I wanted to put my two cents in. I voted no on 8.
I find myself overwhelmed with feelings and thoughts about Proposition 8 – all negative ones. I am angry with myself for not doing some form of activism or at least given a donation to help defeat what I feel is a completely unfair proposal. (I am at least happy that my partner made a donation to No on 8.) The Supreme Court decided that in their reading of the constitution that not allowing people to marry just because they wanted to marry someone of the same sex was unfair. So, how is it fair that a bunch of homophobic religious zealots have the ability to change that? The courts make decisions all of the time that we don’t like, but we can’t go put it to a vote and change it. We just learn to live with it and eventually no one even cares about it anymore – just like desegregation, interracial marriage, and so many other things. Just because marriage has always been between a man and a woman, does that mean that it is now or ever has been right! And, how sacred is marriage when you can get married by Elvis in a drive-thru in Vegas and the divorce rate is above 50%?
I can’t stand that people want to act like marriage is such a sacred institution, when it was never meant to be that and probably has never been sacred. Marriage is about property ownership, governmental rights, and establishing stable families – because stable families create stable communities, which create a stable, productive society. Marriage, under the law, is a legal bond between two people who are committing to help each other through life and to share financial responsibility for each other. Marriage, in the religious view, is the uniting of two lives in love, trust, and mutual support. Neither one of those definitions cease to work if the people getting married are both male or both female.
I am married to another woman. We have two adopted children who were both born to drug addicted mothers who could not care for them. We are both legally the parents of these children. It seems only right that my partner and I should have the ability to have a legally defined relationship to each other since we share our lives and children. We have been together for almost 8 years and have been through everything together. Our children were so happy at our little wedding and have no idea how incredible it was that their mommies were getting legally wed. If you see our family photos, you will see two happy little kids and their tired, overworked parents – we just happen to be two women.
The Yes on 8 people tried to scare people into thinking that gay marriage would somehow negatively affect “traditional” marriage, but how? Before we were married, my family lived in the same house and had the same neighbors. Now that we are married, we do the same things! The people who live next door are still married, or not. The sun still rises and sets. And life goes on. My marriage has little meaning to anyone besides my partner and I because it does not effect their lives, and I am fine with that. If my sister married her boyfriend, I would be happy for her, but it would change nothing in my life. So, why are so many people concerned about me and people like me who want some legal rights and validation of my relationship? Why is it fair to show little kids on the Yes on 8 ads and say that gay marriage will negatively affect them (in some unknown way) without looking at my children and realizing that ending gay marriage will devastate them and their family?
I know I am saying a lot, but I am really, really angry and disgusted by how little the people of California really thought about this. Do you know that 70% of Black voters voted yes on 8? It is thought that this is largely due to the Black churches pushing the issue. However, if Black people could just think about how many people died for our right to be free, to vote, to attend school, to sit on the front of the bus! How could we vote yes to putting an entire group of people into a subordinate class? If anything, Black people should have led the No on 8 fight! We should have realized that we were being used by people with hatred in their hearts – the same kind of people who can’t find money to feed the hungry, house the homeless, or properly fund education, but can fund two long, useless wars and magically find $700 billion to give to banks who are in trouble because of their own greed!
I have heard people say that they voted yes because they did not their children to be taught about gay marriage in school or they did not want churches to lose their federal funding if they refused to perform gay weddings. These are scare tactics and lies. Churches have always had the right to say who they would and would not marry. If had married a man, but wanted to do it in a synagogue, they would absolutely be able to say no to us as a couple and we would just have to find another place. And schools hardly teach anything, so if they did teach about gay marriage, kids would probably not understand it anyway. No, seriously, who has ever taken a marriage class in school? Maybe if there were marriage classes there would be fewer divorces and less misery in the world. And, adding same sex marriage to any class discussion just means using gender neutral nouns – like spouse or partner instead of husband or wife. How does that hurt anyone?
Yes, a little thought would have been nice. Now Proposition 8 has passed and my family just has to wait and see what befalls us - and I am pissed!
