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Screaming all the way to heaven. Happy Mothers day to my Mom and Grandmom.
These two have shaped the very fabric of who I’ve come to be. I have the sensitivity,  the humor,  the seriousness, I have the love of God, the love for others, and the gift of many things and I owe all thanks for these things to God for blessing me with the honor, and the privilege of being molded by you two. Never thought I could make it without you. And what do you know, the lessons you’ve taught me have given me just enough to go on another day. My mother. She was so very special. The sweetest sweet. The kindest kind. The nectar of fresh fruit on the the ripest day of spring, yes, that was you. My Jumae. The quintessential everything. The strongest strong. Songbird of all songbirds. Loving strong and hard, and in it all there was beauty. In it all, there was God. I could write all day, and I could cry all day. But instead, I choose to remember, and reflect, and thank God for his magnificent selection. Who would I be if I didn’t know you two? The thought rattles me. I stand and represent that I am the woman that knew you both, and I loved you pure and you loved me back. You taught me best. And for that, I salute you. Happy Mothers day Ma & Jumae !

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Happy Mothers day moms, and to anyone who has lost a mother or a grandmother, I feel your heart. You are not alone. Be encouraged and have a great day remembering the life of the one who came before you and made it all possible for you to exist.

xoxo
Peace and love,
Dee

It’s your fault I’m so militant !

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First off, as a mother I don’t want to hear my child telling me anything is my fault. It somehow unravels the natural fibers of my mother ego.

Secondly, I did not teach my daughter to be militant. I taught her…. things.. Black history.
Pride.
The facts.
But never the behavior of militancy.

There is a storty here.
A backdrop.
My anaylitical mind is perculating, and I need answers.
I think I know how it happened.
When I was a kid, I loved reading, learning and discovering new things. I especially loved history. I devoured anything black history. I wanted to know all that I could. I wanted to know about my people, and I was proud. Althought indirectly, my mother fed me history, but it was mainly through music. Everything we listened to was about having pride, getting up, never giving up, and keeping on. I’m a product of the 70’s.

I was a smart kid. I loved school and english was my favorite subject. Any time reading and writing was involved,  I was all in.  Well as much as I loved school, I did a lot of stupid things. Manly dropping out of school so I could rip and run the streets. When I wasn’t in school, my obsession with the dictionary grew to new heights. I studied it daily. Wrote words and definitions over and over and quizzed myself. Even though I dropped out, I went back for my GED. A fact that brought me much shame through the years and one of the things I’ll always regret. I vowed, when I became a mother my children would be educated and would take that education as far as it could go.

The time had come. I had my first child at twenty years old. I was a young mother, and I had so much to prove to myself, and everyone else. I taught my daughter everything I knew. We spent all of our time at libraries and museum’s. Around the age of three, I started teaching her about African American history. I showed her movies. I had her watch cartoons based on the lives of Martin Luther King, Malcom X, Harriet Tubman, and so on. And as she got older, I started taking her to historical places based on slavery and freedom. I thought I was doing the right thing. I knew I was doing right by teaching her to take pride in herself and teaching her the culture,  her culture. But somehow, it went south. She went to predominantly mixed raced schools, and I have to admit, early on, the child was very militant, even at a young age. I may be over using the word militant here, but for the sake of this post, I’ll keep it. I mean, she is not walking around in war gear and standing on front lines against anything. Although she did lay in the street for Mike Brown, but I’ll save that for another day. Let me be clear, she is not racist. But yes, black power ish to the 10th power the girl is. Like the long lost daughter of a black panther. Yes, a bit prejudice, I mean we all have some level of prejudice in us, and it’s not always directed at the other race.  Prejudice can come in various forms.
I am not sugar coating anything.
I genuinely want to know, have I failed my child?
She is a grown woman now and perfectly able to make her own decisions, but she did not miss the opportunity to let me know that I had ruined her. I taught her history, and she wore it like the scarlet letter. We speak freely about it. We even laugh at about it now. The way I drilled these historical events in her life. The way she cried when I took her on the makeshift slave ship at the Blacks and Wax museum.  But when she told me it was my fault that she was so militant, I searched my brain trying to figure out where I went wrong. My other kids are different, and I taught them different. But this oldest girl, she got it bad. I have one more shot with my eight year old. Just like her sister, she is eager to learn, and taking pride in herself. I must make sure this doesn’t turn wrong. I have to make sure I don’t raise another militant child.
Lord…

