Jennifer's Bloggin': Let The Games Begin

Jennifer's Bloggin': Let The Games Begin: Back in the day, my mom would say that kids tried to grow up too fast. In retrospect, I would have to agree; though, I’m sure every genera...

Let The Games Begin

Back in the day, my mom would say that kids tried to grow up too fast.  In retrospect, I would have to agree; though, I’m sure every generation feels the same. 

I grew up in the sexual revolution of the 80’s, and as crazy as yesteryear was, the topics and ideas that kids address today are far greater than I could ever imagine. 

Yesterday, while my son and his father were doing homework at McDonalds after school, a group of my son’s classmates were talking about “smoking trees” and “having babies” openly, as if it was no big deal.   Not even the ears and eyes of an adult deterred the topics.  And we’re talking about kids in the sixth grade!

In sixth grade, I was thinking about getting picked (on the good team) in kickball.  I was still playing hopscotch, double-dutch, and swinging on monkey bars.  I had a small crush on a boy, but I hadn’t even kissed a boy until I was 14.

Now, I don’t live on Park Avenue, but it’s not murder central either.  I live in a middle-class neighborhood in the Northern Virginia suburbs.  There are issues from time to time, like any neighborhood, but for the most part, it’s a nice place to raise a family.

So, being the worrywart that I am, my immediate thought was: I’m glad my son’s father was there, but what about when he isn’t.  Should I forbid my son from hanging out with his classmates / friends?  This is something that my mom tried to do, and I’m here to tell you, it didn’t work, but I still voiced my thought.

His father just shook his head.  “Jennifer, you don’t want him sneaking around, and even if you try to shelter him, he’s going to learn about dirt because dirt is everywhere.  We just have to talk to him about all these topics.” 

So, talk we did.  Getting started was the hardest part, but the conversation wasn’t difficult at all.

My son’s response, “Don’t worry mommy. I’m not going to get into any of that stuff.  Some of my friends have really hard lives.  They don’t have support like I do.”

After we talked, I was able to relax a little bit.  But, shoot, I know how I was as a teenager and my son’s father was just as carefree, and we created a new and improved version of us. 

So, the moral of my blog is this: Kids are bound and determined to grow up fast.  Though it may not be necessarily to give the while-you’re-under-my-roof-speech, parents definitely need to keep the lines of communication open and calmly and collectively voice expectations. 

I’m also going to stay prayed up because I know this is only the beginning. 

Let the games begin.

A Dog's Life

·         When I was a kid, a dog lived a dog's life. We only took our dogs to the vet for necessary shots or if they got hit by a car or something. Our dogs slept in the garage and ate in the garage, and we played with them outside. Fast forward thirty years. My dog will be sleep in my bed, laying on my pillow, snoring before I make it upstairs. If I make chicken, she goes crazy. Yesterday, the chicken was smelling so good, my dog said "ruff!" (break me off a piece) when I was eating. I said "ruff!" (sit down and be quiet) back. She said "ruuuuffff!" I said, "ruuuuffff!" back. She was pissed that I didn't give her some chicken, and she said, "rrruuuuuuufffffff!" I said, "rrrruuuuuuuufffffffff!" back. She sat down, and I gave her a piece of chicken. Then she looked at me like I was the best mamma in the entire world. lol. :-)

Jennifer's Bloggin': Valentine’s Day Gift

Jennifer's Bloggin': Valentine’s Day Gift: While drifting thoughts at work, I'm wondering, “What’s the best Valentine’s Day gift I’ve ever received?” Call it what you want… vei...

Valentine’s Day Gift

           While drifting thoughts at work, I'm wondered, “What’s the best Valentine’s Day gift I’ve ever received?”  Call it what you want… vein, shallow or merely taking a dance back in time…
           I thought, I’d received flowers and candy.  Today, my friend’s husband sent her flowers at work.  (I know we’re in a recession, but one of our ten women is low.  Anyway…)  I thought her husband was super sweet, especially since they’ve been married for twenty plus years!  My boss was wearing a ruby and diamond ring that her husband gave her.  And later that day she asked me what I was doing for Valentine’s Day.  Now, that’s a sour spot... because I’m in between relationships.  :0)  (Deep down inside I’m thinking, “Drowning my sorrow with Chardonnay and cheesecake, beaooch!”  Just kidding.  She's a nice person, and it’s not that serious.)  I could have gone out, but I’m still getting over this nasty virus my son passed on to me.  (Kid germs are a killer!)

