MOTHER MONDAYS PART 4: HOPE YOU GET ONE JUST LIKE YOU

We’re visiting a friend in Atlanta. We were headed downstairs to make coffee and fire up the laptop to do Mother Mondays before heading home, when Virginia decided to take the express route down--sliding on her butt. Donna was at the bottom and able to help stop the slide midway. Now we’re in the kitchen, with our mugs. Virginia has had ibuprofen and an icepack--she’s a little shaky, but OK. So here goes.

Last week we were talking about 90 year old Aunt Eleanor, surrounded by her children, grands, and more. This week, our friend’s daughter is a new Mom (We blogged about her wedding about 18 months ago)--baby Kayla is four months old and already turning herself over, teething, stretching her legs like she wants to stand up and trying to talk. Our friend laughs and says Kayla got every bit of it honestly--her mother was just as precocious and one talking child. So, do we start becoming our mothers long before we’re mothers ourselves, or middle-aged and fighting off hormonal havoc? Or does it start while we’re in utero-- doing the back stroke in the womb and absorbing Mom vibes?

While Kayla chattered and drooled there was a gleeful look in our friend’s eye. Some of it was Granna pride, and warm, baby lotion scented memories of her own daughter in onesies. But in that look there was also more than a little dash of turn about is fair play, what goes around comes around and payback is a. . .

Moms say it all the time-- “I hope you get one just like you some day.” It’s usually said at some moment when they’re supremely peeved because you’ve drawn a giant duck on the living room wall or insist on wearing a skirt that’s too short, “ ‘cause everybody wears it like this.” What doesn’t become apparent until much later, is that there’s really a blessing in it too. Because as the years go by and the minor infractions fade, what remains are bits and pieces of the endearing things you used to do--the homemade Mother’s Day cards, or the first time you cooked dinner without her help--the happy memories collected on your way to becoming just like dear ol’ mom.

So here are ten more signs you’re becoming your mother--and we’re off to catch a plane!

40) You collect articles with titles like “Your Retirement and You.”

41) You actually read your AARP membership offer instead of throwing it away like you used to.

42) You finally join AARP because of all those good discounts.

43) Everyone in your family calls a week before Thanksgiving and asks what time you’re serving dinner.

44) You’re finally entrusted with great-great Grandma’s recipe for prune pies--whether you liked them or not.

45) You know from personal experience the weight doesn’t come off like it used to.

46) A hat just feels better in winter and you wear the warm one, not the cute one.

47) The music you like to listen to is played in supermarkets and on “hold.”

48) Your kids roll their eyes when you call CD’s “albums.”

49) You actually want to see movies with PG ratings.

50) You find gray hairs and they’re not on your head

U CAN BANK ON IT

All of a sudden there are banks opening on every corner, mall, even in the supermarket—Bank of America, NorthFork, PNC, Wachovia, Chase, WAMU, Citi, HSBC. . . (We assume this is happening in your town too.) They’re as bad as Starbucks. First the big banks ate the little banks. We were both at different banks and each of them changed names three times in five years and voila! we’re now at the same bank. Do you know how many checks that is to shred?

So what’s the deal? Is there all of a sudden more money floating around so we need more places to put it? Who actually uses money anyway. There are electronic transfers, ATM transactions, debit cards, direct deposits—bank 24 hours a day, in your PJ’s. So what do we need the buildings for? Are they handing out samples, ‘cause if they are, nobody told us. We’d be happy to take a few crispy tens and twenties on a test run, even the new sepia-toned funny money (can you tell the bills apart without careful examination? We can’t.)

Or is the opposite true—there’s no more money, but we’re supposed to think there is? Does it make us feel comfy-cozy about the economic state of the country when we see banks blooming like dandelions? No recession here! Unemployment is down—no mention of the disappearing middle class or the fact that millions of those with jobs are “working poor” who can’t live or support their families on what they earn. To quote Business Week, as of 2004 twenty eight million people earned less than $18,800 a year, below the federal poverty line for a family of four—but who’s counting (Click here: BW Online | May 31, 2004 | Working...And Poor And for those who need their cash immediately, there’s always your handy dandy 24 hour check cashing and payday loan emporium—convenience with 300% interest rates.)So it’s all OK! More than OK—it’s swell! Just look at all the banks! Brick and mortar testament to the stability of our economy. AND you can get free checking. Oh, and do you want to take some equity out of your house? You got it—the larger the bill, the harder it is to pay, the easier it is to foreclose, my dear.

And let’s not forget that while we’re breaking out in a rash of banks, we’re also breaking out in a rash of bank robberies. According to a report on NBC Nightly News, (http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19996325/) the increase has now reached the equivalent of a bank heist every hour and fifteen minutes. That’s a lot of sticking up. Now way, way back in the 1940’s bank robber Willie Sutton was asked why he robbed banks. His reply, ’Cause that’s where the money is.”

