Sinfully good!

Earlier this afternoon I hosted my book club meeting and for dessert, I tried a new and really easy recipe for Molten Chocolate Cake.  It’s such an easy recipe and sinfully good!  Check it out:

Molten Chocolate Cake

Ingredients

• 4 squares Semi-Sweet Baking Chocolate
• 1 stick butter
• 1 cup powdered sugar
• 2 eggs
• 2 egg yolks
• 6 tbs. flour 

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees.  Butter four ramekins.  Place on baking sheet.
2. Microwave chocolate and butter in a large microwavable bowl on high 1min. or until butter is melted.  Stir with wire whisk until chocolate is completely melted.  Stir in sugar until well blended.  Blend in eggs and egg yolks with wire whisk.  Stir in flour.  Divide batter among ramekins.
3. Bake 13 to 14 mins. or until sides are firm, but centers are soft.   Let stand for 1 mins. Carefully run knife around cakes to loosen.  Invert on dessert dishes. Garnish with powdered sugar, vanilla ice cream or whipped cream.  Serve immediately.  

I doubled the recipe and made 8 mini cakes. Enjoy!

Bothersome Booby

I have a bothersome right booby.  It hasn’t always been bothersome, in fact both boobies where quite useful through almost six continuous years of breastfeeding.  I often referred to myself as a human Häagen Dazs machine. Neither Olivia nor Yannick took to a bottle and would wait for hours to be fed straight from the source. 

Nope, this booby wasn’t deemed bothersome until I started getting mammograms three years ago.  From the first time I visited Pennsylvania Hospital’s Women’s Imaging Center, I’ve been the last lady standing at my annual mammogram appointments.  What should be a 45 mins. event becomes an unfortunate adventure involving multiple X-rays, ultrasounds and ultimately ends with a prescription for a needle biopsy.

Thankfully, the prior biopsies have come back benign, until this year, but I’m jumping ahead of myself because just getting the pathology report on this last biopsy was a raggedy ordeal.  First, the radiologist told me that I would hear from someone in “a few days.”   What the heck does that mean and who would be making the call?  I had the biopsy on Tuesday afternoon and by Friday afternoon; I was calling my OB/GYN looking for the test results.  I finally received a telephone call the following Monday informing me that everything was fine.  GREAT!  The only problem is I got another telephone call three days later telling me that a mistake was made and I needed to make an appointment with a breast surgeon.  The radiologist explained that the biopsy revealed a papilloma. All of this sounded like Greek to me or maybe I was simply in shock, but all I could think to ask is how does one go about finding a breast surgeon?  Should I look in the Yellow Pages, Google, what?  The radiologist recommended Dr. Dahlia Sataloof, but warned that I wouldn’t be able to get an appointment for a few weeks.  She assured me it wasn’t a rush, but to get on her calendar as soon as possible. I called as soon as I hung up with the radiologist and was offered an appointment the following week. 

Once I caught my breath and tried to digest all of this, I called my ace-in-a-hole, cousin/sister, Allyson.  She’s an OB/GYN and I knew she’d answer all of my questions.  I tried to repeat word for word all the radiologist said, but once I finished, Allyson was as confused and I was.  According to Allyson, a papilloma is no big deal and on top of being angry by how all of this had been handled, she insisted on coming to my appointment with Dr. Sataloof.  Sounds good to me!

After collecting the films from my previous mammograms and folder full of ultrasound reports, Allyson and I headed to my appointment with Dr. Sataloof.  Allyson was eager to get our questions answered.  We learned the papilloma found in my right breast was a heterogeneous tumor and although the doctor is confident it will be benign, the only way to be sure is to take it out completely and have it tested because if you biopsy one part and it comes back clean, the same tumor could be malignant in another part.  Once Allyson heard “heterogeneous tumor,” she agreed 100% that we needed to get the pesky bugger out!

Four days prior to my surgery date, I received a call from Sataloof’s office making sure I understood the pre-surgical procedures and reminded me to arrive at the hospital admissions with my insurance card, photo I.D. and my co-pay. Yesterday, while I was being processed by the admissions officer, she asked for my $200.00 co-pay and because my head wasn’t on straight because I wasn’t allowed my morning tea prior to my surgery, I assumed I’d heard her incorrectly and asked her to repeat herself.  It seems I’d heard her just fine and she needed me to hand over 200 bucks to keep this train moving.  I slid her my ATM card in total disbelief.  Maybe I’m naïve, but don’t you think someone should have mentioned the co-pay would exceed any of the fees listed on my insurance card?

Once I checked in, I headed straight to the Women’s Imaging Center where additional X-rays were taken, local anesthesia was given and two medium-sized needles were placed and remained in my boob to indicate for the surgeon the location of the small tumor.  All of this occurred before 9:15am and from the Center I was taken to the outpatient surgical unit.  More papers to sign, a briefing with Dr. Sataloof and the anesthesiologist and then we waited for my turn in the surgical queue.  Finally, at 1:30pm Dr. Sataloof came and apologized for the wait and assured me that I’d be going into surgery in about 10 minutes.  A surgical nurse came for me, I bid Loverman adieu and walked (whatever happened to being ushered in on a gurney?) to surgery.  

To be honest, I don’t even remember laying down on the table, it seemed the moment I got a hit of whatever knockout juice they provided; I was in la la land and felt absolutely no pain!  I started to come to before it was all over and remember hearing Dr. Sataloof saying that I may need another hit but I flagged her off and started telling the surgical staff and anyone else who’d listen about Miss Olivia’s accomplishments in the school’s science fair.  Like I said, no pain. 

Dr. Sataloof packed the wound and tightly wrapped my chest with an ace bandage.  After she finished, I tried to swing my legs over to the side of the table in an attempt to get down and as she caught me and asked me to lie back down, I explained I thought I was supposed to walk my butt to recovery since I walked it into surgery.

