Brawl at Summer Camp

After all my hard research in locating a Summer Camp for son and niece to attend, what do I get in their first week? You would figure that a place that "supposedly" certifiably teaches Character Choices, Abstinence until Marriage, and Conflict Resolution coupled with the Camp being held in the Family Life Center of a Missionary Baptist Church would be able to handle a group of 30 youngsters with the goal of 100 and capacity to handle 150.

It is still hard to believe what occurred when I arrived to pick them up this afternoon. Even before entering the main hall from its primary external door, I could hear incoherent, but unmistakable yells and calls of a fight. Mind you, I haven't heard such since high school over 20 years ago, but still recognizable. Rushing in, my first thoughts were "WHERE ARE MY KIDS?!!!".

Moving like a swarm of killer bees, the crowd moved around the room through the maze of circular tables and surrounding chairs, but constantly encircling the confrontation. Even now, I can see them in slow motion jeering and actually enjoying the carnage. As I made my way closer looking for my kids, and trying not to crush any onlookers, I could see glimpses of several instructors trying to separate the fight participants. I did not focus on them as I was still scanning the crowd.

Even though these events happened within a minute or two of my entrance into the hall, relatively it felt like hours. Eventually the center of the crowd moved in my direction, kids floated around me where the yelling and screaming being magnified in the spacious 20ft ceiling hall. All of a sudden I was in the eye of the storm. A hurricane because then I found my kids, with bloodied faces, on the floor entangled along with several adults and three or four other kids, my son being the smallest.

I don't know how loud I streaked but the entire room fell "pin drop" silent. Being in a Christian facility I hoped my language was appropriate, even now I still don't remember what I said and I'm too afraid to ask.

Then as a stone being skipped on a lake, the mob quickly rippled away. The sorting of kids and interviews began as the maintenance personnel attempted to restore order to the hall. I followed the director as he led my kids away to be interviewed. A woman from the kitchen staff arrived with wet cloths and began cleaning their faces that was beginning to swell. I couldn't do anything but look and listen.

Basically this was the story. A few boys began teasing my son about the amount of food he had been consuming for the past few days. This was no surprise to me because the boy can EAT. He has an extremely high metabolism and is constantly active. He began to get upset and then my belligerent niece stepped into the mix to defend him. Nudging began and converted to pushing and then strikes. Seeing her being struck, my son began to attack back. The rest is self-explanatory.

Being that it was the first week and the Camp management understood that there may be clashes in personalities, so they put all the kids on probation. At least that's one battle settled. As soon as they were excused, we left as quickly as possible through the repositioned tables and chairs not before me giving the "evil eye" to the other kids in the altercation.

Exiting the building, my thoughts were about my mom. My parents had always taught us to not physically fight, but to find alternate means of conflict resolution. Now I have the daunting task of informing her that her two oldest grandchildren were fighting.

Once we reached the car, I noticed the time. Hubby was waiting at home for our return so he could use my car to get to work. His car was at the repair shop. I already had left work late and was now an additional half-hour delayed. On the 30-minute ride home, I had to explain to him what I have told you. He wasn't happy that he would be extremely late for work, but surprisingly, he was pleased that they stood up for each other. Me too, actually. We've always wondered what they would do if a situation like that arose.

As I sit here, comfortably in my office chair, writing this post, I can envision the first image of them, on the floor, each pulling on a child's leg, like I'm pulling yours.

I hope you enjoyed this piece of fiction. Love Sista GP, LOL

Journal #1

Journal Entry 1 (draft)
Journal, I need to tell you what happened starting last night. I have to tell someone or I’ll just lose my mind. Well you know how I walk around talking to myself. So last night I was doing it again and complaining about how it was Friday night and all my girlfriends were out with their men and I was home alone, AGAIN, craving masculine companionship. Now I know my laments were exasperated by the second glass of White Merlot I was sipping, but it was true. I know I can’t compete with models but I’m well kept, I exercise, eat right, and dress decent too. So, why I don’t have man? Well other than being extremely selective in mates, highly opinionated and routine-oriented, I was thinking what was wrong with me, you know.

In order to better my mood, I was wearing my favorite white satin lace-trimmed nightie. You know the one I got from VS to match my finished bedroom. You should know what happened next, as I was pacing the room I began to admire it again. Not trying to be boastful, but I did an excellent job. My master suite is perfect, just like it’s inspiration in that décor magazine. Once I saw it, you know I had to have it. I’d been searching for months for the right look.

