Oh, Poop

Oh, no.  I cannot believe some parents out there! I’m not one to judge people’s parenting styles because after all it shouldn’t affect my children’s lives in any way, right? But when your child has poop and urine on his pants and he’s going around playing with other children and you are just sitting up there smiling like everything is all good and gravy in the navy, baby, that’s when I have to start questioning your intelligence!

The other day I took my kids to the park with a friend of mine and her daughter who happens to be my daughter’s newfound best friend.  There was another mother–or maybe she was a grandmother?–with a child there.  So, boom, the child was running from one end of the playground to the other as if he had endless amounts of energy.  He didn’t even stop for breath, he just kept going all the while his mom or grandmother–I’ll just call her his guardian–was literally on his tail trying to keep up with him.

I’ll have you know that this playground isn’t all that big…it’s literally just a swing set and this climbing thingy inside of a not-so-big-circle filled with…I think it’s called Wood chips?

But anyway, the guardian is over there getting a work out while me and my fellow mommy-friend were sitting there chatting it up talking about how different the south is from the north being she moved to North Carolina from Boston but was born in Brazil and I moved down from New York City.  We’re northerners still getting the feel of the south. Every once in a while the aspiring track star would come over to us, attempt to play catch with my nine month old who wouldn’t participate for obvious reasons (and yes, I did what I could to protect her fact from the big bouncy red ball–that belonged to my daughter’s friend by the way– but this kid was so confused as to why my little girl wasn’t catching the ball) and then he would be off again.

My four-year old and her best friend came and sat down with us not only with their doll babies but with these huge Batman and Superman action figures.  The girls explained to us that the toys belonged to the little boy and I thought nothing of it since neither the boy or his guardian seemed to mind.

He ran over to us again and again and then finally it hit me like a fistful of mud. An icky odor in the air.  I figured the garbage truck was nearby but why would I only smell the funk briefly then have it go away?

On one of the boys returns and departures my deaf nose (“deaf language” for strong sense of smell due to loss of one sense–in my case my hearing) zeroed in on the direction of the funk then my deaf eyes (“deaf language” for heightened sense of vision due to loss of one sense.  Think “you lose one sense your other senses become stronger”)  zeroed in on the ball at the seat of his pants.   As he kept coming and going with his guardian huffing and puffing behind him I noticed the ball at the seat of his pants kept moving south then it stopped just below his buttocks.  But what was it? And did he sit in mud? Granted earlier in the day it had rained but the sun had since came out and pretty much dried everything up so my first assumption was that he sat in mud…somewhere.

As a deaf woman I use my eyes for pretty much everything; they do the job that my ears can’t do plus the job they were meant to do so essentially I see and hear with my eyes. So, between trying to keep my eyes on my daughters, have a grown up conversation, and trying to figure out the mystery at hand, I admit it took me a little while to connect the dots.

At last I guess the guardian had her fill on exercise and came to sit with us and like magic the little boy stopped running around so much, he stayed close by, as did the odor as did the lines that would soon connect all of the dots in my head.

So let’s look at all of the clues, we have a boy, we now see wetness in the front of his pants, we have this sickening odor, “mud” smears on one thigh of his pants and now on his shirt.  The forced polite smile plus stiff body language whenever the boy would come near displayed by my fellow mommy-friend told me something was really wrong with this picture.  I couldn’t put my finger on it and I wasn’t even sure I wanted to if I could.

I disengaged myself from my adult conversation. I looked at the guardian. I looked at my mommy-friend  I looked at the boy. I looked at my oldest daughter.  I looked at my daughter’s friend. I looked at the big red bouncy ball right by my foot. I looked at my youngest daughter.

The guardian was laughing about something she was discussing with my mommy-friend, my mommy-friend was now looking like she was in an internal fight with herself, the boy had more “muddy” splotches all over his shirt and…face? My oldest was putting on her best superhero voice for Batman unaware that her mother was finally putting her Criminal Justice Degree in use to be a detective,her friend played along with her, my youngest seemed to be uneasy about something and that smell just kept getting stronger.

And then I was like…

“Oh, Shit”

Literally.

