90's Hip Hop

My 90's HipHop Station on Pandora should just be renamed the "Close calls, big mistakes, beautiful stupid boys, running the streets, can't believe I made it out unscathed, race down memory lane" soundtrack.

Naughty by Nature brings back the first boy I ever completely lost all my senses for.  He was beautiful and remarkably stupid.  I wore his shirt for weeks and can't hear Hip Hop Hooray without being back on my couch in that apartment with his smile.

Lost Boyz brings back the little family of boys that adopted me into their crew.  We went everywhere together blasting the tiny speakers in my little car with Legal Drug Money until we wore the tape out.  Those were the first days I ever felt accepted for who I was, even if all I was at the time was young & stupid.

Outkast brings back the best friend I've ever had.  He used to let me drive his car up to get us food and he never let anyone drive that thing.  The driver's seat was leaned so far back it was resting on the back seat, and I felt like the coolest girl in the world behind the wheel.  Southernplayalisticcadillacfunkymusic was the soundtrack to that summer, and it brings his long pointless stories back every time.

Montell Jordan brings back the ride to high school graduation with my best girlfriend.  This is how we do it at the top of our lungs all the way to the coliseum.

DMX brings back every Tuesday and Wednesday night at the club.  It's Dark and Hell is Hot was on nonstop replay for months, and I made more mistakes than I can count while bouncing to that one.

Warren G's Regulators,  Snoop's Doggystyle, Dr. Dre's Chronic, anything from 2Pac, Wu-tang, Black Sheep, Busta Rhymes, Nas, The Fugees, Cypress Hill, Eric B. & Rakim.  Every song on this station has a face and a place and a memory attached.  Most also have at least two mistakes tagging along.  Every time the girls are gone and I can blast that station loud enough to bother the neighbors, I'm taken right back down to the strip we drove before we were smart enough to know better. 

And I smile.

MOVE me

I want to be moved.


To tears.
To dance.
To action.
To scream.


Move me in ways that feel like I'm flying.

Move me to the rhythm of the song stuck in your head.

Move me to contemplate all the ways I can hide the body.

Move me across the room so that I can be closer to your smile.

Move me across the country so I can be further from your off-key singing.



I want to feel the shift that you inspire inside me.



To paint walls in your favorite color.
To do an old school shout out on the radio.
To not want to replace every inch you occupy.
To burn all the pictures of you I keep in my mind.
To stop in my tracks at the scent of your cologne.
To wake in the middle of the night with words begging to be put on paper.



Move me.

Or move on.


(Woke up with this in my head three days in a row & decided it was time to put it out.)

Voice in her head

Last night, Maya was being extra "entertaining".  She was making up songs and dancing to them.  And, she was cracking herself up with jokes that made no sense.  She was laughing so deeply and freely that we all just stopped to watch her.

"Ita, do you hear voices in your head?", I asked her.

"Yep."

"Really?  What do they say?"

"That I'm awesome.  And I'm very pretty.  And I'm the smartest.  And, I'm the best at backflips."

"Oh, OK.  What does the voice sound like?"

"You."

Forgetting for a moment that Maya has never actually done a backflip, I was short of breath at her answers.  I had asked the question as a joke because she honestly seems to have more going on inside her head than the average kid.  I expected her to look at me like I was crazy when I asked about voices.  Instead, she changed everything.

You always hear that the words a parent says stick in a child's mind.  And, you know it's true on some level.  I can remember every terrible thing my mother ever said to me, including the sound of the hatred in her voice as she formed the scars.  But, to hear from your own child that you are literally the voice inside her head makes you stop and think.  Or at least it should.

I am lucky that what she hears are affirmations.  Of course, they're also all the things Maya already believes to be true about herself.  And, I wholeheartedly believe she would believe these things even without anyone telling her because she has a very strong sense of self.  However, not all kids are born with the self esteem this little one was blessed with.  What does Eva hear inside her mind?  Or Sofia?  Or other children who's parents don't realize what their voice can do?

