Mommy Monday: I Never Thought I’d…

There are times when Kali and Jack will be cuddled up, giggling over something he just did – or sometimes nothing at all – and she’ll look up and say, “I never thought I’d have a baby brother.” She’ll further explain that she kind of resigned herself to always being an only child.

As we pack up the house for our move, she’ll sometimes say, “I never thought we’d be moving. I just kinda thought I’d always live here.”

She really does think about these things. At ten, she has definite ideas on how her life is, how it should be, and how it will be. In that sense, she’s a lot more connected to herself than I was at that age. I didn’t give the future much thought at ten. In fact, I kind of expected things to change at any moment, so when they did it was normal. When I was Kali’s age, I’d already lived in at least three or four different places.

I was too busy reading to give much thought to how many siblings I’d eventually have. My parents just kept popping them out and somewhere between To Kill a Mockingbird and Of Mice and Men, I’d look up to find a new baby sister.

Then again, I was convinced I’d never live past 18. Not sure why. I couldn’t envision myself in my 20’s or 30’s. I shared this prediction with my best friend once. She thought I was crazy. Not just cause it was a very morbid thing to think, but because I’d also recently confessed to being able to control traffic lights and NYC subway trains with my mind.

So, I am fascinated when Kali and I have these conversations in which she shares what she imagines for herself and our family. She seems to take change with ease. Excitement even. It’s like by having another baby and moving to a new house we’ve opened up a whole new world of possibilities for her.

Never thought you’d have a baby brother, but now here one is? Why not another? Why not a baby sister? Of course, this also teaches a valuable lesson in disappointment when I explain to her that Mommy will, most likely, not be having anymore babies.

Once, after she’d admitted that she still couldn’t believe she had a baby brother, I asked, “Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah. I never thought I’d have one, but I’m happy I do. Life is so funny.”

What a funny thing for a ten-year-old to say, right? She already has this sense of wonderment about life and an appreciation for it. I hope that never goes away.

Do you talk to your kids about their expectations? Their wants? Their dreams? What are they? Do you feel a responsibility to keep things as they are for your kids or have you found that your kids adapt well to change?

Mommy Monday: Getting To Know You

Your children assume that your life began the moment they were born.

Kali is always shocked to find that I know things.

“Oh my God, Mommy. How do you know this song? I’ve never heard it before.”

“Um, cause it’s from 1982.”

Once, we were headed upstairs with our dinner and I carried both of our plates and glasses.

“You’re really good at that.”

“Well, I used to be a waitress. This is a breeze compared to some of the stuff I carried.”

“You used to be a waitress?!”

“Uh huh. In Texas.”

“You lived in Texas?!”

She asked both as if I’d just confessed to inventing ice cream.

The older she gets, I realize there’s a lot she doesn’t know about me. The other night, while driving home from the library, I dropped another bombshell.

“I have to tell you something.”

*pause*

“I used to be married. To someone else. Before Daddy.”

We’d already had the biological Dad convo a few years ago and I thought I’d save the first husband revelation for a later date.

“You were?!”

“Yes.”

“To who?”

So, I tell her about my first husband – met him when I was 18, married at 22, divorced before you could say, “infidelity abound.”

She leans forward from the backseat and whispers conspiratorially, “Does Daddy know this?”

“Yes!”

“Well, just checking. I mean, I can’t believe he married you knowing you used to be married to someone else.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He wasn’t married to someone else before.”

“So? He had girlfriends and stuff.”

“That’s different.

The conversation was taking an ugly turn. I thought this revelation might make me seem worldly and mysterious to my daughter. That she would see me as someone other than the woman that worries about bills and drives her to the library and after-school book club. I wanted her to think I was cool. Instead, she kinda made me feel like The Whore of Babylon.

We get in the house and she says, “Are you sure Daddy knows, cause I’m gonna tell him.” And then, just in case I was lying, she proceeds to confirm that Donny did indeed know that he wasn’t my first husband.

Nice to see whose side she’s on now.

“When will you tell Jack?”

“Well, I don’t know now. I’m sure you’ll tell him soon enough, Ms. Judgey McJudgerstein.”

Last night, I thought she’d get a good laugh out of this pic from my 18th birthday:

“Can you believe Grandpa let me wear that out of the house?,” I asked, giggling like a fool. “It was a nightgown, but I wore it as a dress.”