Post-surgical instructions include taking it easy for the next couple of days, no driving for 24 hours and no heavy lifting.  Loverman and I stopped and picked up my prescription of Tylenol w/codeine on our way home to wait for the pathology report.

Although, the road to resolving my bothersome booby hit a few bumps, my experience is no comparison to the horror stories I’ve heard throughout this endless healthcare reform debate. I’m confident all will be fine and I am so thankful for having adequate health insurance and the sincere prayers and well wishes from my family and friends.

Haunted

I finished reading Wench by Dolen Perkins-Valdez about 48 hours ago and the story is haunting me.  It’s Perkins-Valdez first novel and let me tell you, she totally nails this little gem of historical fiction. 

Wench is set in the mid-1800’s at a vacation destination near Xenia, OH, which was frequented by well to-do northerners, white slave owners and their slave mistresses. The resort did exist and Perkins-Valdez crafts an incredible story told by Lizzie, the wench of a Tennessee slave owner, Drayle. In fact, the land that housed this resort is now the land where Wilberforce University, the oldest private African American university, is located.

Although Lizzie enjoys the respite of leaving life on the plantation and spending time with the other wenches (Reenie, Sweet and Mawu) in Ohio, she loathes leaving her two children fathered by Drayle in Tennessee with the other slaves and Drayle’s wife, Fran.  She uses this time with Drayle to plead and plot for their children’s freedom. 

I’ve read plenty of slave narratives, and I guess until I read Wench, I processed these stories, the details and brutality of slavery on an intellectual level, but throughout the reading of this book, I had visceral reactions to the absolute degradation these slave women endured daily.  Perkins-Valdez made me feel and understand in a way I never did before, the total lack of control the slaves had over every inch of their existence. In one brutal scene, her owner in front of the hotel guests, free Black employees and other slaves rapes Mawu. Mawu was singled out for this public humiliation because Lizzie disclosed to Drayle, Mawu’s plans for escape because Lizzie was afraid what the slave catchers would do with Mawu if caught.  Lizzie’s backward rational was rooted in sincere concern for Mawu.   Perkins-Valdez seamlessly explores the complexity of the relationships these women have with the wives of their slave owners and the other slaves on their plantations.

Unlike the other slaves, Lizzie doesn’t allow herself to really dream of freedom. She dreams of it for her children and sees her lot in life as Drayle’s mistress as their real opportunity to achieve both an education and freedom.  When confronted with the opportunity to flee, Lizzie cannot fathom leaving her children in slavery.  Deep down, when I allow myself to imagine being in Lizzie’s shoes, I know I’d probably follow her footsteps back to my children. 

The Pros and Cons of My Kindle

I was squirreling away my pennies, saving to buy myself a Kindle when Loverman beat me to the punch and gave me one for Christmas. To say I’m enjoying it would be an understatement.  It’s sleek, sexy and best of all, it fits perfectly in my pocketbook.

I thought maybe I’d miss the physicality of books, but so far, I don’t.  I also thought I’d miss trolling the aisles of Barnes & Noble and Borders, but not yet.  I also don’t miss the small piles of books cluttering my side of the bed, and oh!... did I mention that Kindle books are a lot cheaper than hard/soft book copies?

The first book I wirelessly downloaded was The Thing Around Your Neck by Nigerian novelist, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.  I first learned of Adichie after checking out her TED address on the danger of a single story.  Chimamanda must have spent some amount of time in Philadelphia because a few of the stories are based in Philadelphia or a suburb of Philly.  Once I finished Adichie's most recent offering, I downloaded her first novel, Purple Hibiscus.  I finished it today and now I’m in mourning. I’ll miss the main character, Kambili, terribly.  I guess I’ll just have to move onto Adichie’s 2006 release, Half of a Yellow Sun. 

These books were so good that I often found myself reading late into the night and to be honest, as much as I’ve enjoyed reading books, I have discovered one huge drawback of my sweet, sexy Kindle---- once you finish the book, you don’t get the satisfaction of sharing your copy with a friend.

Longing for the Good Old Days!

Olivia caught me off guard the other night while we were sitting next to each other in my bed, me on my laptop, Olivia watching TV.  I was trolling through Facebook, not paying attention to what was happening on the TV when my girl asked me about a commercial that she’d just seen.  “Mom, what’s that stuff?” I looked up and asked, “What are you talking about?”  She went on the describe one of those annoying KY Jelly commercials that air all times of the day.  I feigned ignorance, and continued staring at my computer screen.  A few days later we were sitting on the couch and the same commercial came on and Miss Olivia pointed it out, reminding me that this was the commercial she was talking about the other night.   I didn’t want t lie, so I simply told her I wasn’t sure what KY Jelly was and I’d have to look it up. I promised to get back to her when I found out.

Back in the ‘70s when I was a kid, you never would’ve caught a sexual lubricant commercial on television before 10pm, or better yet, it probably would have never hit the airwaves at all.   I often find myself longing for those good old days, when it seemed easier to shield children from the overt sexualized, dysfunctional, coded messages flooding our airwaves.  I miss TV mothers like Carol Brady and Florence Evans.  Olivia regularly checks out TLC and feels bad that Jon & Kate Plus 8 divorced.

Loverman and I had a good laugh at the spot Olivia put me in over that damn commercial and he went on to tell me that when he was younger and asked his mom to explain things, she would often tell him to go and look it up.  Looking it up for Loverman would sometimes require him to go to the library, scour the card catalog and sometimes ask the librarian for assistance in understanding the Dewey Decimal System before he found the answer.  Oftentimes, Loverman said the thought of having to put forth such effort would diminish his need to know.  Now, when we tell Olivia to look it up, she grabs her netbook and googles the answer she’s looking for in less than 10 minutes.   Boy, have times changed!