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Thursday, September 4, 2008
An Anniversary
It's already September! My parents always said that when you reach a certain age time starts to move more quickly. I just took that as yet another one of their millions of unfounded beliefs, superstitions, or general ignorance. But I was wrong, because I have now reached that age. Days seem to either fly by or drip on incessantly like a leaky faucet next to your bedroom. Somehow they inevitably pass before I can accomplish a minute fraction of the things on my To Do List. In my mind, time balls up in a big clump, like Kiara's hair balls - almost inextricably tangled, but able to be teased with great effort and time. My ball of memories is now sliding downhill like an Olympic Slalom Skier.
It's been six months, tonight, since my mother died. I may have mentioned that, but probably not. It is not until now, and not without difficulty that I am finally able to write about it.
This is going to sound weird, but my mother's death has been one of the most awesome experiences of my life. I have never felt such extreme emotions for such a long and intense period of time. And I've had my share of negative experiences, most of which involved my mother, and not the least of which is growing up watching her get beaten and abused on a regular basis.
Yet, her dying process, her death and for weeks and months afterward, I dwelled in emotional pain so acute that it sometimes felt like ecstasy. Maybe I surpassed the limitations of grief and broke into a new dimension of emotion. All I know is that until recently, I was not so sure that wanted to live anymore. It was part exhaustion from the burdens of stress and sadness and partially survivor guilt. I could cry at any moment and cried at least once daily.
It's been six months, tonight, since my mother died. I may have mentioned that, but probably not. It is not until now, and not without difficulty that I am finally able to write about it.
This is going to sound weird, but my mother's death has been one of the most awesome experiences of my life. I have never felt such extreme emotions for such a long and intense period of time. And I've had my share of negative experiences, most of which involved my mother, and not the least of which is growing up watching her get beaten and abused on a regular basis.
Yet, her dying process, her death and for weeks and months afterward, I dwelled in emotional pain so acute that it sometimes felt like ecstasy. Maybe I surpassed the limitations of grief and broke into a new dimension of emotion. All I know is that until recently, I was not so sure that wanted to live anymore. It was part exhaustion from the burdens of stress and sadness and partially survivor guilt. I could cry at any moment and cried at least once daily.
Luckily most of my crying bouts took place in the privacy of my own car, alone. Yet, sometimes they broke out at inappropriate times, like while playing with the children, talking to clients, and in the IHOP that me and Mama ate at so many times. It happened during my wedding, at my father's 65th birthday party, when my niece was giving birth to her first daughter, the first few times I saw Mama's van again, when I first got my Smart car . . . all of the things that continue to happen in life that we would have talked about.
Tonight, on this sad occasion, I am crying again. I want to send out a HUGE "I love you Mama! We will be together again soon enough."
Tonight, on this sad occasion, I am crying again. I want to send out a HUGE "I love you Mama! We will be together again soon enough."
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Thinking About Gay Marriage
I was driving home and thinking about how cool it is that other people are excited when they find out that I got married. For some reason I was very closed-mouthed about it all. I was not ashamed or afraid, I think. Maybe a small part of they too would have that same 'surprise, nervous-joy, streaked with a tinge of bastardization' response. Some people, all family members, openly displayed this reaction. All of my friends, acquaintances, and even near-strangers have been surprisingly happy for us.
It was also really a stressful time in my life for so many huge reasons. The wedding and planning it became an intense, though brief, distraction from my daily stress. Normal stresses were replaced with new, less important ones about the wedding. Instead of being upset because I did not have money for my mortgage, I worried about finding tuxedo shoes in Zack's size. Whereas normally I lay awake at night because I know I need to learn to sign better because Kiara is growing up fast, while planning the wedding I couldn't sleep because I was obsessed with ensuring that mailed items would arrive before the wedding. (Everything except the rings made it.)
I think that I did not talk about it because it was like a private, secret joy that I only shared openly with Nanette, and even then not completely. I felt like I was creating my own private prom and had already been crowned queen and Nanette was my "co-queen".
