Skip to main content

Journey to Becoming Me'Me' or is that Omi or Gigi or...or...or...

I had a full day to digest the news of my upcoming grandbabies. It seems that the entire fall calendar I had planned has been thrown out the window with this upcoming event. I can not wait until January 2010.

The same time that I am awaiting this event, I am also wisely, slowly, and quietly helping my son get ready. This is a major life change for him and in his words, "this was not how I thought I would have children." He had to first get over his angst over really, really, audibly telling me that I am having two grandchildren. Then he let his guard down a little so I could hear the voice of my vulnerable son contemplating this change in his life.

Children are a blessing. Even if they come in unexpected ways. We are celebrating the blessing. And preparing my son for this event.

His sister and I were chatting about the whole thing yesterday after school. She said "I am too young to be called Auntie. They can just call me K." She promptly began to muse about how she can play with the "twins" and how cool it would be to have them around. She is only five so she is excited about having someone younger than her in the family.

I love my children. It was never in my life plan to have six, however, it was divinely ordained for my life. I am mother, mama, me'me'. It is who the nurturing and giving side of me was meant to have. I am also, in the words of my friend, "too young and hip to be granny!" I hope that the mothers will receive what I have to give and will know that this developing me'me' is excited to welcome the 8th generation of our family. My foremothers are having a roundtable discussion about all this.

In my minds eye, I can just see this counsel of women, sitting around, sending me their energy, preparing me to prepare my son. What a legacy awaits these children.

What a future awaits my son. I told him he has to be mature and wise and honorable for the children. No, he is not married so will encounter some drama with the mothers. There is always a consequence to our actions so I told him to be careful. He said, "oh yeah mama, I am, this is it for me, no more children." We will see.

For now, it is exciting and we have about two to two and a half months to wait. I just hope he is sleeping now because come January, sleep will be a thing of the past. And for that, I am glad I am me'me' and not mama because I will sleep at night! I will love them up and send them home, oh the perks of being grandma!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Hannah's Song

We came together last night and sang Hannah's song. Family from California was in town, it was the night before Aunt Hannah's Home Going Celebration. We met at my house late in the evening to fellowship, remember, hug, eat, and laugh. Thom felt the love in the room and I'm sure his mom would've appreciated us doing what she did all her life - love. Aunt Hannah was a gracious woman. Her gentle spirit, sparkling eyes, and constant smile will be remembered. She has left us physically, but never spiritually. The laughter was like music in Thom's ear. For the first time in weeks I saw my cousin relax. He has been in a tornado for the past four weeks from his mother's diagnosis to her death. Even in her final stage, Aunt Hannah was granted her desire. She asked to not suffer long when it was her time to go, she had been a caregiver her whole life and I'm sure her prayer was for her son. In the last days of her life, she still greeted well wishers with a wa...

Brothers, Can we Talk?

 I'm a Black woman, born of a Black woman and a Black man. When my mother died, it was my father who nurtured me and instilled in me a sense of pride of self, of my race, of my abilities to do whatever I put my mind to do. He never imposed limitations on me as a Black woman. The only caution he ever gave me was to not burn my candle at both ends and to be mindful of my health, I am an asthmatic. He never stopped me from trying anything and always encouraged me. Daddy was a strong Black man who introduced me to Shirley Chisholm when I was a little girl. He reminded me of the fortitude of my late mother's quest for gender equality in the workplace and of the namesake who marched at Selma.  He is the one who gave me my pseudonym, TayĆ©. Daddy was a strong tower of empowerment and fought all the way to his last breath for social, gender, and racial justice. It is in remembering my father this morning that I'm asking the brothers, can we talk? What is it, especially those of my g...

Ashes to Ashes

 This is Ash Wednesday. For a lot of Catholics and Anglican Christians, it begins the holy season of Lent. We remember we are but dust and to dust we return, ashes to ashes.  It is a somber reminder of our humanity and the finality of life. We are a mere breath. Today, as a Hospital Chaplain Resident, I am imposing ashes on patients, family, and staff. It is a visible marker of a shared faith and belief. We look with anticipation to the finished work of salvation on the cross and in eager hope of the resurrection. As my day progressed, I noticed how much hope was in the eyes of the ones giving and receiving this reminder of our existence. It was both a somber moment and a joyful moment. Two things can exist at the same time. Like the world we find ourselves in. Even as it seems like the darkest, certainly the darkest I’ve known in my six decades on this earth. Completely imperfect as a nation, there was still a glimmer of light until the nightmare became reality. We wonder abo...