Tagged: family

Oct 15

A tribute to my cousin, on his birthday

Today is my cousin’s birthday. He died a young man…too young. Survived by three children and a beautiful woman who has been raising those kids on her own since his death. It’s hard not to be sad when thinking about Jamar and his death. But instead of sadness, I want to pay tribute to the love we shared.

Jamar and I didn’t grow up together as you would expect cousins should. We spent a little time together as kids, but nothing I can really recall with clarity or regularity. But as I got older, I began feeling the need to connect and spend time with my cousins. So I called. And when I got a car, I would go visit at least once or twice a month; sometimes once or twice a week.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but these visits would lay the foundation for undoing the disengagement our parents had created. We enjoyed each other’s company and loved each other. We became friends and confidants. We became family.

Eventually he and his family moved to Los Vegas and we didn’t spend as much time together, but we never grew apart. Then, one day, I got a call. Jamar had over-dosed on drugs and had died.

So we dropped everything, and headed to Las Vegas to be together as a family, mourn his loss and celebrate his life.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had missed so much, that I hadn’t had enough time; that he was entirely too young. But I remembered the afternoons we had spent chatting and watching TV in his living room. The time I knocked over his beer and he joked “I beat my kids for less!” I realized that I was lucky. Despite the boundaries that had kept us apart as kids, we had developed a deep bond as adults.

Sometimes, when the program I created for his memorial falls out of my journal, I cry, wishing I had had more time. But all that matters is that he knew I loved him and that I knew he loved me. His loss brought the rest of us together. For all of these things, I am grateful.

So this is my tribute to my cousin Jamar. I really miss him.

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Posted in My Life, The Fam

Jul 17

Dealing with the challenge of commuting longer distances by bike; with the kids

I don’t remember a whole lot from my childhood. But the memories I do have a very sharp. Aside from summers spent swimming 9-to-5 like a job and smelling my mom’s hair just before she told me she was pregnant with my sister, few memories stand out more than when we had to commute using public transportation. I’m talking, up before the crack of dawn so mom could get us kids to the babysitter and get to work by 9:00 AM.

And now I’ve begun doing the same thing. Actually, it wasn’t until Summer and I had two kids on vacation, that child care and commuting by bus became a real issue. As I started pricing the child care, I almost had a heart attack. All day child care for two children is expensive. And getting them there is a challenge, to say the least. Especially since we all have to get there by bike.

The first day was a bitch. We were up at 5:30 AM and out of the door by 6:00 (you have no idea what I had to go through to get the boys to get dressed, even in their sleep deprived stupor. I told them to sleep earlier. They’ll learn.). We all mounted our bikes and set out for the Boys & Girls Club, which had the best rates for summer day camp. Four miles, up hill, down hill, busy streets, early in the morning.

For someone who had spent that latter part of the school year commuting by bike, the youngest seemed to have the hardest time. He cried about his nose hurting, complained about being hot and generally had a hard time with the whole thing. The oldest spent half the ride yelling at the youngest to stop crying. At one point we went down a hill and I let myself fly down until I reached the bottom. Along the way, the boys lost sight of me. When they caught up the oldest was crying and glared at me angrily. “He got scared because he couldn’t see you,” the youngest said rolling his eyes.

Despite the challenges, we made it to our destination and I got to work on time. It took an hour to make a 30 minute ride, but I’m pretty sure we’ll get faster as the boys get more used to the route. The ride home was much easier and faster and when we made it, we all vegged out in front of the television.

I saw a sign that the average bicyclist loses 13 lbs their first year commuting by bike. Those are results I can get behind. That and showing my kids that you don’t need a car to get around town. The more used to it I get, the less inconvenient it seems. We were even able to grocery shop–I’m talking real shopping–and get everything home on our bikes.

Truthfully, there have been plenty of times I wish I had a car. But I’m also learning to make due and so are my kids. Much like when my mom would drag my sister and I out on the bus to get to the sitter, I have to drag my kids out on the rode at ungodly hours to get them to the sitter as well. The main difference is that we’re all getting a work out on our way to our destinations.

As my mom always said, “I gotta do what I gotta do.”

Truer words are rarely ever spoken.

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Posted in My Life

Dec 23

Why Can’t They Just be Happy?!

I was going to write something heart warming about my son being home for the holidays. I’ve missed him so and I just wanted to be positive about the whole thing. It sucks wasting precious time on negative energy…but dammit, this visit is much harder than I anticipated.

I wanted us to spend time together laughing and cherishing the few moments we have…He’s only going to be here until the 31, not even two full weeks. Instead I’ve been mediating silly misunderstandings between the boys, which I suppose is normal, but I just wanted them to hang out, have fun and love each other.

Well…when I walked in from work today, my sister was yelling at the boys about roughhousing too much. They had spent what little dry part of the day outside but were still bubbling over with energy and she wasn’t having it. Apparently they had been wrestling and doing what boys do. The problem is that the little one couldn’t really hang and kept getting hurt…which is precisely why I hate that sort of play in the first place.

After I dealt with the initial drama I thought everything would be cool. The boys went into their room to play and were fine for a while until I hear the E yell “I’m sorry B! I’m sorry!” Then dramatic sobbing.

Dammit! What now?!

