Yo' Mama!

Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers out there! Are you having a great day? I am and it's all because of my sons. Clearly, I wouldn't be a mommy without my little boys, "O" and "T". Yesterday I had one of those moments where I realized that I really am a mom. I mean, who else but a mom hangs out at a park for hours at a time because their kid's have sporting events?

My baby "O" (on the left with the popsicle-blue lips) is on a baseball team and he had team pictures yesterday from 11-12:30 and a game at 2. Of course, after the game, the boys wanted to play on the jungle gyms so I set up shop on the grass. I was supposed to be reading my book, Michael Chabon's "Gentlemen of the Road", but I ended up spending a lot of time watching my sons play and thinking about how good and sweet they are.

They were making me laugh so hard because every so often, they'd run over and say, "You know we're going to Disneyland tomorrow for Mother's Day, right?"

I think they were hoping they could break me down to the point that I'd cave in and say, "That's a great idea! Let's go see Mickey!" But nope, instead I got up this morning, ended my TV abstinence by watching Meet the Press and then did a Jillian Michaels workout DVD. The DVD is called "30 Day Shred". Apparently, if I do it every day for the next 30 days, I'm gonna look shredded! I'm inclined to believe it, especially since I'm now having a hard time even typing because I'm so sore.

Hands down, the funniest moment of the morning came right after I'd finished working out and was putting my free weights back under the couch. There was a loud knock on my front door and even though I was a hot sweaty mess, I had to answer it because my husband had stepped out for a minute to go buy some milk. So, I answer and there's this hot guy standing there with something wrapped in some brown paper.

He says, "These flowers are for you," and holds them out to me.

I'm sooo stupid that I thought this guy was giving me flowers from him!

I actually said, "Are these from you?" -- to which he confusedly replied, "No, I'm just giving them to you."

It took a second for me to realize that he worked for a florist and was merely delivering the flowers. In my defense, I had just done a workout that promised to make me shredded so I think my brain partially shut off because of the pain vibrating through my quadriceps.

While this guy is standing there holding this bunch of flowers out to my dumb self, here comes my husband bounding up the steps with yet another bouquet of flowers and a huge balloon that says, "Queen for a Day!" on it. Uh huh, going to go get a carton of milk, yeah, right. He comes and stands next to the delivery guy too and is all, "These are for you," while looking at the man like, "Who the hell are you and why are you here?'

Never in my life have I been presented with two bunches of flowers at once! Wowzer! So, I took the package from the delivery guy, unwrapped the brown paper and saw that it was a huge bunch of ranunculus! Ranunculus are my absolute favorite flower in the whole world and these ones, as you can see from the picture above, are absolutely GORGEOUS!

My husband looked a little deflated as he stood there with his bunch of yellow, purple and white daisies. "Who are those from?"

I should've replied, "From my other baby daddy," but instead I opened the card to reveal that they're from my awesome sister! Love her! And, now I'm feeling like I'm "all that" because I got two bunches of flowers in one day!

I know there are those who hate Mother's Day. They say, "It's just a commercial holiday. People should honor their mother's every day." There's no denying that is true. But still, it's nice to see my little boys shyly presenting me with the pictures and poems they made at school and I got two bunches of flowers!

Sooo, if you haven't already connected with your mother today, the clock is ticking! Even if you all don't get along and you're still in therapy from your traumatic childhood, give your mom a ring. As a friend told me, one day your mom won't be there and you'll wish you could tell her you love her just once more. Separate the behavior from the person and just reach out because hey, she did carry you for 10 months and that is no small commitment.

Anyway, my eldest just asked me, "Aren't you going to go get your nails done or something?" Yes I am, and some waxing too! See ya!

Book Love

I'm home alone since my husband took my sons over to a friend's house to hang out. Nothing good is on TV and no new movies have come from Netflix yet.

But no worries because I have a whole lot of books in this house that need reading.

I'm one of those people that drops the $30 on the the Barnes & Noble membership/discount card and actually gets my money's worth back in a couple months. I know in theory that it's possible to walk out of there without buying anything, but I'm not to that point yet. There's always something good to read whispering in my ear, "Buy me! I have a pretty cover and I'm really well written and engaging!"

Oh and then there's my three library books that I haven't read yet because I'm reading something I picked up at my neighborhood independent bookstore, Skylight Books, two months ago. And yesterday I realized I haven't read "Dracula" in about a month so I picked that up and began reading that again for the millionth time.

Clearly, I have waay too many books swirling around. I place the blame for this book insanity love squarely on the shoulders of my parents.

I know I've mentioned before that my mom and dad have an amazing collection of books. In fact, I feel extremely covetous when I think about some of the cool books they have. Last time I was home, I about died because my mom gave me a gigantic coffee table book I've been in love with since I was a little girl. It's called "Four Fabulous Faces".

The book's about the transformation of Greta Garbo, Gloria Swanson, Marlene Dietrich and Joan Crawford from unknown actresses to mega stars. The photographs in it are amazing and it's fascinating to read about how much power studios had over the appearance of these four women and how their looks changed over the years.

Anyway, I commented on another blog today about how I first read the "Autobiography of Malcolm X" when I was quite young because the book was just sitting around the house. I think it was stacked on a chair in my parent's bedroom. They always have had the best books just sitting around. In fact, I would not be surprised if they have 2-3,000 books waiting to be discovered by an avid reader.

So you see how growing up this way, I think it's normal to have tons of books around. In fact, I've been absolutely horrified on the occasions I've gone to people's homes and have been unable to find a single book lying about. Or what's just as bad is when the books someone has are the ones they bought eons ago for a college literature class. Those books always look so lonely collecting dust on a forgotten shelf.