            So yesterday, my son’s father comes over to take care of our son so I could get some rest. And rest I did… until Mo got extra happy when someone was being honored on B.E.T…. or when he locked himself out while walking my dog and I had to let him in… or when he was stomping around like a stampede of wild elephants.  LOL!  Still, I somehow managed to sleep well and I awoke to a clean house.  I mean my dishes were washed and put away.  My clothes were washed and folded.  My bathroom was spotless and my kitchen floors were swept and mopped.

            Can you say, “Thank you Jesus?”

Now, that’s a Valentine’s gift.

Jennifer's Bloggin': 6 Degrees of Separation

Jennifer's Bloggin': 6 Degrees of Separation: 6 Degrees of Separation Story by Robert L. Tuck, Jr. Written by Jennifer A. Lightburn (Rough Draft) Prologue It was a good day to die; the...

6 Degrees of Separation

6 Degrees of Separation

Story by Robert L. Tuck, Jr.

Written by Jennifer A. Lightburn

(Rough Draft) Prologue

It was a good day to die; the homeless man thought, precariously zigzagging through rush hour traffic.  As if ripe off (E&J) Erk and Jerk, he jigged, smiled and waved at the drivers ridden with road-rage and shouting vulgarities.  He ignored the snide remarks of pedestrians and drivers until one man shouted, “Get out of the street you worthless bum.”  The impoverished man stopped smiling, as he thought about the children’s rhyme, “Sticks and stones,” and his face became sullen as he bent down to grab a rock.  He held the rock in both of his dirty hands, brought it to his lips, kissed it, then isolated his lower body to form proper arm position.  He winded-up his arm and threw the rock as hard as he could.
           Upon being hit in the face, the Indian taxi driver covered his eye and was about to retaliate with more insults but saw that the man picked up another, so the taxi driver sat back in his car and rolled up his window. 

The homeless man continued walking.  The screeching of tires and honking of horns was of no consequence, nor were the wailing sirens or helicopter hovering overhead.  He crossed 14^th Street, even though, the signal flashed DON’T WALK.  Seconds later he was under the bumper of a Ford Escape.  Using his winter coat, he wiped away the blood that drizzled down his face to his crusty lips.  He then removed his coat, throwing it onto the street.  He felt the heat from the blazing hot summer day, for the first time since he could remember.  Grabbing the bumper, he pulled himself off the street, and he laughed hysterically when he saw the woman in the car, for he recognized her from earlier that day. 

“You good for nothing mother fucker,” she shouted.  “You’re going to pay my five hundred dollar deductable.” 

“Am I?” he said before walking away.  He could hear the woman bark angry words; though, he’d walked a hundred feet to the 14^th Street Bridge.  He removed his clothes revealing his naked body and flexing his arm muscles to show off his tattoos then he climbed on the white rail and walked along the rail as if it was a tightrope.  The distance from the rail to the Potomac River wasn’t widespread, but he knew that whatever trash that lied within the murky water would surely kill him. 

The beaming ray of light from the helicopter granted enough luminosity for his final act. 

Policemen held back the throng of people who were riveted by the foolishness of the middle-aged man.  

One officer carefully walked to the bridge with his hands in the air.

“You don’t have to do this,” the officer said.  “I can help.”

The bum turned around, and when their eyes met, he smiled.  He recognized the cop.  He looked into the crowd of people and at the camera man who had followed him, and he noticed a look of curiosity instead of concern.

“You can help me?” he said in a soft sarcastic voice.  “No, I don’t think you can.  Besides, today is a good day to die.” 

The homeless man raised his arms and leaned back, letting gravity take his body.