Breathe…breathe…

E was sitting on his bed still boo-hooing. I resisted the urge to grumble inwardly as I walked over to the bed, hearing B’s voice but not being able to figure out where he was.

“He’s under the bed mom,” E said.

“What’s wrong now?” Unfortunately my exasperation came through and the water works on E were going again. “What’s going on?”

E squealed something about B being mad at because he’d accidentally hurt B’s finger… sobbing

B interjected, “But I’m not mad. It’s just… indecipherable sobbing

What the hell?!

“Come from under there, and both of you…stop crying,” my voice was getting louder, but I didn’t want to yell. They were hysterical and needed me to be calm. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

B: He hurt my finger, but it was an accident and he keeps saying I’m mad…and I’m not,” he squeaked the end as he held back the tears; lip quivering.

E: I said sorry, but he’s still mad at me sobbing

“He said he’s not mad,” I snapped. “How frustrating it must be that you insist he is mad, when he keeps telling you he’s not.”

B: This is why I play alone! Every time I play with someone they get hurt! huge dramatic sob

I felt like I was in some sort of warped universe. I had no idea what was going on. B obviously wasn’t talking about his finger being hurt and E was just upset because he thought he had hurt his brother. B kept saying, “I’m not used to playing with other people,” and my heart was breaking because all I wanted them to do is play and enjoy each other’s company.

Me: You have to be able to play with your brother-

B: But I can’t play with him because he’s just going to get hurt…

M: Stop focusing on something that’s over and move on to the next thing…

‘Round and round we went, until I just held them both close to me, shushing them. “Stop, stop, stop.”

Finally B pulled away and said “I just need a few minutes alone.”

“Ok,” I stood up and reached out for E’s hand. “But B, don’t wallow. Use this time to calm yourself down. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

I didn’t have time to go back to check on him before he came into my room, where E and I were slightly distressed about not being able to console B.

B: Can I talk to mom alone please?

E gave his brother a hug and smiles as he closes the door behind him.

B: You know how I was telling you that I’m used to playing alone? (I nod ) Well it’s because I don’t have any friends…the kids, they all make fun of me…”

So now we get to the root of the issue; he’s an outcast. Well, not much you can do about that other than develop thick skin and sharp wit with which to confuse any potential bullies. I told him that I understood and that he would have to be real strong. Let them hate, because people who pick on others only do it to feel better about themselves.

We had a nice long talk, followed by a group hug. We ate dinner, read a bed time story and now I’m exhausted.

Add to all of this that I forgot something really important for my mother, which I don’t even have the energy to get into…

All in all, an emotionally draining, shitty evening. sigh

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Posted in My Life, Parenting, The Boy

Oct 29

Family Drama on the Late Night

Last night I was in the bed, dozing – or at least trying to – and I get a call from my sister…

“K, I might be moving in sooner than expected,” she says, voice cracking.

“Why?” I ask. “What happened?”

“Well, something happened to mom’s computer and they’re blaming me. Cee (our little brother) told them that I was the last one on the computer and now they’re calling me a liar, and Dre told me to pack up my bags. They’re kicking me out.”

I could hear the angst in her voice. I didn’t know if she’d messed up the computer, didn’t really care for that matter. I had no desire to get into the middle of a dispute amongst a household of people I did not live with.

“You know you can come here…” I said with a sigh. “Is Dre going to bring you here?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure…” I could here her composure starting to crack. “I don’t even know where I’m going to sleep tonight.”

“Who are you talking to?” I hear my mother ask sharply in the background. “You’re always calling people talking shit about me and don’t even tell the whole story.”

Wow…she can’t even call people to talk about how she feels or ask for a place to stay without being yelled at and accused of talking shit?

“Put mom on the phone,” I said exaspirated.

“Hello,” she says, slightly less abruptly but I could still hear the irritation in her voice.

“Mom, she called to talk to me. You don’t know what she’s saying, so just let her talk.” I had meant to add a little sugar to my tone but I responded to her with my own aggrivation at having to mediate any part of this dispute.

She doesn’t say another word to me. However, after handing my sister back the phone she continues yelling in the background.

“You guys just talk to me like shit!” She wails. “She doesn’t even tell the whole story and Kim yells at me to just fucking let her talk…” She trails off .

Oh the drama from my mamma. Whatever…

Ignoring the yelling and commotion in the background I tell my sister, “I’m not going to get in the middle of whatever you guys have going on there and I’m not coming to pick you up, but you know you can come here.”

I heard the slightest bit of relief in her sigh. “Ok sis, thank you.”

“And Ja?” I could at least give her some bit of encouragement. “I know it sucks to be treated in a way you feel is unfair, especially by people you love, but don’t let it get you down.

It was all I had to give at the late hour…It was all she could handle before breaking down into hysteria.

“It just hurts…” She said between sobs.

“I know, Ja. I know. But you can come here.”

I don’t even want to think about what happened when we got off the phone. All I could think is how messed up it is that my 18-year-old sister was an adult and didn’t even know what that meant. She was unprepared, ill equipt and being put on the metro rail with whatever she could carry the next day. There wasn’t much I could do besides be there for her, but I refuse to over-extend myself…

In the end, I was just angry at my mother…

Family sucks sometimes. *sigh*

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Posted in My Life, The Fam

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