I Love You The Same

Over the course of 34 years I’ve loved boyfriends and friends, lovers, and husbands, parents and siblings, aunts and uncles, cousins and associates, pets and even some pretty nifty material things. I can say that hands-down, nothing compares to the love I feel for my children.

I realized the other day why it’s so mind-blowing… to me, anyway. The love for my children is so great and consuming that I have a hard time believing that it compares to say, how much you love your children. But going even further, there’s no way that my parents could have loved me this much. If my mother loved me even a fraction of the amount that I love Kali and Jack, how she didn’t lose her shit every time I was out of her sight is beyond me.

I had all these worries about loving two children when I first found out I was pregnant. Would I love them differently? Would I favor one over the other? Would I, God forbid, love one more than other? Honestly, my first concern was that I wouldn’t love Jack enough because my love for Kali was so strong. Then as my pregnancy progressed, and the love for my unborn child grew (along with my waistband), I worried that I might neglect Kali or that she would feel slighted with all the attention lavished upon Jack.

I needn’t have worried. Those of you with more than one child know what I mean. Just as we are amazed over the changes in the human body as we prepare to give birth, we really should marvel over the way our minds and souls are conditioned to adjust to this new life as well. If your capacity to love is a balloon, and you feel it’s filled to dangerous proportions with how much you love your children and spouse, family and friends, don’t worry. Mine did not burst when Jack came along. It magically expanded to include him. We don’t talk about that enough and we should.

Of course I relate to them differently now; Jack is at an age where he needs me for everything, while Kali is entering a stage where she’s becoming more independent. And I’m sure this will continue on as I’ll relate to them on different boy-girl levels as well.

It’s either a credit to how great Kali is, or kudos to me and Donny as parents, but she really is extremely helpful and in love with her brother. I’ve yet to witness any competitive urges from her, and hopefully I’ve done my job in letting her know that my love for her is undying and unquestionable.

Last night, I asked Donny if he were over Jack.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we waited so long and now he’s been here half a year already. Is the thrill gone?”

“No. Of course not.”

Then I said, speaking for Jack and in a baby voice, “You better not be over me. I’m your only son… unless you got some other kids out there we don’t know about.”

“If I got other kids out there, I don’t know about them either.”

“Um, honey, it’s okay if I joke about it. But when you do it? Not so much. Just the idea of you having children with someone else kinda makes me wanna stab you in the neck.”

Anyway, I’ve decided to take a cue from Sophie and implement a little guaranteed Mommy/Daughter time. Beginning this Sunday I will make it a point to do something special with just the two of us. Sophie has already inspired some great ideas:

Hot chocolate at iHop

Library visits

Matinee movies

A trip to Barnes and Noble for a book

Ice cream!

Also, this weekend we’re gonna begin working on the dollhouse she got for Christmas.

Any other special things you can suggest?

I Liked Them Better When They Were Called Drawers

A week or so before Christmas my father called to ask Kali’s sizes. It seemed my stepmother was out doing some holiday shopping and wanted to pick up some clothes for Kali including panties and bras.

If I’m being honest, I was a little annoyed at first. As her mother, I thought it was kind of a special thing to be able to buy my daughter’s first bra, and the idea of someone else doing it, even if it was her grandmother, kinda rubbed me the wrong way. Then I realized that if left up to me, Kali would probably never get a bra.

Ever.

Actually, I might not have ever acknowledged that the child was getting breasts.

“Mommy, what are these?”

“Tumors. Go do your homework.”

I was not, and to some extent still not, ready for Kali to graduate from her t-shirts and Strawberry Shortcake drawers. No matter that her new sets are nothing more, really, than sports bra styled tops and little boy shorts, they’re still a matching set, a bra, an ensemble that signals a whole new era of childhood. I suddenly felt old and very much afraid.

Not that we also hadn’t recognized the need for such undergarments. For a couple of months now, Donny and I would point out to each other the new ways in which Kali filled out her clothes, and I suppose we were in a bit of denial. I wondered if I could convince Kali that burlap sacks were indeed in style, and Donny wondered silently if Wal-Mart still sold guns.

She came home from my parents’ house Christmas day loaded down with gifts including her new bra and panties. She was very excited. She knew that the bras were nothing like the torpedo holders I use; there was plenty of time for that, but she was still happy nonetheless. Kali wanted to wear them right away, but with over a week left to vacation I told her she could wait to wear them once school started.