“I can’t believe anyone let you out the house like that!”

It’s odd what impresses her. She’s more in awe of my past in the food service industry than my tales of hob-knobbing with, now, irrelevant celebrities or how damn hot I used to be.

“I mean, why would you wear a nightgown in public? Why not just buy a real dress? I know your birthday is in August, but it couldn’t have been that hot, could it?”

“OK. Go to bed.”

“I don’t have school tomorrow.”

“Go to bed anyway.”

So, how do you handle discussing past relationships/escapades with your children?

Mommy Monday: You Can’t Make Me!

I am painfully aware that everything I do is allowed only because my children are feeling charitable. Take changing Jack’s diaper for instance. Sometimes he lays there nice and calm and allows me to do what I have to do. Other times, he throws a major fit like his ass is covered in paper cuts and I’m using salt-soaked wipes. During the times that he lays quietly, he kinda eyes me like, “Yeah, that’s right. Make sure you get under that scrotum real good.”

And then I realize I’m his bitch.

With Kali, it’s a different story. And though I’m not one of those “because I said so” parents – I’ll supply a reason for why I’m making her do something or forbidding another – it is expressly understood that once I give my reasoning, she will abide no matter what.

So, I was very firm in my decision to force Kali to participate in a book club at school. Every two weeks they meet after school to discuss a book and practice quizzing each other on it. Next month, they will compete against other schools’ clubs that have read the same books. Personally, my nerdy ass thought it sounded like a lot of fun. Kali? Not so much.

I told myself that this wasn’t the same as parents that suit up their kids to play sports two seconds after they learn to walk without any idea if the child 1. has any desire to play the sport and 2. is any good at it. Hell, Kali’s 10! I know she likes to read.

“I hate to read!,” she yelled recently when I told her that she could not quit the club.

How could any child of mine hate reading? Then I remembered that she was, indeed, my child and therefore prone to exaggeration.

“You like to read!”

“Well,” she said, “I don’t like to read the books in the club. They’re boring.”

She had a point. Of the half dozen books assigned so far, only two have been anything Kali would have chosen on her own. The rest were boring books about dogs on the open range and little Native American girls.

The club isn’t fun for her, but I’m remiss to let her quit. What kind of message is that sending? Or is it okay to encourage quitting something you forced them to do anyway? Am I just as bad as those parents living out their varsity dreams via their offspring?

I think I’ve come up with a solution. I still think reading and discussing books is a good thing. It teaches them to really think about what they’ve read and see things from other perspectives. With that in mind, Kali and I will have our own book club.

We’ll read the same book and discuss it. We’ll come up with a handful of questions each to go over together. Any of you are welcome to join in with your kid of the same age (or close to it.)

So, where should we start? I’m thinking of starting with the Percy Jackson books. Here’s the trailer for the movie based on the first book.

So, suggest some titles for Kali and I. And don’t judge me when I force her to read the Harry Potter series.

Coming Up on Blog It Out, Bitch

I haven’t forgotten you. It’s just that a funny thing happens when you graduate: you kinda have to find a job. Also, a funny thing happens when you have kids: they kinda have to be fed.

Starting next week, I’m back on a regular blogging/writing schedule. What do you have to look forward to? Glad you asked.

Mommy Monday: You Can’t Make Me! – What are the consequences of forcing our kids to participate in activities FOR us?

Blog It Out, Baby: Breastfeeding at 48 Months (Yes, that’s 4!)

Nina’s Top Ten “Don’t You Hate It When…”

Weekly TV recaps of: 24 and Lost and POSSIBLY American Idol (only because Ellen has joined the show.)

Book Club: You can vote now between:

- Holler at the Moon by Tinesha Davis

- Almost Moon by Alice Sebold

- Hold Love Strong by Matthew Aaron Goodman

I eventually want to read/discuss all three, we’re just voting to see which one goes first.

“What about Fluke?!”

I know, I know. I read it, it was great. Not my favorite Christopher Moore book (A Dirty Job holds that title), but it was pretty funny. My favorite part was his explanation as to why his ex-wife was a lesbian – she, her female co-worker, and their boat were mistaken for a whale vagina by two dueling whales penises and subsequently drenched in whale jizz. I kid you not.

Fiction: How Jenna Found Out I Loved Her – a coming of age story with a twist.

