Hell No! You Can’t Touch My Fro!

That’s right, I said it.

Any well-educated Black man, knows it’s a no-no to touch a sistah’s hair. Especially, if she just got it done. Well, I’m here to tell you that the idea of my being natural opposed to “whipped, fried and laid to the said,” as my mother used to say, doesn’t give you license to act the same way – not touch!

When one person a prominent man in the community constantly complimented commented on my natural locks, I was flattered - sort of. After the third of fourth comment, I was annoyed by his insistence. Once or twice is enough, thank you! But when I walked by him and he proceeded to take his hand on my hair and pat it, I thought I might lose all of the poise and grace I’d learned over the years. THANK GOD! I’m lady.

I recall my formative years where students would be in awe and wonder with my locks. “Can I touch your hair?” they’d say.

“No.” I’d answer. I’d explain to them that just because I was different (I attended predominantly white institutions grades K-12), I wasn’t an animal in a zoo whose mane you could pet if you came during the right hours.

So for all of you who are in awe of my hair – thank you! For those of you who want to compliment me on it - your words are greatly appreciated.

But that doesn’t mean I want you running your fingers through petting or patting my hair!

Now, I must say that every now and then, a woman will let her man run his fingers through her strands – if the moods right. But unless you’re a licensed stylist – WITH a cosmetology degree OR a string of clients that would put Dwight Eubanks, Derek J AND Lawrence Washington (The Real Housewives of Atlanta) to shame. Then, keep yo’ damn hands to yo’ damn self.

Yeah, I said it.

Conquering the slide

It’s an interesting thing when you witness your child conquering his fears. Case in point – my boy and “the big slide.” There’s a small playground located around the corner from our house. We go there from time to time because it’s good exercise for me – and for him.

The other day was like almost any other day. I pushed him in his trike – across the street, down the sidewalk and to our destination – the playground. It was there where he remarked in awe and wonder, “Oh wow! The slide!”

Yes, I thought to myself – the slide. I will have to coax him down or slide down with him. There are actual two slides – a little one and big one. Of course, the little slide has never been a problem, but it was “the big slide” that always gave him grief. But not today. He climbed up the equipment - jumping from landing to landing – and reached the tallest height and base for “the big slide.” 

“Oh no,” I thought to myself, “he’s stuck.”

But my boy surprised me. Down he went – down the big slide – on his bottom, on his tummy, feet first, head first – and at the bottom I was there to catch him. Although he didn’t need me.

No, as you can see, he rather face plant in the rocks and give himself a gravel bath. It’s the little things that I’m learning to not let bother me. Of course, it’s going to be a mess cleaning the rocks out of his hair. Yes, we’ll have to dump his shoes before he can walk in the front door. And NO!, he can’t thrown, kick or EAT the rocks.

But, that’s just a boy’s life. Doing boy things – even the ones that seem so simple - like conquering “the big slide.”

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{Toddler Tuesday} Stress & Pressure

They are the two things that we warn our children about – when it comes to their friends.

“Don’t let them pressure you into doing something you don’t want to.”

“Don’t get stressed out about being popular.”

But in the end – it is parents who contribute to a lot of the stress and pressure that children deal with. The issues tend to do with how well we did in school, how we turned out and what we want for our children. And while we think we always know what’s best (Mother’s always right), sometimes our added nagging, badgering and need for control can be just as detrimental to our children as any outside force.

It was brought to my attention one night at home. I was helping my son review his letters. He needed to know letters A-I (I’ve written about my alphabet strategy before). We sat down on the floor and I laid out his flash cards. One-by-one, I would ask him to identify the letters. He’d get so far, then say he didn’t know the letter. I began to get frustrated because I knew that he knew the letter but in all of her toddler stubborness, he refused to budge and tell me it’s name. Finally, we had an all out learning war complete, with a tantrum, me screaming and time out.

Then, came his breakdown. After timeout, he burst into tears and told me he was sorry. Normally, I’d accept his apology, but I wanted to know why.

“Why are you sorry, J?” I asked.

“Because,” he sobbed. “Because, I just don’t know.”

