Author: wrekehavoc

there she goes again…

there she goes again…

BC somehow managed to attract every mosquito within a 1 mile radius between the time she walked from our front door to the moment she closed the car door. by that time, she had at least 10 angry mosquito bites, and they looked itchy as hell. the four of us then started our daily drive in to work/camp/day care, and this lovely little chat, worthy of one of those Reader’s Digest columns, took place.

BC: mama, why do i get so many mosquito bites?

Me: because, honey, you are so very sweet!

BC thinks a little.

BC: mama, how come they don’t bite dada?

Me: because he isn’t so sweet.

(BS grimaces.)

BC thinks some more.

BC: mama, how come they bite you?

Me: because i am so sweet, too!

BC pauses.

BC: you know, maybe we should stop eating so much junk food?

the hitchhiker's guide to menstruation

the hitchhiker's guide to menstruation

warning: graphic info follows.

so there we are, walking through the health and beauty aisle at safeway – me, BS, BC, and Jools. and BC points to a package and says, “mama, what are those?”

me: “those are maxipads.”

BC: “what do you do with maxipads?”

i was not prepared to have this conversation yet. in fact, i was hoping i could stave it off until she’s, uh, i dunno, in college. (for those of you new to my world, i should point out that BC is 5 years old.) there were several men in this aisle besides BS and Jools. i knew this was going to be a promising line of questioning.

me: “well, honey, ladies use them once a month.”

BC thought for a moment. i was hoping that a stampede of elephants would choose that moment to run down aisle 6. those fucking elephants failed me once again.

BC: “ladies use them when they have blood coming out of their bits.”

oh. my. g-d.

now you see, i never said this to her. i never had this conversation with her. in short, i was mystified. the men in the aisle turned white. by this point, BS and Jools were all the way down the aisle. i was on my own.

but it got better.

BC: “you wore maxipads after you had julian.”

you all must understand – i never made it a point to parade around the house wearing nothing but maxipads and a smile after giving birth. i don’t even think this child was ever near me in the bathroom during that time period. i think.

the remaining men in the aisle quickly chose a different aisle.

me: “yes, honey, i did. how did you know that?”

BC: …

BC: …

BC: “mama, can i get a new toothbrush?”

some questions will never be answered in life, i suppose.

at this point, BS and Jools had been busy looking at toothbrushes and missed the entire delightful part of the conversation.

and all i could think was, why, WHY do i get the interesting questions? “mama, what are maxipads?” “mama, what is G-d?” “mama, why did people treat Black people like slaves?”

the level of question difficulty BS usually gets from BC is something akin to “DaDa, can I have candy?”

in short, there is no justice. none.

syd barrett is not baby friendly.

syd barrett is not baby friendly.

i’ve been home all week with a very sick little boy. by wednesday afternoon, i came down with a bit of what he had, so i wasn’t feeling stellar, either. by today, though, we were both on the mend.

that being said, we’ve been in the house a lot. i’ve been putting on all sorts of music thanks to my subscription to comcast rhapsody. its like having an even larger record cabinet. through it, we’ve learned that my little Do loves brazilian samba soul.

but Do does not appreciate syd barrett or any early pink floyd. in fact, it creeped him out so bad, he toddled out of the room as fast as his little chubs could carry him.

pleased to report

pleased to report

today, jools decided to develop three new and exciting skills.

1) he now says “uh oh!” sometimes appropriately, even.

2) he loves to dance. he does a little deep-knee action. like he’s dropping a load in his diaper. repeatedly. he does it whether he is listening to music (the favorite du jour – “polly wolly doodle” by dan zanes (formerly of the del-fu-egos, as we like to sing it in this house thanks to juliana hatfield) or whether he has just pushed the little button next to his horsie’s ear. it sounds a bit like the pythons hitting the coconuts in “holy grail.”

3) he shakes his head “no.” usually, he does this when mommy is singing.

in short, i’m in trouble.

they taste like chicken!

they taste like chicken!

BC is completely wigged out by the cicadas. she begs me to carry her to the car; begs me to carry her everywhere. they are dead and dying; they are flying about. its really gross, to be honest, and i am grateful i don’t have to feign interest in these disgusting, wriggly things that are eating up my hostas.

so there we were, on our way to hebrew school, when BC spotted a bunch of cicadas on the walk. “mama, PLEASE pick me up, they’re there, they’re THERE!” she is frightened as hell, so i do what any other mother does – i pick her up, her long, gangly legs wrapping furiously around my waist in an effort to avoid all contact with the pavement.

then up bounds her little friend Zach – all bright-eyed in that way only three-year-old boys can muster. “Look!” he says enthusiastically as he thrusts something in BC’s face. “I brought my bug catcher FULL OF CICADAS!”

i thought my daughter was going to faint dead away.