I also think that I did not feel like I had a good story to tell. It was not like a whirlwind romance. We left 'hot and exciting' years ago. There was not even any of that fresh, new relationship glow. We have been hardworking mothers for years now. Our lives are as uneventful as anyone elses. We make it a point to attend back-to-school night every year and always pay for membership in the Parent-Teacher Association, but don't actually attend any meetings. Our big adventure this summer has been swimming lessons for the kids. Don't get me wrong. I LOVE Nanette with every ounce of my being. Nanette is my primary reason for wanting to live a long life. We were already married in every way that really matters most. We even had some legal protections in place, both being legal parents of the kids and having domestic partnership.
But, we decided that we wanted to be married, like the kind of people that most people think of when they think of the type of family we have. We are not faking "normalcy" or "playing house". We are a real family with real problems, joys, and love. So, yes, we wanted to get married.
I have never heard a legitimate, intelligent, non-religious (or religious for that matter), argument as to why two women or two men should not marry. When celebrities skeet through marriages like most people go through packages of toilet paper, same-sex couples who have been together for fifty years cannot have a legally recognized relationship in most states!
I have been upset about this for a long time. It is like being spit on can called a nigger. I choose to be true to who I am, but I had no more choice about being a lesbian than I did about being Black or or female. I am just who I am and who I am is just fine. I am not especially ashamed or proud of what I am, but I am proud of who I am.
So, while still driving home tonight, I thought about Kiara. She was so excited about the wedding. She was like a mini-Maid of Honor. She would sit next to me for hours looking at every existing wedding dress website multiple times. She helped me pick out everything. Kiara counted down the days with delight. Her face was beaming on our wedding day. I literally felt like our entire little family was getting married. I even wanted to put little caricatures of Zack and Kiara on our wedding cake topper. ( I ran out of time.) I remembered how Nanette and her therapist had concluded that Kiara would always remember our wedding day. I thought about how wonderful that is and what a good memory that would be for her. Then I thought, as a deaf child, a lot of Kiara's knowledge of the world is learned through experiences, rather than from listening. Her experience of seeing Nanette and I pledge our love for each other, as she had seen her aunt and uncle do, simply meant that her mothers really love each other. She has no idea that just weeks prior it would not have been an option.
Then I got really upset. In the past I thought that it did not really matter if the state overturned the gay marriage ruling in November. It would be like losing a gift that someone gave you by mistake. I know that it is wrong to deny validity to relationships between loving, consenting adults, but I was used to it.
But now that I am married and we are so happy about it, I would feel so betrayed, angry, and violated if some incest-perpetrating hick or Bible toting hypocrite told me that my relationship was less valid than theirs. Even less valid than one with a stranger that I may marry, if that stranger were a man.
Our wedding was the best thing that we could have done for Kiara. It is just one of many things we do that will teach her to live without shame, fear, or need for approval. The thought of strangers being able to undo that makes me angry beyond words.
It was also really a stressful time in my life for so many huge reasons. The wedding and planning it became an intense, though brief, distraction from my daily stress. Normal stresses were replaced with new, less important ones about the wedding. Instead of being upset because I did not have money for my mortgage, I worried about finding tuxedo shoes in Zack's size. Whereas normally I lay awake at night because I know I need to learn to sign better because Kiara is growing up fast, while planning the wedding I couldn't sleep because I was obsessed with ensuring that mailed items would arrive before the wedding. (Everything except the rings made it.)
I think that I did not talk about it because it was like a private, secret joy that I only shared openly with Nanette, and even then not completely. I felt like I was creating my own private prom and had already been crowned queen and Nanette was my "co-queen".
I also think that I did not feel like I had a good story to tell. It was not like a whirlwind romance. We left 'hot and exciting' years ago. There was not even any of that fresh, new relationship glow. We have been hardworking mothers for years now. Our lives are as uneventful as anyone elses. We make it a point to attend back-to-school night every year and always pay for membership in the Parent-Teacher Association, but don't actually attend any meetings. Our big adventure this summer has been swimming lessons for the kids. Don't get me wrong. I LOVE Nanette with every ounce of my being. Nanette is my primary reason for wanting to live a long life. We were already married in every way that really matters most. We even had some legal protections in place, both being legal parents of the kids and having domestic partnership.
