May 29
3:oo a.m. Shrieking screams followed by the sounds of charging feet awaken my husband and I out of slumber. Our bedroom door burst open and the light of the hallway reveals the silhouette of our 4-year-old daughter, our little Chickenhawk. In a panic she calls out “Momma” then races across the room and leaps into our bed.
It was one of those average weekday nights. We’d just finished dinner. The dishes needed to be washed and lunches packed for the next day. I glanced at the relentless clock and knew it’s was time to get my youngest daughter (Chickenhawk) and oldest girl (Ms. Prissy) ready for bed.
“Girls, it’s time for your shower!” I yelled as I ran into the bathroom and turned on the water.
“Get in first,” I shouted to my oldest. “AND USE SOAP!” Read more
It was the first week of February and, like most typical weekday mornings, I was rushing to get my girls to school. As I dropped off , my youngest daughter, the director of her day care pulled me aside to find out whether I was planning to get her African heritage portrait taken. They were setting up now, she said, and I hadn’t filled out a form.
I honestly planned on opting out. But with this conscious or subconscious nudge, I said yes. I don’t know why I was thinking about skipping the heritage picture, being Black History Month and all. But as I thought about it, I’d always been a little skeptical about the holiday.
Now don’t get me wrong, I believe there should be a time to celebrate African American heritage, but I prefer not to get caught up in the logistics of it being designated to a particular month. And the fact that I always hear the same focal points of our history during this time had been a turn off.
A few days later, however, one of the teachers at the day care approached me about painting the backdrop for the African American History program. She offered to help me paint it as she handed me a picture of a William H. Johnson painting of Harlem during the Renaissance. I said yes but told her I could handle it by myself, thinking his style is pretty loose and that it wouldn’t take me long to paint.
Then the next week a parent approached me at my oldest daughter’s school. She let me know that she would be doing a presentation to her son’s Kindergarten class on the Tuskegee Airman and Bessie Coleman (the first black female pilot). She encouraged me to do something in for my oldest daughter’s first-grade class. I thought about it and then e-mailed the teacher, asking whether I could do an art project on Romare Bearden. The teacher was ecstatic, so much so that she asked if I would be willing to do the project with the other first-grade class, too.
“Yes, of course!” I replied.
Then I began to feel the pressure of all my commitments. I was cursing myself out and Black History Month! The weekend before both school events, I began painting the 14 by 7 foot backdrop and preparing for the Bearden project, which meant clipping hundreds of hands, noses, and mouths out of magazines for 40 or so children. Luckily my father was in town to help and a few moms (thanks) saw me fluttering and also volunteered to give me a hand.
In the end, the Bearden project was a hit. My daughter’s classmates learned about an amazing artist and even made their own rendition of a Bearden masterpiece.
Next, I went with my husband to a really cute preschool program on the Harlem Renaissance, where I saw my youngest, with a large red flower in her hair, sing a Billie Holiday solo.
Hubby and our youngest with the backdrop.
Most importantly, I really enjoyed Black History Month this year. I am so grateful to that wise parent at Skye’s school who asked me, “If we don’t celebrate black history, then who will?” And though I may need to say no a little more often. I will always say yes to Black History Month.
The African Heritage portrait
As the years pass, I find that I’m continually redefining myself. First I was an artist. A graphic designer. Wife then mother. Author. Illustrator. These days, I just call it like I see it… I am the Crazy Mom with Kids!
On this official crazymomwithkids.com blog site, I proudly wear my craziness as a badge of honor. As a woman juggling motherhood, a husband, a household, and a creative career, how could my sanity not be on the line daily?
Yet, I’m determined to give 100 percent to each area of my life, which is likely the reason I’m only partly sane.
But I wouldn’t be a crazy mom without the help of some very special people: my family. Not only do they go out of their way to test my patience every day, but if it weren’t for them, I would have absolutely no material for my blog.
My two girls…
Ms. Prissy aka, my 6-year-old daughter, is a textbook girlie girl. She’s a budding artist and true sweetheart who would rather eat salad than anything with flesh. With much jubilation, this chick joined the knitting club at her school.
Henery Hawk
My youngest child, soon to be 4-year-old daughter, is a tough-talking chickenhawk who thinks she runs the show. She’s a diminutive powerhouse who loves to be “it” when she plays tag. Her favorite food is chicken skin.
My two boys…
Foghorn Leghorn.
My husband, is the alpha rooster in this wild hen house. Though he is the biggest and strongest of us all, his little chicks ruffle his feathers and truly run the barnyard.
Egg-head, Jr, my 18-year-old stepson, flew from the coop a little while ago. But all of the barn look forward to his visits. And like his persona, this quiet thinker is always two steps a head of the entire roost.
Now that you’ve met my cast of characters and their alter-egos, prepare to read more about their adventures and their quest to make me even crazier during 2012.
Stay tuned.
If you are anything like me, you are gearing up for that last-minute holiday shopping. And the fact that my children are already out of school for the holidays means my stress level has soared tenfold.
The mere thought of them tagging along during any part of my shopping ordeal makes me feel a bit tense. Dealing with them argue over who had the toy last or asking why they can’t have another toy that they already have at home is too much to deal with in a crowded Mall.In addition to taking deep breathes, threatening, and bribing my children to behave, I have, after years of experience, learned to adopt a few tricks to help my trips to the store go off without a hitch:
crazymomwithkids 