held the cab door open for her and waited. She looked at him cautiously, still clearly confused.
“Get in.” She did and he closed the door. “70th Street and West End Avenue.” He told the cab driver.
Kevin watched the cab pull off, his chest constricting the farther it got away. He’d done the right thing though. Sia’s speechlessness told him that much.
He’d never love another.
For now, she was safe, as was their son. When this bullshit with Cottero was all said in done, there would still be a Donnelly out there.
And he’d brought a whole new meaning to the term, Black Irish.
Elevator Talk (A New Blog)
A good friend of mine (who also happens to be one of the smartest people of my generation - an please know I don't give that compliment out lightly!) has started her blog within the last few weeks. It's called Elevator Talk. It's all about reaching maximizing your potential and reaching the next level (like an elevator) in both a personal and professional atmosphere!
From personal reflection to commentary on the goings on in the world, this blog has it.
Check it out. You won't be disappointed!
From personal reflection to commentary on the goings on in the world, this blog has it.
Check it out. You won't be disappointed!
Sunday, April 04, 2010
Happy Easter!
Happy Easter everyone!
While over the years I have outgrown the easter bunny and easter egg hunts, I'd like to remind that it is on this holiday that I celebrate the resurrection of my lord and savior Jesus Christ. It is through HIM that I have salvation and know that I will see my father, grandmother and all those who went before me.
It is through HIS BLOOD that my sins have been wiped clean! That I am made whole! That I have eternal life with him!
Have a Blessed and Prosperous Resurrection Sunday!
While over the years I have outgrown the easter bunny and easter egg hunts, I'd like to remind that it is on this holiday that I celebrate the resurrection of my lord and savior Jesus Christ. It is through HIM that I have salvation and know that I will see my father, grandmother and all those who went before me.
It is through HIS BLOOD that my sins have been wiped clean! That I am made whole! That I have eternal life with him!
Have a Blessed and Prosperous Resurrection Sunday!
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Can someone PLEASE explain to me why...
First off, hello all! It is great to be back! Now that I am home, I should be able to update this site more frequently. Being an 'at home' mom of two young children, please believe I have something to say...
Anywho, back to title of this post: Can someone please explain to me why children like to lean on that last good nerve? I'm talking about damn near jumping up and down on it, as if they were playing hop-scotch!
Let me start by saying, I love my son. He is my first child. My pride and joy. Feel free to plug any and all of those wonderful adjectives mothers can use to describe a child they love completely, cause please believe I use them for my chunk. However over the last two weeks, he has been steadily cruising to into that danger zone of being LAID OUT.
I don't know, maybe it's his age bracket. I mean he IS only four years old. But for a four year, he seems kinda mouthy. Case and point, just the other day I said, "Chunk, can you come here please?"
And his reply?
"I'm watching TV."
Excuse me?
I thought maybe I heard wrong because, hey has happened before, so I said again: "Can you come here please?"
And his reply again was, "I'm watching TV."
We won't get into the fact that his reply was tinged with annoyance. As if I hadn't heard him correctly the first go 'round. I choose not to go there at this moment in time.
The point is, if I call, you come. Period. Not next week, tomorrow or the day after, but right now. Why? Because I am his mother.
At this point, I have added some bass to my voice. Y'all know what I'm talking about, right? The bass that clearly says, 'if your behind doesn't appear before me RIGHT NOW, I can promise you won't like the consequences', and that problem was resolved.
Back to the story at hand...
While my son is in pre-k, he does get homework. Nothing crazy (although I don't think I was given addition at four years old, but I digress), and not every night, but a cumulative effort of what had been in class during the week.
This week's homework consisted of several addition problems, my son writing 5 words that begin with 'E' and him drawing a picture of one of the books I've read to him at night.
Easy right?
Wrong!
It took 45 minutes to do 4 math problems...
Let me give you the breakdown:
The first two equations we breezed through: 10 + 3 and 6 + 7.
Like a pro, my son breezed through these problems counting the accompanying dots with each number to arrive at the desired answer, 13.
The first road block arrived in the form of my son writing the number '3' in 13 backwards. No problem, with minimal guidance, he writes the number correctly for the first equation and when we get to the second equation, there is no problem to correct. He writes the number 13 PERFECTLY!