But, we decided that we wanted to be married, like the kind of people that most people think of when they think of the type of family we have. We are not faking "normalcy" or "playing house". We are a real family with real problems, joys, and love. So, yes, we wanted to get married.
I have never heard a legitimate, intelligent, non-religious (or religious for that matter), argument as to why two women or two men should not marry. When celebrities skeet through marriages like most people go through packages of toilet paper, same-sex couples who have been together for fifty years cannot have a legally recognized relationship in most states!
I have been upset about this for a long time. It is like being spit on can called a nigger. I choose to be true to who I am, but I had no more choice about being a lesbian than I did about being Black or or female. I am just who I am and who I am is just fine. I am not especially ashamed or proud of what I am, but I am proud of who I am.
So, while still driving home tonight, I thought about Kiara. She was so excited about the wedding. She was like a mini-Maid of Honor. She would sit next to me for hours looking at every existing wedding dress website multiple times. She helped me pick out everything. Kiara counted down the days with delight. Her face was beaming on our wedding day. I literally felt like our entire little family was getting married. I even wanted to put little caricatures of Zack and Kiara on our wedding cake topper. ( I ran out of time.) I remembered how Nanette and her therapist had concluded that Kiara would always remember our wedding day. I thought about how wonderful that is and what a good memory that would be for her. Then I thought, as a deaf child, a lot of Kiara's knowledge of the world is learned through experiences, rather than from listening. Her experience of seeing Nanette and I pledge our love for each other, as she had seen her aunt and uncle do, simply meant that her mothers really love each other. She has no idea that just weeks prior it would not have been an option.
Then I got really upset. In the past I thought that it did not really matter if the state overturned the gay marriage ruling in November. It would be like losing a gift that someone gave you by mistake. I know that it is wrong to deny validity to relationships between loving, consenting adults, but I was used to it.
But now that I am married and we are so happy about it, I would feel so betrayed, angry, and violated if some incest-perpetrating hick or Bible toting hypocrite told me that my relationship was less valid than theirs. Even less valid than one with a stranger that I may marry, if that stranger were a man.
Our wedding was the best thing that we could have done for Kiara. It is just one of many things we do that will teach her to live without shame, fear, or need for approval. The thought of strangers being able to undo that makes me angry beyond words.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Married
We were married on Friday. It was a small wedding. The legal ceremony was brief, but official. We went with the County Clerk's office wedding, because it seemed so easy, legitimate, and well documented. Now we are married.
I am not sure how to feel about all of this. After seven and a half years together, is getting married supposed to change something? Am I supposed to feel differently about the woman who I have loved since the day after I met her?
Nanette says that she feels differently. She feels likes she needs to be a good "wife," for lack of a better term. I feel like I have already been the best wife I could be, but am very pleased that Nanette has room for improvement, though I was quite pleased with her before. It's like a bonus - the best wedding present she could give me.
Sex has been better and more frequent in the two days since we took our vows. I like that. I would have married her a long time ago had I known that was all it took. But, I fear it is just her temporary excitement about the whole thing and will fade as the novelty does.
California just started to allow same-sex marriages, so we decided to do it. We were practically married already anyway, but we did not get the acknowledgement of our families as being so. Now we do, both good and bad acknowledgement.
Maybe this is s a common thing: family members who know that you are gay, but pretend that they don't know. Nanette and I have lived together for over seven years. Her family members have seen me almost as often as they have seen her in those years. And, though it had not been a large number of times, they have been to our house and seen our children. I can't imagine that anyone would be so oblivious to think that two women could parent the same children and have no relationship with each other. They know that we are not related by blood. Yet, they also know that her children are my children which would lead one to conclude . . . I have no idea what kinds of games people play in their heads.
Alas, it is all out in the open for people to accept of not, but out nevertheless. I am very pleased and happily married at last. Now, I can only hope that the people of California do not take that away from us.
I am not sure how to feel about all of this. After seven and a half years together, is getting married supposed to change something? Am I supposed to feel differently about the woman who I have loved since the day after I met her?