And the return of Ask Me Anything plus, I’ll take blog requests.

Hope you’ll stick around. And tell your friends.

BIOBaby: Jack’s First Haircut

I folded like a card table. Back in November, I took Jack to get his first haircut.

Two pics of early morning bedhead.

It has since grown back.

Next up: pics of Kali’s first haircut in ten years.

BIOBaby: Baby Boner

This is quite possibly the funniest, yet most disturbing, experience of my life…

So, last night Donny, Jack, and I are in bed watching TV. Donny and I are kinda sitting up with our backs against the headboard and Jack is lying horizontal with his head on Donny’s side and his feet against my leg. I notice that his diaper is kinda crooked so I reach over and undo one velcro side strap to fix it.

Jack pushes my hand away and decides to take advantage of having a now-open diaper by sticking his hand inside of it. He starts playing with his little penis and giggling. And not just regular giggles, but squeals of masturbatory delight.

It was as if all the other times he’d found his penis were warm-up and now, well now he meant business. Attempts by me to remove his hand and close the diaper were met with swats from the unoccupied hand with a precision and speed that can only be described as ninja-like.

I tried to be stern, but not too stern. I mean, I don’t want him to grow up with some weird penis complex. But the whole thing was actually quite funny so I’m also laughing like a fool. Donny responded as most men would.

“That’s my boy!”

And Jack is no dummy. Just when he sensed that maybe I was not fooling around anymore, and would no longer be hampered by fits of laughter, he would pull his hand out from the diaper, pat his tummy and say, “Belly. Belly.” As if reminding me that he was smarter than the average bear his age would make up for the fact that he was conducting his first spank-job on my bed!

And because I am like every other mother that likes to brag when she realizes that she is indeed the mother of a smarter-than-average bear, I did what any braggart would do:

I grabbed the video camera from my nightstand… which I realize as I type this sounds incredibly scandalous, delicious, lascivious, and other naughty words that end in -ous.  While my back was turned Jack proceeded to stick his hand back in his diaper and move it around furiously, laughing like a madman. I got about fifteen seconds of footage in which Donny and I can be heard laughing in the background. Jack continued to lie on his back, hand alternating between pulling on his penis and patting his tummy. It was at about sixteen seconds that I realized that we could very well be committing some kind kiddie porn crime.

I snapped the camera closed and voiced my concerns to Donny. This seemed to make the situation at least 35% less funny to him. He got all Caucasian on Jack.

“Jack Ian (insert last name here)!! Stop tugging on your little peter!”

His little peter?

I move Jack’s hand and get serious. I’m not tryna get peed on.

“Belly?”

“No. No belly. That’s not gonna work this time.”

I undo the other side of the diaper and open it up to adjust it properly and there, staring me dead in the face was my son’s angry, swollen, dog-dick red, baby boner.

“Donny, you deal with this!”

Who knew the male penis fascination began so early?!

BIOBaby: Still Not Getting a Haircut

I will not be Delilah to Sampson. I know, I know. His hair is long. It’s curly. Everyone thinks you should cut a boy’s hair at one. Well, I don’t do what everybody else does. Everyone knows that!

I love Jack’s hair. It’s so… so… Jack!

He has years and years of haircuts ahead of him. He can be a baby a little longer. If I’m not in a rush, no one else should be.

OK, I have a confession to make: the other day he was in the bathroom while Kali took a shower and I looked over to the master bathroom and thought, “That boy needs a haircut!” It’s because the room was all steamy and his hair had kinda poofed out into a fro.

Shower Power

Back in April, I wrote about Kali’s reluctance to bathe. It wasn’t that she liked being dirty and/or smelly, she just had better things to do. She refused to slow down long enough to bathe because she would miss something happening downstairs, on TV, or outside the window. Why slow down to bathe when there were shows to watch, books to read, and video games to play? In short, she had shit to do.

But then Jack came along, outgrew his baby tub (sorry, Amy), and he became fascinated with standing by the side of the tub in the master bathroom as Kali was forced to take her nightly bath. Well, what really fascinated him was tossing objects in the tub, laughing as his sister squealed and ducked flying dirty underwear, toothpaste tubes, and hand towels, before Donny or I would drag him out of there. When he started stripping off his diaper and trying to climb in the tub with her, we realized we could kill several dirty birds with one stone – if we let him in the tub with Kali they’d both bathe, we’d get at least fifteen minutes of quiet time, and Kali wouldn’t get beaned with toilet paper rolls. Win/win/win. What we didn’t count on was Jack now tossing everything IN the tub out, and getting the floor soaking wet in the process.

