top 10ish pet peeves for 12/6/2012

I am full of opinions, I have been for quite some time, but as I get older things seem to bother me more and more. As I child I was kind of quiet and more of an observer, I took in things, and noticed a lot more than other children my age probably should have. My father, who is an interesting man, kind of put his stamp or branded me at a young age. He has own slightly skewed version of how the world works, and although he didn’t really try to teach us much of it, I learned, and mastered.

My father has weird ideas, like his idea that short socks make you homosexual, I am not lying, this is something he believes strongly, and so whenever I or my mother would buy my younger brother a pair, he would throw them out almost immediately. There are other ideas he has of child rearing that just don’t seem reasonable to me, but I agree with him, because it’s a little easier that way. We spent a lot of time outdoors with my father, and now he comes up once or twice a month and takes my children out on walks by the river, and shows Zaryus and Zoey nature, we have a huge turkey feather in my house currently that Zaryus keeps asking for ink to use, because his poppy told him that’s how you write with it.

My father also taught me what it was to be a black American, how skin color works, and what it means to be me. He gave me access to any book I could ever want to read, and would ask my opinion on it. He also made me keep a journal of what I did at school each day, and would read it and complain about how I wrote my “f”s. Seriously, this was my childhood. He balked at the fact when I was around 12 I read a Malcolm X biography and refused to eat pork again, (I still haven’t). He tried to break me, with the smell of fried bacon in the morning, ham for dinner; luckily I do have a mother, who made him stop eventually. Even though to this day when I ask what’s for dinner at my mom’s when I’m over, he will say “swine, why are you hungry” or something to that effect.

I speak about my father because he is the background for me, and who I am, I am also my mother’s child, and I will write about her at another time. Being my father has made me have very strong opinions about who I am, and has caused me to have many, many pet peeves, or things that get under my fucking skin. This is a list. Today’s list, it changes and I add things from day to day.

Grown men riding bikes in traffic, with helmets on. It really kills me when they are riding women’s bikes or bikes that are entirely too small for them. And when they use their hands like traffic signals.

Fat people with too small clothes on, I hate to see someone’s back or their stomach flopping over their pants, put some fucking clothes on that fit. That’s me in my head.

People who smell like cigarettes, or have bad hygiene in general. This has really started from working in the court house, if I have to do you paper work and your breath smells so bad I can smell it before you enter the room there is something wrong.

Bad little kids. I really hate them, I love kids in general, but if your kid is bad and I can’t beat them or put the fear of Jesus in them, don’t bring them near me. I hate a screaming ass kid, especially irks me if they are black, because our culture doesn’t tolerate that shit. And I hate to see a screaming bad kid in the store, if I can have two quiet kids, why can’t you?

Kids over the age of 1 with a pacifier. Seriously?

That said kids over 2 in a stroller, this is on Zaryus’ list as well, he calls them out to their parents and everything, that is not a baby!

People who can’t drive, and old people driving.

People who drive too slow. I’m always rushing even if I’m early.

People with food stamps in the store who have Iphones, coach bags, and uggs on….

Grown women with nasty weaves, bad hair in general gets on my nerves.

People who have dogs, and let them A kiss their mouths, and B shit all over the place. Especially in public parks. Nasty, just nasty.

I’m sure I’m missing about 20 or so items, I left some really offensive ones out, something’s I know I should probably keep to myself. I will just leave you with this. I’m not sure if Rufus Overby raised me right or not, but I know who I am, and for those of you who don’t know me. I will let you know J

