I am the perfect imperfect mom. My kids are everything I want to be in life and everything I want to change about me. I try to celebrate their uniqueness by keeping them engaged and involved in our community. Raising my oldest, Franz, was as taxing as my youngest. I actually earned my stripes with him. He was too smart for his own good and no matter where we put him, his inquisitive nature got him trouble. He was not a bad kid and never did anything to hurt others; he just got into trouble…often. When he attended school at MLK, Dr. Saffell-Smith was the principal. I introduced myself to her at the first parent-teacher conference and told her he was going to be a handful. Any advice she had to give, I was willing to listen. I am not a parent to complain about a teacher’s authority and I have always supported anyone who cultivates leadership and growth in my children. Dr. Saffell-Smith’s patience was put to test within the first month of school. A call about his rambunctious behavior was the beginning of my relationship with Dr. Saffell-Smith. Dr. Saffell-Smith and I talked weekly. She never let him get away with anything. She was the first to bring up the word mentor with me. While I was frustrated and yelling, she remained calm and encouraging. She never gave up even when I wanted too. She introduced David Bullock to our family. At that time, David worked for FANUC Robotics. They had similar spirits and complimented each other well. Around the same time, my son started networking and working for himself. David gave him small projects to complete that would earn him income. Earning his own money at an early age was the key to helping him value being independent later. My kid, who gave me migraines and sleepless nights, graduated with honors from MLK in 2004. He chose his college (TSU), he worked out his scholarship offers and took the lessons he learned from his schools, his principles, his mentor and family with him. The good, the bad and the ugly were all part of building his character. He navigated his college education by building a support network among his professors and peers. His sophomore year, he joined the track team and promised me he would not allow track to distract him from his studies. The decision to run track while studying sports medicine was not my choice for him but he was “grown” and what could I say. The conversations about school and post graduate studies were peppered with track meets. I was afraid he was being diverted from his education. We came to an impasse his senior year when I was informed he was not going to march in May. He said he had a track meet. The words I uttered that day can never be taken back. He told me later, he had already hung up his cell and never heard me. Thank God. He marched August 8, 2008. He was number one in his school and carried the flag. My tears flowed freely as I shouted his name. I acknowledge, his four years of college was around the time of his sibling’s crazy phase. Franz graduation’s helped me to realize that a mother never stops wanting the best for her children. He started grad school the following month. He was also hired as the assistant strength coach. Looking at his schedule, I mentioned school/ work balance. He hurriedly told me he can manage both. Not only was he independent but he was determined. This summer, I turned my attention to my youngest son and his laid back attitude about life. He was feeling my wrath. While I was dealing with his younger brother, Franz went to Colorado with Coach for three weeks. He mentioned a training event but no other details were given. When he returned home, he looked as if he found his calling in life. He was a trainer and guide for the Paralympics for Team USA. He worked with blind runners for two weeks at the U.S. Olympics facilities in Colorado Springs, Colorado. Did I ask about school and work? No. I have learned; he knows what he is doing. It truly takes a village…two more to go. Now don’t go anywhere, I need you.

After an eight year recording hiatus, Maxwell is back! Maxwell has put the sexy back in R & B music. Maxwell’s appearance had ladies willing to stand in the rain to see him perform. The Ryman was filled to capacity with the sell out crowd. Through screams, laughter, and dancing in the seat, the audience enjoyed songs from over ten years of hits. Maxwell good looks and sixties throw back style is a modern day version music icons Marvin Gaye and Sam Cooke. The official release of “Black Summers’ Night,” a trilogy of studio albums that the artist expects to release over the next three years, coincided with his stop in Nashville. Maxwell’s album is number one in the country. Opening act, Grammy Award-Winning Chrisette Michele, vocals proved why she is becoming one of the most recognized young voices in the spotlight today. This concert was definitely for the grown and sexy crowd. Photos: Earl Flippen

Watching movies and barbecuing is how my family spends most Sunday afternoons. This past Sunday, I broke a cardinal rule and watched the BET Awards for the first time. My kids convinced me that it would be great since it was billed as a tribute to Michael Jackson and his humanitarian endeavors. However, the show that was promoted was not the show I watched. The BET Awards was a chaotic three hour black-a-thon fiasco. How things begin is an indication of where things will end. Watching CNN’s anchorman Don Lemon giving shouts out on the red carpet was the start of the calamity that went downhill fast. To add to the circus atmosphere that was forming outside, Joe Jackson, MJ’s father and belt wielding former manager, was on the red carpet promoting his new record label. Huh? I know grief is expressed in different ways but this was a drastic departure from tears and sadness that is normally shown. He sounded more like an old school promoter for Denise LaSalle than a father who had lost a son two days prior. But what do I know. I never watched the show and I did not know if this was the norm. Arsenio Hall was raised from the dead and Chaka Khan said something. As for the rest of the folks, I had no idea if they were artists or clowns that were paid to keep us distracted. Once the “show” started, I cursed myself for partaking in foolishness. I was tweeting throughout the night because my kids could not stand me shouting at them and the TV. New Edition was cute and Jamie Fox was comic relief. The O'Jays, in their yesteryear prom suits, had me dancing. Sugary Ne-yo and Jamie's collaboration was touching. The duet with Monica and Keisha Cole was sassy and had vocal harmony. I loved Keke Palmer throw down. And Maxwell could have sung all night. But what was up with Queen B’s ballerina-wedding night-wingless angel outfit? Did she sing a song that is the theme for dog rescuers? It was not proper for a MJ tribute. But the pandemonium kept coming; Ray J and the Atlanta vixens, Lil Wayne gold dipped teeth (ew), Ving Rhames, and various characters that had no talent only added to the bizarre profanity laced evening. Don Cornelius rambling intro, which made time stand still, had me praying for the torturous show to end. And let’s not forget the commercials for upcoming BET reality shows that I confused with promos for a support group for incarcerated women. After the rappers destroyed the English language as we know it and perplexity that would have been right at home at the Hoodie Awards, Mary Mary blessed the show with a gospel song straight from a juke joint. Don't hate, I blog like I see it. Recognizing Alicia Keys and Wyclef was nice, but, seriously, where was the tribute to MJ? I felt Janet's pain who sounded broken as she reminded the audience that MJ was her brother. Why Madam BET, Debra Lee, could not have waited and worked on a show that would have been truly entertaining and befitting to MJ's memory and his work is beyond me. MJ gave $300 million to charities which is rarely mentioned. Focusing on his charitable contributions during his lifetime and how his musical brilliance created an entire genre of music/videos would have rocked the house and lifted spirits. Instead, we were reminded why he lived in a place called “Neverland”. You would have to live in a world of make believe to call the show a tribute. The responses on Twitter and in the blogosphere have been horrific. The poorly orchestrated show did not reflect MJ’s musical influence and minimized the gifts of many talented individuals. I am wondering if the folks at the Stellar Awards would have done a better job. On second thought, never mind, that spaceship will never land.