Finally!

It was less than a year ago Yannick announced he wanted dreadlocks like his daddy and sister.  I gave him the same speech I gave Olivia years ago when she made the same pronouncement, “It’s a huge commitment, you’ll need lots of patience while it grows long enough to twist and once it’s ready to twist I don’t want to hear any complaints about how long it takes to groom-----o.k.?” Yannick readily agreed and stoically endured the daily chore of picking, brushing and combing what may be the kinkiest head of hair I’ve ever encountered.

Well, the little boy’s patience has finally paid off.  On Thursday night, while I was chatting on the phone, Yannick was sitting on my lap watching television and I mindlessly began twisting his hair.   At some point he realized what I was doing and in a conspiratorial tone whispered, “keep going.”  I had no intention of spending the rest of my evening twisting his entire head, but I had to admit the small patch I’d completed looked great.  When I finished with my phone call, I got up to put the phone back n the dock and Yannick dashed off to check out what I’d done in the mirror.  Olivia and Loverman both offered enthusiastic encouragement and I thought, “what the heck,” this was as good as time as any to get the job done.

Once finished, I was amazed at how wonderful he looked with his head full of little twists. They fit him perfectly. He grinned at himself in the mirror trying to catch a glimpse of his head at different angles.   We briefly discussed his new hair maintenance regime, including wearing a bandana to bed to minimize the accumulation of lint, getting up early enough for me to twist each lock and last but not least, keeping his friends hands out of his hair as much as possible. 

As expected, Yannick was up lickety split Friday morning, stopping first at the mirror to see how his hair faired through the night.  He got dressed, sat on the floor between my legs allowing me to tidy up his hair and as he went out the door on his way to school, I saw a handsome boy, completely satisfied and confident with his new look.  

She Did It!

She did it!  Miss Olivia placed 2^nd in her school’s 5^th Grade Science Fair and to say Loverman and I are pleased, as punch would be an understatement.

It’s mandatory for all 5^th grade students to participate in the school’s science fair.  The kids are provided with an outline detailing the 10-week process and to be honest I was intimated when I first reviewed it. Loverman and I have artistic spirits.  Science isn’t really our thing, but being that this project represented a huge part of Olivia’s science grade, we knew we’d have to dive in with our girl to support her through this process.

Olivia decided to stick close to home with her experiment.  She wanted to learn if dog saliva prohibited bacteria growth better than cat saliva. She swabbed the mouth of our dog, Zoey, and our cat, Max; mixed each sample with a bit of Yannick’s toe-jam and after just two days, we witnessed the explosive growth of bacteria in the Petri dish with the cat saliva.  Let’s just say, you really don’t want to be licked by a cat. Olivia tracked the changes in the Petri dishes daily and we took lots of photos.  Once finished with tracking the results, Olivia had to create a display board that illustrated her process and the results of the experiment. 

The display was due on Mon., Dec. 7 and the science fair was scheduled for Weds., Dec. 9^th.  Olivia meticulously wrapped her display in a huge trash bag before heading to school on its due date.  I felt good when I saw her confidently walk into school with the project and I couldn’t wait to hear how it measured up to the other projects.  When Olivia got into the car after school, I was bursting at the seams in anticipation.  She seemed pretty nonchalant about how her experiment stacked up to her friends’ projects, in fact, she was genuinely impressed by the efforts of most of her classmates.  It looked like I’d have to wait until Wednesday’s science fair to see for myself.  When we finally got the science fair, I saw quite a few of interesting projects, but Olivia’s definitely stood out and was one of the better-executed projects.  We learned later that evening that the winners of the science fair wouldn’t be announced for a few days, but I was very confident she’d get a good grade.

At the end of last week, I began to think the school would never announce a winner and pretty much put it out of my mind.  It wasn’t until Olivia came beaming into my office on Wednesday that I thought maybe she had received word about the science fair.  She proudly presented me with a bright red ribbon emblazoned with 2^nd Place Winner.  Whohooo!  Olivia gave me the details about how the winners were announced and how hearing her name being called caught her by total surprise.  She even mentioned how some of fellow students were “haters” and tried to undermine her win by making snide remarks. 

Whatever!  There’s absolutely no shame in her game… Miss Olivia worked hard and is deserving of this win.  It’s not just that she placed, but it’s also great she’s being recognized for putting forth a lot of effort and doing her best, especially after a few disappointments this summer and hearing me and Loverman go on and on about how winning isn’t important all the time--- this affirmation of her efforts will go a long way in bolstering her self-confidence and let’s be honest… it’s so much more fun to win at least some of the time!

Under Pressure

I have a dilemma.  Olivia wants to start reading the Twilight series and see the movies and thus far, I haven’t allowed it because at only 10 years old, I don’t think the series is age-appropriate for my girl. 

I’m an avid reader and Olivia is also becoming an avid reader and that makes me ecstatic.  On one hand, I’m happy she’s interested in reading the books, but on the other hand, I have to mediate her choices. 

Last year, I spoke with Olivia’s English teacher about the Twilight books and she mentioned she had banned the books from the lower school.  She explained that a lot of the 4^th grade girls were reading the book and seemed to be obsessed with the books.  She also said that she didn’t think 8-10 year olds should be reading the books.  My reasoning for banning the books last year was bolstered by this teacher’s input and seemed to placate my dear girl for a bit, but with the media blitz surrounding the release of New Moon and all of her friends cackling about the book and the movie, she’s now doubled her efforts in getting my permission to read the books and see the movies.   Sure, I know I’m the parent and what I say goes, but my “It’s not age-appropriate” mantra is wearing thin.