I took the time to explain to him that I wanted what was best for him and that I had confidence that he knew his letter. Therefore, I wanted to instill that confidence in him. Of course, he’s only four, so I didn’t use these exact words. Ultimately, I urged him with two basic principals – 1) always do your best and 2) never say, “I can’t.”

I was reminded of the learning showdown only a day after it happened, when I learned that a child (a late teen) who attends my son’s school had taken his own life. I was never given specifics on the boy’s death, but it was rumored that parental stress – bullying of a different kind – was the main factor.

And then comes the story of a Roderick “RJ” Arrington, a 7-year-old Las Vegas boy beat to death by his stepfather, while his mother watched. The reasoning behind the beating – RJ lied to his parents about doing his homework and reading a Bible verse. Pressure and stress.

Let me make it clear, this post is not about not setting goals, benchmarks and having dreams and aspirations for your child(ren). It is merely a reminder that while our children look to us for guidance and discipline, they need our love, compassion and mercy just as much.

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• What to do when your child Throws a Tantrum and Misbehaves in Public? (throughtheeyesofamother.wordpress.com)
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• An encouraging alternative to the parent competition… (survivingteens.wordpress.com)
• Mom, Stepdad Beat 7-Year-Old Boy To Death For Not Reading His Bible (newsone.com)
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{Toddler Tuesday} My Boy Makes Me Laugh!

When my boy was smaller, he’d make me smile – a lot. I’d smile at his smile, I’d smile when he cood, I’d smile just knowing he was mine – all mine sleepless nights and all.

My boy will never stop making me smile, but as he’s grown older, so has his ability to make me laugh. There are the times when he repeats things I’ve told him – things I think that he’s ignored. There are times when he says words (good words) that I never thought he knew. There are times when he’ll just say something funny (he can be very funny) and we’ll both just start laughing.

Laughter is a welcome emotion/reaction when it comes to raising little ones. There are days when you want to cry; days when you want to scream; days when you just want to runaway (don’t tell me you’ve never had that thought). But no matter what those feelings evoke, they can never replace the love, gratefulness, happiness and laughter that comes with raising a child – that come with raising my son.

I’m grateful every day for him – especially on the days when we can share a big belly laugh!

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{Maternal Monday} #1 Job – Keeping My Boy Safe

“You gotta keep me safe!” My son cried as we backed out of our driveway.

“I always keep you safe.” I responded somewhat numb to his whine. He’d been whining all morning.

“No, mommy, keep me safe!” He started to shout, “put my seat belt on!”

I turned around to find him – sure enough – not buckled up.

In my morning haste, I had told him to get in the car. Then, forgetting something behind, I ran back into the house to reclaim whatever it was that I was missing. I still can’t remember what it was. He can shut his own door – so he did. When I came back outside, I jumped in the car, started it up and we were off to school. My mind had skipped over the fact that my child needs help to buckle up. Thanks to the warning from his teacher, he was demanding that I keep him safe.

Realizing my forgetfulness, I put the car in park, jumped out and buckled up my son. He’d done a good deed of reminding me to keep him safe – and I was grateful.

I’d forgotten all about the small, yet most times life-saving task, until the other day.
I came into work and learned of an accident involving five children – two had been critically hurt.Later that day, when I called police to get an update on the children’s condition, I learned that a three-year old – only a year younger than my boy – had died.

As of right now, we don’t know if the child was in his car seat – or wearing his seat belt – but police did say the boy flew though the side window of his family’s van. Moreover, his mother was driving the van when the accident occurred.

My heart still drops every time I think of that mother mourning the loss of her child, probably replaying the incident over, and over, and over again in her mind and trying to figure out what she could have done to keep her son safe.

This story, like the many that we cover about children, will stick with me. But, that’s not such a bad thing. That’s because this story will remind to not let my businesses get in the way of the most of important person in my life – my son. It is and will always be my job – to keep him safe.

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{MSM Movie Review} Frankenweenie

If you’re a Tim Burton fan, you’ll definitely love the story of Frankenweenie. Think Edward Scissor Hands, combined with The Nightmare Before Christmas butted up with Lassie, or any other boy loves his dog to death (literally) story that you can think of. The masterful mix is Frankenweenie.

