Five years ago...walking out of GBMC, I think someone switched my sweet baby girl.
Because this can NOT be my child. This can not be my masterful creation. This CAN NOT be my blood.
A1 is allergic to chocolate.
GASP! GASP! SIGH!
Hold up...I just had an Ah-Ha moment writing this very entry. If she's allergic to chocolate & can't have it & I LOVE chocolate & must have it...then we are a perfect pair, aren't we?
AH-HA!
She really is a perfect child.
I'm at the computer, Big A is reading Half-Blood Prince at the dining room table and A3 is crying in the monitor. I guess he's awake from his nap. It's not a full on cry, more like a "what the hell people" cry. Like baby talk bitching. Waa Waa HELLOOO Waa.
It's probably been 3 minutes. Usually we give A3 a few moments to see if he's really awake or just arguing in his dreams. <-- Which he does! But I think he's definately awake..so now the game begins. Who will move first?
Him or me? Maybe if I start sighing loudly he'll think I'm doing school work and take pity on me.
HA! Spoke too soon.
He just went up the stairs.
I WIN!
What a good dad. I guess that makes me a.....
Uh oh, I better start dinner.
A1 & A2 speak dorish. Perhaps you are familiar with this language too. It's a delicate combination of Spanish, English and Dora the Explorer lingo. Heard of it? You know Uno, Dos, Trees, Quarter, Says, Backpack Backpack, so on and so mixed up.
Well, A1 and A2 both are relatively fluent in dorish. I sometimes catch them in the middle of a conversation that involves a ladder, a pantry and cookies and when my presence has been discovered it's like A1 gives the signal to speak in this secret code.
A1: Ahem
A2: *Looks around*
A1: I'm going to the roomo' to *wink* playa *wink*. Come on vamanos, let's go.
A2: wink with both eyes Delicioso.
Off they go looking over their shoulders. I should have known having two children 11 months a part would come back to bite me on the ass.
So this morning, I'm barely awake. A3 is toddling (is that a word?) around the room banging the remote against every solid surface he finds. I don't mind because as I float in and out of consciousness his banging lets me know he's still in the room and has not found something small enough to choke on just yet. The girls bring the parade in at 8AM. A3 just started walking probably 2 months ago, but already he's quick on his feet. As soon as a door creaks in the house he's ready to run. I think he was a slave in his most recent past life because he's always looking for ways to escape. But anyways, the door opens and A3 shoots out the door as expected. The girls come in and jump on the bed giving me their breakfast menu. Can we have some skittles this morning? No. What about Cheese Its? No. Please don't say oatmeal again, Mommy. I grumbled here because oatmeal was indeed in my head. What about we go get something to eat out, Mommy? Good idea! I think I said something to the effect of "okay, go get dressed and brush your teeth" but I was still half asleep so I might have said "clothes and teeth"...either way they understood because they moved.
A1: Mommy Mommy, are you da may?
Me: Hunh?
A1: Are you da may! ARE YOU DA MAY!
Me: Child it is July, what are you talking about?
A1: No Mommy, please please are you da may NOW.
I got out of bed with all the intentions to toss her out of the room but the closer I got to the door the more I realized that someone was having a grand time in a...pool? There were giggles and water splashing. A1 is in front of me and I see A2 standing in the doorway to her room. So who is laughing and splashing? And did I mention that I don't have a pool, let alone one in the hallway.
A3 is splashing in toilet water and having a ball at that. Ugh. A1 says ever so smartly, I told you are you da may, mommy.
Hunh?
A1: Are you da may, that's Spanish for help.
Oh Jesus take the wheel!
I always find that in the middle of the night I miss the A-Team the most. When the house is still and when there are no expectations of me, besides Big A needing extra special attention (wink), I yearn for the noise of day time. The "Mommy!" and "STOP IT!" and "i sowwy". I miss the song of the house, the laughter and whines and high pitch girlie screeches that bounce and vibrate down the hallway. I was meant to be a Mom. Sometimes I forget that, it's easy to when you're still relatively young, and majority of your peers are still sleeping in, moreover sleeping at all.
But yeah...I love this job. Please remind me of that when I'm complaining. Please remind me how lucky I am.
Please.
That's me.
Hello again old chum. The world is not really all that hectic. I'd love to lie and complain about how much I have to do and how much time I don't have but that would indeed be a lie. Though, I have started school and have started a second book, I am not that busy. I find that I have a lot of idle time when kids are off playing with electrical sockets or something. I just haven't been wordy...I'll come to post but then end up erasing everything I type.
It's like that sometimes, I suppose.