When we get to the third equation (11 + 4), that the problems start to arise. Now for those who don't know, my son and numbers have been bossom buddies since he was about two. He was counting to 10 at the age of 2.
TWO!
Yet sudden yesterday, after counting to 13 without a hitch, when we reach this problem, suddenly my son can't count past the the number 7.
No, I am NOT kidding.
We are counting the matching dots in the equation and he completely and totally DUMBS OUT.
"Zahir, what number comes after 7?"
"Uhh...I don't know."
"C'mon Zahir, you just did this. You can do this. What number comes after 7?"
"10."
"Yes, 10, does come after 7 but what number comes directly after 7."
"4."
"No Zahir, 4 does not come after 7."
"Yes it does."
"No, it doesn't, Zahir."
"Yes it does!"
It does? Really? 4 comes after 7? It does? Really? Really?
How in the world did we go from counting to 13 FLAWLESSLY to not knowing EIGHT comes after SEVEN?
How is that possible?
It took TEN MINUTES of counting from 1 to 10, then 15, then 20 AND using the number chart we have to get the debacle straightened out.
TEN MINUTES! I was ready to pull my hair out. I tried to remain calm, I tried to remain cool, but it really seemed like my son was f*cking with me and I was NOT in the mood.
What happens then? All of a sudden, my son can't count in order without looking at the number chart.
Really?!
We move on to the next equation (13 + 0) and we come to the same road block, only this time he can't seem to get past the number 9.
At this point, he is in tears because my calm reserved voice has taken on an abbrasive tone. What can I say? When your child sudden 'regresses' before your eyes without explanation, you'd feel some type of way too. Especially when you KNOW and HAVE SEEN them do better.
Then I get hit with the "but I don't want to do this. I'm tired, Mommy."
Really?
How could he be tired when he cheerfully was watching TV a half hour ago. How could he be tired when it wasn't even 8PM. He showed no signs of this tiredness when he was sitting down watching 'Yo Gabba Gabba', 'Olivia' and 'Backyardigans' (Them I LOVE!).
No, he wasn't tired, he just didn't want to do his HW anymore. How do I know? We've played this game before.
And then we get the backwards 3 mess again.
So what happens next? I get the belt.
I'm tired of talking. I'm tired of placating. I'm tired of playing games. And I this point I know he is playing games.
I don't know who said it wasn't appropriate, but I am a firm believer of Proverbs 13:24, 23:13-14. Basically, spare the rod, spoil the child. Some parents agree with it, others don't. To each his/her own.
I know how I was raised and how I will raise my children.
And do you know what happend when I got the belt and sat down with it while he did his HW? All of sudden, my son could count correctly again. Eight came after seven. Ten comes after nine and the number chart is no longer needed. And my son can write the number 13 correctly.
Go figure.
Did I use the belt? No. But the threat was there.
Now my question is, why did I have to go through all of that? Why did my son deem it appropriate to take me to that place called 'LIVE' in which I had to threaten him with a few licks?
I mean really? Was all of that necessary?
Can someone please explain it to me because I would love to know...
Anywho, back to title of this post: Can someone please explain to me why children like to lean on that last good nerve? I'm talking about damn near jumping up and down on it, as if they were playing hop-scotch!
Let me start by saying, I love my son. He is my first child. My pride and joy. Feel free to plug any and all of those wonderful adjectives mothers can use to describe a child they love completely, cause please believe I use them for my chunk. However over the last two weeks, he has been steadily cruising to into that danger zone of being LAID OUT.
I don't know, maybe it's his age bracket. I mean he IS only four years old. But for a four year, he seems kinda mouthy. Case and point, just the other day I said, "Chunk, can you come here please?"
And his reply?
"I'm watching TV."
Excuse me?
I thought maybe I heard wrong because, hey has happened before, so I said again: "Can you come here please?"
And his reply again was, "I'm watching TV."
We won't get into the fact that his reply was tinged with annoyance. As if I hadn't heard him correctly the first go 'round. I choose not to go there at this moment in time.
The point is, if I call, you come. Period. Not next week, tomorrow or the day after, but right now. Why? Because I am his mother.