I reached out to the same English teacher a few weeks ago and explaining the pressure I’m under, I asked if she thinks Olivia’s ready for the books. She offered a solution that absolutely won’t work for me… she suggested that although she still thinks the series isn’t age-appropriate for Miss Olivia, that maybe Olivia and I could read the series with Olivia and by doing this, I could mediate how Olivia processes the story and the subtext of non-sexual sexual tension between the two main characters.

O.K., as much as I’d like to think I’m that kind of mom, willing to sacrifice my beloved reading time to bond with my beloved girl over the tales of the Twilight saga, I don’t think it’s going to happen.  I’m way too selective about what I read and I’ve never been into vampires.

Fortunately, another teacher from the kids’ school recently posted her favorite books for African American middle school students on Facebook.  Thanks Tr. Ericka… this list is right on time!

My Top 10 African American Books for Older Readers

Here are my favorites for older kids (5th-8th Grade) I have read these books, or used them in lessons when I instructed a Civics Class and Enrichment Classes for 5th-8th Grade. I think that this list may be a mix of Fiction and Nonfiction, I really liked some in each category.

1. Eyes on the Prize-Juan Williams and Julian Bond-NONFICTION

This book literally changed my life. My grandfather gave this book to me when I was in the 8th grade, and I read it until the book practically fell apart. IT'S A SERIOUS BOOK, so it's not light reading, BUT it's got amazing detail and black and white imagery that you won't ever forget. SOME GRAPHIC PHOTOGRAPHY.

2. Freedom Riders-Ann Bausum-NONFICTION

The Freedom Riders remain some of the most heroic and fearless individuals to ever be forgotten about by American History. This book discusses the Freedom Rides that took place all over the country, to test the enforcement of the Civil Rights Act, in detail. SOME GRAPHIC PHOTOGRAPHY.

3.Miracle's Boys-Jacqueline Woodson-FICTION

I think that Jacqueline Woodson might have her finger on the pulse of the African American Urban Adolescent. Miracle's Boys is a book about loss, forgiveness, redemption and the family bond that endures. Three boys deal with the harsh realities of life in NYC, they must learn to depend, and forgive each other, and themselves.

4. Locomotion-Jacqueline Woodson-FICTION

This book is written in journal form, a POWERFUL tool for a middle school student to understand and utilize. Lonnie uses writing to come to terms with what is happening to him and his sister.

5. Bird-Angela Johnson-FICTION

An interesting book about a young girl and how she follows her stepfather, convinced she can make him return home.

6. Brown Angels-Walter Dean Myers-POETRY/PHOTOGRAPHY

You read right-Walter Dean Myers! I love this book-it is definitely angled toward the girls, but it's filled with beautiful and diverse images of young girls and boys. The poems are endearing and the photography shows all the beautiful shades of black and brown.

7. Monster-Walter Dean Myers-FICTION

This book has SERIOUS CONTENT and may be too much for anyone younger than 7th grade. It's a novel written in mixed media, some of it as a journal, others in the form of a movie screenplay-as a youth that is charged withand incarcerated for a serious crime, tries to come to terms with reality, and the consequences that can result from one bad decision.

8. Love that Dog-Sharon Creech-FICTION

A boy that hates poetry learns to use it as a tool of expression, and a tool for helping him deal with a traumatic event that he finds difficult to remember.

9. Change Has Come: An Artist Celebrates Our American Spirit (Speech by Pres. Barack Obama, Illustrated by Kadir Nelson)-Poetry

Kadir Nelson's personal reflections on the amazing and historical words of Barack Obama through artistic expression. Beautiful, reflective and empowering.

10. Witness-Karen Hesse-FICTION

This book is exceptional as it uses perspective to examine what happens to a small town in the 1920's when the Klu Klux Klan arrives.

*As a resource for your young historian who asks you questions you can't answer...

A Young People's History of the United States-Howard Zinn

A true and factual handbook for any truth seeking young history buff!

THERE are many, many more-but these are the tried and true that I have read, and would purchase for any of my friends children, as well as my students. Again, they are generally for middle school. As the content begins to mature, you have to be careful what you expose the "tweens" in your life to, let them be young as long as they can....I'll keep you posted on anything else that I come across.

Extending the Vibe

I did just as I’d intended this weekend… I took it easy… or at least easier than I usually do, and guess what?  No headaches!  In fact, I had a really wonderful weekend and I feel more like my adult self than I have in months.

Yesterday, I got up bright and early and checked out the Barkley Hendricks’ symposium, The Evolution of the Cool at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts (PAFA).  Hendricks’s The Birth of the Cool will be on exhibit through to Jan. 3, 2010.  I recently became familiar with Hendricks’ work and it’s incredible.  He mainly does portraiture, with bold colors and subjects exuding a.t.t.i.t.u.d.e.  He’s also a native Philadelphian and a PAFA alumnus.

The portion of the symposium I attended featured Hendricks, jazz musician Randy Weston and dance scholar, Brenda Dixon Gottschild. I spent two hours on the edge of my seat listening and absorbing.

This morning I made it to my floor barre class and spent an hour on my back while the instructor, Miss Rhonda Moore, worked the class of both professional dancers and non-dancers to the bone.  This class is no joke.  It’s intense, difficult and I feel so accomplished at the end of the hour.

After today’s class, I checked out Precious with Loverman and my girl. Lori.  Yes, it’s a difficult movie, but I do think my expectations were a bit tempered by everything I’ve heard from folks who saw the movie last weekend.  Lee Daniels did a great job with the casting.  Precious, played by Gabourey Sidibe, is fabulous and Mariah Carey, Lenny Kravitz and even the too brief appearances of Sherrie Shepherd are also incredible. I’ve never been a huge fan of Mo’Nique, and I’m not too sure this role was a real stretch for her, but she is really scary in this flick.

