Mama Knows

What is scarlet fever?
Scarlet fever is a term used for strep throat with a rash. Strep throat is a throat infection caused by a type of streptococcal bacteria.
What causes scarlet fever?
Scarlet fever is caused by streptococcal (strep) bacteria, the same bacteria that cause strep throat. There are many different strains of strep bacteria, some of which cause more serious illness than others. The type of strep that infects the throat and causes scarlet fever is called group A beta-hemolytic streptococcus (GABS).

It started with a fever late on Sunday evening, and by Monday, Yannick didn’t want to get off the couch. His fever would subside with a dose of Children’s Motrin or Tylenol, but it would reappear every six the eight hours like clockwork.

I called our pediatrician’s office on Tuesday morning, and they said if his fever didn’t break in the next 48 hours to give them another call, but they assured me that it was probably just a little viral infection. O.k., I tried to live with that, but to be honest, I wasn’t sure. Since Yannick became sick, I wasn’t sleeping well and if I did fall asleep, I’d wake up with extreme thoughts about the boy. I’d awake worried, sad and agitated.

We kept a close eye on him, I even had him sleeping in the bed with us, and he did seem to perk up a bit, but every time we thought his fever had finally broken, he’d fall back into this listless state and then a few times he’d wake me wailing about really bad stomach pains or a bad headache. On Wednesday, Yannick’s face was covered with little bumps, rough like sandpaper, and his cheeks looked flush like he had bad sunburn. He was still eating and drinking fluids, but I knew something else was going on.

Thursday morning, Yannick awoke without a fever and said he felt good and was in great spirits. I felt better, but still wanted him to take it easy. He seemed fine for most of the day, but by late afternoon, he again complained about bad stomach pains. I gave him a few Children’s Pepto Bismal tablets, and the pain seemed to subside pretty quickly. By this time, I’m convinced more is going on and I decided to call my girl, Leslie. She’s a nurse; in fact, she’s the nurse at the kid’s school.

After detailing Yannick’s symptoms, Leslie was convinced Yannick was suffering from Scarlet Fever. WHAT??? I didn’t know folks still got Scarlet Fever and back in the 1800’s when folks did get it, didn’t they die from it? Leslie explained it really isn’t a big deal; it’s a form of strep throat. After thanking my girl, I called the pediatrician with an update of Yannick’s condition. They suggested I bring him in the next morning.

When Loverman came home, I gave him the 411. I could tell he was humoring me when I mentioned Scarlet Fever, but he agreed the boy needed to see a doctor.

The next morning, Yannick again awoke with no fever, and most of the rash on his face had disappeared, but even with this big improvement, I wanted the boy to be checked out from head to toe.

As we waited for the doctor to see us, Loverman made a few jokes about mommy and Miss Leslie’s extreme diagnosis, but when the doctor walked in the office, took one look at my boy, she too, suspected Yannick was on the up-side of a bout of Scarlet Fever.

A-Ha! I waited a moment while Loverman picked his face off the floor and asked the doctor to repeat herself. She did and went on to assure us that after a 10-day regimen of antibiotics, Yannick will be fine.

I cannot tell you how relieved I am. Last night, both Yannick and me slept like babies. I’m convinced my mother’s intuition has been on overdrive this week and it’s because of this sixth sense and insights provided by those other mothers my sisters’ circle, that my boy is now truly on the mend.

A Dose of Self-Reflection Required

This week has been a bitch and thankfully tomorrow’s Friday. It started on Monday when I had to terminate (fire!) the jerk we’d hired as marketing director almost three months ago. It seems as if from day one we rubbed each other the wrong way and as much as I tried to deal with him in a professional manner, the situation devolved to the point where we were hardly speaking to each other and instead of trying to do the best job possible to quell my misgivings, he simply directed his hostilities my way on a daily basis and lacked any enthusiasm or interest in doing a good job. It became unbearable and although he probably he wouldn’t believe it, it wasn’t easy to give him the big heave-ho, because I don’t like to think of anyone unemployed in this economy and his inability to do his job only added more to my plate. I should also mention that I wasn’t the only person on our staff that found him difficult to work with, but I was his supervisor and felt the brunt of displeasure. I wonder, if I'd been a man, would this guy had felt so comfortable with being so disrespectful?