My Christmas list

All I want for Christmas, let's see the list is so long. I would like to be able to use the bathroom without being interrupted. Pee with the door closed, shower without someone coming in with me, or a flattering comment about my body parts, or how I smell. I would like a vacation on a beach with chiseled men licking my toes (not really into that but I'd give it a try) and feeding me alcohol by the gallon.
I'd like a house that keeps itself cleaned, a closet that stays full with clothes that fit no matter what. A personal chef and a house elf to keep things going while I'm at school or away.
I'd like a nanny, or two, so there are no more two o'clock in the am wake up screams, and Saturday mornings that start before the sun rises. I'd like to get wasted drunk and not have to wake up to a little person under my covers telling me they think they smell beer. Why and when did you get in my bed anyways?
Back to the vacation, it needs to be somewhere with white sand, and blue water. And I need to be able to swim without worrying about my hair when I get out.
I'd like to be able to come home from work, and have all of my time to focus on the kids I brought into the world. This brings us back to having a house elf and a chef. If you can see there is a theme going. I don't want to have to worry about bills, and homework, and snagging a state job with good benefits.
Did I mention I'd like to pee without having conversations while I'm doing it? Never mind the conversations; I want to be able to go in the bathroom without being asked if I have to pee or poop, or whether I washed my hands. Who raised this kid anyways? Does anyone else’s kid need to know this information?
What I would most like is to see my children grow and be happy and successful, I'd like to be able to spend every waking hour with the ones I love and not the ones I spend my days with now. Who I in no way shape or form love.
I want to make memories that last a lifetime, splash in blue water with two other pairs of feet splashing besides me.
But what I would really really like first and foremost is to get a god damn lock on my bathroom door.

My President is Black

So instead of filling people’s newsfeeds on fb I am choosing to go low key this year. We all know who I am voting for and while it is because I’m black, it’s because I believe that this man Barrack is the man who should be in charge of our country. I believe in him, I never doubted him when others said he wasn’t keeping his promises. I love this man, and I don’t know him, I love the way he talks, I love his relationship with his wife, I love how he treats his daughters. I love him because he is our president. And by ours I mean us as displaced Africans. He is ours; it doesn’t matter if his skin is light, if he wasn’t raised around us. He knows who he is, and I’m sure many a republican has called him all the names I have been called in my life.

I do not consider myself an American, although I am happy to have the right to vote, and to have the rights that we are said to have. I know that this is not my country and that my people came here without their own consent. That said this election is the most important in my life. This election is a decision that our nation has to make. What rides on this to me is my children’s future. Not only my children’s future but my friends children, the families I work with, their education system.

I write this as a mother of a child who was able to go to school because of government subsidies that helped us to be able to pay for his early childhood education. I write this as a mother whose daughter receives WIC and if she didn’t we would not be able to afford her prescription formula, because she has allergies that we cannot afford. It is not that we are not hard workers; my husband works more than he is home. I work and go to school to get my second and third degree so we can make more money and not have to ask for any help. There have been moments in my son’s life where he didn’t have any insurance; since we have had him on child health plus another government funded program he has never missed an appointment.

How can anyone, want someone who has such disregard for families, women, minorities and their needs to run this nation. Does Romney know that it is a stated fact that we as black families make less money than anyone else in this country? No he thinks like most rich white people that we are lazy and wait for handouts. It’s been stated. I go to school with financial aid, and I am proud to be in school, to be working hard to give my children the same opportunities that I had. I want my son to see me and be inspired. His mom could work, take care of home and take 15 credits a semester. I want to be their hero.

Is it our fault that my pay rate is way less than my white counter parts? That society steers us to only be able to live in certain areas, and if we don’t we will be made to feel so uncomfortable that we would end up moving? I want to know what else Romney wants me to do. I know I am not the only parent who has these hard ships. I speak to people like myself on an everyday basis.

So when I’m asked why I want Obama to win and will be heartbroken if he doesn’t these are some of my reasons. I feel proud when my son says he wants to be like this man who likes him on the television. I cried with tears of joy when I saw him walk across the stage during his inauguration. It is not all about race, but it is uplifting to see someone who looks like me. As young Jeezy said “My president is black”, and he deserves 4 more years.

 

Zoey turns 1!

My daughter is turning one, and because of this I am planning her birthday party. I have always had birthday parties so to me this seems like the norm, you have a party, and celebrate with your friends and family. Show off your child, and have everyone ooh and ahh over the child that you pushed out a year ago.

