deus ex mama
i made the cardinal error of not checking BC’s pants before i put them in the wash. now. now, there is lots of crayon all over the clothes (mine, jools’, and hers) and all inside the drum of the dryer. we’re trying to get the crayon out of the dryer with WD-40 (as per the crayola site.) WD-40 is highly flammable. while i have great faith in our friends Binney and Smith and the directions from their website, i really, really am praying that things stay safe.
you never are fully prepared for some of the things that your kids do or say. and when it happens, it hits you in the head, full-on, and travels, like electricity, to your heart.
tonight, i took BC (AKA Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz) and Jools (AKA the not-so-cowardly-but-very-squirmy-lion) trick-or-treating down our street. we only visit the houses we know on our little cul-de-sac, so we don’t do quantity. but most of the neighbors are sweet; they invite the kids in, let them pet their dogs, let BC do a twirl or two in her costume, and then proceed to pour pounds of candy into their bags. (we don’t get a ton of traffic on our street, so they can afford to throw tons of candy at the street’s kids. some of these people buy FULL-SIZED BARS, mind you. it’s boggling.) one elderly couple, the hacketts, who moved last year used to create little goody bags with the kids’ names on it. i never had this sort of experience growing up, to be sure; but then again, i didn’t know any of my neighbors growing up, either, except for the Blakes, the Venticinques, the Emmerts, and, well, that’s it for Hilltop Road.
so we were rounding the cul-de-sac corner, headed toward Miss Hattie’s house. Miss Hattie lost her husband, Bob, earlier this year after a long, debilitating illness. Bob, as crotchety as he liked to seem, always invited BC over to swing on his old swing and play in his backyard. He was truly a kind-hearted guy masquerading as a tough old career Navy man. eventually, we made it to Hattie’s door. Hattie was gracious as ever, offering BC (and Jools, who was more interested in ringing her doorbell incessantly) tons of chocolate.
“Miss Hattie,” BC said, “i miss Bob. i remember swinging in the swing with him.”
i thought Hattie was going to tear up. but, as a woman who i suspect had to be a very tough military wife in her day, she steeled herself. “you know, i miss Bob, too,” she replied. “thank you for saying that, dear.”
as she hugged BC, she added, “you know, i didn’t really decorate much this year for halloween.” her daughter, who lives across the street, told me that hattie didn’t have the heart to decorate this year, her first halloween without Bob for like 50 some-odd years. but no matter.
without missing a beat, BC replied, “but Miss Hattie — you have your broom on the porch! that’s a good decoration.”
“why yes, it is, dear, yes it is.” Hattie chuckled, momentarily moved from her memory of loss.
“and Miss Hattie,” she added, “you have a great big spiderweb on your light. that’s good for halloween, too!”
under normal circumstances, i would be mortified that my daughter would note something like that. i mean, the lady must be pushing 80 at least, so i imagine that cleaning cobwebs isn’t high on her to-do list. but when i saw Miss Hattie break into a smile, i could have squeezed my daughter from here to next halloween.
good save, bunnygirl.
two weeks ago, my kids had fifth disease. this week, my kids had hand, foot and mouth.
now, i have 102.7F and feel like crap. i attended a meeting by phone this morning because i felt like i was once again the human impediment if i didn’t. i hope i made sense.
but i have no sick leave. i have no annual leave. i have no mommy leave. i have to laugh because i have a friend who feels very indignant about the fact that her annual leave has been eaten up by family crises. like annual leave should only be for fun days off. i wish i could scream into her ear — annual leave is for the days when you must take time off. if it means its glorified sick leave, then so be it. her sense of divine entitlement shakes me to the core.
here’s hoping i start to sweat soon.
joyous day, calloo, callay, to borrow from my beloved dr. seuss.
it appears that we have a wild outbreak of hand, foot and mouth disease in this house. (or, for those of you who like the beavis and butthead-sounding name, coxsackie. uh huh, she said coxsackie, uh huh. yeah, whatever.) yesterday, we confirmed that the fever and the bumps all over jools’ legs were not a reaction to his ridiculously-rare flu shot but were, in fact, a result of this lovely virus. best of all, one hour before i was going to leave for the pediatrician’s office, the school nurse called me and informed me that BC was suffering from a fever and could i possibly come and pick her up?
after waiting to see whether BS could pick her up (he couldn’t because some not-so-nice-person had their car blocking his at the parking lot and couldn’t be reached), i whooshed over to BC’s school, only to have the school nurse MIA while my daughter slept on the cot. meanwhile, a helpful second grader informed me that the nurse would be back soon. nice to know there’s supervision going on in that there school.
so the nurse returns and decides that she will go find BC’s backpack. considerate and sweet of her, right? wrong. after 10 minutes, i nearly sent out a pack of dogs in search of the nurse, who clearly traveled to Honduras to look for this little princess backpack. (there are only 4 kindergarten classes in the school.) long story short, we went searching for the nurse, the nurse missed us, and voila! more time wasted. ultimately, we found each other and raced out the door. i had 30 minutes to get to the pediatrician’s office, a 20 minute ride when it isn’t rush hour. which, btw, it now was.
but wait. there’s more.
we walk to the car in the parking lot. i open the car door for BC so that she can climb in. “mama,” she says sleepily, “where’s my car seat?” yes. my beloved BS removed her car seat and put it in the other car that morning. he did not replace it with anything, not even folger’s coffee. now, BC is a month and a half shy of 6, which is the age when kids can officially be car-seat-less in our great Commonwealth. however, on this date, there happened to be 50, yes, 50 police officers across the street from BC’s school. some wild protest was underway, and they needed a flock of folks in blue to monitor it lest things get ugly, i suppose. my luck. i am breaking the law, and there are many, many cops to witness it.
somehow, i managed to slink by the whole lot. i raced home, found the other car seat, threw it in, got everyone safely belted up, and raced for the doctor’s with 20 minutes to spare. only, sadly, the two slowest drivers on G-d’s green earth were in front of me. fortunately, BS dozed off in the car. jools, being a toddler, doesn’t quite grasp mama’s guide to colorful speech. although, i suppose, if i hear him utter the word “fuck” this week, there will be no way of telling his caregiver that he is trying to say something in spanish. i don’t think that excuse will work this week.
so whoopee! 2 for the price of 1 at the pediatrician’s office. 5 minutes late for my appointment with an office jam-packed full of germy kids. life just doesn’t get better than this. and nevermind that i was there two weeks ago with a daughter who had contracted fifths disease. both kids officially have coxsackie disease. nevermind i have been without sick leave since april 1. nevermind that mama has a huge contract to negotiate at work. we can’t be bothered with such minor bits. we are far too busy contracting all of the great pediatric rashes of the western hemisphere.
today, hand, foot, and mouth. tomorrow, beri beri.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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 😉