Do I tell them enough that they are special?  Probably not.  With a preteen, I find myself telling her more often to please brush her teeth/finish her homework/pick up her mess/wipe the dirty look off her face.  With a child who has some emotional issues, I am sure I say too often "go to your room and calm down before we both explode" or "stop whining at me before I rip my own ears off."  Do they know that they are also awesome and pretty and smart?  I hope so, and I hope I can remind them more often now that I've been reminded that my voice is helping to form who they believe themselves to be.

"You are the three most awesome children anyone has ever been given.  You are all special and beautiful and smart.  And, not one of you is good at backflips - yet."

What do you see when you look at me?  You see small wrists and think they're easy to grab and manipulate?  You see thighs smaller than your neck and think they couldn't possibly be strong enough to outdo you?  You see a woman, so I'm automatically easy to push around?

Know what I see when I look at you?  I see a head full of ego with nothing to back it up.  I see arms full of muscle that haven't ever been used to help, only hurt.  And I see a man so weak he can only pick on a woman half his size.

You think you know everything there is to know about me because you've heard it through the filter of a liar.  You think you can look down on me because you've never been caught showing your true colors.  What about all the times you got turned down when you snuck in behind his back?  You think you can tell me what to do with my life because you have a family turning a blind eye behind you.  You think you can spread lies about me to the people stupid enough to listen simply because the smart ones ignore you anyway.  Want me to start telling the truth about you?

You think I can't fight back because you're a man.  Please.  I've been knocked around by bigger, stronger, louder boys than you my whole life.  And I have never, not once, been beaten.  You are nothing.

No, there's no way my smaller hands or little arms can hurt you.  You've got me by at least 100 pounds, it's true.  But my mind?  Well, my mind could annihilate you in the blink of an eye.  So, think long and hard before you come at me again.  Because, there is nothing you could ever do to me that would lessen the strength of a life long lived in struggle.  And I'd be happy to show you that the next time you come at me like the loud mouthed, trash talking, lieing, bully, punk you are.

Say it

I say lots of things I shouldn't. 

There are so many times when, after saying every little thought that was running through my mind, I've thought: "well, that's going to come back to haunt you".  And it does, usually.

I tell people how I feel.  About them.  About what they're doing.  About how they're changing my world.  I tell people they're important.  Or beautiful.  Or mean.  Or selfish.  I tell people how they make me smile inside.  Or they make me cry when I'm alone.  I tell people the truth. 

And, I don't mind when they do the same to me.  If I make you feel something, good or bad, say it.  I can take honesty.  Truly.  If I'm being a bitch, say it.  If I make you smile at the thought of me, say it.  If you can't wait to watch me leave, say it.

But don't sugarcoat anything.  Sugarcoating is like trying to lie with a clear conscience.  It's a waste of perfectly good frosting because, in the end, it's still a lie.  You still weren't strong enough to tell the truth.  Be strong enough because I promise I'm strong enough to take it.  I don't have to like every word in order to want to hear all of them.

You're not going to like everything I say, but that won't stop me.  So, don't let it stop you.

Yes, a lot of words have crossed these lips.  And, not all of them were thought through first.  Some came tumbling out before I could find my filter.  But I have never regretted the truth, given or received.  Honesty should really be the only determining factor whenever you ask yourself "How do I say this?"

Just say it because, whether it be the beginning or the end, one of us has to.

Because

Because she was being ornery. 

I walked Maya all the way to her classroom today because she was being ornery.  She had brought something home the day before that she wasn't supposed to and I had to return it to her teacher.  I held her hand and took her to the lady who watches the kindergarteners before the bell rings.  I spoke to her teacher for a minute or two and walked back out of the classroom.  I couldn't find her at first, so I had a moment of panic staring into the faces of all of the other little bitty kids.  Then I turned to find her sitting behind me smiling. 
"I love you, mami.  Have a great day and I'll see you after school!"

Because she was being ornery, I got to smile at her an extra time this morning.