That being said there had been a lot of conversations going on in my house with how much is too much as the main topic. My husband has never had parties, even a sleepover that he can remember. I have, always every year in some way celebrated my birthday. I’ve thrown myself parties when my parents thought I was too old to really continue doing so. I have bought myself presents, gotten my hair done. I mean this was the day that I was born, so it needs to be fabulous.

My son has had some great parties, but since his is in the summer it’s a little easier to make people entertained. My daughter was blessed like me to be born in the late fall. So hers has to be fabulous. That being said Ive been to many a wedding and or party, and the whole time I was at this sham  I thought, well how sad is it that my daughters party will be nicer than this. Let me just say a wedding is not a wedding without music and flowers. And a party isn’t one for me if there is no liquor flowing. What the hell am I buying a gift for if not at least an hour of free liquor?

When I talk about peoples parties and weddings I feel bad, because it’s not that I am just saying that my daughter’s party will probably be more impressive. I know it. My mother, the woman who has raised me to be the fabulous psychotic person that I am today is planning my daughter’s party with me. We are, the queens of parties. There will be a performer/ DJ. There will be brownie pop center pieces, pictures of my daughter wherever you turn. Catered food, two cakes, one for my daughter and one for everyone else. There will be games, and yes, flowers. I have hand made the grab bags, and my children’s shirts for the day.

I know this may sound, and looks as I read back obsessive. But my daughter who came 3 weeks earlier than expected, is one of the most important people I have in my life. Every time she smiles I see myself in her. When she scratches me in my chest so I won’t put her down I love her a little bit more. I love to see her clapping to music; hold her baby toys in her mouth while she scoots into her brothers room. I cry when she cries, (with the exception of bed time because that B hates to sleep). I don’t think that I have been more in love with another woman ever in my life.

So will there ever be an ending to the argument that my husband and I will probably have every year around this time? Probably not, next year I am thinking of a mommy and me nail party, haven’t quite run this by him, but you know, we will climb that hurtle when we reach it, or however the saying goes. Is having a genuine event for a child over kill? I don’t think there is anything too big when it’s proving your love to another. That said I probably would like a fossil bag and a surprise party for mine. I mean, go big or go home!

Be in love with being a mom!

Making the decision to be a mom was one of the easiest I have ever had to make. I took it, accepted it, and decided to excel in it. So now after having two children and knowing that I will never ever ever, can I say ever one more time, have another I feel as if I should share some of my secrets. It’s the least I can do, as an old pro.

When I found out that Zaryus was right and I was having a girl, all I could think about was this little person who was growing inside of me. (During my pregnancy with Zaryus I dreamed of his face every night, and after I finally had him my first words after seeing him were "oh, it’s a baby." Putting a face or an image to this person who you have been carrying around, and hopefully loving the entire time is and was exhilarating.) Back to Zoey, I first thought about all the things Zoey and I could do, things Zaryus likes to do and I allow him, but eventually he won’t want to do, or will have a stigma attached to them. His father doesn’t mind that my son knows what goes into getting your eyebrows waxed, or nails done, Zaryus is also a superb shopper and can get me a pair of shoes that match my outfit in the blink of an eye. He is the king of compliments, and I think right now I am in the beginning stages of grooming him to be a good man to another wonderful woman like myself.

Zoey is still not old enough to do any of these things, and Zaryus is starting to outgrow them. Well at least shopping, he has to be bribed lately with candy, and he mostly comes just to see if I might cry when they wax my eyebrows because "they like rip your skin off." I never cry, not in front of him I learned the hard way, he will tell on me.

With Zoey I have plans of mommy and me hair appointments, trips to NYC to Cookies and other children’s department’s stores. I have pageant plans, if she can grow some hair. I can picture matching cotton candy pink nails, pedicures, and sneakers that match. I have so many dreams, some have been crushed. (I tried to buy her a gold bangle the other day but she is too small, just about broke my heart, but I will not be deterred, we will look for a smaller one.)