There was plenty of room to work with being 23 ft by 15 ft. There’s enough space for the master suite to have six feet of space beyond each antique cherry-stained nightstand adjacent to the matching king-sized 4-poster bed. A burgundy settee flanks one wall in that space as matching Victorian armless chairs flanks the opposing wall. The antique mahogany cedar chest inherited from my great-grandmother accentuates the foot of the bed. You know I had to sit down on the bed and swirl my fingertips along the white Egyptian linens and duvet.

Then he called. The ringing of the nightstand portable phone startled me back to reality. It was Mathias. You know, MrFlirt. I played it cool, as sober as possible, “Hello”.
He started laying on thick, “Hi, Scrumptious, how are you this fine evening?”
Still trying to sound sober, “I’m well Mathias, and you?”
“Glad you asked, Delicious, I’m real sleepy. I’m driving from Florida and too tired to make it home. I was wondering if I could rest tonight at your place and continue my journey tomorrow.”
My first thoughts were NO WAY, not tonight. I’m too buzzed to have a fine man in the house. But then how could I turn away a friend into a dangerous situation. I must have been gone to forget there were several motels at the interstate exit to my home because I said, “Sure, you can, the guest room is available. When will you get here?”
He laughed and said “Soon.”
Trying to stay focused, I asked, “How soon is soon?” He laughed again and then the doorbell rung. I almost screamed.
Calmy, I said “Oh you’re funny. Give me a sec.” And hung up the phone. I ran to my bathroom, checked my hair and face and grabbed the long matching robe to my nightie. I know, I know it wasn’t the best attire to be greeting guests, especially this one but I had no time to change.

Flipping on the porch light, before opening the door, I felt I was in trouble and in for a long night. I could see his gleaming seductive eyes through the arched glass panels in the door.


...okay blog fam, should I continue writing this story? I'm thinking of starting a collection of random fictional journal entries.


Note: everything in this blog is automatically copyrighted.

things happen for a reason

We may not understand why events occur when they do. So many of them shape our lives in preparation for what we must one day face and conquer. We must accept them as blessings to a more divine end.

For two years non-continuously starting the summer 2006, we searched for a new home. We dealt with non-responsive realtors, over-priced resale homes, non-spacious new construction homes, and many homes in fair to poor conditions. Twice invested in home inspections. I say invested because critical problems were found in each.

When son started kindergarten his behavior problems occupied much of my time, the home search time was drastically reduced. A year later we started to actively search again when a home was offered for sale on the same street as my mom. This sparked out interest again. Eventually we found a new realtor who worked with us until the end.

We never suspected to live so far from town (job, school); we sought a location where hubby could park the tractor part of his truck (over the road driver). We found a lot in a great neighborhood close to what is known to be best elementary school in county. Two months after moving in, hubby was offered an opportunity to make shuttle runs and to be home daily instead of bi-weekends. He took it.

Now, as of last Friday, unfortunate circumstances has led my niece to be living with us until at least to the end of the school year. It is a true blessing that we are able to provide her a stable, productive environment where she can make achievements in academics, physical and emotional health, and personal well-being.

We soared over a major hurdle already, fractions. She started with a frown and "I hate fractions!" to a glowing grin when she finally understood. She is as proud of herself as I am of her.

There is not much concern for the kids behavior towards each other. Since both have had limited interactions with their half-siblings, they have always treated each other as such.

It is amazing to me how the daily occupants of this household has doubled in just three months time. Adjustments will need to be made from all of us, we are willing to give this honest try.

Not sure how much time I will have for blogging, but I suspect writing, which is new to me, will be my vice for peace of mind.

So the saying is true, "Things Do Happen For A Reason"

IT'S MY BIRTHDAY: fit at 40..one year goal

From Blog Pics

Every year for the past few years on my birthday I reflect on my accomplishments and seek new goals.

At 37, I started playing soccer (adult women); it was the first time ever playing any sport.

At 38, I completed the first full draft of a romance novel, my first serious writing effort.

Now at 39, my focus is on health; one of my declarations. For several years I have struggled with my weight and have tried several different "plans". I've come to understand that dieting (controlled eating plan) alone is not enough. I need to commit to a regular exercise routine. I must receive adequate rest and maintain a stable stress level.