I have nothing earth shattering to share. My A-Team is growing up. I went on vacation for a few days with friends and A1 told me she had forgotten what I looked like and that I needed to come home. Ironicly, when I came home she looked different. As if she had grown older in four days. She's changed. Thank goodness the tubes are tied or I might have been overwhelmed with grief and tried to make another baby to replace the one I'm losing. I need to keep a bank statement under the sheets so when I get that feeling I'll be faced with reality before the ugly bumping starts. I love that saying..bumping uglies. Cracks me up.
Speaking of cracking up, my skin is cracking. I got a sunburn in Savannah and now I'm a peeling mess. So in case you were wondering, yes, black people do sun burn.
I'm supposed to be reading about the death penalty for ethics class....I better get on that.
Sorry that my comeback was boring, I'll try harder to muster up some drama for tomorrow or something. Maybe I'll have an affair after class so I have something juicy to tell you in the morning. I'll work on it.
There were about ten things my mom drilled into my subconscious as a chitlin.
1.) boys only want one thing.
2.) your home represents you, if your home is dirty that means you are dirty.
3.) fake it till you make it.
I'll spare you this time from sitting through my entire therapy session on why I am the way that I am. So forget the whole list and only focus on #2.
Clean! Clean! Clean! That was my life. If I wanted to go out, better clean up first. If I wanted to have people over, better scrub. If I wanted s new shirt...or to make a sandwich...or to go check the mail....you get it. "Did you clean" was my dream killer. With all that cleaning, you'd think I'd have OCD, instead I have HIN. Hide IT Now. Junk drawer, trash, closet, another junk drawer...I didn't learn to clean, I learned how to make it appear clean. I probably just got confused between #2 and #3 on momma's list.
However, what I did become obsessive about is....people coming to my house. I stress about it. I need at least 2 weeks notice before someone comes over just so I can organize the medicines in the medicine cabinet (because I know nosey people look there!) or rearrange the furniture or hang updated pictures on the wall. I KNOW how horrible that is. I could run the gamut on sistah-girlfriend-talk here. "You can't let what other people think affect you"..."Perfection will kill you"..."Just DO YOU"..
I know...I'm working on it.
Back to the cheese.
We're in the middle of moving, which means everything is a huge mess. I'm in the middle of needing a touch up, which means I'm a hot mess. And guess what happens...
Ding Dong.
You gotta be shitting me.
Nope...Ding Dong again.
Its my neighbor. I hesitate to open the door because I was just cleaning out the kitchen and I have flour all over my shirt (mishap), I have on mismatched shorts, my hair is in uneven pigtails and the living room had become a breeding ground for unfolded clothes and boxes and shoes searching for their mate. Sigh...
I answer anyway because its my neighbor and I want to be neighborly...afterall, what would he think of me if I didn't answer the door? There I go again...
Me: Hey
Apt 4: Hey, sorry to bother you (his eyes are trying to stay focused on me and not the mess or the baby running around in a basketball jersey and no pants because he ran away too fast when I was trying to change him) but could you spare like 5 pieces of sliced cheese?
Me: Sure..
Cheese exchanges hands. Thanks are given. Door is closed.
For the next 5 minutes I start talking loudly like a jackass by the front door about PACKING and MOVING and THIS HOUSE IS SO MESSY BECAUSE I'M PACKING...you get the idea. I want him to hear me so that he knows I'm not messy...I'm moving! And then I catch myself.
I'm still alive. The walls did not crumble. My skin didn't break out in hives. I'm still here and I'm still me, albeit a tad embarrassed, but I'm here and living on. Life moved past that uncomfortable moment of shame. All these years I've been scared to death for someone to see my house in its "natural" state, when its not staged. I don't know what I thought would happen, but it didn't.
Which reminded me of what someone once said to me:
"You wouldn't be so concerned about what people thought if only you knew how little they think of you."
Five stinkin slices of American cheese....that's all it took to break the spell? Who knew!
And...what do I have to be ashamed about? I'm not the one borrowing "spare" cheese. Umph!
I say. Feel mighty with parental powers. All those years of being on the receiving end of the "or else"s and now I am the master of my domain.
And you know what my child says?
A1: Are you threatening me, sloth?
Yes, she called me a sloth. But I couldn't be anymore proud that my 5 year old knew the proper usage of threatening. She asked me what it meant on Saturday while watching Ice Age 2 (hence why she called me sloth) and here four days later and she's using it like a pro!
I quickly slapped her and then smiled wide when I walked away, humbled by at her intelligence.
I'm kidding. I only smiled in my head. >:-p
(no, actually I am just kidding....calm down.)
