MOM

Some things are just too cliché. I want to give you a real story. A story about a tough love, supportive, and involved mom. I use the word cliché, because there are so many more left out stories when it comes to moms across the world.

I must pay my respect to Tupac. The song “Dear Mama” left a lasting impression, true and realistic depiction of his mother, painting her in such a genuine, humanistic, caring, and activist way that it overpowered the unfavorable choices she made. I’m not saying my mother was anything like Tupac’s mom, but I will say he gave the not so familiar stories of what a great mother is or should be. My story is one in the same.

I came into the picture as my mother’s fourth child. There were some complications during the pregnancy. Still my mother managed to carry me after experiencing the death of her beloved father in December of ‘86. I came a little early, the following January. As the story goes, I was the first and only child she gave birth to alone, but I was healthy.

From a very early age I admired how strong and intense she is. If you are my father, you cannot get over on my mother. If you are her children, you could get over on my mother. And if we are out in a public restaurant, store, or line, others cannot get over on my mother.

A no nonsense, educated, educator my mother was and still is a strict, stern and precise woman. She means what she says and does what she is meaning to do. Intelligent, swift, crafty, artistic, talented, and social, my mother made sure her children got their education and we inherited gifts of her trade. These are some things that protected us while we grew up in the streets of North Philly during the 90’s. Somehow, throughout it all, she managed to keep her boys off the corners, her girls from getting pregnant, and both sexes safe from the bullets that ricocheted off her brick home.

Things were so unsafe I remember my mom slamming into a door after being hit by a firecracker in the stomach. One can only imagine the painful trauma my mother endured, yet alone watching her children playing outside witnessing the ugly incident. My mother got up, wincing in pain, but put her children in the home, and without hesitation went after the drug dealer who purposely hit her with it, because she spoke out on how dangerous it was to light those on a block full of children. She has a hernia still to this day where the firecracker hit her stomach. We weren't afraid to live there after the incident, and other less severe ones that followed. The devastating and shocking passing of my grandmother in December of 96' left a hard opportunity of an empty home. My mother made the easy decision to move. This proves her diligence and how she took on more financial obligations just to better the lives of her children.

Not only did my mother protect us, her extended family, and the legacy, but also carries the weight of her family’s world on her heart. That hard exterior has a heart full of love, care and determination to keep her family afloat. We had to be and do our best to succeed. Bragging to all her friends, and fellow teacher staff was just the bonus.

We are all hardworking, assertive, and just as determined as she is. We bore the serious life lessons given in our hearts and in our heads, but not on our backs.

The first thing I learned from her was strength. With five children and husband, things were tough, but my mother made it look easy. She kept everyone in line and so our family flowed. Ever so often others would try to test the boundaries of the line. When this happened, my mother would swiftly raise her ruler and they hastily fell back in. There were no exceptions, only the importance of our future, our legacy, and most importantly, our longevity.

Because I had a hard time in school in the beginning my mother worked with me independently. She broke things down for me so that I could understand it better. When I still didn’t get it, she called in her sister to work with me. I learned from this, some kids learn differently and need different teachers. It doesn’t mean you failed them. As a mother your job is to utilize anyone around that can help your child win.

Every single one of us was on the honor roll. Regardless, if you thought school was for you or not, no one could tell, because all my mother’s children excelled. And when it was time for the honor roll assembly’s, my parents had a permanent seat with an insistent smile until the end of the school year. The insistent smile was encouragement to keep up the extraordinary work. We were always rewarded during Christmas time (Big Christmas') and going out to dinner after the ceremony. This was the same for any piano, trumpet, flute concert, or track meets she attended. After a while we all wanted to stop, but mother forced us to continue. Giving up was not an option.

My mother walked with us and held our hands, until we were old enough to stand and walk alone. We were taught to take up for one another, but also to stand up for ourselves alone. My mother’s nonchalant attitude was dismissive until there was a real threat of violence to harm her family. Her famous adage of all times “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” This has been disproven throughout the years, but this is what I stood by for many years. It has kept me out of a lot of verbal and physical altercations. Later in life I realized I held onto a lot of hurtful words people have said to me. My mother’s tough skin didn’t match up with my soft one. Her simple reaction is just simply “So what, keep it moving.” I admired this attitude for so long, and I can say I’m just now getting a hang of it.

In my romantic relationships, I’ve needed some advice from time to time. She’s been in a 35-year consecutive long relationship with my father. (I won’t count the before, or the years that will come after.) Whatever was going on in my personal relationship, it had something to do with me trying to change the person. My mother told me this about my father, “He looked. He saw, and he changed on his own.” These were very wise words that I never forgot. I use them in current situations, not just in relations.

Although we grew up in the church, some kind of way I parted ways with the church life. I have faith and I am spiritual. I see what miracles have done for my life, and therefore I hold my mother’s words dear to my heart when she prays. (She prays for her family.)

Following my passion has not been easy. My mother is one of those people who believes in the 50-year pension, 9-5pm. I am a person that blows with the wind. Still, we have worked on bridging this gap, and I have taken a path towards grounding myself. While I’m lying with my stars, I continue to live a purposeful and fulfilled life. This is the only way I prove to her that she doesn't have to worry about my happiness. I am happy.

Recently my mother has opened my eyes during one of my frantic episodes. Calmly, firmly, and judiciously I can hear her saying, “Hear yourself. Go about things in the right way.”

The most influential piece is I have witnessed my mother succeed throughout life without letting her past hold her back. Because of this she has proven to her children you can move up the ladder no matter the age, how many children you have, or any contrast. Because of her:

I am a teacher.

I am a motivator.

I am supportive with family.

I am intelligent.

I am wiser.

I am strong.

I am sophisticated.

I am survival of the fittest.

I live purposeful.

I am now nonchalant.

No, she is not the typical "mother best friend." I do not go out to private dinners, lunches or parties with my mother. Neither is anyone coming over for dinner to enjoy her invisible cooking.

Nor is she the mother who gives a bunch of hugs or kisses, or coddles you.

My mother is the kind of mother that is supportive, nurturing, passionate, gives constructive criticism, sharp-tongued but most importantly, always there when you need her. I love you Mom.