Side note: my daughter is totally harmless. She isn’t outwardly displaying any bad overly rude behavior. She is quiet. An observer. She was also taught to love everyone equally and with a clean slate. And she does that, but she has her views of which I do respect.

How do you teach your children of a difficult history without shaping their minds into something… militant?

I’m no expert. I’m just trying to do right by mines with the information I’ve been given. I won’t water it down. And I won’t teach hate. It’s all about the truth with me. Always, truth reigns.

Peace and love,
Dee

Family is one of life’s greatest blessings.

A household full of unconditional love and nurturing where you share your hurts, joys, laughter and fears.

Members who a share the same values, beliefs and traditions.

A group descending from a common ancestor.

Your support system.

The people who know you best.

Those with whom you make the greatest memories of your life.

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For more months than I care to remember, my life has been one heck of an obstacle course.
Yes, I’ve been absent.
Yes, I’ve been bothered.
Yes, I’ve been woozy, lost, dazed, and ripped up inside.
I’ve watched someone die.
Someone that I love. But more than that, get this,  it was someone that I loved.
She was my everything.
She accepted me.
She loved me.
She loved my children.
She gave herself to me, to us, unconditionally.
She was my grandmother, and I watched and I prayed, and I saw her dying.
A vicious mass 16 centimeters came along, didn’t ask any questions, it just came and positioned it self inside of her and wrecked all of our lives.
Her heart, worn and battered from years on the battle field of life, simply had given up.
She fought.
We tried.
We fought for her.
We fought with her.
We encouraged her.
We loved her.
And.. we lost her.
My life is shattered. In shambles. I don’t think anyone gets that she was the all and the everything.
She was the boom and the bip. The sugar to the Kool aid. She was the main ingredient. She was the rest of the story.
She was gracious and beautiful and full of wisdom and lessons.
She was music. Gospel music. Powerful. Strong. The alto of all Altos.
She was my Jumae.
From the beginning she’s always been there.
Not sometimes.
Not with conditions.
Just there, always.
She protected me. She rescued me. And I wanted to do the same for her.
I was helpless. Although I tried everything I could, it didnt work and so,  I watched.
I watched her slip away. Little by little. Bit by bit, breath by breath. I watched. And it shook every fiber of me.
I watched her grow silent.
I watched her in fear.
I watched her grow angry.
I watched her withdraw.
I watched her transition.
I watched the dying.
And through it all, she was so brave.
My family, we were there. The way she wanted it.
We watched her suffering, but only for a little while. I wanted the pain to stop. I was relieved when it did. Then I felt guilty about feeling relieved. I didn’t want her to go. I wanted her to stay. She was so full of life. But she had to go.
She went from shock, to saddness, to disbelief, to denial, to depression, to hope, to dispair, to faith, to withdrawal, to acceptance, to transition.
I watched her going.
I stroked her arm.
I whispered in her ear. “Thank you for taking care of me, thank you for loving me.”
She looked at me.. she didn’t talk much in the end. Sometimes she mananged to say I love you too. But she was always mumbling bible verses. Encouraging herself. She knew her word. She kept it in her heart. She taught me. I stare in the mirror and I see her eyes, I see her face, I see her spirit in me.
I am everything I am, because of who she was.
I love music.
I am cultured.
I am strong.
I am brave.
I am giving.
I am loving.
I am gifted.
Jumae taught me.
She told us she would be here for thanksgiving, and she was. And after all the chaos of the day. After seeing everyone, and us loving on her, later that night, after almost everyone left, she left too. And she did it as she always did, she did it Julia’s way.
That was her thing to say, “yes, I did it, but I did it Julia’s way.”
She traveled the world, she recorded albums and songs, she sang with some of the best known singers this world has to offer.
She did it all, and she did it her way.
She was remarkable.
The bravest, and strongest woman I know.
I am honored to have known her.
I am in awe of the beauty of every part of her, even to the last minute, even in watching the dying.
I had to let her go.
I loved her, we loved her. But God loved her best.
I will miss her always.
I will honor her always.
And I will be the kind of woman and mother that she taught me to be.
When you see greatness in me, please know, Jumae taught me.
My angel. With the voice of an angel. Is resting with the angels.

