My son: "Mama, an earring + an earring = a diamond. And a chair + a chair = a sofa."
Me: "Where did you learn that from son?"
My son: "My brain tells me that's object math mama."

Now I know children say the darndest things, however when my son hit me up with his version of "object math" I literally had to stop in my tracks and was rendered speechless. I'm still trying to wrap my head around his wonderful logical thinking - and I am not being sarcastic here. I was truly stumped. At six years old, he already has the concept of seeing "the bigger picture down to a mathematical science." That's my son and I enjoy every single "morsel" of time that God has allowed us to share with each other as tomorrow is not always promised. All of this leads me to my next poem that was inspired by my son - and his siblings/my babies who are no longer with us - Ben, Ali, and the Three Angel Babies. My son was born prematurely at 29 weeks and weighed 2.5 lbs. He survived some amazing, amazing, challenges including facing death . More on this in another post.

This poem is about a lot of things rolled into one - "motherhood", relationships, freedom of choice (although I think differently now), and most importantly "life". See I didn't know about "life" until God introduced me to "motherhood".

Brown Suga Baby

My Brown Suga Baby,How did you come to be?
Out of the five, you all the way “live”.
See the first two, I deleted.
Because it was about what I
Was going through.College, socializin’, partyin’, and
The men: a.k.a. their effed up daddies.
I was aimlessly trying to figure out life
But I didn’t know “life”.

The third (it came in twos).
I thought I was on my way.
Coporate hoe, making dough,
Relationship tight, the timing was right.
I was ready for “cuddly-coo” and “peek-a-boo” conversations.
But I wasn’t ready for the storm
That God sent me through.
Your twin brothers, all they ever knew was love.
But, during that sixth month
God called them to his Gates.

The fourth was a blur.
My soon to be Angel Baby created a new hope.
Her Daddy would be there in nine months to cut the rope.
But, like the first two before her,
She too would be nameless and faceless.
Not at the hands of man but at the hands of God

Then came you.
My little Brown Suga Baby.
You came out and hit me up on some
“Please believe it ‘ish!”
You are my pride and joy in this world
And it’s the fighter in you that lets me know that all things are possible.
My Brown Suga Baby,
So precious, so sweet
There is nothing greater in this world,
Than having you make my life complete

Rest In Peace,The Three Angels, Ben and Ali
© 2003 C. Thomas a.k.a. brownsugatou

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Thursday, April 2, 2009 Posted in | , , , , , | 2 Comments »

One Responses to ""It's Called Object Math Mama!" - My Brown Suga Baby"

  1. MacDaddy says:

    Great stuff. I posted on poet Wanda Coleman today ad

  1. Eqlektik says:

    The pain and disappointment.....Then fulfillment and joy. I am truly happy for you

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