A few months ago, I posted about the challenged relationship between my dad and me and since that post in December, the only time I’ve spoken to him is when he calls to talk to the kids. As difficult as this has been, it’s better for me, and my emotional well-being. Unfortunately, on Tuesday while chatting with my aunt (his sister), she mentioned a recent conversation she had with my dad and in their exchange, my dad told my aunt a complete lie about me. I didn’t flip out or anything, but I did correct this bit of misinformation and in doing so, my aunt was hurt to learn of her brother’s lying. This simply affirms that my current strategy of not dealing with him is best for me, but it doesn’t trump the fact that in spite of my dad constantly disappointing me, I still expect more of him and I wish we had a functional, healthful relationship.

Finally, yesterday I learned of a family friend’s serious drug problem. His addiction is clearly at a point where he needs professional help and despite his family’s concern and support, and losing his job because of this addiction/sickness, he’s not yet admitting that he has a problem. I can’t begin to detail the myriad of emotions I’m feeling since learning of his problem. I love him and his entire family and while growing up his family welcomed this only child into their fold and made me one of their own. I know these people and their love of their son and brother and I know his heart and I pray for his full recovery.

So, I guess it seems like I’m just whining, nothing really catastrophic has occurred this week, but it has been emotionally draining and as I give some thought as to a thru-line between these three situations, it occurs to me that these men need to do some serious self-reflection. That’s right, all three need to own their own shit. What responsibility do they have for where they find themselves today? The ex-marketing director should have just done his job well, or maybe admitted that this job just wasn’t a good fit for his skill set, instead of creating a hostile work environment. My dad has never taken responsibility for his own actions and instead of being honest; he’s resorting to making up crap to justify his lack of a relationship with his grandkids and me. My friend is seriously self-medicating and instead of seeking professional help to deal with personal demons he’s putting his life at risk while creating stress for all who love and want to help him.

It’s funny because I believe women are usually too self-reflective and always looking within for how we impact a situation and men usually look externally to identify the source of their problems. Venus and Mars all over again.

Mango Goes Obama

This weekend started on Friday night when the Mango tribe headed down to the Obama rally at Philly’s Independence Mall. This was the first time we’ve checked him out in person and it was an unforgettable experience. According to the Obama camp, we were 35,000 strong, his largest rally to date.

It was also reminiscent of my childhood when my activist grandmother, Veronica, would take me on her journeys as a civil rights worker. Veronica was beyond progressive and was on the front lines of demanding equal opportunity for all people. She worked tirelessly for both of Jesse Jackson’s presidential campaigns and was elected as an alternate delegate for Jackson in both 1984 and 1988.

As we approached the rally site on Friday, I couldn’t believe the number of people standing in line to get into Independence Mall. I began to see so many people I knew, especially from the kids’ school. The school’s principal was there with her family. Diversity doesn’t begin to describe the crowd. It was beyond diverse. The vibe was warm and festive and I was both overwhelmed and affirmed to see so many folks coming together to check out and celebrate Barack.

I, like millions of others, am fed-up with the current tone of the opposition's campaigns and the orchestrated manipulation of the media. During the antics at last Tuesday’s debate, a dark, dense cloud positioned itself over my spirit and I again began to doubt Obama’s chance to win this nomination. But now I’m happy to report, my Mango tribe and I are not alone and a shift is underfoot and as long as Barack keeps his head up, I will too. Friday’s rally proved there are more of us than I realized and if I didn’t know, I bet there are lots of others who have underestimated our numbers, just like they initially underestimated Obama’s ability to take it to Clinton, and the element of surprise may be one of our greatest assets.

Have I been asleep at the wheel, or what?