Now, just last week I binge-watched Containment on Netflix (and absolutely LOVED IT!) so I was a little paranoid about ending up like the people in the show.  I wasn’t trying to go out like that and I wasn’t trying to have my kids go out like that.  Nah, man, I wasn’t having it.  I made eye contact with my mommy-friend and we had a little conversation using only our eyes. What an intense conversation that was.

When the guardian finally got up to leave, the boy put up a fight and went into a screaming match and hit notes that would make a bird jealous.

“Did he really poop on himself?” I asked my mommy-friend

“Yeah, and you know I’m sick and my nose is stopped up but I could still smell it” she replied, bewildered.

We sat there not believing what we had just witnessed.

Karma

As we walked into the hotel me trailing behind Jordin, I already felt out-of-place.  I looked at the sign near the entrance and took note that we were in the right place but somehow it felt like we were in the wrong place.  The National Convention for Small Businesses was looking like a snow storm and I was getting a little chilly.

“Jordin, when did it start snowing in Miami in the middle of August?” Jordin glanced over her shoulder and snorted.  Rolling her eyes she asked me “why do you always have to be such a hoodrat? This place is classy; have some class, damn”

If I had pearls I’d definitely be clutching them.  Did this bitch just call me a hoodrat? I am an educated black woman, I have a degree in Business and as far as I know, we were not going to get any business here at this convention, that was for sure.  But we’ll do things Jordin’s way as usual because little ol’ Katrina was a hoodrat.

As we stood in the middle of the lobby taking the scenery in, a short squared grey haired lady with about three to five chins made her way toward us She stared at us with her mouth agape as if she was looking into the soul of a ghost. You would have thought that she knew us from a hole in the wall because the next thing she did was had my life flashing before my eyes.

“How did you get your hair like this?” she asked, stroking Jordin’s dreadlocks, “it feels so rough, yet so…how do you say it? Um…sturdy?”

With horror in my eyes I looked at Jordin and watched her descend slowly but surely into “hoodrat territory”.  I knew by the way her left eye slightly twitched and her full lips slowly formed a thin line, she was summoning all of the Karma Gods like she usually did so no one was really safe at this point. So I did what any best friend would do.

“Black girl magic!” I shouted, startling the woman.  She dropped the handful of dreads she caressed and I ushered Jordin to the check-in desk “moving along, bye-bye, now!” Once at the desk I checked us in,  retrieved our room number and key and headed to the bank of elevators, clutching Jordin’s arm as I went.  There was no telling what she would ask the Karma Gods to do at this point and I was really not looking forward to enduring a scene from that movie Carrie. No, sir, no, thank you.

We stepped onto the elevator as did a couple who looked to be filthy rich just by the look of their luggage and their attire.  I knew for a fact neither item was made in America, I was getting an Italian vibe.  I smiled at them politely and the husband nodded back.  I pushed the number 4 and the husband pushed the number 3.  the elevator doors closed and we were lifted.

“See, darling? That was what I was talking about the other day when we were out with Debbie and Alvin.  When I was saying how unprofessional the clusters of naps looked in the business setting” I glanced over my shoulder and was met with the horrified look on the husband’s face,

“Honey, that was very rude”

“What? it’s nothing a little brushing can’t fix” She gave a little chuckle and pushed her hair behind her ear. And speaking of ears, steam was definitely blowing out of Jordin’s, but you see, she’s not a “hoodrat” like myself so she didn’t say anything so it was up to me to save the day, again. Once the elevator reached the third floor and the couple was out of the elevator just before the door closed I called out “Black girl magic you rude heffa!”

Jordin nudged me in the side and chided me.  “You really have to stop saying that, you’re going to drive away our potential clients.  You need to stop trying to do Karma’s work, people will get what’s coming for them in due time” we got off on the fourth floor and from the sour look on my face you would have thought I was sucking on a Warhead, “I knew I should have said ‘bitch’ instead of ‘heffa’ that would have been nicer right? Like, did you not hear what she said?”

“Yes, I did but you need to ignore things sometimes because I really believe in Karma, you get what you give out, so please control yourself, Kat”

Here we go with this Karma business, man listen, Karma isn’t going to let me accept disrespect, but whatever.  If I have to “control myself” for this weekend I would.

