Family vacation my FOOT!

So I have been off of here for a few days and there is so much that I would like to share with you guys, my thoughts, interactions, and goings-ons, that I am going to have to post a few blogs tonight just to catch up.

Let us start with this “family vacation” we have recently gone on……..

I do not even know where to start but let me first say that whoever came up with the term FAMILY vacation was obviously delusional in every aspect of the matter. At no point during our trip to Myrtle Beach did I feel or have the remote inkling that I was on vacation. There was nothing that I did that said vacation. I will admit though that everything said, family.

We were blessed to be able to get a room for a very reasonable rate that had a kitchenette in it. There was a pool right outside our door and the beach was like a 45 second walk. The customer service was awesome. The keep was exceptionally pleasant and I even messed up a plate and they did not charge me for it (mostly due to the fact that I was honest and brought it to their attention first). The best part is they were a family and couples only hotel which meant everyone was civilized and respectful of one another. The best part was they never one time turned their noses up or turned us down once they found out that we have 9 children; this is especially a rarity for us when we travel.

Now, the trip. While I felt very extended while away because i was not only doing the same everyday things that I do at home, I had to do them in tighter living quarters and if you know me you would know that I hate clutter and cluttered situations but I digress for the good of the trip. I still had to get up and cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I still taught school and created daily lessons, I still worked for one of my clients (which I will not do ever again), and I still had to pack, unpack, and clean. This has brought me to the sad conclusion that no matter where I am I will always be slave, er, I mean mom.

My children are spoiled to the max and I am okay with that sometimes; on vacation is NOT one of those times.

I am just whining. Although I still felt like the nanny-cook-housekeeper-slave, the smiles and enjoyment from my children makes it all worth it. We went to the beach that my children beg to go to all the time but when we get there, they remember that they are deathly afraid of the water. The laughter I get from that alone makes the trip worthwhile. Lol. Likewise with the pool. Sai almost drowned in 3 feet even though he is 4 foot 2 inches tall. I laughed so hard at his dramatics that I almost forgot to save him (so his brother jumped in to do it). I kept yelling stand up but he was too busy being dramatic. And before you flood me with the fact that it is possible for him to drown in three feet while being over four feet tall, yes, I am well aware of that but if you knew Sai you would totally see why it was funny.

In the end (and even some parts of during) I did thoroughly enjoy the trip <—— (notice I didn’t say vacation). It was fun plus I got to hit some cool Thrift Stores on the way home.

 

-Rush

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Only a black woman will truly understand

I had a moment. Its gone. I am so angry and I just don’t know why. Is it a stigma I was born with because I am a black woman? I refuse to believe that. I refuse to believe that we are all bred to be angry. What happened? I am going to lay it all out on the paper today. I will not proofread it or I will change it or not publish it.
I am on a journey to dig deep onto the revelation of the “Why” of an angry black woman. THIS angry black woman. As I sit and ponder about this subject, I began to wonder if it truly is our upbringing. We as women are bred to believe that we are to keep our mouths shut and find our place as a child. and mind our parents, suppressing any thoughts of anger or resentment without speaking how you feel. Taught to do as you are told and do as I say not as I do. I oftentimes wonder if this is the root of the anger of a black woman. Black boys are allowed to go out and dig ditches and play in the dirt,get into fist fights with other boys, argue with their neighbors children. They don’t have to do the same chores that we have to do. As I dig deep, I think about the difference in the way that we are raised as a black family. We are raised as little girls to act like a lady, carry of yourself accordingly, never really given the opportunity to express ourselves. On the other hand, boys- black boys- can do what they want “they’re just being boys” we are taught not to scrape up our knees or scuff our shins, hold your pinky up when you drink your tea. There are no rules to being a black boy. Now that I think about it we are raised to be angry black women not purposely and not because something happened to us. Its just the way that families are raised. “Girls don’t do that, girls don’t behave like that, black girls don’t act like that.” We’re raised to suppress what we are really truly feeling and usually the first relationship we get into we act the way we were raised; our first boyfriend respects that but as soon as we speak on something that we are angry about they give us a sideways look like we’re trying to act brand new but the truth is we’re mad and we are mad from within. We over react when we’re upset because we don’t know HOW to react when we’re upset, we weren’t taught to say what’s on your mind. We weren’t taught to say how we feel. We were taught to be delicate and soft and gentle but the truth of the matter is, some of us aren’t soft and delicate and gentle. The bottom line is we don’t know how to connect with our emotions, we don’t know how to casually speak that we’re angry or say that you did something to upset us. We hold it in and we suppress it. There’s a box of sensitivity within that holds that suppression and we get angry and we put it in the box we get mad and we put it in the box. We suppress it and suppress it and suppress it until the box of sensitivity can explode with just one touch. One wrong word from anyone. Who is that someone? Our mates. Because no matter how angry we get we were raised to respect our parents to act like a lady to stay in our place and to stay dainty. So that box of sensitivity will never explode on our parents. I believe that the anger that we hold with in starts from a very young age so yes sometimes, sometimes I am an angry black woman. And do you want to know the truth about it? I hate it. I hate being labeled as an angry black woman. I’ve been married for years and there’s a woman within that my husband doesn’t even know because I’m taught to suppress it and when I start to express it I lose my mind and he hates it so I suppress it. I don’t know how to express it so really there is no one thing that makes me mad there is no one man that’s made me mad, its life. Life is expression but if I can’t express myself then I’m not really living am I? I make a vow this day to teach my daughters that’s it is okay to express themselves. It is okay to say when you are upset or when you are hurt or when you are angry. It’s okay to be mad. It’s okay to be hurt. It’s okay to be angry. It’s NOT okay to hold on to it. I employ all of my black women, light skin, brown skin, dark skin, honey, peanut butter; it doesn’t matter what complexion you are, a black woman is a black woman and I am a black woman. I am raising black women we need to stand with one another and for one another find the roots of your anger and confront it. Our anger is not towards each other. We need to learn that, we need to know that, we need to own that. Accept that the key to growing is accountability. Take the accountability for your actions, it is the only way you can grow. It is the only way we will shake this stigma from our bones. I will lead the way by starting with me.
-Rush

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