With Miss Olivia's 9th birthday fast approaching, I’ve been feeling the need to initiate a conversation about the impending bodily changes she’ll be facing over the next few years. Yup, as much as I still see her as my baby, it’s time for "the talk."

I know some may say that I’m late to the game, but Loverman and I are constantly struggling to strike the right balance between what’s age-appropriate in today’s over-exposed, TMI society and not living with our heads in the sand, trying not to acknowledge that our babies are growing up. Let’s just say it’s not easy.

So yesterday, while Olivia and I were alone in the car on our way to her art class, I decided it was the right time to start the conversation.

Mango Mama (MM): Olivia, are you excited about turning 9 next month?
Olivia: I sure am and next year I’m hitting the double digits.
MM: That’s right baby, you are growing up and before you know it, you’ll be 10
Olivia: Yup, I can’t wait. Can I get a cell phone when I’m 10?
MM: I don’t know about that, but that’s not want I want to talk about right now. I want to talk about all the changes your body will be going through now that you’re getting older.
Olivia: Oh, you want to talk about PUBERTY?
MM: (gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles) Yes, I’m talking about puberty. What do you know about it?
Olivia: Well, Kai (Olivia’s best friend and also 8 yrs. old) and I have been reading a book in our class about puberty, so we know all about padded and under wire bras.
MM: What book? Do you remember the title? Does it talk about the changes in your body, or just what you wear and the necessary accessories you’ll need when your body changes?
Olivia: It talks about everything, but you wear an under wire bra don’t you mommy? Oh, and it talks about having to take really special care of your body once it starts changing.
MM: Olivia, what’s the title of this book again? Maybe we can buy a copy so we’ll have it at home.
Olivia: I don’t remember the title, but I can bring it home for a few days when we go back to school after our spring break.
MM: That’s a good idea, because I’d like to see if the book talks about your period and getting your menstrual cycle.
Olivia: Yeah mommy, it talks about that and whether you should use tampons or pads. I don’t think I want to use tampons. I mean sticking something in your vagina with a string hanging out sounds weird. What do you use mommy?
MM: Well, I use tampons, but you can use whatever works for you. When I first got my period I used sanitary napkins too. Did this book explain why you get your period and what getting your period means?
Olivia: It did show pictures of an egg and since there’s no baby in your belly your body gets rid of the extra blood. Is that right?
MM: Basically, it’s pretty much on point, but there’s a bit more to it. Did the book tell you that once you start getting your period your body can make and carry a baby?
Olivia: (stuttering a bit) No, I don’t think we got to that part yet.
MM: (I’m now parking the car in front of the building which houses her art class) Well, this is what it means, and we can talk more about this later today after your class. And Olivia, I’m happy you and Kai have a book at school, but remember that either of you can come to either me or Miss Leslie (Kai’s mom) to talk or ask questions at any time. In fact, let’s make a point to have these talks every time we take this ride to your art class, especially because it’s usually just you and me and Yannick’s not here to distract us.
Olivia: That sounds good and mommy?
MM: Yes, baby?
Olivia: (in an ever-so-slightly condescending, maybe mocking tone) Thanks for FINALLY having this conversation with me. I’m happy to know we’ll be talking about this stuff.

I cannot tell you how relieved I am that we at least started this discussion, but I’m also blown away that she and Kai have been reading this book on the regular, trying to sort things out for themselves and she hadn’t yet mentioned one word to me. To be honest, her tone towards the end of this discussion, sort of confirmed that I’m a bit late in getting to the game. Maybe I’ve been asleep at the wheel in this regard, trying to see her as a little girl for as long as possible.

This episode reinforces the fact that if our kids aren’t getting the information from us, they most certainly will get it from somewhere else, and the source may be questionable. We’ve got to be proactive with our children and let them know it’s cool to come to us with any questions or concerns. Again, there is no bad or stupid question. We’re the stupid ones if we think we are the depositors of all the “important” information they need to be both informed and prepared as they face the unending physical and emotional changes they’ll go through as they grow up.

