I.N.D.E.P.E.N.D.E.N.T DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?

in·de·pen·dent (nd-pndnt) adj.
1. Not governed by a foreign power; self-governing.

2. Not relying on others for support, care, or funds; self-supporting.

de·pen·dent (d-pndnt) adj.
1. Contingent on another.
2. Relying on or requiring the aid of another for support

in·ter·de·pen·dent (ntr-d-pndnt) adj.
Mutually dependent


No, I'm not Ms. Independent, not anymore and no, that didn't come about with the ring. It took lots and lots of fights with my husband and telling him how well I could do without him, then actually being without him, to realize I do need him. True the government gave me food stamps, housing, daycare assistance and would've gave me a child support check, had I went there, plus I work. But I realized life ain't about doing everything on your own, its about Interdependence. I need him to give our children something neither of us had, a good man in their lives. I need him for security, for love making, for love, for advice, for help,for friendship, for inspiration and for a lifetime partner in this struggle we call life. And he needs me for all those same things.

anyway

Ms. Independent I'm pickin' on you today. I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with being independent, but girlfriend realize, when you were trained to be independent you were preparing for war. The war against the black man. He been actin' up for some time now, I know. He's my brother, my dad, my uncle, my cousin. I see his dumb ass keep gettin' caught on the block for the same ish. I see him giving you, the good girl, a hard time. But please realize we gotta end the war. And it starts with us, then our sons and daughters.

First we need to realize there was a conscious effort to break up the black family in the slavery days and all those brainwashing tactics are still being passed down from generation to generation. The black man is showing all the signs and symptoms. They're killing each other, pushing us away, and self destructing. We, black women, are showing signs too, but it comes packaged in a great job, and independence. Now don't get me wrong, SISTAS GET YOUR EDUCATION and MAKE THAT MONEY. You don't want to have to be stuck in this hard world with nothing to fall back on and relationships should be about mutual support, not just one person taking care of the other, financially and otherwise. We all need somebody and it gets pretty lonely in independence station. We need to stop downing our brothers and start looking for solutions. And when you get in a relationship with a good man, don't forget to turn the war tactics off. Lets say it together "interdependence". Its okay to need him and for him to need you. When he's at his worst you step up, not step on him.

Then next we need to teach the youth. Their tablets still have room for good impressions. Teach them the importance of education, but also teach your children where the man's place is suppose to be. It ain't on the corner selling dope, laying on some girl's couch while she works, nor is it with all those chicken heads. Its at church (or wherever you worship), at work/ his own business, at football practice with the kids, at the top of his game, at the top of his his household, he is the king and should be treated as such. But don't you forget nor let him forget you're the queen and should be treated as such.


Ms. Independent, we can't make it alone, we need each other. I need you, he needs you, the black family needs you. You're not in this world alone, and therefore you cannot continue to live independently. We can't survive this cruel world independently.

How do you mend a broken heart?

Me and my husband have been to heaven and hell, sometimes all in the same day. But I'm not here to blame him, I know I've been just as guilty as he in several situations. Now granted I wouldn't have acted a fool, had he not acted an ass, but I know two rights don't make it wrong, in fact it makes it worse.



Well, just about a year and a half ago, we were separated for 6 or 7months. Long story short, one weekend while the kids were with their God parents, me and him got into it, because I was retaliating for some shit he had done (example of me being an ass). When the tables were turned, he flipped out!(he was a royal ass). He tried to kill my puppy, I tried to kill him (not really, but that's the way they made it sound in court). In the end We sold or gave away most of our belongings and let our house go into foreclosure, because neither of us could afford to pay for the house alone.


Yesterday my husband came home from his second job and told me about the problems a co-worker was having with his wife, and oh boy, did it sound familiar. This morning my husband woke up from a nightmare about us and wanted to know how could he mend his broken heart. I said, "just love", but as soon as I said it I thought, don't he love me still, didn't he forgive me for all the crap we've been through? I forgave him. I thought our relationship was going great. Now all of a sudden his heart is still broken. WTF is that suppose to mean?

the great debate

Okay,
I know I sport his name and everything, but I was uninspired by the debate last night. Maybe I sipped too much wine after the kids passed out, I don't know. Now don't get me wrong, I'm proud than a mutha, Obama is making history, but politicians will be politicians and I don't know what they are or what questions they be answering. I'm uinspired by that debate, maybe the next one. They should've kept their butts in senate a lil longer figuring out this economy crisis.

