License to Breed

SHE SAYS:
We must register to vote. We need a License to drive, but anybody can just make and raise a kid. They ask you no questions. There are no qualifying factors. It's just okay there ya go. Good luck baby, hope your parents don't suck. I mean can they at least give you a pamphlet and a 5 hour course? A road test or something? I mean It's a person!? People are more thoroughly vetted before buying a puppy.. With that in mind here is the pamphlet that I would send home with anyone who is thinking of or recently had a child.

Page 1

                                    Whatcha Gonna Do Now?

         What do the 1991 Chicago Bulls, General Patton and Kelly Clarkson all have in common? They won. Sure they all won different things, but they won.  All great conquests are made with a plan. So now that you know you’re going to be a parent, now that you’re out buying onesies, and booties and all other types baby gear. What’s your game plan? Don’t know? Okay grab a pencil.

         But seriously in quiet moment allow yourself to consider the most important things that you want your child to learn. You know indispensable life knowledge. Write them down commit them to memory and try as often as possible to tie these pieces of information into their lives. Start the messages out very basic and become more in-depth as the child’s understanding increases.

P.S. Don’t be crazy about it. Only reference these things when they make sense. And if your kid’s already here it’s okay, you’re no too late you can play catch up.

Page 2

                                      You Gotta Love ‘Em

         No one can say enough about how important it is for a child to know that he or she is loved, thoroughly and unconditionally. When your tired, angry, happy, or sad or any other feeling you can muster up. Make sure that you show your child love. And  tell them that you love them. You can’t just expect them to know. Just because you feed them and clothe them does not mean you love them, that is a parental responsibility. The sanitation worker picks up my garbage, but that doesn’t mean he loves me. Now if he showed up at my door  with a large roll of those really good industrial strength garbage bags and said “Hey, I Love You! “, then I’d be sure too get the message. Not that you have to bring your kids gifts to show your love, I just have the hardest time finding good trash bags.

         If you want to show your child you care take an interest in their hobbies. You don’t have to love it , just take interest in it. It will mean a lot to them a forge communication that will be very important further down the line. Take time with your kid now or take time in the court house, or E.R., jail, or cemetery later. The choice is yours.

    Page 3

                                    They Are Watching You

Sounds like the opening scene from a horror flick, but it’s true. Those little people are watching you. How you walk, how you talk , what you do and don’t do. They are silently piecing together the puzzle of what life is about. They are formulating ideas and making decisions based on what they are exposed to primarily by you. Sure there will be many other influences, but yours will be the greatest. Because you were there first and you had their undivided attention the longest.

  Page 4

                           They’re Not Really Yours They’re On Loan

         You read right your precious child is not yours rather a very valuable loan. God has done with you what Harry Winston does on Oscar night with celebrities. You have been loaned precious cargo. It is expected that that loan be returned in the best condition possible. In the case of jewelry, it is returned to the store. In the case of a child, they are returned to the world as adults. You only get to hold them for a brief period of time, so make that time count.

Page 5

                  You’re Bored?... Learn To Play The Violin

So you’ve traded in your stilettos for loafers and you’re your bachelor pad is now a play yard. You have decided to become a parent. Your idea of fun needs to change.  It’s not really about you now. It’s about that little person. Some kind soul will occasionally babysit so you can go shower off the drool and kick up your heels from time to time, but you are now on call 24 hours a day. It gets a little better as they get older, but it never stops. Make your child a part of your new idea of fun. You’ll learn to love it, your child will love it and in return they will love you. Still bored? Learn to play the violin so you can lull the kid to sleep & have a drink.

Page 6

                                             It’s Your Fault

If nothing else you’ve read motivates you to strap yourself in and really commit to this parenthood thing, then maybe this will. THEY ARE GONNA BLAME YOU!!!!! And people will BELIEVE them!  The Giants win the Superbowl. They thank their parents. Serial killer on death row. They blame their parents. Either way you take the rap. Wouldn’t you like to stack the deck in favor of a Superbowl win?