Julia Mae Price-WIlliams -Great is Thy Faithfulne…: http://youtu.be/WJkAZuO8aVc

In memory of my loving grandmother Julia Mae Price-Williams 1937-2014
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The book titled ,The Needs of the Dying by David Kessler really helped me see that dying was as much a part of life as living. It helped me put things in perspective.
Excerpt :

The need to be treated as a living human being, the need for hope, the need to express emotions, the need to participate in care, the need for honesty, the need for spirituality, and the need to be free of physical pain.

Peace and love,
Dee

I love you.
But
I can’t stand you.
You make me happy.
And
You make me cry.
You are a listening ear.
But
You talk to much.
You go away,
Yet
You always come back
You are always there for me
When I need you,
You are always there for me

You are imperfect
I know that
But
I….
can’t get through life without you
I love you
I need you
My family

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Family—they get on my nerves sometimes, but we remain/are close in spite of it. And… the fact is, I can’t live without them !

Peace and love,
Dee

I checked a text messages and it read:

“What I need right now is a prayer”

That was a text from my daughter earlier today. Immediately, I went into mommy mode panic mode.

The time is 1:10pm

I asked her what happened. She said air was coming fast out of her tire and she was on the highway.

The time is 1:18pm

It’s another text, and this one reads, Omg!  Omg!

At this point for me, the panic is real. “what’s wrong”?

“My tire just blew out, I had to pull over to the side of the road. I’m real annoyed right now, Ugh! I told her to calm down, and look for a spare, call AAA, and… she didn’t respond.”

Well, she said she needed a prayer, so I started praying.

The time is 1:33pm

Yet another text, but this time her tone is way different. She says, “God is real, and I love him so much.”

She then sent me a series of photos. And I thought awwwww, there are still some good people in this world. God will send help to you, all you have to do is call him. That was proof, maybe that she needed because I already know him for myself. And he is far better to me than I’ve ever been to myself..

The time is 1:38 and she was back on the road, riding on her spare.
Look at God. Won’t he do it!
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God bless this man who stopped to help my child.
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I don’t know why I panic really. It’s just my nature as a human being,  but my nature in the spirit took over and everything was alright. I don’t take it lightly. I don’t care how small, slight, or not so big a deal it seems to be. I aknowledge him in all things.

Wont he do it!! And yes, that’s a statement. A matter of fact actually.

Don’t doubt him, try him for yourself.

Peace and blessings,
Dee

Hello Dears,
Happy Sunday. What a lazy weekend for me. Chile, don’t get me started. I haven’t blogged since last week and I’m trying not to fall into that habit again. Recap from last week was of my son’s bday to now. We went out and shopped a little and later went to a family cookout. Food galore, my stomach still fat from that spread. Hehe.. DJ had a great birthday even though I purposely didn’t give him a party. This school year hasn’t been his best and I know he has the best in him. This kid has brains for days. He has been in GT (gifted and talented) classes for english and math for a while but this school year after much debate from last year and present, he has been dropped. I don’t know what’s going on, maybe the adolescent thing is playing a part, but for me, a party would have rewarded him and I just couldn’t do it. I know he got the lesson. He gets it. Although he didn’t have big blowout party, he was still celebrated. I couldn’t not celebrate my child. It was a good day. He was pleased. Check him out getting his GQ on.. Hahaha