More Lessons Learned

If anyone read my blog yesterday or earlier today, you’ll notice I removed my latest post. I removed it because the subject of the post (a high school student) asked me to and although I did not identify her by name, it’s become apparent that my post and its reach made things a bit stressful for her and that was not my intention.

I wrote the post in an attempt to gain perspective on a situation and I solidly stand behind what I wrote. If the subject of the post had been an adult, I probably would have let the post remain. But my experience with this young lady was neither wholly positive, or negative, and as a mother of a young girl, I am particularly interested in the space where teenage girls currently inhabit and I realize that as a teenager she is still growing and learning.

As I told the young girl, her actions have repercussions, and again, I meant her no harm. I, too, have learned an important lesson, that in spite of the limited responses I receive to various posts, people are reading and my reach and scope may be deep and wide. It also reinforces my personal mandate to continue to be as truthful as possible, as well as mindful of how my words may impact others.

Lessons Learned

Last spring my family and I moved into a new house. This move was in response to a break-in nine months earlier one evening when the kids and I were home alone. We lived in a working-class neighborhood in Philadelphia. The house was on a major thoroughfare, with motion lights all around the perimeter, locks on all the doors, and an alarm system. We thought we were safe. Fortunately, neither the children nor I were physically hurt, but the emotional toll was indelible, especially for Miss Olivia and me.

For months following the break-in Olivia and I didn’t talk to each other much about what had happened. I didn’t want to upset her and she was doing the same for me. When we finally did talk about it. I was amazed by the details she remembered. At the time, she was only 7 years old, but she remembered the police waking her up with their guns drawn and her father grabbing her out of her bed assuring her that everything was o.k. My heart broke when she asked why I chose to grab her brother from another room, but not her. I explained that her brother was only a few feet away from me, but to get her I would’ve had to cross the hall, wake her and get her out of the top bunk of her bed. I didn’t want to draw any more attention up the stairs. In a split second, I opted to leave Olivia asleep on the 2nd fl. while I made my way to the telephone on the 3rd fl. Fortunately, she understood, and I thank God every day for making this move possible, because there are countless families that feel their living in a vulnerable situation, but don’t have the resources to move.

Despite the trauma of the break-in, my family and I have experienced many blessings from this incident. It’s brought clarity to what Loverman and I want for our family. We decided it was time to abandon our urban adventure and really acknowledge the violence that plagues our city’s streets. This is not the type of environment we wanted for our kids. It’s also taught me the importance of not underestimating the capacity for understanding of our children. By sharing my fears and thoughts with Olivia and encouraging her to do the same, we’ve been able to dispel misconceptions about the events of that evening which could have negatively impacted our relationship for years to come.

You can learn more about my story by checking out the following link: http://storiesforchange.net/node/466 or by clicking on the title of this post, LESSONS LEARNED.

Letting Go...

In spite of all of the self-help and personal, spiritual work, I just can’t seem to learn the lesson that I have to simply let go. I am not in total control. Yeah… yeah… yeah, I know, ultimately, we have very little control in our day-to-day lives, but sometimes this realization hits me right upside the head. Check this out, since the weekend, I’ve been flat on my back with an ugly stomach, head-sinus, I don’t-know-what the hell kind of flu, and last night, even though I felt like doo-doo and had spent all of Monday in my bed, there was no way I was going to miss another day of work. No, it’s not that my workweek is full of over-the-top fun or it’s a matter of life or death if I’m not there, but I do enjoy my job and I have an uncompromising sense of responsibility. Well… this morning, I dragged my pitiful, sick behind to work, despite the protest of Loverman and my own internal voice and guess what? After just a few minutes at my desk, I realized that this wasn’t going to work. I couldn’t do it. In fact, I couldn’t even think straight. I needed to get my butt home and back in the bed. I wasn’t doing myself, or my co-workers any good. The truth is, I was putting everyone at risk, because frankly, I wouldn’t wish this yucky thing on my worst enemy. Lesson of the day: Let go and take a nap.