Why is it that I dream of these things, I really don’t know. I don’t have too much to look forward to in my life; I can hope that Modern family will be really funny, or that my meatloaf doesn’t dry out. Life once you have kids doesn’t end; it just becomes life once you have kids. You don’t really hang with too many people who don’t have kids, because they don’t really get you. They can try, and pretend to relate, but they don’t see art work like you when you show them a perfectly colored spider man. This is not to say that every person who has kids is like this, so have no interest in their children. I am a committer; it’s one of my strong points.

So what’s my advice for you parents, my advice is to dream of things that may or may not be possible. To force your children to do things that they don’t want to do, not because you’re a sadist, but because one day your child won’t be able to be bribed. Like I said I use candy, or a pack of gum, but my sons a cheap date, he may sometimes ask for a donut only to eat the frosting and sprinkles. I allow him; this is the price you pay for quality time. Do not feed into society's stigmas, real men can match outfits. Maybe not the one I married per se, but definitely the one I birthed. And don’t be afraid to fall in love with them, over and over and over again.

I have a million dreams for Zoey and I, some unobtainable, but anything is possible if you work at it. But when you look at her you see me, and when you look at me you see her, we are one in the same, and this is for one reason only, the love I have for these beautiful people I have created.

Sleep is the enemey

Being a parent is a very interesting job. You get to know this little being you have created better then you actually know yourself. You know when they are hungry, tired, cranky, lying. With knowing these things you also know how to satisfy each one of these needs. Your children don’t have to know this, that you already know what they want before they ask for it, it’s like some secret parent code, and you don’t even have to go to meetings. Of course being a parent isn’t for the faint of heart, you don’t get much sleep, if you’re like me you get to gain weight that you will never have time to loose, but every time you look in those little faces you think it was so worth it. (There is a reason moms wear sweats, just saying).

Every night at around 8pm like clockwork the argument of going to bed begins. My son is a child who hates sleep, asking him to sleep is like asking him to inflict some form of sick bodily harm to himself. There are first the tears, and then the excuses, he’s "thirsty", he has to "poop", he’s still a "little hungry", and he hasn’t given us all "kisses and hugs". You would think that after 4 years on this planet he would just let it go, get some sleep. But not my Zaryus, he will fight it, and us, until we have to beg, threaten, yell. It’s a cycle that no one really wants to witness, but is amusing to watch. To date he has never won, we stand strong, and eventually he will sleep. It is how he falls asleep that is questionable in itself.

He will put on layers in the summer, and lay under blankets. He will fall asleep on the floor, on piles of toys, and will sleep for hours. He sleeps with his feet on the walls, and his head on the floor. I tell people about this and everyone thinks that this, among other things I am making it up. They also  don’t believe that 4 year old boys use words like obnoxious, transforming, among others in daily conversation.

I don’t record our conversations because that would be weird and if you were to in fact have a conversation with him that he decides is worth his while he will let you in on how he feels on the world in his own special way. Otherwise he might not speak, another issue my children have, being silent if they don’t feel like entertaining the adult who is asking to be amused.

As a mother I feel like I am somehow responsible for what a great well rounded child I have raised. I know it has only been 4 years, but I know we will continue to be monumental. I now have another child, who also does not like to sleep. I think that this may somehow be in my genes or the fact that sleep is my best friend, and all that I did while pregnant with either of them was sleep in any free moment I had. His sister is less vocal about it; she just keeps us up at random hours of the night and won’t be satisfied until she is rocked to sleep while watching Elmo. I never said life was easy in our house.

I’ve digressed. Zaryus while being a very bright boy has not learned that you cannot out smart sleep. He has learned that if he refuses nap in school he will be on yellow, (which is not as good as green, but not as bad as red). He does try to rationalize with me by saying "well mom green is excellent, and yellow is good". I like the way he thinks, and I do believe he will one day be a great politician, or a lawyer, something or someone who is good at lying to people and will morph their point of view by using his big words, and charming smile.....