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13 is wearing:
Graphic T- American eagle
Cardi- American eagle kids
Jeans- Abercrombie and Fitch
Shoes- Vans
Happy 13th Birthday

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If you follow me on instagram, then you may have already seen this tie-dyed shirt my daughter “15” made for me. It is so comfortable and fashionable and I love it. Her DIY moments have been awesome lately. And tie dye is trendy this season and the perfect summer mix of fun, and cuteness. She is so creative and really following her creative passion. She ended up with so many orders that day when I wore the shirt. I’m even thinking about letting her set up shop right here on my blog because this creativity has to be shared.
peep her process -BEFORE

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AFTER:

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I just threw on some Jeans from old Navy, cuffed the bottoms, green pumps and done! I really was comfy as a couch in this cut up free flowing tie-dye shirt. So what ya think? Cute right. Here are. A few other things she’s created
Baby tie-dye

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Tie-dye socks for her brother

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Bead action

20120603-144553.jpg at 15 it’s so many negative things she could be doing and since she isn’t I’m celebrating that. I was buying supplies and the whole 9. Since she is making her own money now, she has been buying her own supplies. Yay!! She can use the summertime as more creative time. Speaking of summer, woosah, it has been hot. I been having flashes or something. I’m. Not the type to sweat, but lately I’ve been having my moments of pure insanity. Can you say early change of life. Idk, but maybe. Our pool opened last weekend and we’ve been taking a dip every since. I can’t swim a lick but it’s an excellent way to cool down. The kids love it. Earlier in the week, I took lil miss number 5 and big miss number 5 her favorite cousin. These two little pieces of work are just that, a piece of work!

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I have to wrap this post up, but speaking lil miss five and the incident at the school. Here’s an update. I tapped on every door at that school and still wasn’t getting the answers or the resolve I was looking for concerning the “juice in the bottle found on the playground” incident. I demanded a meeting with the director and all parties involved. Instead, the director called me and wanted me to discuss the issues with her over the phone. She basically slid past my wanting a meeting and still down played the situation of J and the other kids finding the bottle and drinking from it. She said many things that let me know she wasn’t willing to take responsibility, nor was she even acknowledging that something foul had occurred. I faded to black when she told me, “I have the bottle on my desk and it has been here for a while now, and it hasn’t changed in color and it hasn’t bubbled up or nothing has happened so it appears that it’s just juice”.. Are these people really stupid? What does she take me for? I told her I wanted answers. How did this happen? What was the teacher really doing that distracted her? What measures have been put in place to insure this NEVER happens again. I wanted to see a new action plan on paper to reassure me that my child is safe there. I want an acknowledgement, an apology, something to let me know, you guys realize you fouled up. Yes, I want an admission of guilt. You know what I got, nothing. So you know what I did, something! I got I touch with the department of childcare and licensing and I told them of the incident. They were not pleased. They even asked me, was the bottle sent off for any type of analysis to determine what the contents were. Absolutely not. I had several phone calls that day from that office and even one from child protective services. That’s right, they are involved because now, it’s a child endangerment and neglect situation. I didn’t feel bad, or even that I had taken it too far. As far as I’m concerned, I didn’t take it far enough. I would fight anybody anywhere for anyone of my children the same way. Oh, you don’t want to talk to me, you don’t want to give me answers, ok, now other people are involved and lets see if you can ignore them. J has been going to school less and less. Thank God for my grandmother who has kept her while I’m still sorting out this incident. I don’t know what has taken place in the school, but the teachers involved have been MIA. I see new teachers, and it’s just a mess. I had previously signed J up for the summer session, and I’m even under contract, but that contract is not binding me. After graduation, it’s a wrap! She is out of there. I just can’t do it with that school anymore.
So that’s basically how it has turned out. Thank God that my child and the others weren’t injured by this incident. Thank God they are all ok. Even still, I want to be certain that this never happens to anybody else’s child again.

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Mommy with the fire, mommy with rage signing off!

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(Post ran long, sorry)

Peace and Blessings
Dee