Posts Tagged ‘How Do I Love My Children?!’
The M & Ms were ‘helping’ SassyMama clean up the kitchen the other night.
(the kind of ‘help’ that pushes mama one step closer to the nearest meth lab)
BLARING from my very favorite appliance in the world, my under-cabinet TV/CD/DVD player,
came a COMMERCIAL.
The ubiquitous and obnoxious SNUGGY plug?
Naw; couldn’t be so lucky.
It just so happened to be one of those erectile dysfunction ads.
M2, her nose buried in her 3rd (yes, 3rd ) Nintendo DS game system, was intent on her Mario Bros. game — or so I thought.
The ad spokesman cautioned the millions of men within the viewing (and listening) audience who have the occasional and unfortunate flaccid penis to:
“Ask your doctor if you are healthy enough for sex….”
M2, my hyper-tasking-Ritalin-poster-child, immediately perked up.
“Mama, why did that man say, ‘sex‘?”
M1, who just turned a worldly nine years old, replied,
“Sex is whether you are a boy or a girl, stupid dummy-head.”
M2, who is six-going-on-26, said,
Sex is when you get NAKED!”
(Oh, God and Baby Jesus, help me)
Just then, The Dingus walked in to the kitchen.
I was able to face neither him nor my precocious children; I remained with my back to the whole flippin’ lot of them, frantically trying to recall where the hell I’d stashed my ‘Let’s Talk About Sex’ script.
***NOTE to SassyMama-Self: Find that dagum script — STAT! An all-nighter-cram-and-jam session may be needed so that I wouldn’t get caught tomorrow, bright ‘n’ early, with more prickly questions.
***Erstwhile, keep workin’ the ‘Mama’s-just-been-frontal-lobotomized-con’. Drool for added authenticity:
Seeing that — for once — SassyMama had no sass up her ass, M2 whipped around to confront her father.
“Daddy, did you and Mommy SEX in high school?
HOLY SHIT! WHERE’D THAT COME FROM?
That one’s NOT in the flippin’ script!
(Oh, God and infant baby Jesus lying in the manger)
I threw The Dingus right under the bus.
I let that question (and my hubby)
I was able to muster only a few more weak monosyllabic utterances while pounding a cabinet with my open palm
(that one was genuine; no acting on the pounding).
The Dingus wheedled out of the question by saying something akin to:
“That’s something only those who are 10 and older are allowed to talk about.
Until then, it’s not appropriate for little girls to discuss such things.
When you’re 10, MOMMY will tell you all about sex.”
Touché, mon ami, touché.
This is the first week of school that M2 has been ‘on green’ ALL WEEK.
Well, technically, she was ‘on green’ on Monday.
She spent the rest of the week at home trying to squelch her swine flu squeals.
But hey, the word ‘yellow’ didn’t appear once on her daily behavior report – that counts for somethin’, doesn’t it?
I gotta tell ya, this color system that schools use today to chart a student’s behavior is a great thing.
In M2’s class:
green is good
yellow is ‘a warning’
orange means ‘ya better back off, kid’
red says ‘Final Warning: one more time, and you’re gonna get it but good’
and BLACK bellows:
THAT’S IT, YOU LITTLE FUCKER!
Thank God this system wasn’t in place when I was in school.
I never shut the hell up.
I was always getting my chair or my desk moved either as far away from the others or front ‘n center beside the teacher’s desk.
I can’t help it; I’m a talker.
But in my defense, I must say, that when I would get in trouble, I’d really only talked or giggled ONCE.
After that, it only LOOKED as if I kept chattin’ up my buds.
In reality, I was just lookin’ around at everybody else — trying to figure out what the hell I was supposed to have been doin’
(‘cause I was too damn dumb to do two things at once and keep up with the rest of the class).
Hell, I never heard another kid’s oral report once I hit the 9th grade.
‘Presentation Day’ would come, and I’d automatically assume my position outside the closed classroom door.
I’d never have survived this color system; for The Viv – they’d have needed a color darker than black.
My M2 didn’t stand a chance.
Along with the chromosome for sass, I passed along the chat gene.
Her kindergarten teacher once told me that she really didn’t know what M2 looked like – ‘cause she’d only ever seen the back of her head.
The difference between M2 and me: SHE can hypertask.
That kid can appear to be totally off-task, doing something like, oh, I dunno, stuffing her mouth with sopping paper towels or carving ‘I love you’ into the dining room table with an unfolded paper clip (how do you beat her for THAT?!), keep track of how many times her sister has shot her ‘stink eye’ and then cough up an answer like
Ta duo da?
when translating ‘how old is she?’ in Chinese.
I feel sorry for her 1st grade teacher;
our Chinese tutor is dizzy after only an hour.
Damn! My girl is good!
If only I could hypertask AND keep my wits about me; my goddam lungs wouldn’t be charred.
I have a really hard time punishing a ‘talent’ I envy.
Bless her heart, M2 is having a really hard time with this color system.
In the world outside of school, ‘green’ means ‘go’ (or, ‘go ahead and talk’); ‘yellow’ is Daddy’s favorite color and the color of the brick road that skippin’ Dorothy follows home (hence, a ‘GOOD’ color to M2).
I would totally fuck her up if I reminded her…
the Wicked Witch is GREEN.
For the first time in the M & Ms’ short, little lives, SassyMama was able to stay home with them during the summer. I looked forward to this time with my beloved babes, hoping to relish every moment of every day spent with my darling daughters. Oh! The things we would do together! The books we would read! The adventures we would have! The “special time” we would cherish for the rest of our lives.
Yeah, right. That little pipe dream led straight down the crapper. That bliss I had envisioned lasted all of two frippin’ days! By day 3 of summer vaca, I was ready to rip my hair out by the roots and choke the little ‘tards! “Endless Summer” has a brand new meaning for me, my friends: Endless Summer of Screaming, Whining and Fighting is more like it! WHAT was I thinking?! They fought over everything imaginable: clothes, Nintendo DS games, who got to ring the neighbor’s doorbell 1st, who got to press the buttons on the freakin’ washing machine…you name it, they fought for it. My personal favorite was the wailing war over whose summer sandals Pappy was going to like best! JC on high!!!!! (and speaking of “high,” I now know why people take drugs).
I have had a headache the size of the tri-state area for 3 dagum months! I went through 3 bottles of Extra-Strength Tylenol during my Endless Summer of Misery! However, I am now in a 12-Step program to wean myself off. The day before school started back up, I found my foggy self driving aimlessly through seedy downtown streets…I’m pretty sure, subconsciously, I was cruising for a meth lab. (Whew! That Tylenol intervention was none too soon!)