Thats my public announcement. It won't be here long, so read up and comment as you may. Don't forget to register, time is winding down.

Where oh, where oh, where is Obama Mama

Oh, about a million years ago, I did like so many responsible high school graduates, and went to college. While in college I did like so many irresponsible college students and partied like it was 1999, a rock star, or whatever.

anywho

about 3/4 of my way being done with college with a 2. something GPA, I dropped out of college and headed to Atlanta, GA with a boy. That lasted all about ....... *drum roll* 2 months. Well on my way back "home", I found love on the Greyhound bus and within a few months I was pregnant with my first baby. 9 months, 40 weeks, 10 months however long it was, I had my first beautiful baby boy. At first I thought I was gonna die, I didn't want babies, but once he passed the infancy stage, I longed for another one, so 21 months later (a lil less than 2 years) I had another beautiful baby boy. Then in the mist of some bullshit 26 months after him, I had a baby girl. Man, I'm telling you, I was pregnant or giving birth every year for a while. Hadn't I got fixed, It would be about time for another one. But the baby factory on Obama Mama has shut down. Oh yeah I forgot to mention, that somewhere between those pregnancies, I did get married to my babies daddy, and take a few college courses. But somewhere between baby#2 and 3, I got lost.

I was so concerned with being a good mommy and wife and helping to make sure the ends meet, that I completely forgot the dreams I once had. Like being the first person in my family not just go to college, but to actually come out with a degree, to be an author, to own a daycare, and that's just a few.

Well since we've moved to this horribly boring town, I've had time, with little distractions to remember all those dreams I once had.
I write again, check it out: http://blacksupermom.blogspot.com/, and just the other day I went to the local college to see about finishing my degree in elementary ed. (I figure I better, just in case Obama get in there and give all the teachers a raise). I am still excited! It felt so good and weird (all those kids) being on a college campus again.

There is one problem, the nearest college is 2 hours away and the classes I have to take on campus are @ night from 5:30- 8:30. I hope I have enough strength to jump that hurdle to see if the original Obama Mama is on the other side.

Obama Mama, the wife and mother

Alright, this is something new, no poetry. Some of you are probably thinking, yes! That's alright tho.



N.E. way



I started this blog because although I love the blogs I have been reading, none really pertains to me, the grown, sexy, married and mothered. So here you go, a desperate black housewife.



Issue #1



Well recently we moved 1500 miles away from home and there is nothing black here. Yeah there are plenty of black people, but nothing to support them except a black haircare section in Walmart (which is the only store of any kind around). There is no black radio station, no black hair stylist, no black barber. Well were I'm from there is a black hair stylist on every corner you turn. Some professional, some bootleg. But don't get it twisted the bootleg hair stylist do the damn thang too, maybe better. Well me being me, I picked up on how to do hair. My specialty; braiding and twisting and anything you want to add to the braids or twist. I'm pretty good too, if I must say so myself, I should be tho, I've been braiding hair since I was in the 4th grade.

Well since we've moved to this little town, I've been braiding the little girls hair and adding a natti flare of beads, balls, and barrettes. I only charge 10 bucks and I provide the hair pretties.

So about 4 weeks ago I get a call from one of my "friends" saying her brother just got of prison and wants his hair braided. My initial thought is yes! more money. No little girls hair, now people can really see my skills. I can do all the Carmello Anothony styles and then some. My husband on the other hand didn't see it that way. Man he damn near had a hissy fit.
" I don't want some dude thats been locked up sitting between your legs why you doing his hair, all hell nah. Tell him you can't do it."
How embarrassing is that? Tell somebody, me a grown ass woman, that I cant do their hair cause my husband said so.
"He ain't gonna be sitting between my legs", I answered.
The only thing he could say was no.
So I punked out and just told the guy, I couldn't do it that day. But he kept calling, or having others to call. Well eventually I did do his hair, he loved it and he even paid me extra, said he liked my work. I ended up doing it twice.


So now he wants me to do his hair more often. He called the house and my husband answered. My husband was mad, but like " Just do it, I don't care. Don't nobody listen to me anyway".