God Speed and Good Luck

Permanently Disgruntled

SHE SAYS:

HAPPY. That’s the goal in life right? Everyone just wants to be happy. Sure, we all have our own ways of searching for it. Some look high and low. Eyes lifted toward the heaven while feeling under a rock. All for the elusive “Happy”.

I am no different. I too am searching for my permanent happy place. I have prayed about it, cried over it and have even sought the help of a therapist to find my happy. So far I have caught glimpses of it, brushed past it a time or two, but still have yet to grab hold of it.

In therapy we are taught to be present in one’s life. Not to merely drudge through and survive life, but to live it. To pay attention, to get to truly know yourself, so that you can figure out what you need and want. Figure out how to get it and be…happy.

Sounds good right? So, I do all of this stuff. I become present in my own life. I am the master of my own destiny, the captain of my ship. Things are looking up. But no matter what I do, or how well things are going there is always an under current of disgruntlement. Is that a word? If not it should be.

I can even in my happiest of moments, still feel the ripple of the stream of pissed-offedness (okay, I know that’s not a word, but I don’t care) ever present in my soul.

So as a good student of therapy, I decided to be present with this feeling and explore it. After much thought. I have come to the conclusion that I am NOT permanently disgruntled. The under current of disgruntlement that I feel is I think best described as a Spidy Sense of sorts. It’s always tingling because they are always around. Ever present and too close for comfort. Stupid People.

Stupid people are the bane of my existence. I can’t stand them, but they always find me like moths to a flame. Of course there is a perfectly good scientific explanation for this. Opposites attract, electrons and protons, X and Y-chromosomes. That sort of thing. But still I loathe stupid people.

These scholars of duh as I like to call them, never miss an opportunity to make a mountain from a mole hill, Kick a sleeping tiger or anything else that remotely intelligent people know simply cannot end well.

These people then will find me and must simply must tell me ALL about it. And usually more than once. That’s pretty much when I stop being Spider man and I turn into the Hulk. “Hulk Smash Stupid People”

That under current becomes a tsunami and I turn green, grow to be 10 feet tall and start smashing things.. Well, not really, but I want to.

So THAT is the reason I am always ready to give a side eye, or tell someone where to stick it. Much like Peter Parker or David Banner, I just have to learn to live with my disorder.

Despite this handicap, I WILL find my happy place. And when I do, I’ll surround it with a moat full of hungry gators, a 20-foot barb wire electrified fence and have several killer porcupines roaming the property. I will have a shotgun by my door and the welcome mat will say “Stupid People Shot Here”. Hopefully the stupid people won’t get that far, but let’s face it. The one thing stupid people have going for them is they are oblivious to pain and thus very resilient.

However if you are not stupid, just call ahead and I’ll feed the gators, drop the bridge, open the fence and tell the porcupines to stand down. I’ll bake a pie and we can have a nice little visit.

And um, don’t worry about the tiger sleeping on the couch. He only eats stupid people. You wanna wake him up?... Just checking. Because my Spidy senses are beginning to tingle.

An Open Letter to Texas

SHE SAYS:

Dear Texas,

I recently read that the man who beat the guy who molested his baby girl to death in you state will face no charges. You go, Texas! You got that one spot on right.

You know Texas, now that I think about it. I kinda like you. I hear the stars at night are big and bright down there.  You’ve, got great barbecue, cost of living is far cheaper than New York and I actually like line dancing.

It’s too bad you hate Black people. I mean the whole country hates Black people, but you take it to a whole other level. May I ask why? I mean do you just hate us because all of the people before you did?

There is so much I like about you Texas. Your weather is warm, your accent is sexy and so are your men. Texas you would be perfect if it weren’t for that whole hating Black people thing. Hey if you want to hate certain Black people, I’m all for that.  I have a list myself. How about we compare lists and wherever they cross we can agree that if those folk cross your border you can shoot them. Would that work for you Texas?