So while I continue to raise my little politician, and take pride in his each and every achievement, I would like to leave you with the images of some of the more recent ways I have caught him sleeping. Hey he may be on to something, he always seems well rested and in good health.

 

 

 

 

Dental hygiene

So I have mentioned we have a thing about hygiene in my house. There are a lot of things we have going for us but cleanliness is one of them. I can strictly remember my mother watching me like a hound dog to make sure I actually cleaned myself. And my father yelling while I was in the bath I don’t hear the water moving. So maybe I have my own twisted reasons for being obsessed with being clean.

This week we had to go to the dentist, and for the past couple of months I have been threatening Zaryus with the thoughts of cavities. It was like Santa coming at Christmas, except this was going to the dentist and pictures of needles not sugar plums were dancing through his head. As a parenting tip, you can threaten the hell out of your kid for almost everything. I use my threats on behavior and hygiene issues, but you can pick your own battle, and you will most likely win.

I am not too into anything outdoors, as I’ve mentioned, and I really don’t like dirt and bugs. So when I watch Zaryus dig in the dirt for hours, or Zoey eat sand I am mortified. I hear people around me say things like they don’t bathe their children every day, and I don’t know how to handle this information. My kids get one or two baths A DAY. And sometimes I don’t feel like that is enough.

The dentist has always been a happy place for me; I did not have cavities and still have not to this day had one. So I’ve always enjoyed going, I also was not really allowed to eat sweets, and wasn’t half as sneaky as the child I have birthed so I didn’t have to worry much going in. Zaryus on the other hand, has been thrown into growing up with the birth of his sister and has been put in charge of taking showers, and brushing his teeth, cleaning his room...etc. It’s not that I don’t love him, which I do, it’s just that I have a lot on my mind, and since he’s pretty independent he has been put in charge of the easy stuff.

So lately he’s been commenting very proudly that he has yellow teeth, but no cavities. He also has taken to blaming all of his farts on Zoey, which is another topic all together. Anyways back to the dentist, I think I was a little more nervous than Zaryus but I kept it cool. I felt like a shitty mom all week for not brushing his teeth more, I mean I watch him do it, and send him in the bathroom multiple times a day. (Side note I don’t know how parents with more than two children do it, shit is rough over here). We go into the dentist and I’m all nerves and he’s okay, because things don’t really scare him too much.

We go in and I admit immediately that I don’t floss his teeth. No one looks at me like I’m crazy or like cps is going to be called. Zaryus starts to get nervous, when they ask him to lay back and open his mouth. I walk away, and pretend to be preoccupied with Zoey. The whole trip ended well, I’m told he had the best teeth the dentist had seen all day and he was her last appointment. Not to pat myself on the back, that’s all Zaryus, I would have given him a treat if he didn’t have a fluoride treatment and not allowed to eat for 4 hours.

When we get home we call his father and tell him the good news, and as I’m talking him up, what is my son doing but…eating candy after being told not to eat by the dentist several times. And of all things candy corn!  I yelled and he spit it in the floor quickly. It all worked out, I am not as shitty as a mom as I feel I am in my head, I will still make my kids take a trillion baths, and dirt and bugs will probably always gross me out. Being a second time mom is exhausting, candy corn, juice, chocolate milk and all.