I worked all day, so I didn't know what happened in Connecticut until I had a second to check Facebook.  When I didn't know what everyone was talking about, I turned on the tv.

Because she was being ornery, I saw the inside of my kindergartener's classroom today.



A classroom full of kindergarteners.


So many mamas saw their babies off to school this morning.  Smiled and waved and told them they loved them.  So many families rushed through the morning routine on an ordinary school day.  So many little ones excitedly walked into their classroom today with thoughts of Santa or the weekend or lunch on their minds. 


Because she was being ornery, all I could see was her classroom full of little faces.

I waited with knots in my stomach for her to round the corner after school.  I rushed to her and carried her for the next fifteen minutes.

"What's wrong, mama?"
"I just missed you today."
"I missed you too, mama."
"I love you so much."
"I love you more than all the bumps on Mars."

We walked around to sister's door and squeezed her so hard she said I was strangling her.  We clung to each other all the way back to the car.

"What's wrong, mama?  Did something happen to Uncle Michael?"
"No.  Everyone we know is fine.  It's just been a sad day and I'm so thankful that you and your sisters are all safe and sound."

Because she was being ornery, I had a moment this morning of exasperation. 

I am so thankful that I am able to hold my babies tonight and tell them that I love them.  I am so lucky to be ending this day as whole and complete as I started it.  My heart breaks for all of the families who will never be whole or complete again.

Nothing will ever matter more.

Special

I have introduced this little person before.  Her name is Maya.  When she was born, she was quiet and sweet and went with the flow.  She snuggled with me and looked at me with her big dark eyes as if to say "You're the bestest mama.".  This lasted for approximately 25 months.  Then I got a better translation of that intense gaze.... "You're falling for it, mama."

This child is special.  I know you're thinking, every child is special.  No no no no.  This child is the kind of special that makes you sure she is protected under some endangered species act... the kind where you will get fined $10,000 if you disturb her habitat.  She does things that make you sure she's been here before and wrote the rules to her own game.

She stockpiles notes from her teacher.  The little "caught being good notes" that they hand out in kindergarten are overflowing from one pocket of her backpack.  Some are months old; but as soon as she gets in trouble at home, she whips one out like it's brand new.  "See, mama, I did good in school today!"

Every day while we walk around to get Eva, I ask her if anything exciting happened that day.  One day last week when I had come in to volunteer in the classroom, her answer was "You were the most exciting part of my day!" aaaaaawwwwwww Half a second later...before I had even finished forming the heartwarmed smile she inspired...as I was mentally reciting the words for my Mama of the Year acceptance speech... "Now who's your goodest child?".  Little manipulator.

Maya goes to the nurses's office at school three to four times a day.  She can't breathe.  She tripped as she was walking and did a complete somersault and hit the top of her head.  She can't find her class.  etc.  etc.  etc.  When I ask the nurse why she keeps letting Maya get away with this, her answer?  "She's just so cute!"  That's how she gets away with this stuff.

I ask each of the girls every afternoon what the best part of their day was.  One day, Maya's answer was "All the boys chasing me."  "Excuse me??!!"  Her explanation was "Yes mama, because I was so fast they couldn't catch me."

 

On Tuesday, she walked out of school looked right at me and didn't recognize me.  When she finally noticed me, she yelled in front of everyone: "Mama, you can't dress nice!  I don't see you unless you're wearing messy clothes."

 

On Wednesday, she walked directly into her classroom and before I had even left the building began telling her teacher that I didn't feed her breakfast.  She repeated this same story to at least two other adults before the office staff called me (presumably as a courtesy before they called CPS).  "No, Maya had eggs, sausage, toast, fresh fruit, orange juice, and a cinnamon roll less than an hour ago."  So, they put my little traitor on the phone.  Why did she tell people this?  She says she doesn't know, I say she thought someone would give her a pudding cup.

 

 

Yes, Miss Maya is special.  She's exasperatingly special.  She's knock your head on the wall special.  She's a roller coaster ride of special.

 

And she's all mine, which makes me kind of special too.