The story revolves around a boy who loves his dog above all else – even through death. Bob, voiced by Robert Capron,  goes beyond death to resurrect his longtime friend after he’s tragically hit and killed by a car while chasing after a baseball. Once classmates find out about Sparky’s second life they become jealous and try to bring back their own pets back to life. That is when the story turns from cute to downright creepy.

I took my boy to see this flick. And while he was able to maintain his normal four year old composure throughout the film, there were some frightening moments. I think I may have jumped once or twice.

The end result of this movie – love conquers all – even after (or in) death, and in this case, even black and white too. If you haven’t watched a film sans color in awhile, this will help ease you into the mode – think Twilight Zone for the kiddos.

{MSM Movie Review} Flight

If you like to fly – or have to fly regularly – Flight may not be the movie for you. The premise of movie surrounds a plane crash – and it’s negligent pilot. But if you get stuck on there, you’ll lose the intended meaning behind this story.

I don’t come from an alcoholic family, but I do have alcoholics in my family. Flight showcases the reality of alcoholism and the destruction that comes with the addition. Call it Whip Whitaker’s tragic flaw. Played by Denzel Washington, Whip, like most alcoholics is in denial about his addiction. He can go hours, even days without taking a swig, forcing himself to believe that he can “quit whenever he wants” – or whenever he needs to. But the truth is, when the pressure is piled on, he succumbs to the bottle.

Don Cheadle, John Goodman, and Bruce Greenwood help round out the cast of people who try to “save” Whip from himself. In the end, it is Whip who realizes he can no longer run away from the truth.

If you liked, Training Day, then you’ll definitely like this movie. Washington is no longer the good guy, the hero. He’s the guy you want to hate, and by the end of the movie you will hate him. That is, until you realize that like all alcoholics, his character suffers from an illness – and what he really needs – isn’t sympathy – but help. Sometimes, a help that can only come from within.

For this Mini Skirt Mama, Flight is definitely a must see.

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{Miscellaneous Monday} Top Ten Tweets I should’ve posted last night…

but my phone was dead!!!

As I was sitting down with my girls last night to watch Steel Magnolias when I realized I didn’t have my cell phone. In an instant panic, I dashed around the house searching for my one and only source of communication I mean, face-to-face communication is so overrated…Twitter and Facebook is where it’s at, right? When I finally found my phone, made myself comfortable for the show, a screen pops up, “Battery Life at 5%” i.e., get to a charger soon. Of course, I could’ve gone upstairs plugged in my phone – or possibly even brought the charger back downstairs and plugged it in there.

Bottomline, I didn’t.

I waited until the device died. And, as always of course, that’s when these thoughts – only meant for the Internet – began to plague me.

So, here you go. My Top Ten Things I wanted to tweet last night, but couldn’t because my phone was dead!!!”

10. WTH!?! The Houstons have a reality show?!? #FamilyDrama #RIPWhitney #LifetimeTV

9. Is that Shea Moisture and Curls hair products in the background? #NaturalHair #SteelMagnolias

8. Is it Still…Steele…or Steel Magnolias (hopefully, one of these gets a hit)?

7. I don’t care if it’s the original or the remake, the scene when Shelby dies and her mama goes back to her house to get her son, picks him up and hugs him will always be a tear jerker. #SteelMagnolias

6. Okay, I know that’s not 140 characters. #SteelMagnolias

5. I hate commercials. #140charactersorless #SteelMagnolias

4. Is that really how Black women in the South talk? #ithinknot #SteelMagnolias

3. Black movies with at-home weddings – Jumping the Broom, Family Wedding, The Family that Preys, Something New, the Wood, Morris Chestnut movie (not The Best Man), Coming to America. Hmmm, that’s more than I thought. And now…#SteelMagnolias

2. Again, I know it’s not #140characters

1. C’mon now…y’all know that is not Ernie from Ghostbusters!!! #SteelMagnolias

There you have it. Yes, this is what I do on my weekends. #AndILoveIt

Check back tomorrow for my review of the remake of Steel Magnolias and Frankenweenie in a Mini Skirt Mama’s {Tuesday’s Reviews}.