Me, Myself, and Nature

Somewhere in life I read an article that told me that eating dinner as a family is key. Key to what, that I dont remember but I use this time to grill Zaryus on what he has learned at school. Typically nothing, and what he did, his friends names, we still dont know those, etc. I have a kindle fire which Zaryus is now addicted to, he watches netflix and at any given moment from the time he comes home from school he is watching something. I have now banned the kindle at least during the school week. And while banning the kindle I did the most old person thing ever, I gave him the story of how me and my siblings used to have to go outside after school and were not allowed tv besides on weekends and then only to watch PBS. All true, I dont know where my dad stored all the drawings we made during "pappys world" but he made us wake up and do them.
Zaryus then said, well mom lets go outside then. And my answer was, ask you dad to take you. Why? I couldnt answer why, but truthfully I kind of hate nature. Yesterday I screamed while wlking to my car from school because a squirrel ran out of the bushes. Nature is unknown, and dirty. Getting dirty is another issue I have, I will paint or draw, and sculpt but then I must immediately take a shower and get clean. Zaryus is the same way he will play outside, and then the second he comes in he must bathe. I somehow have made him like this, and for this I am glad, because I hate dirty looking kids.
My husband says its more deep routed, besides watching PBS on weekends we were also forced to hike on weekends, and hike we did, I once got lost on a mountain somewhere in Mass. And by lost I mean I sat down to take a break on a log and everyone else moved on without me.
I also have an extreme distaste for bugs and all things slimy, frogs, snakes, slugs, the list goes on and on. How I had an outdoor wedding, is as much of a surprise to me as it is for everyone else.
I'm more of a look out of my safe and secure car window and say to my husband wow look at that hawk, or those leaves are so pretty. I'm told that not many others can identify different species of birds as I myself can. Once again, thanks dad, if youve taught me anything, my uncanny ability to spot out animals, birds, and of course plants and flowers. All shit that I am going to need for the rest of my life.
My parents live in the country which I escaped as soon as I could, they have a creek that I think is lovely, and my son loves to throw rocks into, and occasionally swim in. Im more of a pool kind of lady myself.
For as sad as this all may seem in my defense I do take my children outside on my own terms. You can see us walking almost every evening, I go to and from my car, several times a day. Sometimes I even park extra far away so I can get a little extra fresh air. But when my son asked me to take him outside to play in the yard we pay extra to have and that I bitch about when it isnt mowed. Absurd. I know my husband thinks to himself all the time why are you bitching about it its not like your going to go out there anyways. But I do at lease three times per season, and I take pictures, so we can mark the memory in our minds until the next time comes.
There are alot of things on the list of things Tershia does not like, outdoor activities, excercise, chinese food, bad hygene, I jokingly say Asians, which is totally an inside joke that I should stop saying since one of my good friends and babysitter is some sort of Asian (I cant ever really distinguish them, and never ask because that would seem rude). Zaryus seems to bring out all of these dislikes, hold them in his hand, and then present them to me when I am trying to make a point.
I am now at a cross road, should I get off of my butt and go outside out of the air conditioned comfort of my own home (I also dont like to sweat) or should I let my son melt his brain by watching power rangers, and all other shows that will eventually make you mentally...slow.
The kindle is now all his, I have to ask permission to use it we have made a deal that he will only watch Strawberry shortcake (his favorite), Dr. Seuss, etc. Some people use video games, I my friends use the power of tv at his little finger tips.

Being four and brown

We all inadvertently notice color at any given moment in time, it surrounds us. I am now seeing color more and more through a four year olds eyes, and he may be bias, but I feel like I’m learning more and more about myself through him.

When Zoey was born, Zaryus got to gaze at her through the nursery window with his Poppy (my dad) before he came to see me. He walked into the room and boldly announced, ‘Mom I don’t see any brown babies in their only white ones.’ Before this we had never really talked about race, he had never said anything, and I hadn’t felt the need to mention it, he has had contact with white people, and his great grandmother, aunts, cousins, uncles, they are white. But nothing seemed more bizarre to him than me, a brown person, having this white baby. It just wasn’t done.

When first introduced to his sister in the hospital he was still skeptical, everyone laughed when we recounted the story during their visits, Zaryus thinks he has a white sister.

Since then he has noticed race amongst other things more and more. He has called a mentally retarded person retarded to their face while licking his ice cream cone like it was nothing. We were mortified; I did later call everyone who was listening to then tell them the funniest shit ever that my son has said. Retarded is another one that’s my fault I use it as a noun, verb, adjective, it’s one of my personal favorites. How was I to know that he would use, and use it well and right?