The night before she was to return to school from break, she came flouncing in our room, fresh from a bath, in a matching underwear set. I nearly birthed kittens right on my bed. I’d been worried about the bra, but that wasn’t the problem; the bra, as I said, amounted to nothing more than a cut-off tank top/sports bra. It was the panties that caused my eyes to bulge.

“Girl, if you don’t go put some… something on.”

“What?! They’re shorts.”

“No, they’re panties! And you’re… in them… and stuff.”

“Oh, I thought they were shorts.”

“You thought like Lit. Thought he had to pee, but he had to shit.”

“What does that even mean?”

“That means you need to go put some clothes on before I have a heart attack.”

She goes to find PJs.

“Donny, I’m not even ready.”

“I know.”

“I mean, did you see her?”

“I know.”

“Do you think she’ll just want to live with us until she’s 30?”

“Probably not.”

“The thought of the bra had me stressing, but did you see those panties? I think I liked them better when they were called drawers.”

I was a late bloomer. So late, in fact, that by the time I required a bra I was probably in my own damn apartment.

Boy, my mother was lucky.

How did you handle your child(rens’) transition into puberty? How do you think you will handle it when it occurs? How did your parents handle it with you and your siblings? More importantly, does Wal-Mart still sell guns?

Outcome of “The Talk”

Thanks for all your kind words and support the other day. As I mentioned then Donny and I had decided that it was time to tell Kali about her biological father. We came to this decision after noticing an increase in her questions concerning her birth, marriage, and last names.

We had, of course, put off having the talk until we felt she was old enough to understand, but not too old so that she’d feel as if she’d been lied to the majority of her life. Since there’s no automatic age that encompasses that we figured that with the emergence of the questions now was as good a time as any so we wouldn’t have to flat out lie to inquiries.

When she came home from school on Thursday she sat cuddled up with me on the sofa and I told her we needed to talk to her. She first wanted to know, “Am I in trouble?”

“No, you’re not in trouble. Daddy and I just…wait…did you do something to be in trouble?”

After a few moments of that I began by explaining how I had a biological Dad who she knows as her Grandpa, but that I also had a stepfather when my mother got remarried. Donny explained that the man she knows as Grandpa Gary is not his biological Dad, but his stepdad as his biological father died when he was young. All things that Kali knew.

“So, what would you say if I told you that you had two Dads?”

“I would be sad.”

My heart sank. “Why?”

“Is one of them dead?”

“Oh no! Honey, no!”

We then explained that before I met Donny I was in love with someone else and that through that love she was born. (We will handle “through that love” and “biological” another time.) I explained that her biological father loved her very much, but he lived far away and wasn’t able to be here for her like he should be.

Overall, it went really well. She had some typical questions like, “What kind of things did Shane like to do that you didn’t?” That was in response to me explaining that sometimes people break up because they no longer like to do the same things. She was very excited to learn that because of Shane’s first marriage she had two older brothers.

“So, are they kind of your sons too?”

“Nooo, no, no. You’re the only child I have, and I’m the only mother you have…and the only mother you’re ever gonna have for that matter.” As I cut eyes at Donny. I talked to Shane last night about how it went and we’re making arrangements for her to be able to correspond with her brothers.

Last night as I got into bed with Donny I told him about my conversation with Kali as I tucked her into bed.

Nina: Do you understand everything that Daddy and I told you yesterday?

Kali: You were married to Shane before you met Daddy and he’s my biological Dad.

Nina: And you know that there’s nothing bad about what we told you and that nothing changes, right?

Kali: Yes. I have two Dads that both love me. And I now have two brothers which is so cool.

“You didn’t correct her when she said you were married to Shane?,” Donny asked as I fluffed my pillow.

“Uh, no. I don’t want her thinking her mama’s a ho.”

Like I said, first marriages and how babies are born are for another discussion. Say, when she’s 30?

Nina Being Extra

“Your look is almost enough to make me want to forget my life and persue you full time.”

Mom: What the hell does that mean!?

Nina: That means he loves me.

My sister is just laughing her ass off. And totally neglecting her kids. I should mention that my own offspring was nestled in her bed.

Mom: What does Donny say about all this?

Nina: He loves me too.

Mom: You don’t cook…

Nina: Actually, I’ve been cooking a lot lately. And I bake.

Mom: Ok, you cook sometimes, you don’t work, you complain about cleaning and you are so full of yourself. That man must love your ass.

Nina: Oh, he loves more than my ass. The pussy is quite good too.