Are more people more desperate—amateurs with names like the Grandma Bandit, the BandAid Bandit, The Wig Bandit, The Cell Phone Bandit, The Hat Bandit—trying to get through tough times? Are they just your run of the mill crooks? Or are they crazed junkies trying to support a habit—which is what some officials are telling us?

What’s the bottom line then?

Asked why they think there are so many bank robberies, police say one factor may be the increased number of branch banks around the country. According to Maj. Harold Winsett, head of the Criminal Investigations Division of the Hillsborough County, Florida Sheriff’s Office, "Banks are on every corner to be a convenience for the people that deposit their money there. Well, it makes it just as convenient for the bank robber."

Duh.

Mother Mondays Part 2: If the Genes Fit...

If you asked us for a physical description of our friend Keryl, we’d have started by saying she’s a Black woman. Black meaning straight up African-American—not from Jamaica or Ethiopia—from the Bronx, with Southern roots, you know, like the ones that came from the motherland to North America with Kunte Kinte, et al. Well, to our surprise, and hers, it turns out we’d be wrong.

Keryl had one of those genetics tests, you know, like Oprah had when she declared she was Zulu (turns out that upon further investigation she is really descended from the Kpelle people of Liberia, but that’s a whole ‘nother story). Now, for genetic reasons—something having to do with X’s, Y’s, alleles. . . science that clearly goes beyond our grasp of freshman biology (and maybe one day we’ll tell you about VdB’s XY theories) —women can only trace their lineage through their mothers. Men will get results from both their maternal and paternal sides. So here was Keryl, waiting to see if she was a Fulani princess (she was already sure about the princess part), or perhaps, Igbo, Ife, Dan. . . Except the results came back showing no African lineage!!! Zip. Nada. Zilch. Turns out Keryl’s ancestral mother traces her roots to Central or South American indigenous peoples—“What you be talkin’ about, Willis?”

She is still trying to wrap her mind around this identity busting bit of data. There is no Central or South American connection in her family --- that she knows about. Granted, families can be really secretive about who came from where and how folks hooked up in the first place. She’s planning to run this past her cousins and see if they have any insight.

But when you come down to it, what does this new information change? Is she no longer supposed to think of herself as an African-American woman, despite the fact she grew up and became a happily nappy, African dance performing, dashiki wearing brown-skinned woman, who has produced, directed and preserved theater that celebrates the Black experience in this country, and passed on the pride in the accomplishments of her people to her children? Which people? Does this new genetic information negate what she views as her cultural heritage?

No, but it sure points up the limits of biology to define who we are. Most of us who identify as African-American are never going to know the specifics of our genetic ancestry. Perhaps more than any humans on the planet, we are a combination of peoples from a vast variety of continents and cultures. We like to think it has enriched us, made us stronger. It doesn’t mean that the pursuit of our genealogy won’t turn up fascinating information about those who came before us, and encourage us to learn more about the specific peoples and regions that comprise the African in African-American. But, the limits of science remind us that not all of our answers will come from the distant past.

Meanwhile, Keryl is planning to invent her own personal mythology, taking into account this new piece of her identity. It involves being a Brazilian princess (‘cause the princess part stays), from a people who were separated from Africa in the great geological shift that cleaved South America from Africa (did we mention Keryl is very creative). Besides, Brazilians have great music, and dances. They eat okra, yams, beans and rice. . . Feijoada anyone?

Keryl’s mother is no longer around to share or ask about this new-found heritage, so there’s no telling what she would have to say. But Keryl did drop the bomb on her kids (all of whom are adults with kids of their own), who are as shocked as she is (We demand a recount). We hear tell that every now and then you have to surprise your children. It keeps you feeling young instead of dwelling on the fact that your birthday cake could not be lit outside in drought conditions because it would be a fire hazard.

And on that happy note, here are some more sure signs that you are becoming your mother.

16) Small children call you "Ma'am".
17) Young adults call you "Ma'am".
18) The oldies station no longer plays music from the decade when you slow danced in the basement.
19) Kids don’t know there was an original version of that song.
20) You understand that Scotch tape is not an acceptable substitute for a needle and thread.
21) You're walking down the street, you see someone’s reflection in a store window and think, “Gee, she looks so much like my Mother.” You’re horrified to realize it’s you.
22) You look at a picture of yourself as a child and see your daughter.
23) You look at a baby picture of you with your mother and realize you look now like she did then.
24) Lingerie becomes underwear and it’s no longer optional—it has advanced engineering
25) Your flannel nightie is your favorite.
26) You keep bed socks in the same drawer as your pajamas because your feet are always cold at night.
27) You wear pants because they keep your knees warm (see # 7).
28) You carry paper towels in your pocketbook to mop up after “power surges.”
29) You buy extra-calcium everything.
30) Retro clothes don’t make you look hip. They make you look like you’re wearing your old clothes.

