HAPPY BIRTHDAY Milk and Cookies!

I was looking back through some old archives, and I realized that, in giving everybody and their Mama a birthday tribute, I've never given my little brother a birthday tribute.

And this is a SPECIAL BIRTHDAY.

He turned 20 years old on August 5th!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MILK AND COOKIES!!!




20 years old. I barely rememeber being 20 years old.

Let's see... at 20 years old, I was in my 4th year of college, struggling to finish.

When Milk and Cookies was born, I was 17 years old, going into my second year of college. I was more caught up in my boyfriend than anything else.

Milk and Cookies was one of them babies that, well, how should I put it lightly...

...showed up out of the blue.

Interesting, interesting story. And you know me... I'm gonna tell it.

So, it was a May evening in 1987, I believe, and I had just gotten home from school. I remember walking upstairs to my room, and throwing my books on the bed. I was hungry, so I headed downstairs to go get myself something to eat. My Mama stopped me at her doorway.

"Lisa."
"Yeah?"
"Come here."

I immediately thought about what kind of trouble I was in, or what I did for her to be bothering me. I was ready to concoct a lie if need be, because I was going to get the heck out of the house that night.

"Sit down, Lisa."
I knew she wasn't mad, because she always called me by my gub'ment name when she was pissed. She was laying across the bed, on top of her favorite mauve pink comforter, watching television.

I sat on the edge of the bed, still a bit leery of what she had to say.

"You know I've been going to the doctor about this tumor, right?"

I nodded my head. She had been going to the doctor. Something about fibroids, I think. I heard her talking on the phone to her friends about it.

"Well, they decided to do the ultrasound, to see where the tumor was, and what they needed to do."

I nodded again, wondering where she was going with this.

"Well, they turned on the ultrasound, and there was the tumor, but there was this heart beating real fast."

I am still looking at her. I remember thinking, okay, your heart was beating fast, you was nervous...

"Turns out that I'm pregnant."

I stared at her, not knowing what to say. I wanted to laugh, but thought better of it.

"And I am six months along, so I can't get an abortion. Well, I could, but they would have to drown the baby, and I'm not going to do that, so I'm going to have it."

She was going through this long drawn out explanation of the late term abortion procedure, but I was still stuck at "I'm pregnant." Now that right there was funny. And I really didn't believe her. Now, I noticed she had been eating a lot of fast food lately, but that was about it. But nothing to make me believe that she was pregnant.

She answered my next question before I could ask it:

"I've been having my period every month, right on time. I guess that didn't matter."
That kinda freaked me out for a second, because I knew that I was getting my freak on left and right, sometimes with and without protection, so I'm sitting there thinking Can such a thing actually happen?

I don't remember much of the convo after that. I remember going downstairs fixing a plate of food and bringing it back up to my room. I immediately called LadyTee.

"LadyTee, My Ma say she pregnant."
"For real, girl?"
"Yeah. Ain't that a trip?"

Then we got over into a big discussion of who's baby it was. I'm not EVEN going to get over into all that drama.

Anyway, I must say that I really didn't believe my Mama. She wasn't showing. So I was moreso wondering why she would lie like that. There was no baby shower or anything.

So three months later, she calls me up on the phone. I hadn't seen her since I left to work a 6-4:30 a.m. shift at Wor.ld Baaz.ar. warehouse in East Point, packing orders for the mall stores. They let us off early that day, around 2:30 p.m.

"Lee, I'm down at Crawf.ord Lon.g. I'm having this baby induced today."
I remember thinking... "Damn, so you REALLY are having a baby for REAL????!!!"

"Okay."

"You take care of yourself. Kentucky (my sister, who was 6 at the time) is over at grandma's house."

"Okay."

Ma had Milk and Cookies sometime that night. I hung out with LadyTee and watched the movie of the week, Beverly Hills Madam. Then I went home. I remember my Aunt Joyce calling and bitching at me about not being home and wondering where I was. That pissed me off, as I had my own car, and I was use to coming and going as I pleased. And with Ma away from home? Better be glad I came home at all...

Okay, end of mini-rant. But that is the only time in my life that my Aunt, who is pretty much my mom, pissed me off. I think I was more pissed about her actually being disappointed in me than anything...

So... Ma had the baby.

I talked to her, and she said it went fine. I told her I was coming down with my boyfriend Eli to see her. She said that was cool.

What I really wanted to do is have a look at the baby to see if I can tell who baby it was.
Yeah, I was being trifling. My man even thought I was being trifling."Lee, you wrong for that. You ought to be trying to see bout your Mama."

We went to the hospital, and down to the baby ward, and wrote my Mama's last name on the wall. They found the baby and moved him in front of the window.

I gasped. "That baby is WHITE!!"




My boyfriend peered closer, but didn't say a word...

I knocked frantically on the door to the baby nursery. The nurse ran out of the room, looking at me like she was ready to knock me down for being so loud..,"That's the wrong baby. That's a white baby."

She went back in and looked at his wrist band. She came back out. "No, that's the "R" baby."

We had a stare down for a moment. She went back in. "Look at his ears and genitals." she said. She turned him over and opened his diaper. "Look how dark they are. That's the complexion he's going to be!"

I was about to protest more. I'd seen way too many shows about switched up babies. But my man yanked me away. "Girl, you oughta be shame of yourself. You should be checking on your mama."

He didn't really understand the fact that me and my dear mother were not all that close. I was more interested in what the baby looked like.

We found my mother's room, and time I went in, she started pulling out pictures, trying to explain ish.

"See Lee, that's him, that's him. I know what you're thinking. I had them take pictures of him coming out, and he real light."



So once I saw the pictures, I kind of let it go.


Anyway ma came home with the baby. Poor thing. He was wearing some of my sisters old stuff, so the boy spent much time in pink clothes with little flowers on it.


I would just stare at him while he slept.



Couldn't believe such a thing would happen. And as much as my mama use to RIDE me about "You betta not show up pregnant. I'll put you out of my house. I ain't taking care of no baby... BLAH BLAH BLAAAAH."
I use to catch hell on a regular basis. I think she knew what I was up to. I was pretty active around that time. But dang... she shoulda been watching her own back, you know??

I think I resented that for years, being threatened like crazy. But as I got older, I realized that I can't be upset with her...

Life. Happens.

One thing I know about the Milk and Cookies, and I tell him all the time, especially when he acting a jack or gets all depressed.

You know we all meant to be here, we all have a reason for being... But for God to hide you out like that, all behind a tumor and stuff? Just so you could get here?

Man, you must be special... Got a purpose and all...
So Milk and Cookies, some 20 years after the fact... I want to wish you a happy Birthday.

I've never had children, but you have been like my own. (And you still piss me off when you call me "Mama" in public. Cut that out).

Our Ma has always said, "Talk to this boy! Talk some sense into him! He your child, Lee, not mine. He think of you as his mama, not me!!!You raised him."

Yeah, I did. I've had to chastise you, praise you, feed you, teach you how to write and count, teach you how to drive, help with homework, teach you how to wash your clothes, and lately, teach you how women are and listen while you wail on my shoulder about your trifling women (UGGH!&^#&%). And countless other things...

You might as well be mine. Every time I hear a friend talk about what their son is doing to drive them crazy, I can remember how I went through all that fooling around with you... Goodness.

But 20 years later... I must say... Through all the ups and downs:

You make your big sister, The Oldgirl, proud.

VERY PROUD.


Happy Birthday, Little Boy!!


And many more.

Love, Lisa.