{He’s Three Thursday} The Superhero Alphabet

Weelittlestitches’ Adorable Superhero Embroidery Collection (

My three-year old, soon to be four-year old, son seems to be having problems recognizing and remembering his letters. He can sing a mean version of the alphabet song, but when it comes to pointing out, “Big A, little a, what begins with A?” my boy begins to fumble.

I’ve bought tons of flash cards all showing apples (for A), balls (for B) and cats (for C), but none seem to work. Finally, I got the bright idea to meet my little man where he often resides – in movie town.

“A is for Avengers.” I now tell him.

“B is for Batman.”

“C is for…” and almost like he’s known his ABCs forever, “Captain America.”

“That’s right!” I give him a high-five.

For D, we improvise, “D is for Daphne (Scooby Doo) or Dave (Alvin & the Chipmunks).”

“E is for Elephant.”

“F is for Fred (Scooby Doo).”

“G is for Green Lantern.”

“H is for the Hulk.”

“Hulk smash!” He shouts and jumps up.

“I is for Iron Man.”

“Pew, pew,” he shouts, “Iron Man shield.”

“Okay, back to the letters. J is for…”

He stares at me. “J is for…” I repeat. And just as I’m about to say it a third time, he interjects.

“J is for Jeremiah! Yay! High-five!”

I oblige him.

I don’t know any superheroes that begin with the letter K. So, I digress.

“K is for kite.”

He’s not excited about the kite until he thinks about it.

“Hey, where is my kite?” He asks.

“Well, I’m not sure. But, we’re not talking about kites. We’re talking about letters.”

“No you said kite.”

“I know what I said, but I was just giving you an example.”

Then, the questions begin. “mommy?”

“Yes.”

“What’s an example?”

Not to get frustrated, I seize the opportunity to redirect our conversation.

“An example is like this, L is for lion.” He likes the Lion King.

“Rrrroar!” He gives his best lion roar. I roar back at him and give him a hi-five.

“M is for Mary Jane.”

“N is for nose.” I digress again as J points to his nose.

“O is for octopus.” He starts waving his arms.

“P is for Peter Parker.”

“Spiderman!!!” He shouts with gusto.

“No, Peter Parker.” I remind him.

“Spiderman!!!” I’ve lost him.

“No J. P is for Peter Parker. Not Spiderman.”

“But Peter Parker is Spiderman,” he tries to reason with me.

“You are correct,” I try to confirm, yet clarify for him, “but the letter “P” stands for Peter Parker, not Spiderman.”

I continue, “Q is for Quiet.” I don’t know any superheroes that begin with the letter Q. He  holds his index finger over his lips as if to shush me.

“That’s right. R is for Rrrroar!” He holds up is hands, curls his fingers, and proceeds to give me an even louder roar than before. Just before he prepares to pounce, I tame his inner lion.

“That was great roar. Now, on to letter S.” And with that he taps into his Spidey senses and proceeds to crawl around. “That’s right. S is for…”

He shoots me with his invisible web. I’m not sure if it’s to deter our progress or just to capture me.

“S is for…”

“Spiderman! Spiderman! Pew, pew…” And with that he’s he jumps from the loveseat…to the couch…and back on me.

“Okay. T is for Thor.”

Out comes the hammer. Okay, not a real one, but the J’s imaginary Thor hammer. And in a tone that I can’t distinguish – Hulk Smash! or Thor! – he smashes into his mother.

“Enough!” I exclaim, thankful that we’re almost done.

“AHHHHHHH!” He begins to thrash around.

Rather than screaming, I calmly move on…”U is for useless.” Because that’s how I’m beginning to feel in my quest to teach my boy.

“V is for Velma.” I continue, trying to get back on track.

“W!!!!” My boy screams. Well, I’m just glad to know he’s getting something out of this.

“X?” I say.

“X-Men!!!” He yells in response. Well you know where this is going.

“ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!”

And we’re done.

Whew! Teaching is a lot harder than I thought.

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