I’ve already had a few heated discussions with both Loverman and my mom regarding the tone of the film, but the three of us agree that the fat, black, illiterate is an overworked character type in American film. Why is it that when White depravity is portrayed on film it’s ensconced in suburban accoutrements, but Black depravity is showcased in grease-laden fatback and urban filth? Overall, I enjoyed the film, but just once, it would be nice to have a Black story heralded that isn’t coming from such a dark, suffocating place.

Well, tomorrow’s it back to work, but fortunately, it’s a short holiday week and Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.  Hopefully, I’ll be able to extend my newly acquired cool vibe through to next weekend too!

Seeking Relief

I’ve been on the DL most of this week.  I’ve been battling a debilitating headache since Monday.  For the past few evenings, I’ve made my way to the bed as soon as possible and prayed for sleep to come quickly. I got absolutely no relief from Tylenol, a warm lavender bath or a cup of chamomile tea.  In fact, I envisioned the beastly headache laughing at my pitiful attempts to tame it.

When I got up yesterday morning, I felt as if I’d been in a battle most of the night trying to beat down the throbbing on the right side of my head.  The headache wasn’t as intense, but felt as if it was laying in wait to pounce as soon as I let my guard down.  I needed to find some relief because I couldn’t imagine suffering a fourth day in such discomfort.  I called my chiropractor, Barry’s, office hoping he could see me right away.  No such luck… the receptionist explained Barry doesn’t have Thursday office hours, but she could get me in to see him first thing Friday morning.  Not good enough… I desperately explained that I needed to see someone NOW or I was headed to the emergency room. 

Mercifully, Amy, the receptionist heard the urgency in my voice and asked if I’d ever had acupuncture and if not, would I be interested in trying it out.  Without hesitation, I said, “Sure!” and assured her that I could get to the office in the next ten minutes.  At this point, I was open to anything and sticking some pins in my head, neck, shoulder, whatever, couldn’t be any worse than what I’d been dealing with over the last couple of days.

After completing some paperwork, I limped into the examination room, explained what was going on and when Dr. Freedman proceeded to rub where I indicated the area at the base of my skull from which the pain was emanating, tears streamed down my face. The muscles along my right shoulder and shoulder blade were sore to the touch.  The diagnosis included constricted neck tendons and neck muscles. The doctor bought out some contraption that vibrated along the affected area, after which he did a bit of cranial manipulation, and finally he asked if I was up for some acupuncture. Again, without thinking twice, I said, “Yes.”   Dr. Freedman explained that it would be nothing like I’ve seen on T.V.  It wouldn’t be gentle and would probably make me feel a little worse before I felt better.  After this warning, I was still up for it and took a deep breath as he stuck the first pin in my shoulder blade.  It felt as if the tip of the pin penetrated the nucleus of my pain.  Once the pin was positioned properly, he tapped it gently. The pain was almost paralyzing and yet it also provided relief because it was tangible and affirmed the severe discomfort I’d felt for days.  The doctor repeated this process along my neck and shoulder.  It took less than 10 minutes, and once he finished I did feel significantly better. 

Dr. Freedman urged me to schedule a follow-up with my chiropractor within the next 48 hours.  He also explained that my muscles and tendons are in bad shape and my current state has been a long time in the making.  It didn’t happen overnight.  He asked if I had any idea of what may have triggered the lemon-sized knot on the right side of my back.  I honestly can’t think of anything, but who knows… our bodies internalize stress that we’re not even aware of. 

By the time I got home yesterday, I could feel the pesky headache about to make its nightly appearance, but when it did, it didn’t seem as fierce as it had been prior to the acupuncture.  I was able to actually help Yannick with his homework and I even stayed awake long enough to check out Grey’s Anatomy. 

This morning I felt a bit refreshed, but looked forward to my 9:30am chiropractor’s appointment.  My chiropractor reviewed the notes from my visit with the doctor yesterday and after his initial examination, he concurred. Lying on his examination table, I endured another cranial manipulation, deep tissue message, heat pack, neck and back adjustments.  By the time I left his office, I felt like new money.  Barry’s magic manipulation beat my once-unbearable pain into total submission and I feel like myself for the first time in almost a week.  Hallelujah!

I’ve promised myself that I’ll be taking it easy this weekend and I’ll be right back on Barry’s table first thing Monday morning ready for whatever suggests to keep me straight and headache free. I think I also need to give some thought as to what emotional adjustments I need to make when it comes to managing my stress. 

Is It a Party?

What are the base requirements for an 8 yr. old boys’ birthday party? 

I ask, because of what transpired last Sunday when I asked Lovermn to take Yannick to his buddy, Tommy’s (not his real name), birthday party.  We received the invitation on Thursday for Sunday’s party.  Sure, I know everybody’s busy as all get out, but jeez! I need more than 48 hours notice!  Anyway, I promised Yannick we’d do our best to make Tommy’s party while I said a silent prayer of thanks because at least it was on Sunday when Loverman would be available to take him instead of me.

Sunday arrived and I sent my two guys off to the party with a $25 gift card to Game Stop and assured Loverman that Tommy’s father was a man’s man and would surely have a few beers for the daddies attending the 3-hour party.

When Loverman and Yannick returned, I could tell Loverman had a bit of an attitude. Yannick didn’t have much to say about the festivities either.  I gave Loverman some time to decompress before I asked him for details about the party and boy did it sound lame—O!  In short…

1. 10-12 seven and eight year old boys
2. no planned activities
3. pizza, soda, birthday cake
4. other than Tommy’s dad, Loverman was the only other daddy on the scene

Fortunately, the weather was unseasonably warm and the boys could play outside in the courtyard of the dad’s apartment.  The boys played tag football, raced back and forth and finally resorted to throwing ice cubes at each other before Loverman decided to call it a day and head home. 