They say that we shouldn’t make promises we can’t keep but how was I supposed to know how blatantly disrespectful this crowd was going to be? When we went downstairs to the meet-and-greet gathering, comments were being made–backhand and otherwise–about everything about Jordin and myself.  Everything from “wow, your kids must be so proud of you guys” and “we sell gym equipment that focuses on the thigh area” and some crap about how much fat was in my thighs compared to how much muscle all to which I responded “Black girl magic” and kept it pushing because we don’t have any kids and I love my thighs. I did not care how uncomfortable I was making everyone feel.

“Ugh, Kat, come on! potential clients! Hello!”

“Oh, please, you think people who only use Salt and Pepper for food will know a thing or two about proper care for natural hair?”

“Karma is going to eat your ass up, you just wait on it”

“Well, somebody should, girl, you know how long its been”

Insert another eye-roll from Jordin, here.

As I was getting a drink from the open bar I spotted him, Brandon Tillman, former quarterback from Samsung University, Morris Chestnut meets Idris Elba with a splash of Michael B. Jordan, the object of all of my fantasies; a God walking the face of Earth.  He noticed me and my breath caught in my throat.  I haven’t seen him since our graduation day all them years ago.

Before I knew it, he was standing before me and just like that all that Black Girl Magic I had before went straight out the window.  I tripped over my words, a little squeak slipped out every now and then, I may or may not have caught myself drooling and my mind went blank far too many times but we managed to make plans to meet up later at the pool so we could “catch up”.  That’s Man-language for something more…you know…right?

Yeah, I thought so too, so after the meet and greet I got myself ready to go to the pool.  Jordin had plans to go as well so we put our bathing suits and wraps on but unlike Jordin’s choice of flip-flops, I opted for a pair of heels that I had no business wearing.  I knew I couldn’t properly walk in them and only packed them just in case I landed a hot date–you know, the type of date where shoes wouldn’t be all that necessary so I wouldn’t need to keep them on for too long.

I don’t know what came over me but the walk to and from the elevator and through the lobby was pretty smooth with these shoes on. I guess a girl who was about to get some has better balance.  Nice.

The pool was located just beyond the back exit of the Hotel and the view was breathtaking, palm trees outlined the entire area, giving much-needed shade in certain areas.  The pool was what I believe is called an Olympic sized pool, the water was a deep blue color as opposed to the regular light blue, all in all I was impressed.

Jordin and I descended the immaculate stone steps looking good and feeling even better.

That was until I caught the view of Brandon and saw him see me and in an instant my legs turned into jelly.  I plunged forward, flipped, rolled then skidded down the steps.  I landed face down on the landing and didn’t move a muscle.  I could feel a variety of cuts and scraps on various parts of my body but I did not move a muscle, embarrassment just wouldn’t let me.

The voice of a teenager all too causally asked “so, like, is she dead?” I recognized the voice as the little snob who asked me how many butt shots I got to make my butt so big. Someone, I assume it was her mother, told her to be quiet to which she responded “no, like seriously because if she’s not dead she should just go ahead and die now because her Black Girl Magic ran out, I mean that stuff should have made her float, right?”

“Gabby, for the last time, be quiet, this woman could be badly injured”

Yeah, Gabby shut up and go to hell.

I heard Jordin’s feet falls before I felt her hands on my back and I knew exactly what she was going to say after she figured out that I was okay and just a little banged up.

“You could get up now,” she whispered into my ear “Karma is done with you now” she helped me up and to my astonishment I found Brandon doubled over with a group of guys laughing so hard no sound was coming out.

I sucked my teeth.  He was dumb anyway.

Jordin held it together until we got to our room.  Only then did she melt to the floor doubled over with laughter, dreads flying in every direction she threw her head.  I simply did not see anything funny about this whole thing, I had boo-boos everywhere now.

“Now, for the last time, you need to stop playing with Karma” she managed to say through her laughter.

“No, I just need new friends” and I hurled a pillow at her body that was now rolling from side to side on the floor.

I silently made a vow to myself to never get into it with Karma ever again because she likes to go overboard

via Daily Prompt: Descend

Descend