And that, is Nina being extra.

More Conversations That Made Me Laugh

Last night I had so many things on my plate, so I almost didn’t answer the phone when I saw an unfamiliar number on the caller ID. I’m glad I did though. It was my sister, Naiemah, who I wrote about in my blog the other day.

Remember I said she was kinda ghetto, but in that lovable, funny, way? Well, here’s why:

Nina: Hello.
Naiemah: Finally!
Nina: Hey girl, what’s up?
Naiemah: You never answer your phone, heifer. The closest I get to seeing you is watching the Tyra Banks Show.

Hmm, that smelled like a compliment and I immediately wondered if she was next going to ask for money.

Naiemah: I have to watch her show to remember what you look like. Except she has that big ole forehead.

Yeah, she’s ’bout to ask for a loan.

Naiemah: And y’all are both real corny.

Nevermind.

I ask her about moving back to Brooklyn. Was she scared? Has it improved? Does it depress her to see people we grew up with living in the same neighborhoods?  I mean, as she was talking to me she was walking her two sons to McDonald’s.  Meanwhile, my bourgie, suburban, snobby, hoity-toity, ass couldn’t imagine strolling down a Brooklyn street that close to sundown.

Naiemah: It’s not so bad. The area has changed a lot. I don’t mind seeing people we grew up with. Sometimes I wish they wouldn’t speak to me, but I don’t mind seeing them.

Nina: Do you have friends?

Naiemah: I got close to two girls in my neighborhood. One I wish I didn’t.

Nina: Why?

Naiemah: We got into it and she tried to jump bad. I almost beat her ass then I remembered I’m pregnant.

I told you.

Eight years ago today I pushed Kali out of my vagina. I spent hours last night coloring and rolling out fondant to make the roses for her birthday cake. It was truly a labor of love. It will take me several more hours tonight to finish making them.

As we got ready for school this morning….

Kali: Eight years ago I was in your belly.
Nina: Yup, then I pushed you out.
Kali: What do you mean?
Nina: I pushed you out.
Kali: Of your belly?
Nina: No, my vagina.

She looks faint.

Kali: What?!
Nina: I thought you knew.
Kali: No, I thought I was in your belly.
Nina: Yes, but I pushed you out of my vagina.
Kali: Why?
Nina: Because that’s the way it works.
Kali: No, I mean why are you telling me this now?

And then she went to school looking totally disgusted.

Funny Conversations That Made Me Laugh

On the phone with Tara:

Tara: You make me laugh.
Nina: Why?
Tara: Because you do stuff that if anyone else did it, it wouldn’t be okay. But if you do it, it’s okay.
Nina: Awww. Is that bad?
Tara: No, not at all. You make me laugh. It’s like you live in your own little world.
Nina: OK, this is starting to sound bad.

In bed with Donny who snores, but swears he doesn’t.  My head is on his chest and he starts snoring lightly.

Nina: Wake up. You’re snoring.
Donny: Huh? I wasn’t cause I wasn’t sleeping.
Nina: You were totally sleeping and snoring.
Donny: Nina, I’m telling you I wasn’t sleeping. I was thinking.
Nina: Thinking about what? Sleeping? Cause your ass was snoring.

Yesterday morning, Donny and I are in the master bathroom and realize that we didn’t have sex the night before as planned.

Donny: You fell asleep on me.
Nina: I did not! You fell asleep on me! However, I was too tired to have sex so I let you stay asleep.
Donny: No, you fell asleep first.

(For the record, I didn’t. I watched 48 Hours Mystery while his ass snored.)

Nina: That doesn’t even sound right because you never had a problem waking me up for sex before. I’m not tryna hear that. You fell asleep first.

Then he starts bitching and moaning about my hair all over the bathroom and me leaving the soap in the tub.

Nina: You know what? I’m gonna fall asleep on your ass for a week if you keep it up.

On the phone with my Mom…

Nina: She’s going to be dead before she’s 40.
Mom: Nina! That’s your cousin.
Nina: That doesn’t make it less true.

The other day I was playing X-Box and Kali was sitting next to me watching.

Kali: I tooted.
Nina: I know, I heard it.

A few seconds passed.

Kali: It stinks.
Nina: I know, I smell it.