Sure, I’m all for male bonding and fellowship, but I also think it’s important for parents to put forth a little effort.  Tommy’s dad basically invited a bunch of boys over for a play date and if Loverman hadn’t hung around, the birthday boy’s daddy would have seriously been outnumbered.

But maybe, Tommy’s dad simply did the best he could and like Loverman said, Tommy seemed to enjoy having all of his little friends together. I just know it’s going to like pulling teeth to get Loverman to pony up for another kids’ party anytime soon.

An Upside of Tweendom

At 10 ½, Olivia is moving full-steam ahead into tweendom and yes, I often find myself taken aback when I or her brother or Loverman find ourselves face-to-face with one of her seemingly unprovoked funk-isms.   Sure, I understand she’s maturing, growing, changing, but like my grandmother used to say… “Miss Thing is really smelling herself these days!”

One unexpected upside of this new and not-so improved Miss Olivia is her desire to earn some extra cash.  I’m not one to pay for things she should naturally be doing around the house, but I have agreed to pay her weekly for doing the dinner dishes. Yannick, not wanting to be left out, sweeps the kitchen floor when Olivia finishes and for a few brief moments, all is good in the world.

All I can say is... WOWZA! This little perk of growing up and wanting more responsibility has freed up my evenings and allows me to retire to my boudoir with a nice glass of wine in peace.

A Need to Wean

We take homework very seriously in this household--- come in the house after school, grab a snack and get down to the business of homework before any other activities commence.  This has been the Mango Tribe’s m.o. since Olivia started kindergarten six years ago. 

At first, I’d sit with Olivia and make sure she was following directions, completing the assignments neatly and had comprehensive understanding of the concepts being presented. It offered me and Loverman an opportunity to keep abreast of what she was learning in class. Olivia excels in school and now rarely needs the assistance of either Loverman or me in completing her homework.  When Yannick started kindergarten three years ago, he fell lockstep into our established homework rhythm. But, unlike Olivia, he hasn’t weaned himself off of needing my full attention in finishing his homework.  Olivia seemed the make a seamless transition from needing our help, to wanting to prove that she could do it well, all by herself.  Yannick on the other hand, acts as if beyond writing his name on his homework sheet, he cannot do one single thing unless I’m sitting right next to him and his little co-dependency act is getting on my nerves, because I’m confident brother-man can competently do his homework without mommy’s handholding and cheerleading. 

Now, if I mentioned this issue to Yannick’s teacher, she would encourage me to simply walk away from him and let him sink or swim, because their school’s always telling parents that the kids should be doing their homework with very little parental involvement.  But, I believe both Olivia and Yannick’s success in school to date has a lot to do with the expectations and support we provide as parents.  There is absolutely no way in hell I’d let Yannick turn in homework Loverman or I hadn’t reviewed. He’s 7 and his goal is to just get it done, whereas Loverman and I want it to be done well.  

Yannick’s daily demand that I sit with him during his homework ordeal is wearing me out.  When I ask (or sometimes bark) that he must do as much as he can before I’ll sit with him, he resorts to whining and that really works my nerves. It’s starting to become a battle and Lord knows, that’s not the vibe we want to set, because he has years of homework ahead.

Keeping It Virtual

I received via Facebook, an invitation to the 30^th anniversary celebration of my 8^th grade reunion from St. Louis Elementary School in November.  Since reconnecting with some of my classmates from my elementary and high school on FB, I’ve sincerely enjoyed our virtual game of playing “catch-up,” with little interest in extending our exchanges into the “real” world and before FB, I hadn’t been in touch with these folks since high school.  In a weird way, it’s as if my social life, and being comfortable in my own skin did not begin until I step foot onto Hampton’s campus.

To say I had a difficult time at St. Louis and later in high school at Archbishop Prendergast would be an understatement. I’ve detailed some of the indignities in earlier posts, and before the happy homecoming on Facebook, I’d thought I’d put most of it behind me, but it’s become obvious that I have not. 

I’ve been pondering my issues with my classmates from elementary and high school for months and on one hand, I think I’ve been holding onto my childhood hurts a little too much, but on the other hand, I’m astounded that by the looks of their Facebook pages, I’m still the only person of color they know.  How can that be?  By now, I know that living a diverse and inclusive life does not happen by happenstance.  You've got to cultivate and seek new experiences and new people. I know it’s not fair for me to pass judgment simply by what’s posted on their FB pages, and maybe if I accept the invitation and check out the reunion, I’d learn that now as we have gotten older, we have more things in common than we did during our time at St. Louis.  Maybe I wouldn’t mind, again, being the only Black person in the room.  Maybe I should let go of my little fantasy where a few of my old classmates take the time to acknowledge how crappy it must have been for me and apologize for any past offenses.  Maybe I should stop projecting my idea of an ideal world onto them and simply be grateful to celebrate the fact that we’re still here and able to watch our children grow and thrive.

I just don’t think I can and I know this says a lot more about me than it does about them, because I’m sure they haven’t obsessed over 30 year old grievances they way I have recently.

I'm MADD

Boy, do I have a whopper for you!  This unbelievable tale started Wednesday night as I was sitting in my parked car (engine off) waiting for Loverman to get off work.  I was chatting on the phone with a friend when a car turning into the parking spot next to me hit my car twice.  I immediately got off my cell and out the car to assess the damage.  The offending driver sluggishly got out her car and slurred an apology, while assuring me she had car insurance---- without a doubt, this broad was DRUNK!  In fact, not only was she stinky drunk, but before I could stop her, she headed straight into a liquor store.  I followed her into the store asking to exchange insurance info and she paid me no mind until I asked the store clerk to call the police so we could get a police report. 

