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.
M: Totally not dressing up for Halloween this year.
H: So our family’s dream of finally forming vehicle Voltron won’t happen this year?
M: Huh? I think I’m going to do a Dia de Los Muertos thing.
H: I don’t even know what that means.
M: You know, flowers in the hair, skeleton face … that sort of thing.
H: Sounds like Halloween to me. Face it. You like to dress up.
M: No, I don’t. I don’t even like getting dressed everyday.
H: Honey, you dressed up for our baby shower, your 30th birthday, our wedding … ! Sandy, can we roll that clip?
H: I think that’s really the key to our relationship — taking turns exasperating each other.
M: Good. That means it’s my turn next.
Is covering up your balding edges worth a few people’s lives? A group of Facebook users say, “No.” The “Rally Against Lacefronts” has garnered nearly 10,000 supporters who say, “Lets all take a stand to stop this plague that is causing so much grief on the streets of our black communities around the world!!!!”
To quote Haki Madhubuti, “Every action of an oppressed people is political” — even your unkempt edges. Your desire to “whip your hair back and forth” like Tyra and Beyonce could be causing more damage than your yaki-covered brain is aware of. In certain areas of the country (I’m not naming any names, but they like to get hyphy there), stylists have been pepper sprayed and jacked for a bucket of hair. Right here in Los Angeles, Bliss Hair was robbed at gun point just a few months ago.
This doesn’t mean you have to lose all versatility and cast weaves to the wind. Just stop buying that “Blood Yaki” out of stolen Novas and get your tracks from a reputable source — preferably a black one.
Until I read a friend’s status update Wednesday, which suggested that we post a picture of our mothers as our profile picture on Facebook, I didn’t realize Mother’s Day was right around the corner. “But … I haven’t felt my annual gloom or lit the candles for my self-pity party” I thought. I guess I’m so focused on being a mother myself, that the loss just isn’t as heavy anymore.
Sure, I wish my kids had their grandmother — to read to them, hug them, and impart that extra wisdom like grandmas do. Hell, I wish my mom was here on the days when I want to scream, “How the f@%k does anyone raise two kids at the same time? Aggghhhhh!!!!” I’m comfortable, though. I’m also as busy as channel 13 when the cable gets turned off, so this year it snuck up on me.
I think I’m strong enough now to actually do what she tried to do from the moment I was born — cut the cord. I’m going to focus on myself this Mother’s Day. I’ve worked so hard at putting the things she taught me to good use. My kids are benefitting from my mother very much without even really knowing her. So, I don’t think I’m going to be putting a picture of my mother as my Facebook profile picture this year. I’m going to find one of me and my kids and focus on the mother that my mom is helping me become. RIP, Mama.
P.S. Considering that I stabbed myself last Mother’s Day, the years have to get progressively better. That’s just science.
This is a conversation, Hannibal and I had in the middle of foreplay this past Friday.
M: Did Teddy Pendergrass die?
H: Many years ago.
M: Nah uh, that was like last year.
H: It was at least five years ago. Maybe three.
M: No! I remember saying, “Welp, he said, ‘Turn out the lights,’ so the universe turned them out.”
H: Yeah, like three years ago.
M: Nope, put down my breast. Google challenge.
H: … and that’s how they ended up never having sex that night.
M: We gon have sex. Be quiet. Teddy P makes people have sex. *singing* “Rub me down in some hot oils baby, yeah”
H: He don’t make people have sex through no Google! *laughter*
M: Just grab your phone and look it up. I’ll keep it hot for you.
H: (grabs phone) *sigh* He died last year. You’re right.
M: (moans) Mmmmm, being right makes the sex so much better. Come here, fool. You can get it.
[redacted/removed/mind ya bidness!]