Yesterday I was staring at Kali from across the room because 1. she’s damn cute and 2. I’m starting to get small glimpses at what she’s going to look like as a teenager and I’m not happy. Too damn good looking. Without even turning to look at me she says:

Kali: Mommy, I know you’re staring at me.
Nina: Sorry.
Kali: Daddy, I know why Mommy was staring at me.
Donny: Why?
Kali: Because I’m cute.
Nina: Kali!!!
Kali: What? You say it all the time.
Nina: Yes, but it’s okay if other people say you’re good looking. Then you just say thank you. But if you walk around saying you’re good looking it comes off as conceited.
Kali: Well, good thing I don’t know what that means.

Does The Tooth Fairy Know God?

So, Kali lost another tooth about two weeks ago.  I was on the phone with…not sure who…and she came running in proudly holding the tooth, her tongue peeking through the new gap.

That night Donny and I was up until about 2am watching Smallville. Around 8am the next morning, she came into our bedroom very upset. The tooth fairy never came!

Why?

Because Mommy and Daddy were up till 2am watching Smallville, remember? Pay attention, readers.

“I’m so sorry, Kali. That was Mommy’s fault. I was supposed to email her and tell her your tooth was ready and I forgot. I’ll do it today.”

That whole day Kali was dying to play with the tooth, and I told her several times to just leave it under the pillow. That night, while in bed watching t.v., or playing, or reading, when she should have been sleeping she managed to knock the tooth on the floor.  She comes downstairs crying that she can’t find it.

Sadly, had this not happened I would have again forgotten to slip some money under her pillow. I assured her that the tooth fairy would be able to find the tooth wherever it was in the room. That’s how she rolls. It’s her job.  A few hours later, Donny slipped a few bucks under the pillow, and the next morning all was right w/ the world.

Flash forward to last night. I’m on the computer in the study and Kali is sitting on the floor at my feet watching television when she suddenly asks me, “Do you like being brown?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I don’t know. Just wondering.”

For years Kali has wondered when she will be “brown like Mommy.” She will place her arm alongside mine as ask, “Am I brown yet?” I tell her that she may never be as brown as Mommy, and that’s okay. God her made the way she is and she’s special.  But she loves brown skin. The browner the better.

When I first explained to her what breastfeeding was a few years ago, she asked me if when I breastfed her my milk was chocolate because I’m brown.

Back to last night….

She pauses for a moment. Rubbing my bare leg and looking me up and down.

“Why do people call it black when it’s really brown?”

“Good question. I don’t know.”

“Does the tooth fairy know God?”

“Ummm, I think so.”

Why not, right? The Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, Cupid, Santa, Mother Goose, and God. They meet once a week for Texas Hold ‘Em. Can you imagine?

“Well, you should email the tooth fairy again, and tell her to tell God to change it from black people to brown people.”

OCD

Kali has compulsions, and they are starting to worry me.  Every few months she’ll develop a habit and when I tell her to stop she says, “I can’t.” Examples? For a while she would make this weird, guttural, sound in her throat at the end of sentences. Almost like her throat itched and she was trying to scratch or clear it.  It drove me crazy.  After awhile she stopped doing it, and I thought it was due to my not mentioning it anymore.

For the past few months she’s been smelling her fingers.  It’s the weirdest thing.  Kinda like that chick on SNL, but she doesn’t stick them in her armpits first.  She just presses both hands to her face, palms covering her mouth, fingers pointed up and right under her nostrils and she sniffs.  I haven’t noticed her doing it as much lately because she’s picked up a new habit. Head shaking.

Imagine the shake a person does when they’re trying to get their hair out of their face. That really quick shake.  She does that. All the time.  I will watch her from across the room.  I try to see if she does it when she knows I’m not watching.  I tell her to stop, and she claims she doesn’t realize she’s doing it.  I told her I might have to take her to the doctor so they can scan her brain.  She thinks x-rays are cool so she’s all hyped to get her brain scanned.  She’ll come to me, “Mommy, I’m still shaking my head, can we go get my brain scanned now.”

To test her I told her that I was mistaken. They won’t be taking a picture of her brain, but sticking a needle in it instead.  Mean, I know. But I have to know if she’s faking.  So far, I still notice her doing it just not as often. I’m going to ask her teacher if she notices it.

Monday we were playing that Nickelodeon Scene It! when I noticed she did it.

I whispered to Donny, “I’m really worried. Maybe she has OCD.”

“If she had OCD, her room would be clean

Drunken Vacuuming

I had several glasses of wine before Kali complained that there were ants in her room. It was the third night in a row she’d complained of the little buggers. I went upstairs to begin the investigation and almost shit a turtle. That child had so much junk hidden in her room, it’s a wonder she didn’t have more than ants in there.