Showing Your Ass

The world is changing faster than we can keep up with it. And in all of our personal and professional lives, boundaries are both expanding and contracting. Thanks to the medium we’re using right now, we have the entire globe literally at our fingertips. But aren’t there some barriers we still want to maintain?

The other night we had a long phone conversation with a friend who was feeling outdone and put out by her boss’s behavior. OK, it was after the regular workday, but they were still in the office. And the conversation turned to Spanx—you know, those Lycra smoothers (‘cause nobody is using the ‘G’ word—girdle) that women swear by to handle our unsightly undulations (did anyone say Jell-o Jigglers?). Well, the woman literally pulled up her dress and showed the assembled staff (all women) how the brand of underpants she was wearing (not Spanx) lifted her butt. Our friend sat there, mouth open, trying to keep her eyeballs from bulging. She said, “I don’t even know what kind of butt she had or how much it was lifted. I was so stunned about her showing us her ass that I couldn’t even see.”

Now we (D&V) work in an environment that is totally of our own making—there’s nobody around but the two of us so we play pretty fast and loose with “workplace” rules (we’d probably break them all, anyway). Why, just this Sunday we spent a whole workday in our PJ’s, which we gather is a little beyond Casual Fridays. Maybe we aren’t the folks to ask.

So we thought we’d ask you.
Did this peek-a-booty cross the line? What would you have done? Said? Would it have been different if it wasn’t the boss? Should our friend lighten up and join the 21st Century?

Sure Signs You Are Not as Far From the Tree as You Would Like to Think

It's raining buckets here. We've dragged ourselves to the computer. Donna just went to the kitchen, fixed a cup of coffee, left it on the counter, went back to the desk and sat down. It took a few moments for her to figure out what was wrong with this picture. Yeah, Monday's are a real mother.

And forgetting what you got up expressly to do—that's something our mothers did, and we'd roll our eyes and think, "Dag, what's wrong with her?" Except now it's you, and you don't know when that happened and you swear you just need a vacation. . . Do not stress. This is part of a natural evolution. The good news—It's out of the closet, so we're not losing our minds in silence. Forgetfulness, along with the sudden appearance of a soul patch and the disappearance of our waistlines, indicate that whether we have children or not, we are in the process of morphing into our mothers.

For those of you under thirty, this will be like trying to interpret ancient cave drawings. Interesting to look at, but totally meaningless in your world. Be patient—your day is coming. If you're past the big three-o but not yet forty, you'll smirk and say "that will never happen to me!" Between forty and fifty more of these than you want to admit will apply. And beyond the half century mark, you will find great comfort and satisfaction in the realization that you're not the only one!

So when you wake up in the middle of the night, gasping for breath because you suddenly realize.... Aaaargh! I'm Becoming My Mother!!! Try to stay calm. Do not tear your hair out---it's probably thinning anyway.(Of course, now there's Rogaine.) But this is not the end of the world (It happened to your own mother and her mother and her mother and...), just the beginning of a new era!

Here's a prayer to see you through.

...Grant me the serenity to accept the things I can't change (not that I haven't tried), the strength to run screaming from the things I can and the wisdom to keep laughing, because nobody likes a joyless old heifer.

And here are some signposts along the way. We started this list way back when we were writing Far From the Tree and just found it in the abyss that is the "Future Projects" file in our computer.

We'll be posting more on what we're calling Mother Mondays. Here goes:

1. What you want instead of a vodka shot is a nice cup of herb tea.

2. The "s" word you use to describe shoes is "sensible", not "sexy".

3. The furry food in your refrigerator really disgusts you.

4. You hear yourself say, "How can anybody dance to this?"

5. It's that special night, the one you've been planning for, but you wear galoshes a storm coat, muffler and hat with that slinky little black dress because, after all, it is snowing.

6. It's midnight on Saturday night and what you really want to do is go home to bed...to sleep.

7. Your knees announce that you're going to sit down

8. The little girl you used to baby sit is on her second divorce.

9. You take that big slice of Bermuda onion off the burger because the indigestion it will cause won't be worth it.

10. Even the thought of brushing your teeth in cold water causes pain

11. You change the sheets every week, on schedule.

12. You can't stand fingerprints and toothpaste spatters on the bathroom fixtures.

13. You actually look forward to family gatherings and remember that Uncle Joe's second wife Ida can only hear out of one ear.

14. Being regular isn't the opposite of being 'late', so the Correctol is in the medicine chest right there next to the Midol.

15. Fiber does not refer to linen or silk.

Virginia Deberry and Donna Grant are best friends and bestselling authors on the Essence and New York Times lists. Their new book Gotta Keep Tryin’ will be in stores January 2008. It’s the sequel to Trying To Sleep In The Bed You Made.

Email them at VIRGINIAandDONNA@AOL.COM

http://www.deberryandgrant.com