I really admire the fact that if you kill 15 people in Texas, Texas kills you and Fast! I really like that you schedule church services around football. Why wouldn’t Jesus be a Dallas Cowboys fan? In by 10, out by 12. Football kicks off at one. Touch down for the Lord!!

Don’t you see Texas? If you could just get over that whole hating my people thing we could make beautiful Country music together. Alas I’ve gone on too long and I don’t want to seem desperate, but if you ever get over your little problem, call me. I’d love to come and stay for a spell. Just think it over.

                                                                        Sincerely,

                                                      Black Girl from Brooklyn

Recognize A Good Man

HE SAYS:

I wrote this a long time ago, and when cleaning up files on my computer, I thought I'd share.  Hope you enjoy.


I’m your father, your brother, your lover, your friend.

I’m the one that changed your diapers. I was the guest of honor at your “tea parties.” I read to you until the Sandman called your name, and when he did, I laid you on my chest. You listened to my heart beat until you finally started to dream. I kissed your boo-boos when you got hurt, I gave you pow-pows when you were bad, and I hugged you every step of the way so that you knew I loved you. I’m a Man. I’m a Good Man. And it’s time for you to recognize.

I let you drive my car without me in it to other cities and states. I gave you my beaters and T-Shirts when you wanted to be a Tom Boy and your mother wouldn’t buy you any new clothes. I was the brotha you called when your man did you dirty, and I was the n!gga that would have handled it for you if you let me. I slept on my couch while you slept in my bed when you had nowhere to go. I bought you your first beer, wine, and liquor. I taught you the game. When I was younger, I warned you about dating men like me, and when you didn’t listen, I was there for you when you cried. I shared inside jokes with you. I let you tag along anywhere I went. I’m a Man. I’m a Good Man. And it’s time for you to recognize.

I always open the door for you; the door to the restaurant, the door to the house, the door to the car; and I don’t get mad when you fail the “Bronx Tale door test.” I run you a bath when I know you’ve had a hard day. I massage your entire body. I kiss you and tell you how much I love you for no reason, except that it’s true. I support your dreams. I am willing to change my life so that it matches what you want yours to be. I put you first. When you are sick, I take sick days just to take care of you; when those run out I take vacation. When they tell me to go back to work or else, I won’t move until you tell me it’s ok. I go down on you until my tongue goes numb. I make love to you with every inch of me. You excite me so much sometimes I can’t control it. I take you places I never thought about going just because you want to go, and I love having you on my arm. I mop the floor, change your oil, vacuum the carpet, and walk the dog. I let you shine the way God wanted you to. I spend time with you even when I can’t spend money. I always push you to be better. I tell you that you’re perfect just the way you are. I’m a Man. I’m a Good Man. And it’s time for you to recognize.

I remember when I sat and listened to you for hours in my car, crying because you thought you might not ever be able to do “this.” I was there for you when you thought “that” could never happen. I told you what I thought and kept my mouth shut, depending on what you needed at the time. When you thought you could never have children I was there to console you. When you got pregnant, I bought you groceries, I sat with you, and you said my voice was the only one that could calm you and your stomach down – and the baby wasn’t even mine. I partied with you on your birthday. I was so proud of you on your graduation that people thought I was the one that graduated. I kept in contact with you when I moved 600 miles away, and we spoke regularly. When I hadn’t seen or spoken to you in almost 10 years I still confided in you, and we picked up right where we left off. When you were in another country you found me, called and emailed me, and I celebrated. I meet your boyfriends because you wanted my seal of approval. We spent Christmas together when I couldn’t go see my parents. You bought me a “Boondocks” T-Shirt. I stopped you from making a huge mistake, and you kept dancing with me so I didn’t get into a fight at the club. I slept on your floor. You kept me up while we talked all night. I took you to the best strip club ever. I didn’t trip when you tried to date my boy and you knew I had a crush on you. I taught you how to play Spades, Tonk, and Spit. I consoled you when you wanted to move to Cuba to run away from your problems. I was there when you got pregnant. I was there when you had an abortion. I was there when you tried to get right with God and thought you had a VD. I celebrated with you when you finally went from a B-Cup to a C-Cup. I was happy for you when you finally got a booty. I’ve always been there and I always will, because I’m a Man. I’m a Good Man. And it’s time for you to recognize.