Nanette says that she feels differently. She feels likes she needs to be a good "wife," for lack of a better term. I feel like I have already been the best wife I could be, but am very pleased that Nanette has room for improvement, though I was quite pleased with her before. It's like a bonus - the best wedding present she could give me.
Sex has been better and more frequent in the two days since we took our vows. I like that. I would have married her a long time ago had I known that was all it took. But, I fear it is just her temporary excitement about the whole thing and will fade as the novelty does.
California just started to allow same-sex marriages, so we decided to do it. We were practically married already anyway, but we did not get the acknowledgement of our families as being so. Now we do, both good and bad acknowledgement.
Maybe this is s a common thing: family members who know that you are gay, but pretend that they don't know. Nanette and I have lived together for over seven years. Her family members have seen me almost as often as they have seen her in those years. And, though it had not been a large number of times, they have been to our house and seen our children. I can't imagine that anyone would be so oblivious to think that two women could parent the same children and have no relationship with each other. They know that we are not related by blood. Yet, they also know that her children are my children which would lead one to conclude . . . I have no idea what kinds of games people play in their heads.
Alas, it is all out in the open for people to accept of not, but out nevertheless. I am very pleased and happily married at last. Now, I can only hope that the people of California do not take that away from us.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Still Moving
I trudge on. I have no choice. Not right now.
Right now all I have to do is make it one more day. It's like walking while incredibly drunk - a normal,boring thing that we take for granted, until we can't do it anymore. That is what my life is like right now. I am stumbling through each day, hoping to see the next without serious injury. I am still upright and moving. But, who knows for how much longer?
So much has happened in so little time. One year - a world of difference.
Last year I thought we were broke. The rentals weren't stable and I had to use credit cards to make up the difference - for a lot of months; But, then, I thought that things would get better soon. Property values would go up and then I would sell the duplex and pay off all of our debts and make tidy sum for cruises and savings, in that order. How wrong was I?
Now, I have a tremendous amount of debt - so large that it makes me genuinely nostalgic for the debt of yesteryear.
The financial stress made me feel sad. But, as my debt has soared, I have experienced a depth of sadness that makes financial problems seem like wilting flowers - not really that big a deal. My mother died. I still can't believe it's true and I'll never see her again or hug her or argue with her. I won't see her wobbling up my driveway and wonder what she wants, though I am happy to see her and wish that she'd stay longer than her customary ten minutes.
I am tortured by memories and regret, but am comforted by Nanette and my memories. I know that I tried to be a good daughter and she tried to be a good mother and we love each other very much. That is all that really matters, at any age. I hope.
Daddy had cancer last year and I feared that he would die. He lost so much weight that Mama figured it out, even though I didn't tell her. Daddy asked me not to. In good ol' Daddy fashion, he made his way through,with the help of his hos. Now, he may have cancer again and he hasn't even gained all of his weight back yet. His once watermelon-like stomach, held up by two skinny legs, now looks small, like a newly visible pregnancy. Mine looks like my twins were due last month, and I have never been pregnant.
So, now you have some idea why I am driving drunk through life. In the same vein, as the drunk is usually the one to survive the accident, I hope that I make it through this wreck.
Jesus helps me the most. He allows me to continue to communicate with my mother, through music, images, and thoughts. Jesus makes me feels like I am constantly hugged by someone who really, really loves me. And it doesn't get annoying, like when Kiara does it. It is Jesus who keeps me from jumping off or crashing into or swallowing too many. Jesus helps helps me live another day.
Right now all I have to do is make it one more day. It's like walking while incredibly drunk - a normal,boring thing that we take for granted, until we can't do it anymore. That is what my life is like right now. I am stumbling through each day, hoping to see the next without serious injury. I am still upright and moving. But, who knows for how much longer?
So much has happened in so little time. One year - a world of difference.
Last year I thought we were broke. The rentals weren't stable and I had to use credit cards to make up the difference - for a lot of months; But, then, I thought that things would get better soon. Property values would go up and then I would sell the duplex and pay off all of our debts and make tidy sum for cruises and savings, in that order. How wrong was I?
