Marital Mondays: The Un-Mother’s Day
I did not celebrate Mother’s Day yesterday, and it was awesome. I laid in the bed butt naked watching Scandal and Grey’s Anatomy, while eating cereal. I must have been well-rested, because by 3pm, I was up putting the rest of our one million books in the shelves.
The girls jumped on their new trampoline for two hours straight! This allowed Hannibal and I to catch a rom-com on the Starz Network, largely uninterrupted. That was nice. We watched “Friends With Benefits.” Surprisingly, Justin Timberlake wasn’t horrible.
I didn’t feel like cooking, so we all got dressed around 5ish and headed out to Bossa Nova, but as soon as we entered the restaurant, Fuss vomited all over the floor, and Hannibal, and Sunset Boulevard. I’m so glad it wasn’t really Mother’s Day, because that would have really sucked. Since I wasn’t celebrating Mother’s Day, we just got take-out, went to Target to grab new outfits for both of them, and finished our grocery shopping for the week.
Marital Mondays: Picking Fights
I started watching Scandal, starring Kerry Washington, this weekend. I haven’t watched any TV (other than an occasional Raising Hope or Community) since Alphas went off. Scandal is great. The only problem was watching it on Hulu, where they played a million ProFlowers Mother’s Day ads. I don’t think about my mother often. It’s normally when one of the kids asks me something about her. That doesn’t usually bother me, but these ads got to me for some reason.
I know I’m a mother, and that Mother’s Day is for me, too. Even though, the last couple of Mother’s Day celebrations have been awesome for me, I just don’t really think of me first. I think of my mom. Then I think of how I can barely even remember her voice anymore. I’m reminded that she’s not here to experience my kids, and even worse, that Fuss never met her. She never will. I didn’t push the feelings away. I just sat with them. I didn’t feel like writing, so I didn’t post a blog Monday (That’s why Marital Mondays is posting today). I didn’t want to act like a prospective “millionaire” and phone a friend either. Instead, I did something really stupid. I picked a completely unrelated fight with Hannibal.
The only thing is, he didn’t fight back. Arguing with myself is the most awkward (and not rewarding) thing, so I eventually just fell asleep. I don’t know if he was even sure what was happening. Hell, I wasn’t sure. I addressed him in a tone that was not our normal way of speaking to each other (Think PMS mixed with a little early labor). He just agreed with everything I said and steered clear of the fire.
In the morning, I felt even more awful. It was only Tuesday night that I realized this had all stemmed from leftover grief, because it got worse. I didn’t cry. I just seemed to bark at everything and everybody that got in my way yesterday. I was easily overwhelmed. My martyr complex took over, and it was just an ugly day. I was reminded of all of the horrible things that happened surrounding her death. For example, Hannibal wasn’t very supportive after she died. He didn’t know how to handle anything I was going through, and he pawned me off on three of my friends, Felicia, Evan and Brandi — hoping they could reset me to the girl he had met. He continued with life as usual, while I was stuck in a bubble of pain, confusion, and heartache.
This morning I woke up and meditated in bed. I focused on joy afterward, and the cloud seems to be moving. I wouldn’t say it’s gone, but I can definitely see the sun peeking through.
Marital Mondays: New Beginnings
Like sunrise reflected
in toddler eyes
this is our chance.
Today we can do better,
we can find our way,
encourage greatness,
redeem dreams like lottery tickets.
Start all over.
Transition ain’t easy,
loading cardboard clad baggage
of mortgaged yesterdays
into moving trucks of motivation.
Making the trip
takes gasoline,
elbow grease
patience through stop signs
and stopped types
logjamming your route,
but we gon’ do
what they say
can’t be done.
Open front door to reset
hardwood floors for footsteps
echoing in tomorrow’s memories,
that one spot by kitchen
always creaks
watch your step.
Start all over.
This is it.
Holding hands,
striding heads high into sunlight,
don’t need no shades
don’t need to squint
see possibilities just fine
making mark in grandchildren legacies
stepping up
hitting free throws
getting out of bed
especially when it’s so warm
when she’s so warm
knowing world’s so cold.
Doesn’t matter.
Starting all over,
unpacking lessons we need
conveniently forgetting
boxes of transgressions
that rot foundations
this is a new place,
a new day
a new chance
to make it all right.
Best of all?
We’ll get another one tomororow.
Let’s go!
“Movin’ On Up”
By Hannibal Tabu
Marital Mondays: “Ridin’ Hard and Ridin’ Dirty”
I drove Hannibal to work this morning. It was fun having extra time to chat and be silly. There may be more carpooling in our future. We have to squeeze the quality into the time we have.
Marital Mondays: I’m From the South
Hannibal has many similarities with my father. Aside from both gentlemen having hoarding tendencies, they’re also Aquarians from the south. Hannibal’s southern origin has many fun things to offer. He still opens my car door now (it didn’t end after the first date, like it does with most guys). It typically wouldn’t be anything I would care about given my often feminist perspective, but it’s nice. I feel like royalty when he does that. It certainly wouldn’t be a deal breaker, however, if he didn’t.
Hannibal also sounds really funny when he gets upset. He sounds like he’s in the backwoods of Mississippi somewhere. All the country comes out — even though he was actually raised in the city (Memphis). His diet was wonky when I met him. Much like my father’s food choices, Hannibal was largely focused on meat and potatoes. Though he eats lots of raw spinach and sauteed broccoli now, I wouldn’t go waving a fried chicken boob in front of his face if I were you.
Anyway, one of the main things both my father and Hannibal love to do is point out the most random differences between Cali and the south (which I truly think are really their own idiosyncratic preferences) and they start each thought with “I’m from the south … ” I’ve provided you with some lovely examples below. Enjoy.
M: Hannibal, would you like non-dairy whipped cream on your pie?
H: I’m from the south. I don’t eat anything white and creamy. Somebody might’ve put some (pause) Look, I don’t eat anything white and creamy.
M: Hannibal, will you wear a tie in our wedding, please?
H: I’m from the south, and I’m a Black man. I’m tying anything around my neck. What I look like, strange fruit?
M: Hannibal, will you go on a cruise with me?
H: I’m from the south. We came on a boat across the Atlantic to get here, and how did that work out for us?
-
Flickr Photos
More Photos Very Pinteresting
This text is not inteneded to be seen. Rather, it is junk text to force themes with auto widths to extend to there full measures. This text is not inteneded to be seen. Rather, it is junk text to force themes with auto widths to extend to there full measures. This text is not inteneded to be seen. Rather, it is junk text to force themes with auto widths to extend to there full measures.
Connect
My Sites
Who am I?
Author: Myshell Tabu
-
