Archive for the ‘family’ Tag
January 03 2012
For the first time in 8 years, I do not have the overwhelming feeling of dread when I smell the air only to realize someone needs changed. There are no more wipes, no more rash ointment, no more plump saggy bottoms. Just a toilet that has seen its use triple in this past month and a toilet paper roll that can’t seem to ever stay full. Charmin is making a fortune off of my family alone.
We are diaper free. During the day, anyway. Because Abby still doesn’t stay dry at night. That’s a small hurdle that we’ll jump over in time.
I would like to say that it’s a relief, this new-found diaper freedom. Except I am still an integral part of my children’s bathroom activities. They call me in to show off the product of their hard work, like I’m supposed to be impressed. Reminders have to be given, public restrooms scouted at first entrance, extra clothes packed just in case. I still have to wipe to make sure bottoms are clear. After 8 years, my hands remain far from clean.
The last thing I need is another kid that poops its pants.
My daughter made this past Christmas the year of the doll. She asked for 2 baby dolls from the big jolly guy, and her wish was granted. And then some. My mother noticed the easy opportunity in front of her, and took it.
“I couldn’t tell, is that one of those dolls that wets itself? Because I was hoping it is”, my mother wondered with a clever smirk as Abby covered herself in unwrapped paper and I glared her down with a look of pure evil.
My mom thinks she’s so funny.
October 10 2011
Abby has taken up quite a significant rock collection. Scouring for the perfect smoothed pebble has become her favorite past time whenever we venture outside. Her hands are happiest when they can take an unlimited amount of time sifting through dirt and debris, her small grasp never quite big enough to hold them all.
Not only does she have many stones gathered in different sections across our drive, we’ve brought the best of the bunch inside. My mom was over the other day and noticed the overflowing bowl we store them in, along with a few dusty stragglers scattered on the floor. “Did you wash all those rocks when you brought them in?”, she asked.
“No”, I replied. “Why would I wash off rocks when I’m just going to throw them back outside when she gets tired of them?”
“Well, I used to wash your rocks when you brought them in”, she remarked, haughtily.
“No, you didn’t”, I disputed.
My mother was adamant in her insistence, though. “Yes, I did.”
This wasn’t our first trip down alternate paths of memory lane. I would like to say it stopped here. But like a pebble in water, it had a ripple effect. We went back and forth a bit more before the subject was changed, neither of us willing to budge on our recollection of events. It’s just every day rocks, after all. The preferred kind you can skip onto any pond. I wonder, however, how even the smallest grain of reflection against the resulting folds of reminiscence can skew in such contrast for a mother and daughter who have spent most of their life living alongside. And how, exactly, does that bode for how my children will remember me.
September 19 2011
My mother asked, some time ago, if there was anything my kids needed for school. Jedi could use some socks, I told her. And so one early morning before the boys left for the day, my mom stopped by a general convenience store and picked up a pack of socks.
Upon walking in, my mom handed me this pack of socks as if she were passing off something illicit and more mind-altering than footwear. In a secretive hush and dirty demeanor, she whispered, “I got these, but didn’t realize until I’d already paid. They’re girl socks.”
3 plain white pairs of socks, save for orange lettering on the toe. Which read No Nonsense. From the pantyhose brand.
“When he has shoes on, you won’t even be able to tell”, I brushed the situation off while thanking her. Which is true. I put a pair of the socks on him that morning, none the wiser. My mother, however, continued to feel bad until a week later when she was able to buy him the correct kind.
I have continued dressing Jedi in those socks when needed, though, because socks are socks. As long as they’re clean and match, an accomplishment unto itself. That is, until Jedi noticed.
“Why does it say No Nonsense on my socks?”, he asked.
Quickly, I blurted, “It’s to remind you what a strong boy you are”.
Strong, like pantyhose.
September 05 2011
Selecting Abby’s outfit for the day can be a teeth-gnashing ordeal. There shouldn’t be much bickering, since she only wants to wear the same ensemble every day. Surprisingly, however, take issue with this. Especially when her cherished garments are out of season. Or dirty. Clean clothes, let alone a change now and then, they’re your friend.
As per usual on this day, she went for her normal attire. Black leggings and a striped long-sleeved shirt to layer upon. Though it was supposed to be a record high temperature of 103 that day and this would be like wearing a sauna. She needed to be presented with other options. I opened her dresser drawer and bravely suggested, complete with explanation, “It’s supposed to be really hot today, so why don’t we put on some shorts, or a dress?”.
Abby’s face turned into a pout as she formed a reply that sounded a lot like, “You’f a bonny”.
“Did you just call me a bunny?”, I asked her.
“No. You…”, she continued pointing her finger in my direction, articulating each word as clearly as she could with emphasis. “You full a baoni.”
Catching on, I offered, “I’m full of bologna? Did you learn that from Grandma?”.
“Yep. You full a baoni, Mommy”, she repeated.
In the end, we compromised, she sweated, and I’m still full of bologna. I can thank her grandma for that.
August 12 2011
We have had Grey Kitty as a member of our family for going on 14 years. He’s a senior citizen as far as felines are concerned and is more than willing to take advantage of his elder stature by sleeping his days away. Rarely does the cat move unless there’s food to consume or a break for his litter box or a kid has found his hiding spot. He’s a lazy lump of fur, is what I’m saying.
For the past few weeks, however, he had been slurping up water like his tongue was on fire. And his litter box would need changed a lot more than usual with it. At first, I just chalked it up to being extra thirsty.
Soon, the vomiting began. Horrendous and vile and continuous every time he dared to stand. Grey Kitty turned wobbly and weak and was withering into a skeleton. Finally, I realized my almost 14 year old poor excuse for a mouser was just getting worse without help. As it turns out, not only did my cat have a tumor that needed removed, but he has diabetes.
My cat. Has diabetes.
Did you know cats can get diabetes? I didn’t. I continue to be bewildered by the disease.
Jedi appeared consoled at the news, a way for him to feel like he’s not in this alone. Because no child at his age truly wants to be different. If he has to get poked and injected with insulin, I’m sure it helps to know others who are going through the same. Even those who are unexpected, like his cat. I can’t help but wonder, however, is there something in the water around here?