Now, I have a tremendous amount of debt - so large that it makes me genuinely nostalgic for the debt of yesteryear.
The financial stress made me feel sad. But, as my debt has soared, I have experienced a depth of sadness that makes financial problems seem like wilting flowers - not really that big a deal. My mother died. I still can't believe it's true and I'll never see her again or hug her or argue with her. I won't see her wobbling up my driveway and wonder what she wants, though I am happy to see her and wish that she'd stay longer than her customary ten minutes.
I am tortured by memories and regret, but am comforted by Nanette and my memories. I know that I tried to be a good daughter and she tried to be a good mother and we love each other very much. That is all that really matters, at any age. I hope.
Daddy had cancer last year and I feared that he would die. He lost so much weight that Mama figured it out, even though I didn't tell her. Daddy asked me not to. In good ol' Daddy fashion, he made his way through,with the help of his hos. Now, he may have cancer again and he hasn't even gained all of his weight back yet. His once watermelon-like stomach, held up by two skinny legs, now looks small, like a newly visible pregnancy. Mine looks like my twins were due last month, and I have never been pregnant.
So, now you have some idea why I am driving drunk through life. In the same vein, as the drunk is usually the one to survive the accident, I hope that I make it through this wreck.
Jesus helps me the most. He allows me to continue to communicate with my mother, through music, images, and thoughts. Jesus makes me feels like I am constantly hugged by someone who really, really loves me. And it doesn't get annoying, like when Kiara does it. It is Jesus who keeps me from jumping off or crashing into or swallowing too many. Jesus helps helps me live another day.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Valentine's Day Gifts
Is Valentine’s Day really all about romance, gifts, flowers, and sex? All of the commercials say yes. All of my single friends seem to think so too, because they were really sad and downtrodden on Valentine’s Day.
I prefer to think of Valentine’s day as a day of showing love – to whomever we wish. Of course, the primary object of our attention is supposed to be our significant other, but I like to include my closest friends, my children, and my parents.
I must admit, I am an anti-romantic. I don’t believe in making romance. I think it is a byproduct of being thoughtful and loving. I always feel so much pressure when I know that someone is trying to be romantic. It’s a lot of work to be wooed.
This year, I was prepared for the romance, but I got almost none. I did get a gift, but no sex. And I really wanted the sex too. I still haven’t gotten any. That’s life, I guess.
I like original gifts that are a combination of various items that have been individually picked for a specific person. For example, I think that gift cards are usually a cop-out gift. They require little thought or preparation and can be bought at Safeway. That does not show forethought. (However, there are certain occasions for which a gift card is the perfect gift. I will write about that later.)
I gave my partner a gift made of traditional and non-traditional items. There was a box of See’s candy, in a Valentine’s day heart, and a gift certificate for Starbucks – because she really likes Starbucks. I also put in five cheap candy bracelets and five candy necklaces, which I had jokingly told her I would get her for Valentine’s Day. She was delighted to see that I had really made the effort to find them.
In the end, I think that Valentine’s Day is a day where you are mandated to make your lover feel special – in an unselfish way.
I prefer to think of Valentine’s day as a day of showing love – to whomever we wish. Of course, the primary object of our attention is supposed to be our significant other, but I like to include my closest friends, my children, and my parents.
I must admit, I am an anti-romantic. I don’t believe in making romance. I think it is a byproduct of being thoughtful and loving. I always feel so much pressure when I know that someone is trying to be romantic. It’s a lot of work to be wooed.
This year, I was prepared for the romance, but I got almost none. I did get a gift, but no sex. And I really wanted the sex too. I still haven’t gotten any. That’s life, I guess.
I like original gifts that are a combination of various items that have been individually picked for a specific person. For example, I think that gift cards are usually a cop-out gift. They require little thought or preparation and can be bought at Safeway. That does not show forethought. (However, there are certain occasions for which a gift card is the perfect gift. I will write about that later.)
I gave my partner a gift made of traditional and non-traditional items. There was a box of See’s candy, in a Valentine’s day heart, and a gift certificate for Starbucks – because she really likes Starbucks. I also put in five cheap candy bracelets and five candy necklaces, which I had jokingly told her I would get her for Valentine’s Day. She was delighted to see that I had really made the effort to find them.
