First Day of School

Today is the first day of school for students in Pulaski County Special School District in Arkansas.

My daughter's bus came at 6:45 am. 6:45!! But you better believe, she hit the bus stop like she was hitting the run way -- in full Diva Mode. Wow! Still, she took a solid minute out of her routine to pop into my room and give me a kiss on the cheek. I love that (no so) little girl!

Now, the boys. . Well, this morning was a wake up call for me. The I'm Awake kiss I usually get - Nope! I rushed them through the getting ready routine, and walked them to the bus stop (twice). You think they even considered puckering them lips for a kiss for the Momma that is having a hell of a time transitioning. NO!

I watched them get on the bus. Before they got on, I made a plan, and BOTH of them shot me the DON'T EMBARRASS ME look. Embarrass them? I am NOT my mother! I don't embarrass. . I just want a little pre-first day of school affection.

I wanted to believe that they had just forgotten to give me a kiss, so I met them at the elementary school to give them another chance. I KNOW I heard my 9 year old say, "I am SO embarrassed." before he pretended not to see me and headed to class. My 7 year old -- the baby that is FULL of affection - said, "Mommy, I got it." and went on. .

No love. No snuggles. No nothing.

I know my kids are getting bigger, older, more mature. Well, Stevie Wonder can see that! But I'm just not quite ready for the transition to "My Mom embarrasses me" just yet. I LOVE them! I LOVE THEM! They are my whole world!

Kisses, I don't need. But hugs I do, so I plan to meet ALL of them at home - since I cleverly took the day off - with open arms when their first day of school is over. In the meantime, I'll just lick my wounds and recover.

Where I am: intersted in foster parenting and adoption

Who misses broken sleep, random crying spells, dirty diapers, teething, diaper rashes, colic? Well, me!

It's weird that I raised my children while I was attending high school, finishing college, and entering the work force; all while I was in either one dysfunctional relationship or another. Now, I'm actually in a stable place in my career, in a really healthy relationship, and well, there are no more babies. And I feel like I'm at a place where I'm ready for a baby.

Sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. Well, Thursday I'm really excited about this Foster Parenting Meeting that I'm attending. It's an informational meeting that will get me acquainted about the program. I know NOTHING, and I feel pretty passionate that once I get married, I want to adopt. So, I'm going to get all the information I can about the requirements, expectations, difficulties, everything.

I want to give a child a better life. I've struggled, and learned, and I actually have no regrets. I want to expose a child (or hey, maybe to) to more opportunity than they would otherwise have; and at the same time add even more people to love to my family.

That's where I am right now. God is good.

Who are these people?

I had a HORRIBLE work day today; not because our full day of meetings did not following the agenda I created or because Shop launched later in the day than I had anticipated. Actually, what upset me today was pretty significant, and it really had nothing to do with work. It had more to do with my co-workers and the fact that I learned that no matter how far I go in my career, in a lot of arenas I'm still an outsider looking in.

Well, here goes the most painful part.

We took our out-of-town vendors to lunch today. It seemed like a good idea even though the day was not going quite right. . at all..

I volunteered to drive to Whole Hog - at least one of my attempts to go above and beyond with looking like a Team Player.

We were well into lunch when A mentioned that she saw a HI-larious video. She tried to describe what it was about, which didn't sound funny, but we wanted to laugh with her, so a few people found the clip on their iPhones. Some of them smiled some of them giggled, so I thought I'd give it a looksey too. Of course, it turned out that that video was one of the worst I had ever seen.

It was an interview of this black man that lived in the projects who was describing the attempted rape of his sister and how he saved her. He was poor, and as it tends to turn out, and could not speak the standard English language to save his life. The sadness behind the story was lost on my lunch dates. All they could hear was Ebonics and all they could see was this poor black family. I was horrified. I made a face, and looked out the window.

Well, we return to work, and I'll be honest I carried some hurt with me from that experience because I just could not understand how I worked with this group of people each day to end hunger and poverty around the word, provide opportunities to poverty-stricken families, and to educate, and they found this particular video about a woman that lived in poverty and was almost raped even a little bit funny. If she lived in Nepal, or Slovakia, Poland, or even Uganda or Cameroon they would've seen her as a human being. I guess it's hard though when she's just Black. But still, I wondered to myself, Who are these people?

I went through my day anxious to the end, so I could go home and wash my day away, but it just wouldn't go nicely.

As I left for the day, I popped in to wish my co-workers and vendors a good evening, and what-do-ya-know? They're getting one last ha-ha out of the video. This time to music!

I'm tactful. I'm professional. I'm open-minded. I decide to not say a thing.

But what made my co-worker, A, text message me after the fact and explain that she apologized for offending me, but she wanted me to know it was not because she's racist? Well, in her defense, I've actually never met a true racist who thought they were racist either.

This is a look into the life of a Black woman who grew up poor, came up a little but is committed to never forgetting the legacy she was born into.

My Momma's Obituary: There are not enough words

Elizabeth Ann Scott (Francois)

PORT ARTHUR- Mrs. Elizabeth Ann Scott (Francois) of Port Arthur died Tuesday, Nov. 6, 2007. She was born in St. Martinville, Louisiana and was a resident of Port Arthur, TX for 43 years. She was a graduate of Lincoln High School in 1961. She spent her life taking care of the elderly as a Home Health Provider. Her remaining life was devoted to Jesus Christ, constantly testifying to others of the wonderful things GOD does and to turn their life over to Christ.