No, I’m far from perfect. I’ve let you down more times than I can even recall. For that I am sorry. When you called and I didn’t answer, when you came to me and I didn’t know what to say, when I didn’t have the answer to your problem, when even the sound of my voice upset you, I am sorry. I hope you forgive me. But when those time come again, and I’m sure they will, I hope you remember everything else I’ve done. As your father; as your brother; as your lover; as your friend, I love you, and I always will. Tell me about the good things I’ve done in your life, don’t just criticize me for the bad. Remind me without coercion so that I know my labor is not in vain. But know this: Whether you tell me or not, whether you reciprocate or not, whether you acknowledge or not, I will continue to be the best I can for you. Why? Because I’m a Man. I’m a Good Man. And I can only HOPE that you recognize.

Peace and Respect

Ladies: It's You, Not Him

HE SAYS:

I'm gonna let you know from the start that this is a venting session...

Two very good female friends of mine had some serious relationship issues recently, and they decided to call me for advice.  Their actual problems don't matter, but their conclusion does: "I am going to be single forever! Nobody wants me, and the ones that do, suck!"

A brief history of these two is in order.  One of these ladies I met in 2002 at 3-day long festival.  I was with one of my boys and he wanted to talk to her friend. Being the perfect wingman that I am, I went over with him. The lady I spoke to, let's call her "Tasha," was a tall, dark-skinned, gorgeous young lady.  We shot the breeze, exchanged numbers, and kept in contact quite often.  No lie, I started to develop feelings for her and even told her so, but she lived far away and didn't want to do the whole "long distance" thing.  It turns out that we were just meant to be friends, so I'm actually glad things didn't go any further, but she really is a great woman whom I admire and respect a whole lot.  She is now in a relationship with a guy that I think is a really great fit for her, but certain circumstances make it seem like it won't last.  It's not Tasha's fault, and it's not her man's fault... Actually it's a bunch of bullsht why they may have to separate, but sometimes life just does it that way.

The other lady, "Amanda," has been in a series of "relationships" with guys that are way more similar than different.  For the most part, they have similar jobs, interests, looks, hair styles, and dispositions.  None of them have worked.  I met her, yet again, when another friend was trying to holla.  He wanted to make himself look good, so I played the "bad cop" role.  The two wound up talking for a little bit, but nothing ever became of it. However, since the summer of 2001, when I met her, we've been great friends.  Her entire family loves me.  Her little cousin even calls me her big brother.  Amanda is gorgeous, artistic, and has a genuine love for life.  Recently, she told me that, years ago, she thought about asking me if we should date, but decided against it because she knew that it wouldn't work because of how different we are.

Why did I give you this information?  Simple.  Both of these women would be GREAT catches for anyone, but for some reason, they keep falling into the same trap, and they resort to their previous conclusion that solitude is the life that chose them because no "good guy" likes them.

I call bullsht yet again.

I know I've put on QUITE A FEW extra pounds since the Army.  I'm not the smartest, best looking, richest, guy out there.  But I know I'm a good one.While Tasha and I were not meant to be, it was because of distance that we didn't give it a shot... Which was her choice.  The problem she and her man are facing now is a completely different matter, yet one that still shows that good guys do like her and there is still a good chance that she will have the happiness she deserves.  Amanda has the same problem.  It's not that she can't get the right guys. She CHOOSES the wrong guys based on her own perceptions.

Ladies, if you're actually a good one, there is a good guy out there for you, without compromising your standards.  Start looking at the choices you make and with whom you make them... And maybe then you will have a better understanding of why you keep ending up with the same men or in the same situations.

Peace and Respect