In the end, I think that Valentine’s Day is a day where you are mandated to make your lover feel special – in an unselfish way.
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Children
I have come to terms with the fact that when it comes to children, no one is really in control. As a parent, I want to believe that I am in control, and, for the most part I am. But, honestly, I can’t really control my little monsters. They are their own unique creatures, with surprising gumption for people under three feet tall.
My daughter, who is six years old and deaf, has always been a grown woman. She has the attitude, the control issues, and even the rage of a Black woman who has survived to maturity. I don’t understand it, but I accept this because I have no choice.
My little boy, who just turned two, has taken to hitting me and them pointing his barely more than one inch long finger and me and saying, "Shut up!" Hey – he doesn’t get that from me. I am not sure where it comes from. At first I thought that it was so cute, then I realized that I was falling into that old parenting trap. When our kids are little and cute, most of the things they do are little and cute. So, my son’s little "shut up" threat, out of the blue, is adorable – until he becomes a teenager who is taller than me and able to really put some power behind his threat.
So, I have to chose if I will stop him now, while he is still tiny and a firm, "You do not say that – Shut up is not nice" will do, or later, when I may end up in prison or in the hospital. I chose to act now.
I cannot be one of those parents on Nanny 911, crying because my toddler is spitting in my face and swearing at me. Hell no! They waited too long. In their kids minds, the rules are set and their parents are play things.
As you may guess, the ghettoshique style of parenting takes a more hands on approach. From birth, kids need to be taught what is right and wrong and given appropriate consequences. I’m not saying "spare the rod, spoil the child." What I am saying is that kids have parents for a reason, otherwise we would be like spiders and just let our young free from birth. Kids need to be molded into people who can function independently in the real world. Any parent can tell you that kids are not here to serve our needs. But, we are here to serve theirs. In that vein, we are not serving our children well by being their friends and not their parents. We do them no justice when we do not teach them the hard lessons that the world will teach them with much less kindness and love.
So, I appreciate the wonder of my little ones and try to guide them in a positive, fulfilling direction. In the end, who knows what will happen. All I know is, I will give my children the tools they need to navigate the world as they seek their destinies.
My daughter, who is six years old and deaf, has always been a grown woman. She has the attitude, the control issues, and even the rage of a Black woman who has survived to maturity. I don’t understand it, but I accept this because I have no choice.
My little boy, who just turned two, has taken to hitting me and them pointing his barely more than one inch long finger and me and saying, "Shut up!" Hey – he doesn’t get that from me. I am not sure where it comes from. At first I thought that it was so cute, then I realized that I was falling into that old parenting trap. When our kids are little and cute, most of the things they do are little and cute. So, my son’s little "shut up" threat, out of the blue, is adorable – until he becomes a teenager who is taller than me and able to really put some power behind his threat.
So, I have to chose if I will stop him now, while he is still tiny and a firm, "You do not say that – Shut up is not nice" will do, or later, when I may end up in prison or in the hospital. I chose to act now.
I cannot be one of those parents on Nanny 911, crying because my toddler is spitting in my face and swearing at me. Hell no! They waited too long. In their kids minds, the rules are set and their parents are play things.
As you may guess, the ghettoshique style of parenting takes a more hands on approach. From birth, kids need to be taught what is right and wrong and given appropriate consequences. I’m not saying "spare the rod, spoil the child." What I am saying is that kids have parents for a reason, otherwise we would be like spiders and just let our young free from birth. Kids need to be molded into people who can function independently in the real world. Any parent can tell you that kids are not here to serve our needs. But, we are here to serve theirs. In that vein, we are not serving our children well by being their friends and not their parents. We do them no justice when we do not teach them the hard lessons that the world will teach them with much less kindness and love.
So, I appreciate the wonder of my little ones and try to guide them in a positive, fulfilling direction. In the end, who knows what will happen. All I know is, I will give my children the tools they need to navigate the world as they seek their destinies.
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