For both of my sons

“#truestory #trayvonmartin #unionsquare #millionhoodies”

I dont’ know how to credit twitter pics – but this was on my feed tonight.

This guy could be my biggie boy, Waffles. (OK, Waffles is only 19 – but have y’all seen Waffles lately? In a word, scruffy. Sorry pal, I know you’ll read this. And I love ya like crazy. You know I’m proud of  the man you are, in every way. Even if I wanna cut your hair and give you a razor. )

 

And yet, I don’t fret for Waffles safety.  I don’t NEED to advise him to walk with his hands visible, with his eyes alert and ahead of himself, with his head uncovered and his senses at calm attention. I don’t feel compelled to remind him to  always give off the air of being a ‘prospect, not a suspect.’ It’s ok if he runs across the neighborhood lawns or he and his pals ride bikes at 3 a.m. in the neighborhood because they are crazy boys trying to stay up for 48 hours. I don’t advise him about how to handle a traffic stop in his rusted out beast of a vehicle. I give him regular mom advice. (And plenty of it, rest assured) Let me restate: I give him regular WHITE MOM advice for her WHITE SON. This is our shared privilege. We haven’t earned this privilege, it is ours because we are white.

 

But this boy of mine, the little one, the one I call Blueberry, will need a different kind of regular ‘ol Mom advice. It will be infused with details I am still learning to provide — and with which I will need some help from those who live in skin like his.  He’ll need to know so much more. The “Kissing Hand”  his big brother gave him as he departed back to college from spring break won’t be enough to protect and inform my sweet youngest. Niether of us have that kissing magic.  We both wish we did. Our whole family wishes we did.

These are my sons. I love them. They are my heart. And I won’t be quiet about it.

 

Please, if you are not parenting children of color, read these and put an end to racial profiling, ingorance, and claims of colorblindness. If you are parenting children of color, read this to build your strategies and your resolve.

 

http://inamerica.blogs.cnn.com/2012/03/20/my-12-year-old-son-knows-he-could-be-trayvon/?hpt=hp_bn2 

 

http://blackandmarriedwithkids.com/2012/03/21/watch-and-pray-for-our-children 

 

http://ideas.time.com/2012/03/21/how-to-talk-to-young-black-boys-about-trayvon-martin/

 

Help me change the world for my sons. Help me change the world for BOTH of them. Help me raise my voice for justice.

 

I have no more words, and mine pale in the company of those who know so much more than I do – - but I have love – - and that love is fierce for my sons.  I will not be silent.

Wordless Wednesday

Waffles Goes West

… to continue his adventure in becoming. I love this kid like crazycakes and I already miss him. He’s my 3rd kid. My first ”baby.” He’s the smiler. The jokester. The dreamer. He has held my hand for what seems like forever, and hugged me in big, sweet embraces for as long as I can remember. He has grown and changed, but kept the sweetness of his core present and shining. I remember a zillion stories about Waffles, many of which demonstrate both his compassion and his sweet attitude for living his life with plenty of laughter and adventure. He is this … all of this and more.

The missing goes for Blueberry too. Waffles left yesterday; packed up his Dad’s truck, loaded up his bike and his snowboard, a futon, his fancy pants college laptop, a whole bunch of tunes, and a great attitude. He’s ready. 

Today Blueberry asked, “Momma, where is Waffles?” (pause) I was glad his fabulous friends hosted a get together the night before – it helped frame the reality that Waffles was leaving - and we had a chance to hang out with the posse (aka ‘plague of locust’) and bid him goodbye (and with a unicorn pinata, no less!).

 

 

 

 

“Oh, I remember, he’s at college now. Do you remember how he took his board to ski there? And his big red bike? He had so many boxes! Do you remember I gave him my pink fire car? And he gave me his hat?” 

I remember, Blue.

Good luck Waffles. You’re going to rock Ft. Collins. Natural Resources, Ecology, Biology – never going to be the same again. I can’t wait to hear all about it! Our missing is big, but your adventure is bigger!

Flash (ing)

The biggie boy and his posse are fixtures in our home space. I fondly call them the ‘plague of locust’ when they visit. These are good guys. I love ‘em for many reasons. Today they get points for mowing our large yard – taking turns – between rain drops, and for playing a few hours of ‘cars’ with little boy Blueberry. These guys know how to have fun. And they are prone to healthy rascally fun. Speaking of rascally fun – today a couple pairs of “Flash” briefs showed up on the living room table after a Target run – a pair of red and a pair of black.  I eyeballed them curiously – but I know Waffles is a BIG Flash fan.