Hearing “police”, sent Miss Stinky Drunk into a tailspin and she quickly staggered to her car.  Fortunately, I had the presence of mind to use the camera on my cell phone to get her license plate number. Almost driving over me as she exited her parking space, she burned rubber as she hauled ass out of the parking lot and onto MacDade Blvd. As a few folks headed out of surrounding businesses trying to figure out what all the hubbub was  about, someone handed me the telephone to speak with a 911 operator and in less than 10 minutes a police officer arrived at the scene.  The entire time all I could think about was how recklessly this crazy woman was driving in such a drunken state. 

The officer took all of my information and ran the plate number from the photo I provided.  He gave me with an incident report number and promised to call with an update before noon the next day.  Loverman and I got home about 20 minutes later and about 10 minutes after that the officer called to tell me that they had located the woman.  The good news is she hadn’t yet hurt anyone since she fled the scene of our accident, but the bad news is, she was driving with a suspended license and no car insurance, so the Mango Tribe’s insurance is going to have to handle the repairs to our car--- BUMMER!  The officer explained that the best they could do is charge the woman with a boatload of misdemeanors, including fleeing the scene of a crime.  The officer asked if I’d be willing to appear at a hearing to confirm that the woman they identified was indeed the same who hit my car.  “Of course,” I responded, but what about the fact that she was drunk?  The officer explained that because they hadn’t witnessed her driving drunk, there’s no way she can be charged with drunk driving.  This didn’t sound right or fair to me, but hey… I’m not a lawyer.  

The next day I awoke still a bit peeved, but definitely grateful that no one was hurt.  About two hours after I got to work, Loverman called me with an unbelievable update to the previous evening’s events.  One of his co-workers, who witnessed the drunk woman jump into her car as she fled the scene, saw the drunk just 10 minutes later at a neighborhood watering hole.  That’s right, she went straight to a bar to continue to get her drink on!  Loverman’s co-worker called 911 and police arrived in no time and arrested the woman.  I was happy to learn she was arrested, but I don’t understand why the officer who called me didn’t tell me that they found the woman drinking at a bar and since she was found drunk, shouldn’t this impact how she’s being charged?

This story gets even more bizarre, because we received word earlier today that this woman was spotted last night at the same liquor store, drunk and driving the same vehicle and trying to purchase more liquor!  The clerk at the store refused to serve her, but failed to call the police.

 I am absolutely dumbfounded!  Sure, I’m pissed about how this broad’s recklessness has reached into my pocket and will costs us money that we don’t have to fix our car, but more importantly, this woman has a serious problem and it’s only a matter of time until she causes a catastrophic accident.  I also have a lot of questions… the first being, how come the car she was driving wasn’t impounded when she was found drunk at the bar on Wednesday night?  She admitted to hitting me, driving with a suspended license and has no car insurance and still she’s free to get behind the wheel of a car. 

I called the police the department with these questions and didn’t get any answers.  I also called the Media Courthouse and spoke with an assistant district attorney and he wasn’t very helpful either.  Finally, I called the local chapter of Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD) and spoke with Linda, who took her time in explaining the laxness of Pennsylvania’s drunk driving laws.  She also armed me with about a half dozen questions for the officer who responded to my call on Wednesday night and wrote the incident report.

Now, Mango Mama’s on a mission… I want this woman off the road!  She can sit home, drink herself into delirium for all I care; I just don’t want her to have access to a car to support her deadly habit.

Stuff(ed)

Have you had a chance to check out Hoarders on A&E?  It makes Clean House look like an episode of the Brady Bunch!

I got caught up watching a few episodes on Saturday afternoon and I watched the latest episode last night and I can’t believe what I’ve seen.  Hoarders have serious mental problems, and underneath the mountains of stuff they’ve collected is usually indescribable filth matted in the carpets, mouse droppings strewn throughout the kitchen cabinets, food encrusted on the stove and moldy in refrigerators. It’s absolutely unbelievable.

I’m really fascinated by the family members that are either forced or choose to live with the hoarders.  How do they put up with all of the crap… literally?  Is it love or enabling/co-dependency?

I will say that watching Hoarders has done wonders for my own household, because after every episode, I’ve been compelled to walk throughout the house and throw out anything we haven’t used within the last six months!

Newest Object of My Affection

Check out this sexy little number… it’s the latest object of my affection... a Whirpool Duet Sport!  It all started about six weeks ago when our Kenmore washer failed to go into the spin cycle.  We called HSA, our home warranty company to set up an appointment to send out a repairman.  After four visits, huge headaches and doing loads of laundry at my mom’s house, the A&E Factory repairman decided we needed a new timer.  It took about four days to get the timer delivered and installed and it seemed we were back in business until last Sunday when while in the middle of washing a load, it sounded as if the washer was bouncing against the basement walls.  I rushed down and shut it off only to learn the drum was off the track.  Damn!  Another call to HSA, another repairman assigned to come check out the machine, only this time, the customer service rep informed me that if it was the drum, I’d had to pay for the repair in full because our policy doesn’t cover the drum, only the belts holding the drum in place.  Back to doing our laundry at my mom’s, only to be told by the repairman that indeed it is the drum and not the drum belts.  That was Tuesday evening and he promised to call on Wednesday with a price to replace the drum.  We didn’t here from this cat by Thursday and by that time we’d already decided to buy a new machine.  What a bummer… the Kenmore was only six years old, a gift from my in-laws when we bought our first home… how come these large appliances are made to be disposable these days?  I remember my parents purchasing only two washers in the last 30 years, and our home warranty… what a bowl of baloney! We definitely won’t be renewing with that crap again.  We did pony up for the extended warranty with Sears with this new Whirlpool.  I was sold on having this machine serviced annually at no charge... and believe me, I'm gonna take good care of this little baby!

How To Proceed?

Olivia came home about two weeks ago with her first 5^th grade writing assignment.  She was asked to write an I Am From poem.  I was pretty psyched for her because I often use the same as a writing prompt in the workshops I facilitate with young people.