She leaves to cherish: her four daughters, Jedda (Anthony) Brantley of Georgia, Camalita (Dwight) Snowden of Port Arthur, TX, Kitina Meeks and Anasthia Johnson, both of Sherwood, Arkansas; two sons, Willie Gray III of Houston, TX and Alex Gray of Port Arthur, TX; six sisters; four brothers; close friends, Hattie Morgan and Jacqueline Ford of Port Arthur, TX; sixteen grandchildren and a host of loving nieces and nephews. Visitation in scheduled from 6pm-9pm on Friday Nov. 9th at Gabriel Funeral Home. Funeral services will be at 11am, Saturday Nov. 10th at Barnes Memorial Methodist Church, 749 West 17th St. in Port Arthur, TX. with early viewing before the services.



I miss you, Momma

Getting Back to Where I Belong

For the first time in many, many years, I decided that instead of spending 4th of July weekend with someone else's family, I'd brave the trip to spend time with my side: the Francois family - my relatives on my mother's side. This was the first time since I was a teenager that I went to visit family when I was not grieving, so the entire experience felt new, but extremely familiar.

Me, my sister, and my teenage daughter divvy'd our time between Cade, Lafayette, and St. Martinville Louisiana.

Here's the quick and dirty about the entire trip.

During the 5.5 to 6 hour drive, I started to get nervous because I began to remember how cliquish our family had always been during the many summers and holidays we spent together in Louisiana (and Texas), and I was not sure if I'd be able to find a place where I belonged in the whole structure. I wondered if I even knew these peoople anymore. I mean, I had not seen or spoken to them in almost 20 years. Would I even recognize all of them?

But once we arrived. I just cannot explain to you the feeling of belonging that fell over me. It was as if I had returned home.

My mother is gone now, but I could see her eyes, her cheekbones, her mouth, her hips, her ass in every one of my Aunts. When they were all together at the same time, it was a little overwhelming because I felt like I was back in my mother's presense. I had so many memories of Momma come back to me in their presence. It felt so right.

I heard my mother's laugh when my Aunt Cynthia got tickled. I saw my mother's disapproving glare when my Aunt Stephanie heard us talking in church. I winced at my mother's sarcastic sneer when my Aunt Brenda was not impressed by something we did (or wore). I smelled (yes, smelled) my mother when I gave my favorite Aunt Sharon a long hug. While I spent time with my mother's sisters, I was in her presence. I don't mean virtually. I mean, she was there; everywhere.

But not only was she there, but the people I had grown up to love, respect, and cherish were all there too. There were cliques in the Francois family, but they were overshadowed by shared love; a lot of love, hugs, tears, kisses, and family sharing. This was truly the best holiday I've had in my entire adult life. Now, that I've found where I belong, I hope to re-create the time we had much more often.

Who can I run to?

I pride myself on being the person that others can turn to when they've been backed into a corner. I'm Ms. Bailout. But after awhile that's a really exhausting position to play. Not because being there for someone else takes a lot out of me, but because it sets me up to look for that person that I can turn to in times of need.

Basically, it's me and Jesus. Me and Jesus. Everyone else is just hype.

I'm frustrated. SO frustrated. I just feel like I spend all my time thinking, "What can I do to make life better for the kids?," "How can I make things easier for Baby Beast?," "How can I encourage my nieces and nephews to go farther."

Well, today it's Baby Beast. How's he gonna just back out on me again. . as usual?

Aaaaaaaaaaaargh!

So, now I'm a Mother's Day Scrooge

I've been in my room for most of the day with my cell phone off, my shades drawn, my door closed, laying across my bed going through cycles of crying and laughing, sleeping and awake. I'm just in here meditating on my memories of momma. Before you even guess it, I'm not depressed - according to the clinical definition. I really just want this fucking day to be over.

The nerve of people to continue to recognize Mother's Day after my mother has passed. It all seems unfair. . insulting. disgusting. I don't need a day to mourn my mother. I do that every day, every hour, every second. . always. At this point, I can't even appreciate what other people do for their mother's either. . It's never enough. Nothing will be enough. Your mother is the most obvious expression of the first gift God gave you: Life. And when she's gone, it's the most obvious representation that Life is coming to an end. . for everyone.. and righ now, I'm ready for it to be me.

Again, I'm not depressed. I've just lost the best friend I could ever have. So, people ask me why I don't try to make friends now? Well, why?

I look forward to the day when I have come to the end of this fight. I have helped everyone God sent me to help. . when I have been the example to those God meant for me to be the example to. . when I have praised him in every way God put me here to praise him in.. and then I close my eyes. . and wake up on the other side.

I look forward to walking through the Gates of Heaven, and seeing my TWO best friends, because my Dad will be there too.. I know they will open their wings, we'll embrace, and I'll hear what I've waited a lifetime to hear. "Well done. "

Until then, I'll continue to function.. on every day but today. Today I'm going to chill in my room, reflect on what I've lost, meditate on my memories of momma, and endure being the Scrooge that I've become.