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?

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

Class Act

For years now I’ve wanted to get Kali involved in some kind of extra curricular activity. It’s been hard because most activities are ridiculously expensive and Kali is ridiculously picky.

When she was four she took ballet at her preschool for a year. She enjoyed it, but became too old for that particular program once she started kindergarten. Since then, we looked into piano lessons and soccer. Both were very expensive. We were thisclose to signing her up for soccer, but when we explained that she’d have to attend weekly practice and compete against other teams, her interest quickly waned. Thank God too, because the costly registration and uniform fees were non-refundable.

A few weeks ago, Kali’s school sent home some information on local activities for kids. One that caught my eye was a creative arts program. The class meets once a week for an hour to learn acting, dance, and video production. They put on two performances a year and it was only $50 a month. I told Kali we’d be going to the signup – with complimentary pizza and beverages – whether she liked it or not.

She did not.

She hit the roof. She insisted that she’d be no good at singing, dancing, and acting and that she didn’t want to talk in front of other people. I explained to her that she had no idea what she was good at because she refused to try anything. She agreed to go simply for the free food and also, the small minor detail that she really had no damn choice.

Now, I’m not a fan of parents pushing their kids to participate in programs against their will, but my child has never tried anything past the elementary ballet lessons. I figured I’d pay for it for a month or two and if she didn’t like it – or sucked at it – I’d pull her out.

Saturday, my Mom and I took Kali and my little sis (who is very much interested in the performing arts) to the all-you-can-eat pizza buffet place in order to sign up for the program. I’d warned Kali before we left, “Don’t get there and act like you’ve never had anything. You can have one slice of pizza, maybe two, and something to drink.”

It was the ghettoest thing I’ve ever seen. There was no organization at all. The director who ran the program looked like she’d had a Xanax shake before we got there. There were no forms to fill out, no program schedule and the website promised that each child would receive a bag of items needed for class complete with a journal – I didn’t see those either.

The director floated around talking to each parent without saying much of anything. Kali sat and ate her two slices of pizza with a smug look on her face. She knew I was not feeling it. When the director made her way to our table, she couldn’t even tell me the exact address of where the classes would be held. She was not getting my $50!

“Mommy, can I get more pizza and maybe a brownie?”

“Sure, Kali. Eat up.”

Not all is lost. Friday, her school sent home a sign-up sheet for a book club. Every other week Kali will stay after school for an hour to meet with the club. They discuss the assigned books and come up with questions about what they read. Then they practice competing with each other using a buzzer to answer the questions. The ten best participants will make up a team that competes against other book clubs in the county in February. Cost? $5 to cover the snacks provided at the meetings.

“I don’t want to do it!”

“But you like to read!”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to do the buzzer thing.”

“Are you kidding? Buzzers are fun! I’m all about buzzing in before the other guy. It’s awesome!”

“I don’t want to compete on a stage and have everyone looking at me.”

Now, I reason that if she doesn’t like the competition part of the meetings, she’ll suck at it and won’t make the team. And that’s fine. But I want her to have the experience of discussing books with other students. Book clubs are fun!

“Fine! But I’m only going cause there’s gonna be snacks!”

“Yeah, that and I’m making you.”

Are you sensing a pattern here?

Clothing Optional

It didn’t occur to me until a week or so before it actually happened that Jack’s first birthday coincided with Kali going back to school. Children are expensive! I decided to take inventory of Kali’s clothes before going school shopping. I had no interest in buying her a whole new wardrobe if she didn’t need one.

After discovering that she had well over a dozen pairs of jeans, dozens of shirts, and several pairs of capris and leggings that were all school appropriate, I bought her just one pair of jeans (because they were cute and $8) and a few short-sleeved shirts. She got two pairs of sneakers – a pair of pink Converses and a basic white pair of Sketchers, and new underwear.

That’s it.

The other day, a friend on Facebook asked via a status update if couples argued over what was an appropriate amount to spend on school clothes. She mentioned having a conflict with her husband on how much to spend. I posted what I had done with Kali and was surprised by some replies that seemed to suggest that going back to school required brand new clothes.

Kali gets a few clothing items throughout the year just because and when a store is having a particularly good sale, but she usually gets the bulk of her clothes in April (her birthday), before going back to school (August), when the weather starts to get colder (October, maybe) and at Christmas.

My FB friend asked if I had been talking to her husband because I guess he was thinking of doing what I had. She said, “At 15, I didn’t want to wear last year’s clothes, did you?” I replied, “No, but I also didn’t have a job!”

Also, Kali isn’t 15. She’s 10. And I don’t think I’m being naive in pointing out that Kali and her peers have yet to hit that stage where they’re judging each other on what kind of clothes are being worn. I used to feel bad when I bought her shirts from Wal-mart… until she’d come home pointing out all the girls in her class that had the same damn shirt. Name brands just aren’t on their radar… yet.

I remember being in the 7th grade and Lee jeans were all the rage. Lee would dye their denim so you could get jeans in all kinds of colors. There was a time when snatching the Lee tag from the back of someone’s pants was the cool thing to do. You could tell someone had their tag taken because the patch of material it covered was exposed as a darker rectangle along the belt loop. So, if you were wearing pink Lees, you’d have a dark pink patch. Well, my Mom insisted on buying me everything but Lees, and I couldn’t even play it off that my tag had gotten snatched because my Loos (or whatever the hell I was wearing) didn’t have the dark patch on the back!

One Mom who replied to the thread seemed to half agree with me. She said that her son was keeping three pairs of pants from last year, getting three more, and then getting a ton of new shirts. She concluded by saying, “I didn’t wear last year’s clothes and he won’t either.”

But here’s the thing – Kali ain’t wearing last year’s clothes! It’s August, school let out in May… and she hasn’t grown very much since then. Those clothes are being worn. It seems wasteful and materialistic to do otherwise. And guess what? In doing my inventory of Kali’s wardrobe I found many turtlenecks and sweaters from last winter that still fit. Those are last year’s clothes and she’ll be wearing them this year.

What are your guidelines for buying school clothes? Did you get lots of back-to-school clothes when you were a kid? What’s your worst fashion-related memory from childhood?

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