Kali, sick of cleaning up after her brother and the responsibility of cleaning the tub before and after bathing, decided that she was finally ready to take her first shower. I helped her prepare by showing her how to adjust the temperature and stream of the water. I showed her how I usually draped my towel over the door so it’s ready when I’m done and told her where she could hang her loofah after she bathed. And, we were off…

Her first shower lasted 15 minutes, the second lasted 20. We are now at the point where I have to go looking for her to make sure she hasn’t drowned.

“Oh, Mommy! It’s so awesome! When you turn your back to the water it feels soooo good!”

I have created a monster. Albeit a very clean one, but a monster all the same. A monster that apparently doesn’t understand water bills or the concept of “using up all the hot water.” I find myself having to time my own showers around her schedule for, you see, she likes using my shower because it has a cool frosted door and resembles something out of an amusment park. Her own shower, by comparison, was too old school with its plastic shower liner and blue cloth curtain. Don’t ask me how one who just discovered the joys of a hot shower can be so damn picky.

But, I guess, I shouldn’t complain. My child finally, without having to be bribed or harassed, regularly, and enthusiastically washes her ass.

Nina’s Top Ten Things I Never Thought I’d Say… Until I Had Kids

10. “Please stop pulling your sister’s panties.”

9. “No, you cannot have Fruit Roll-Ups for breakfast. Because they’re not actually fruit.”

8. “Stop licking your sister’s arm.”

7. “Get your hands out of the toilet!”

6. “Don’t bite the dog!”

5. “Do not put that in your nose!

4. “You have to go to school. Because if I don’t send you to school, I’ll go to jail. Do you want Mommy to go to jail? I didn’t think so. Now, go get dressed.”

3. “No, my breastmilk isn’t chocolate because I’m brown.”

2. “Please don’t bite my nipple.”

1. “Stop playing with your penis!”

BIOBaby: Jack Updates

It’s been awhile. I’ve been busy with school and trying to get published. Thanks for your patience.

*

Jack is almost 14 months now. His vocabulary continues to grow. Donny has been upgraded from “Dada” to “Daddy.” It’s absolutely adorable and somewhat annoying. Annoying because I just realized a few days ago that he now says Mama when referring to me and when requesting food. My mom will be pouring a bowl of Cherrios for him and he’ll start chanting from his high chair, “Mama mama!” Kali will be pouring a cup of juice for him and he’ll be standing at her side, pointing at the cup, and screaming, “Mama mama!”

“This is because, to him, you are food.” Donny explained. “It’s kind of cute.”

“No. It’s insulting. A bit of my soul dies when my son affectionately calls a french fry, ‘Mama!’”

Donny has taught him how to say, “Belly.” He will rub his own, and sometimes one of our bellies, and say belly over and over again. Not to be outdone, I’m trying to teach him how to say, “esophagus.”

He’s a smart cookie and tries desperately to keep up with Kali and my lil sister, Bruklyn. The girls were outside the other day and Jack stood at the second floor gallery window watching them play. Suddenly, he began running a few feet to the wall, slapping it, and then running back to the window. I was standing nearby, on the phone with my Dad, silently wondering what the hell he was doing. Then, I looked out the window and saw that the girls were racing to the neighbor’s mailbox, tagging it with their hands, and then running back to the other neighbor’s driveway. Jack wanted to race too!

Yes, I’m still nursing him. He is not really feeling the cow’s milk, but will drink baby juice and water. He eats cereal, baby cereal, Gerber graduates meals, steamed veggies, and random things from our plates. He still likes to nurse at night before bed. I’m not worried about it because I told myself when I was pregnant that I’d try to nurse for the first 18 months.

He’s still sleeping with us as well. Some people seem to think that we are setting ourselves up for trouble later, but this isn’t our first rodeo. Kali was still sleeping with us at this age too. It’s even more convenient because he is still nursing. I’m not overly concerned with a rough transition to his own room because we have experience with it and did just fine.

Finally, Jack loves to dance.

Tomorrow: The Top Ten Most Ridiculous Things I’ve Said As a Mom

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