It's quite judgemental of me but I tend to think it really says something terrible about a person if they have no (or almost no) books around. At a minimum, I believe it means they have no class no matter how fancy their house or car may be. I also start to wonder if the person's secretly a serial killer or in need of serious psychiatric help.

Just kidding, sort of.

The other day I'd just read about Bill O'Reilly's comment about lynching Michelle Obama and felt so mad about it. I called my mom to ask about a book I remember being in our house. She wasn't home so I left her a very vague, rambling message about this book. I knew it contained some very graphic pictures of lynchings in it. I told her I remembered it was soft cover and I described the size.

My mom sent me the following email yesterday:

Dear Liz,
The book you are probably thinking of is The Black Book by Middleton Harris published in 1974. The book was about more than lynching as you may remember. It is a folk history. There are now more books specifically about lynching. Without Sanctuary by James Allen and Lynching Photographs by Dora Apel are just a couple.

My mom's a genius to be able to decipher my message and figure out what in the world I was talking about. I'm sure she knew what book I was referring to off the top of her head. I'm doubly impressed by how she's able to throw out a couple more must-read titles just like that.

I decided to check out how much it would be to get my own copy of "The Black Book". It's out of print so if I want a version that's full of rips and is taped up, I'll pay around $45.

If I want one that's not in mint condition but doesn't have ripped pages and scotch tape on it, I'll pay around $85.

A nice copy is around $125. EEK!

I may not get that particular one but I know I'll be getting some version of this book eventually. I need to have it sitting around for my sons to discover. And maybe one day they'll have a blog and blame me for them being in love with books too.

I really hope so.

Pushing the Cart

When I went to pick my seven year-old up from school today, I passed another mother laboriously pushing three kids in a shopping cart. The children were wrapped in blankets because it's a pretty cold and cloudy day here in Los Angeles. But they were still full of giggles and laughter, like they were having fun riding around.

And really, what kids don't have fun riding in a shopping cart?

However, their mother looked like she wasn't having so much fun. She looked exhausted, like she could keel over right then and there. She looked like the forthcoming tax rebate check might only put a small dent in her stress level.

I'm a pretty fast walker, even carrying a four year-old around on my shoulders. And before I knew it, I was almost to the school and she was several blocks behind me. I wondered for a moment how she pushes all those kids up the hills in this neighborhood. I know I can't push my two sons up our hill if they're both riding in a stroller, so I can't even imagine three kids in a shopping cart.

I left these thoughts behind as I popped into the school, got my son, stopped by the library and said hi to the librarian. Ten minutes later I walked outside and saw the mother and the cart full of kids slowly walking away from the school.

A young boy bounded along next to her. He was probably a third or fourth grader. Certainly old enough to be embarrassed by the sight of his mother pushing kids in a shopping cart.

Instead though, he was clearly trying to take over cart pushing duties for her. She relinquished her grip on the cart for a moment but he wasn't quite strong enough to push a cart full of kids for too long. She gently scolded him in Spanish and motioned him to scoot over.

They began pushing the cart together and she leaned over and gently kissed his brow.

As I watched the pair pushing the boisterous trio of children in the cart, my own sons decided to engage in an impromptu footrace. They began running at breakneck speed toward a tree up the street. I quickened my pace to catch them, passing the mother and her family as I lengthened my stride. I said hello and gave her a quick smile, which she politely returned.

When I finally caught up to my kids, instead of hearing bragging about who'd won the footrace, my four year-old blurted out, "How come we don't get to ride in a shopping cart?"

My eldest concurred, "Yeah, you need to get us a cool shopping cart too."

"You don't really want to ride in a shopping cart," I told them.

"We do!" they insisted and then began chanting, "Get us a shopping cart! Get us a shopping cart!"

"If you loved us, you'd push us in a shopping cart too."

And that is true. Love is without complaint pushing your kids in a shopping cart. And love is a young son trying to help his mother.

One of these days my sons will understand that mothers only push their kids in shopping carts when they don't have the money to afford fancy double strollers. And when they do, I wonder if they'll remember this day.

A Mother's Greatest Fear

I hope all you mothers out there had a wonderful Mother's Day yesterday.

Mine was all that I could have hoped because I spent it with my two sons. My eldest son is now able to write so well that on the card he gave me, he wrote, "I love you Mommy" all by himself. My youngest isn't writing legibly yet, but I treasure the shy smiles he gives me after he comes to kiss me on the cheek.

What mother doesn't love these things and wouldn't want to have such sweetness forever? It's unnatural for a mother to put her children in harms way. But sometimes harm comes to a child no matter what a mother may do to prevent it.

I've been reading the Los Angeles Times' "Homicide Blog" over the past couple of weeks. It's a gruesome record of all the murders that take place in LA County, not just the murders that make the evening news. The murdered are primarily male, primarily black and Latino. They mostly live in South LA in the low-income neighborhoods I work in.

I thought about this blog for awhile yesterday. After all, you're only a mother because of your kids. And, I can't imagine the grief a mother feels when her child is murdered, when the sweet boy that used to give a hug "just because" is no longer there.

I get particularly saddened by the murders of children and teenagers. They are too young and too innocent, their potential snuffed out too quickly. Maybe their mothers welcomed their kisses or the little notes that said"I love you". Or maybe they had terrible mothers who were emotionally and physically abusive, or alcoholic, or drug addicted.

I'm not any of those things, but someone could still come along and end it for my boys. It sounds terribly morbid, I know. I just know we aren't guaranteed any time on this earth. It can all be over in an instant. Even though I work so hard to be a good mother and strive to teach my sons the things they need to know to be healthy and happy in this world and prepare spiritually for the next, something could happen to them. I don't know if I could deal with that, how I could live if something were to happen to one of my boys.

How does a mother go on after tragedy has knocked on the door and snatched away that which is most precious?