Approaching two, Magnificent has begun to explore all of the torturous temperaments that come along with the milestone. To admit that he has truly tried my patience over the last few weeks is to be real about how parenthood isn't always cute & cuddly. There are moments when my legs want to outrun my mind. When Kush (5) was an infant such a breakout (more like breakdown) occurred that sent me walking for miles early one August morning.
Those words played over and over like a scratched record. Thank goodness for sister support in that moment. Help is what eye needed! The only person that felt safe enough for me to reach out to on my wayward foot journey was my midwife. After mustering courage to phone her from the nearest pay phone, she helped turn my crisis around by referring me to a therapist not far from where eye stood. She could hear the desperation in my tone & encouraged me to act. Eye spent the remainder of my walk trying to deflate, hoping to arrive calm & collected. Though not realizing that my emotions were so far ahead of my logic, nervousness spilled over upon arrival. What happened next was the cornerstone for what would later be a suicide attempt. Still, it's what had to happen in order to turn my life around.
Please understand that what has clinically become known as Postpartum Depression really does exist. Women-refrain from talking yourself through such emotions. Tell someone. Get help. Men-refrain from dismissing erratic behavior during such periods. Love her. Help her. Encourage her to speak to someone qualified to guide her through. This is a very scary place for her, more than you could ever imagine.
As eye digress...
Mags has developed the "why's" earlier than any of the others. It's so pitiful, but still soooo sweet. He pouts, lowers his eyes, & then wines in the babiest voice, "Why?" This goes on until he tires, so we can do one of three things:
1. choose to keep repeating the same answer
2. build upon the previous answers with supporting reasons
Guess which eye choose today...
But still, there is no other job that would bring me more joy & fulfillment. That's real! It's been nine years since punching a clock & there is nothing to be desired about that lifestyle - for me, at least. My husband has been true to his commitment to keep me at home. Working hard nonetheless, but far away from the rat dropping.
"YOU'RE A GOOD MAN!" (see his journal)
So we're back at the community center each week. Some of you may remember the tales from Spring '05 at McCabe. Kana & Kush are enrolled in a theatre class at Sevier this time. Boy...they are getting a real dose of hardknocks. Those of you who ever had to go to "the center" for summer break know exactly what goes along with that. If you have never had this experience, know that it's an intense aspect of ghetto culture that you just have to witness.
(ABOVE:The diversified photo-op version of the center clientele.)
In the (cable) tv/ (broken) computer room there stands a trash receptacle with a sign taped on the front:
"DO NOT PUT ANYTHINK IN HERE"
On the table a craft resembling a championship wrestling belt that reads:
"FOOLZ BALL CHAMPION"
Took me a sec to make the association for that one. Not making fun, it tickled to see
nuisance reminders of my upbringing. You just don't see things like that in "White America". It's not humorous to see them in the hood either, just nostalgic. What did irk me was that cable programming would be wired to the center, while the computers sat as a resting place for unwanted papers. Even playing computer games would be more engaging & stimulating than sitting up in front of the Disney channel. Metro needs to get it together. Really! We're long past the 60's, yet our youth are still doing without equitable means.
"Who to blame?"