The assignment included three components:

1. completing a graphic organizer                       due Sept. 18

2. rough draft                                                      due  Sept. 23

3.  final draft                                                       due Sept. 25

Olivia dove headfirst into meeting the requirements and crafting a poem, which represents how she sees herself and our family.  She met all of the deadlines and was looking forward to sharing her creation with her class when I dropped her off at school last Friday. But, when she got in the car at dismissal time later Friday afternoon, I could tell something was wrong.  Olivia explained that everyone enjoyed her poem, but her teacher would be taking 10 points off her grade, because she hadn’t submitted her graphic organizer with her final draft.  I listened, and assumed maybe she hadn’t read the assignment directions thoroughly and thus, was forced to deal with the consequences.  I repeated the mantra Loverman and I had heard just days before at Back-to-School Night… “Your 5^th grader is growing up and will face new responsibilities as a middle school student.”  I went on to preach the importance of reading and re-reading the assignments to make sure she has a full understanding of what’s expected.  Olivia listened, but was still obviously disgusted with the hand she’d been dealt.

When we got home, Olivia headed right for her homework box and grabbed the assignment and after checking the fine print, she victoriously announced that nowhere did it state that she was supposed to attach the graphic organizer.  I reviewed the assignment and my girl was absolutely right.  Loverman and I suggested letting it go for the weekend, but once she returned to school on Tuesday, she could present her case to her teacher. 

Once again, my daughter got out of the car this morning confident of her position, and yet again when I picked her up this afternoon; I knew all had not gone well.  She jumped in the car hoppin’ mad because her teacher refused to change her grade.  I explained that even though I disagreed with the teacher’s decision, it really isn’t much more she can do, but my internal dialogue was singing another tune and I’ve been debating whether or not I should contact the teacher myself?  Fair is fair and girlfriend followed the directions, how was she to know that all of the elements should be submitted with the final draft? In spite of his not budging on the grade change, maybe this exchange with Olivia will encourage him to provide more detailed instructions next time? Overall, she’s been really enjoying the new rhythms of being a middle school student and I do want her to know how to address issues that pop up on her own… not every situation requires my mama bear routine.  To be honest I really don’t want to start the new year off on a cantankerous note with this teacher, but fair is fair, right?

Put On Blast

Earlier this week, PA Human Relations Commission (HRC) released a report on its investigation of the Creative Steps Day Camp’s claim of discrimination against the Valley Swim Club.  The HRC’s findings pretty much confirm the camp and the campers’ families charge of discrimination by the club and its members, but what’s most disheartening is the role of Michele Flynn in all of this mess. Flynn is a club member and teacher at Laura H. Carnell Elementary School, where many of the campers attend. 

A few of the campers reported hearing Ms. Flynn asking, “What are all these Black kids doing here?” during their ill-fated visit to the school.   The HRC report includes email exchanges between Valley club members and their board, as well as between Valley’s board president and the camp director, and paints Flynn as one of the ring leaders in squashing the contract between the club and the camp.  Flynn goes as far to slander one of her former students who is also a part of the camp, telling fellow-members this young boy was a known thief who had stolen from one of the teachers at Carnell.  The HRC reviewed all of the campers’ school files and no such claim can be substantiated.

Now, Creative Steps and the campers’ families are considering filing civil suits and the federal authorities have opened a civil rights investigation against the swim club.  Pending civil suits, a federal investigation and a suggested fine of $50,000 by the HRC will probably force the club to shutter its doors for good.  

I’m not sure how I feel about all of this resulting in the pool closing, because more than likely it will only deepen the resentment between the two sides.  Club members who didn’t participate in this mess will lose their safe and welcoming respite and the campers will always be seen as being the catalyst of the demise of this private pool. Sure, the camp, the kids and their families can take comfort in knowing they righted a wrong, but I’m not convinced losing the pool is best outcome.

I’m more concerned with Michelle Flynn’s actions and her continued employment as a teacher.  Yeah, I know all about Flynn’s right to exercise her freedom of speech, but she’s a teacher of children of color in the Philadelphia School District and she should have used better judgment.  Flynn allowed her personal biases to cloud the fact that her actions (and words) would be extremely hurtful to her students and then she was careless enough to spread her hatefulness through the Ethernet in those damning emails she exchanged with other club members.

I wouldn’t want this teacher teaching my kids, not because she’s a bad teacher, but because her actions and attitudes reflected in those emails are that of a straight-up racist and I’m not confident she can unload that baggage before she walks through her classroom door.  She may be a fine teacher and until this unfortunate incident, she may not have even recognized herself as a racist, and in her daily interactions with her students what subtle (or not so subtle) messages is she channeling to her students?  Does she see them as full of boundless potential, or does she see herself as their great savior on a mission to help little colored children learn how to read and write? Does she encourage them to exceed expectations and do their absolute best under any and all circumstances, or does she simply go along to get along so she can continue to collect a paycheck and the ample benefits package offered by the school district?  Whatever her m.o., she didn’t count on her personal biases being put on blast for the entire world to see and judge. Well, for me the verdict is in and maybe she should reconsider her career choice, because honestly, she’s probably doing more harm than good.

Peeking Back at Me

This morning as I was rushing to get the Mango Tribe out the door and on our way, I caught sight of my big toe peeking out from my shoe. I was taken aback because for a split second instead of my toe, I saw my grandmother, Nina’s, toe staring back at me.

Nina died 29 years ago and as I get older, I recognize more and more of her physical traits in me and even some in Miss Olivia. I’m built like Nina… short in stature… busty… with small hands and feet, and like her I have to buy my pants, skirts and dresses in the petite shop.

Nina and I were close… we were buddies, thick as thieves and seeing her (or my) toe this morning was such a welcome reminder of who/where I come from.