We welcomed the longest day of summer with a fabulous Ethiopian dinner. Waffles sweet foodie friend helped me cook – she was AWESOME to cook with! 

 

 

More on that in a later blog post….back to the plague of locust. It was a mere hour after dinner and”the briefs” showed up for a raiding of the cupboards.  A huge bag of blue corn chips, a jar of nutella, a box of graham crackers, a jar of salsa, a gallon bin of fish crackers, popcorn, and I think a box of Annies Bunnies headed down the stairs to accompany a video. I have nothing more to say. Except the cupboards are bare and the boys are nearly ….

Waffles Graduates

Happy Day. I am so proud of biggest biggie boy. He is a truly good young man; full of laughter and ready with a bright smile, a deep compassion and caring for his community, an ability to stay in his own sense of himself matched with an openness to others. I love this boy with such tenderness and an enduring deep gratitude for the gift of him. It is true that all of my children are my teachers. Waffles way of living reminds me to be generous in friendship, to laugh and be silly (trademark Waffles), and to find the good in the moment.

Waffles is off to CSU-Ft. Collins in the fall. I can’t wait for this next piece of his journey. But oh boy, I’m going to miss this kid something BIG. BIG. BIG. His hugs are the best. Proof is in the pictures…..

Waffles Brings it to a Vote

He turned 18 in the fall. This is a big week for my big boy. (I get to call him my ‘big boy’ – -I’m his mom).  Today was a pretty cool day. We ended up at our local voting location at the same time and I got to witness this – - -

He voted. FIRST.TIME. The thing that really impressed me was that he located a candidate newspaper/position paper in the library (our polling station) and read over ALL of the candidate positions BEFORE he voted. His vote was his vote….not mine.

He also spent a good part of his day organizing high school students for some political action on an important a state issue – he’s helping to bring it into the streets at our state capitol tomorrow.  Waffles is helping organize kids from his high school to stage a walk out, city bus themselves across the neighborhood to another city high school, and join those students in a MARCH to the state capitol. The insight of the kids is impressive and their understanding of the power of collective action is mature. I can say on behalf of my own kid that he knows the issues; he spoke to me about his understanding of the ‘budget fix bill’ last night. He’s tuned in. Amazeballs young man.

To say that I’m proud of my young man is an understatement. And, you know what? Little bitty bro and his dalmation voting puppet are not too far behind.

Snowboyz Swimz

Why I’m not good at gender socializing

THIS image deserves a little more commentary:

When Waffles was … dunno….about 6, he got to choose his own ornament. He chose this pink, blond haired, angel. She has his name inscribed across her sash. Every single year we giggle about his pink angel. She’s a beauty, isn’t she? Love you, Waffles. Totally love your way of going with the flow. Your humor is inviting and contagious. Next time, point your toe, dude.

Sunday Snapshot (from Aguacatal)

Aguacatal, Honduras 2010

He’s home from Honduras

(At the family Poperia)Yes, Waffles is home. I’m waaaaaaaaaaay behind on blogging – I’ve been out of town at The Lost Planet (not kidding, it’s a lovely spot in Virginia…but more later on that) and I came home just in time to welcome Waffles home. I’ve got my biggie boy home. Let me tell you how happy I was to wrap my arms around his “all grown up and went out there and did it on my own” person. I had a little bit of trouble letting go of him because he felt like a perfect combination of boy and man to me. It is a magical experience to parent a child who grows into a young man and emerges from an experience in a way that nearly allows for the transformation to be tangible. It’s hard to explain. Perhaps you can see it in his amazing smile. Can you?

Magical, too, are these photos Waffles shared with me today. He identifies them as representative of his 7 weeks in Aguacatal, Honduras. I blogged a bit about the community in an earlier post – and now I present you with these images from Waffles himself.

(His family-a sampling of the playmates)  (His dance crew – includes brothers, sisters, cousins, etc…)(Performing at a local fiesta in the nearest city)(The school and the kids)

(One of many local waterfalls)(After the dance with his little brother Javier)

(This little man got a lot of attention from Waffles. Antony is his little cousin who is being sponsored by an American Hospital for necessary heart surgery this fall. Waffles was Antony’s main man while in Aguatacal. We hope we can send Waffles to TX this fall to stay with Antony for comfort and courage) 

There is a blog post waiting to be written by Waffles – and we’ll collaborate on some details. But, I couldn’t wait to put some of these images up on the blog because they make me smile too.  I love this kid like crazy. It is an honor to witness his amazing heart. I am humbled by his compassion, his kindness, and the smile that greets everyone who crosses his path. At 17, Waffles is all that I had ever dreamed my boy could be while on the journey of his “becoming.”