I am a Christian, tattoo loving, paranormal believing, pierced up, supernatural watching, vampire diaries adoring, soccer coaching, animal helping, Earth saving, twimom to 4 living a crazy life I love. I am definitely Not Everyones Mama.
I ended up not getting this posted last night but am on top of things today.
Day 5
My almost forgotten Kindle – I’m sorry I neglected you for dead trees for so long. I promise I’ll read a bunch of books on you in a row!
Day 6
Junie Bee chillaxing by my desk this morning. You can really see how naked she is here. She is a doll baby.
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My grandma had this hanging her bathroom for as long as I could remember. I had it memorized from sitting on the pot reading it. I think my Aunt Jackie gave it to her framed and that’s where grandma hung it. I kind of want to hang it in my bathroom, you know for tradition. It has a couple of naughty words in it – so I probably shouldn’t or my kids will be as fascinated with it as I was.
Who else has ever heard this poem?
A Poem to Me Mudder
When me prayers were poorly said,
Who tucked me in me bed,
And spanked me till me ass was red?
Me Mudder.
Who took me from me cozy cot,
And put me on me ice cold pot,
And made me pee-pee if me could not?
Me Mudder.
And when the morning light would come,
And in me crib me dribble some,
Who wipe me tiny widdle bum?
Me Mudder.
Who would me hair so gently part,
And hug me gently to her heart,
And sometimes squeeze me till me fart?
Me Mudder.
Who looked at me with eyebrows knit,
And nearly had a king sized fit,
When in my Sunday clothes me shit?
Me Mudder.
When at night the bed did sqeak,
Me raised me head to have a peek,
Who yelled at me to go to sleep?
Me Fadder.
I grabbed it from here so I wouldn’t have to type the whole thing out again and their version added the extra verse at the end. I swear my grandma’s ended with the Sunday clothes line. This site said that it’s from an Old Territorial Prison in Yuma, AZ, but I can’t find where it actually originated from.
Now, if this has some undertones that I am not seeing that are completely inappropriate, I have to apologize in advance.
Example: My grandma used to sing this song to my mom and I. I wanted to sing it in a variety show at school when I was like 10 or 11 and my mom was all………NO! You can’t sing that song. I thought it was just a beautiful lullaby about not wishing you were somebody else that you were perfect how you are. Alas, I wasn’t allowed to sing it at school. Probably best though I still think it’s a beautiful song from an era when things were different, when whites thought they were better (I know there are still some whites that think they are better, but I hope the majority of us aren’t ignorant idiots – the nicest phrase I can use while blogging - here in 2011.) , when African Americans were treated horribly, inhumanely, that mama singing to her child that he’s beautiful and not to let anyone else tell him differently. At least that’s how I take it. If I’m wrong in my understanding of that song, I’m sorry for bringing it up if it offends anyone.
Have a great day!
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