Even though I started working towards this goal weeks ago, today is the official kickoff. The first day towards a priority goal to be a healthier me.

One year from today, hopefully sooner, I plan to post a picture of the NEW me wearing the dress pictured above. The dress is around here somewhere. The photo was the second and last time I ever worn that dress.

I know that picture was taken prior to pregnancy, prior to marriage, months before meeting hubby, but I made it half-way there before (1999) so there is no doubt that I can be...

...FIT AT 40...SEE YOU THEN! more like YOU SEE ME THEN!

my declaration of independence

Today, July 4, 2008, I declare my independence from the restrictions of my mind.
I no longer concede to the fear of owning a business again. I have been blessed with bountiful resources to guide me along the way.
I no longer consider myself just a writer, I am an exceptional writer; I have the potential to be more as I yearn to learn more.
I no longer concede to the excuses of being a healthier person. I have the ability to control my eating habits and not binge during stressful moments. I have the equipment to development an exercise routine and the determination to follow it.
I will no longer accept limitations placed upon me by society. The opposition of my race, gender, economic status, or faith will not deter me. My eyes have been opened, my ears unplugged, and mouth un-gagged.

I am Sista GP. This is my Independence Day.

journey, part 3

Changes.

The first area of change had to be outward appearance. How you see yourself greatly affects how you feel. Looking in the mirror, I looked like I was hiding myself among the baggy, over-sized clothes. After discussing my concerns with a friend/co-worker, we decided to immediately go shopping before I changed my mind, another friend came along. So over an extended lunch break, the three of us had a What Not To Wear shopping session at the mall. I made a vow to myself that I would not make another purchase of clothing that would hide me. Also, as I replaced them I gave away all the old clothing so I would not slip back into them and the accompanying mood.


The next phase was to find something to do for myself. The opportunity arose in the fall of 2006. A co-worker had sent out a notice that Adult Women's soccer league was developing and they were looking for players. Outside of PE in school and walking for exercise, I had never participated in any sport. I was always involved in academics. As a celebration of my 37th birthday, that day I participated in my first soccer pick up game. In the second half of that first game, I played the goalie position and stayed there every since. There was no way I was going to run around with the other women who were 10-15 years younger and in better physical condition. Even though I did not lose any weight I thought I would, I did get stronger and "earned" the nickname "brick wall". There were some that actually bounced off of me on collisions and I barely felt anything. There were two impacts that I recall best. One was when many teammates kept asking if I was okay after an impact. I repeated answered I was fine. Finally I asked, "what was the big deal, why is everyone keep asking me that?". A teammate answered, "because you were hit by two people at the same time." I knew I was hit hard but not by two. The other incident actually took me out of the game. I was hit while airborne; twisted my leg in the hip area and ended up on the ground, a rare situation. I think I took a week's break and back to the field it was. I have not played since last July; two family reunions filled the rest of the month and my son started 1st grade at a new school the following month. He had issues, so I did not have time for soccer.


During the same time I was playing soccer, I started something based on a thought out of the blue. Since my childhood days, I would always daydream, home, school, wherever. I got into plenty of trouble by not paying attention. I gained better control over it as I grew older but it was still there. I would take a situation I saw/heard/dreamt and asked "what if...". So one morning while thinking about something I had dreamed, I decided to write it down. What started as a small thought developed into a novel nine months later. I am in the process of preparing it to be published. I became a writer. A few months ago, I met someone who has encouraged me to write more. Since then I have started writing verse. I never thought that I would be a writer; they seemed to be so artistic and out of my league. And now I am one. I have started on another story that may be novel length also. I will just see how it turns out.


Thankfully, a few months ago hubby heard about T-ball registration at a park in the area. My son wanted to participate so I signed him up. Since he lives like an only child, his half-sister is going to college in another state, he needed to learn how to share, work with others, and follow rules better. Plus he would be around more male figures. I do not want him to grow up to be a momma's boy. His school life seems to be better since he started playing and he is learning a lot. He mostly plays third base. He does need more self-control and accuracy, but he is trying. Watching Major League Baseball has helped also.

In addition to the two game days and one team practice a week, I try to take him to the park for practice or we just practice in the yard. Usually I help out in coaching, just reiterating what the coach has demonstrated during practice, and last week I was the third base coach for a game when the regular guy could not make it. So at least I am participating in a sport again and spending quality time with my son.

Next, change in living arrangements