So, now I’m dru..tipsy…and carrying up a garbage bag, some carpet cleaner, ant spray, and the vacuum to her room when I trip at the top of stairs. CRASH! I busted my ass. The vacuum goes one way, ant spray the other. The carpet cleaner goes tumbling back down the stairs and I just lay there trying to catch my breath.

“Are you okay, Mommy?”

I glance quickly to see if she’s laughing. She looks genuinely concerned. Shit, how embarrassing. Anyway, I start cleaning her room and the more I clean, the more pissed I get. I tell her to go get in my bed for the night since her room would most likely smell of ant spray. She is right in front of the vacuum when I turn it on, and I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.

It scared her so bad that she took off running, but for like three seconds, she was running in place… trying to gain momentum. You know, like on Scooby Doo? Holy shit, I lost it. I’m laughing so hard, I can’t turn the vacuum off. She makes it to my bedroom door and is now crying because she’s more pissed than scared.

“I didn’t laugh at you when you fell!”

I’m pretty sure she tacked on “bitch” at the end of that, but the vacuum was going so I couldn’t be sure.

You Reap What You Sow

I’ve always encouraged Kali to speak her mind. Just because they’re children doesn’t mean they don’t have opinions and feelings. I want Kali to express herself, to tell me how she feels about the decisions I make that affect her, and be honest. It’s my hope that she’ll be an outgoing and outspoken woman because of this.

That’s not always a good thing.

First, the other day, she came downstairs while I was on the computer.

Kali: Can I use the computer?

Nina: Sure, when I’m done.

Kali: I want to use it now. Are you going to be on a long time?

(Keep in mind she has her own darn computer in her room)

Nina: I’m going to be as long as I’m going to be.

I lean over to kiss her. She pouts and pulls away.

Nina: Fine. Be like that.

She folds her arm, leaves the room, and heads for the stairs.

Kali: It’s just you won’t let me play on the computer.

Nina: You can, but it will just be awhile.

Kali: Well, it will be awhile before I give you a kiss.

No. She. Didn’t.

Later that afternoon, she asks me for popcorn, and I put a package in the microwave.  The moment the timer goes off, she wants me to go get it.

N: Kali it’s really hot. You have to let it cool off.

K: I don’t care if it’s hot.

N: Well, I care. I don’t want you to burn your mouth.

K: Well, your life isn’t my life.

N: What did you just say?

She repeats it.

N: Your life is whatever I tell you it is. I gave you your life.  If I say you wait for popcorn, you wait for popcorn.

Now I know what she meant.  Why should I care if she likes to burn her mouth on popcorn, if it’s not my mouth being burned?  How do you explain to your seven year old child that you live and breathe for them? That the other day when she got her first paper cut I felt bad because I know how bad they smart, and you don’t like the thought of your child in any pain at all?

How do you explain that it’s not about the popcorn, but the unspoken vow you made to protect her from ALL forms of harm? How do you do that without sounding like an emotional madwoman?

You can’t.

Finally, last night was my anniversary.  I got home from math class and Donny had already fed Kali. We were both too lazy and tired to cook so we decided to order from Ruby Tuesday.  And I’m starving so I ordered a lot of food.  Asian dumplings with Thai peanut sauce, full rack of ribs, fries, and chocolate tall cake for dessert.  Don’t judge me! I know it’s not on the diet, but it was a special occasion.

Anyway, from the moment I walked in the door, Kali needed something. Every five seconds it was something else, and I guess my patience was wearing thin.  Kali goes to bed, and Donny and I are just about to eat and watch a movie when she comes downstairs for something to drink.

Keep in mind that before she went upstairs she drank a coke and then came back downstairs for water. Now she wanted milk.

Nina: Kali, that’s enough. You’re stalling. Go to bed.

Kali: I just want a little milk.

Nina: No.

Kali: How come you won’t take care of me?

My mouth drops open.

Nina: I take care of you!

Kali: No, you don’t. If I’m thirsty and you won’t let me drink, that’s not taking care of me.

And just like that she won.  I pour the milk. She finishes.  I see ribs and chicken dumplings in my very near future.

Kali: Can you come tuck me in now?

Nina: Let me eat first, and I’ll be right up.

Kali: See, I told you. You won’t take care of me.

Nina: Fine! But that’s playing dirty!

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