BC is well on her way to inheriting the kind of awful luck and timing that her dear old ma possess 😉

death and friends

death and friends

well, you can’t exactly start humming uplifting tunes with a subject like that, can you.

two colleagues of mine lost fathers/stepfathers this week, one last night. one is a colleague who i really particularly have grown fond of over the past few months. i feel pretty terrible for him – his dad was very ill for a long time, and the measures taken to help him only made things worse due to inept caregivers. while i imagine my colleague is relieved on some level to not have to handle the stress of really poor care for his dad, i am quite sure there is a bit of grieving going on. as i have only known this person for about 6 months, i wouldn’t dream of imposing myself into the situation. i want to be respectful. i want to be thoughtful. i just wish there was something i could do. death makes us all realize how futile our efforts can be at times. our efforts to comfort can never truly match the efforts of time.

it makes me realize on a certain level, though, how fortunate i have been to once again find a group of people who i get to spend each day arguing with, laughing with, and really enjoying. i even have a great team who amaze me most days with their sense of humor, their terrific work, and just their plain kindness. (not to mention their tolerance for my off sense of humor. at least i don’t get the david brent award. yet.) i have been lucky, over the years, to mostly find funny, warm, and intelligent people in my immediate work circles. sure, there are those who i didn’t click with – that is just inevitable. you can’t like everyone, and not everyone will like you. once you get over that, it’s all gravy. i mean, shoot, i am actually still friends with most of my former supervisors! and not because i kiss up, either. i have never been very good at that, and i frankly don’t need to do that, even if i could. it isn’t my style, which probably is why there are a few folks out there who are not terribly fond of me. oh well.

anyway, i am even boring myself at this point. i guess i am feeling a bit somber. i guess death isn’t something i really enjoy talking about. maybe woody allen can make a career out of it. but i don’t think i can. not today, anyway.

natural childbirth?

natural childbirth?

just inspired by a discussion about artificial milk (READ: formula) and how some terms people use are sometimes not as sensitive as they might be… i just posted this to dcurbanmoms, and i will likely get skewered for it in the morning… here we go…

———
this discussion reminds me a little of another term i so enjoy hearing bandied about: “natural childbirth.”

as opposed to what – unnatural childbirth?

i know historically, there was a time when mothers were completely anesthetized before childbirth. i know, also, because by the time my mom had me, baby #3, her OB didn’t believe her when she told him that she was in labor. by the time anyone dealt with her, she had no drugs — nothing — and had me – something she hadn’t expected as a mom in the 1960s. in a word, as she put it, “ouch.” (and boy, was she mad when the OB, who was too busy on the golf course apparently, billed her for delivery services when she knew full well that he wasn’ t there — only the nuns and the nurses, LOL!) i know we have come a long way (baby), and how wonderful that people have so many options – and also more medical safeguards for the baby’s and mother’s life, should they be necessary. bully for the women (and men) who helped us evolve to this point.

but natural?

ok, i opted for an epidural. for me, i was able to be more focused with this medical intervention. but i still sweated like a longshoreman and huffed and puffed and worked pretty freaking hard to have my children. i would call it unnatural if, perhaps, someone decided to try and extract my babies through, i dunno, my nostrils (which, if that was biologically possible and the only way they could do it to keep them alive and healthy, you know i would have given it my best shot, unnatural or not.)

gosh, i sure wish advocates would call it something like “drug-free” instead of “natural” childbirth. everyone who experiences childbirth experiences a natural experience, no matter how many drugs or interventions, imho. after having my first child, i know i *really* didn’t appreciate it when someone close to me tried to put me down because i had an epidural (gasp!) while she not only had multiple drug-free births, but also remained a size 3. she acted as if she was the winner of the ironman baby birthing competition. all i could think was: 1) how wonderful that you had the choice to have those healthy, drug-free births – but hell, my goal was to have a healthy baby and make it through myself – by any means necessary; and 2) how i hate you for being a size 3 😉 (just joking on the latter point, btw. some of my dearest friends are size 3s, so please, don’t jump on me for this one.)

anyway, just a thought. a rambly one, but a thought nonetheless. here’s to natural childbirth – drug-free; with drugs; C-sections; VBACs; and everything else that i am too tired to list. we all want healthy babies and we all want to live through the experience as well. by any means necessary, i say.

ask a silly question…

ask a silly question…

BC: momma, where do you park a love car?

Me: (not knowing where this is leading or what a love car is, but realizing we just read the book “Wig,” a very silly children’s book that is an illustrated book set to the B-52s song): i don’t know, honey. where do you park a love car?

BC (spoken like barry white) : in the loooooooooove parking lot, mama!

i don’t know what that means, but i nearly fell off BC’s bed when she said that.

in other news, BS is sick. basically, we got home, he went upstairs, and that is pretty much all i’ve seen of him. i am currently living a glamorous life. i am cleaning poopy baby clothing (someone had a blowout this morning that covered him, literally from head to toe, in poop — and apparently, he had another one at school. joy.) i am doing dishes. i am ordering water filters for our system – apparently, we have lead in our water system, just like DC. i meant to do this a month ago, but today’s washington post was definitely a kick in the pants.

Theme: Overlay by Kaira Extra Text
Cape Town, South Africa