At this point, I have added some bass to my voice. Y'all know what I'm talking about, right? The bass that clearly says, 'if your behind doesn't appear before me RIGHT NOW, I can promise you won't like the consequences', and that problem was resolved.
Back to the story at hand...
While my son is in pre-k, he does get homework. Nothing crazy (although I don't think I was given addition at four years old, but I digress), and not every night, but a cumulative effort of what had been in class during the week.
This week's homework consisted of several addition problems, my son writing 5 words that begin with 'E' and him drawing a picture of one of the books I've read to him at night.
Easy right?
Wrong!
It took 45 minutes to do 4 math problems...
Let me give you the breakdown:
The first two equations we breezed through: 10 + 3 and 6 + 7.
Like a pro, my son breezed through these problems counting the accompanying dots with each number to arrive at the desired answer, 13.
The first road block arrived in the form of my son writing the number '3' in 13 backwards. No problem, with minimal guidance, he writes the number correctly for the first equation and when we get to the second equation, there is no problem to correct. He writes the number 13 PERFECTLY!
When we get to the third equation (11 + 4), that the problems start to arise. Now for those who don't know, my son and numbers have been bossom buddies since he was about two. He was counting to 10 at the age of 2.
TWO!
Yet sudden yesterday, after counting to 13 without a hitch, when we reach this problem, suddenly my son can't count past the the number 7.
No, I am NOT kidding.
We are counting the matching dots in the equation and he completely and totally DUMBS OUT.
"Zahir, what number comes after 7?"
"Uhh...I don't know."
"C'mon Zahir, you just did this. You can do this. What number comes after 7?"
"10."
"Yes, 10, does come after 7 but what number comes directly after 7."
"4."
"No Zahir, 4 does not come after 7."
"Yes it does."
"No, it doesn't, Zahir."
"Yes it does!"
It does? Really? 4 comes after 7? It does? Really? Really?
How in the world did we go from counting to 13 FLAWLESSLY to not knowing EIGHT comes after SEVEN?
How is that possible?
It took TEN MINUTES of counting from 1 to 10, then 15, then 20 AND using the number chart we have to get the debacle straightened out.
TEN MINUTES! I was ready to pull my hair out. I tried to remain calm, I tried to remain cool, but it really seemed like my son was f*cking with me and I was NOT in the mood.
What happens then? All of a sudden, my son can't count in order without looking at the number chart.
Really?!
We move on to the next equation (13 + 0) and we come to the same road block, only this time he can't seem to get past the number 9.
At this point, he is in tears because my calm reserved voice has taken on an abbrasive tone. What can I say? When your child sudden 'regresses' before your eyes without explanation, you'd feel some type of way too. Especially when you KNOW and HAVE SEEN them do better.
Then I get hit with the "but I don't want to do this. I'm tired, Mommy."
Really?
How could he be tired when he cheerfully was watching TV a half hour ago. How could he be tired when it wasn't even 8PM. He showed no signs of this tiredness when he was sitting down watching 'Yo Gabba Gabba', 'Olivia' and 'Backyardigans' (Them I LOVE!).
No, he wasn't tired, he just didn't want to do his HW anymore. How do I know? We've played this game before.
And then we get the backwards 3 mess again.
So what happens next? I get the belt.
I'm tired of talking. I'm tired of placating. I'm tired of playing games. And I this point I know he is playing games.
I don't know who said it wasn't appropriate, but I am a firm believer of Proverbs 13:24, 23:13-14. Basically, spare the rod, spoil the child. Some parents agree with it, others don't. To each his/her own.
I know how I was raised and how I will raise my children.
And do you know what happend when I got the belt and sat down with it while he did his HW? All of sudden, my son could count correctly again. Eight came after seven. Ten comes after nine and the number chart is no longer needed. And my son can write the number 13 correctly.
Go figure.
Did I use the belt? No. But the threat was there.
Now my question is, why did I have to go through all of that? Why did my son deem it appropriate to take me to that place called 'LIVE' in which I had to threaten him with a few licks?
I mean really? Was all of that necessary?
Can someone please explain it to me because I would love to know...
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