Back to the color issue, since his sister has darkened up he now claims her as his own. And the only reason I really thought about writing this, a one sided discussion on race and a four year olds perception is because on Sunday we were driving on the highway and there was a car creeping with its hazard lights blinking. Zaryus noticed the same thing that I noticed; he said ‘look mom’ that car has flags on it’. Flags it did, confederate flags flapping in the wind, and the driver going 30 on a highway so everyone could know who and what they were about. “Why?” my son asks, he doesn’t see other cars with flags.

Why? To me race has always been interesting, coming from an interracial family, but looking black and I’ve never claimed that I am not. I married a black man, embraced the black community and left the rest behind. It’s not to say that I don’t like white people. I don’t generally like anyone, black, white, especially Asian but that’s a whole different topic we could spend days on. But I never really harbored on these thoughts until my four year old continuously started to bring it to light.

So how do I explain to my child that there is such a thing as racism, that he as a black man is at a disadvantage and that his sister better go to college and aim to snag a football player or doctor while she’s there. That was always my plan honestly, marry well have babies and cocoon myself with likeminded people. Some of this I have done, though Arthur is nobody’s doctor.

How do I explain to him that there are places in this country that he should not go, that there are people who hate him and I enough to proudly slow down and let their confederacy show. That we drive past a town in Virginia that people actually pay to go watch people pretend to be slaves. Who the retard is who is pretending I’ve always wanted to know, seriously I want to go and ask them like what the fuck, why are you dressed up as a slave singing songs and letting people take pictures of you. I mean the money can’t be that good.

We also have come to the conversations of different shades of people and how they identify to race, he has realized what Spanish people are, we are all in this household wondering what his teacher is, he thinks white, I think Spanish his dad just doesn’t know, and Zoey is too young to care. Why is this important in our life? I know that socially it is imprinted in our minds somehow, but my son he’s never been called the N word, he’s kissed a little white girl on the mouth, he goes to farmers market weekly, I have tried to teach the kid culture, if there is such a thing.

“Well mom, in the beginning Zoey was white, but now she’s light brown. And me, daddy and Travis were dark brown, and Mima she’s white, and Jeanine she’s brown white.” This is a conversation he has almost every day, to teach my son how to be black and a man in America is terrifying,

First day of school jitters

My son doesn’t say too much on his way home from school, I pick him up and we walk home (we live 6 houses away from the school) normally in silence. He says hello to his sister, tells me he has no idea what he ate, which is a complete lie, because since he has started school he has eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich every single day. I ask him and he says Mom I have no idea, he also has no idea what any of friends names are, and he’s disappointed in the school because there is no real learning going on.  You know no ABC’s , 1-2-3’s we do a lot free play, and she reads to us a lot.

At first I was seriously nervous about him going to this big school, so unlike the little intimate Christian school he just finished at. They hung banners when I had my daughter, welcomed me to drop in at any time, which I gladly did. This new school is so distant, they said to plan on staying for their first day, so naturally I took off work, skipped class and was ready to spend it with my son. After about 15 minutes the teacher kept glancing at me like…is this bitch gonna leave. And then my son said, it’s okay mom you really can go home. So I left, peered through the window which I notice now has a blind pulled, and circled around the school in my car. I didn’t have anything better to do, obviously since I had taken the day off.

We have now finished the week, he is officially a preschooler, and seems settled. So I’m okay with walking home in silence, in fact I embrace it. I don’t get too much silence in my life. So today we get home, after our silence, and he says to me. Jesus Christ mom (Jesus is another word that I say entirely too much, and he loves to use it, and uses it well) that school is hot, it makes me so sweaty, can you smell me, I stink, I smell like Travis’ mouth.

Travis is his 17 year old uncle, who has pretty good hygiene as far as I’m aware, and who is always well dressed. In saying this every time I see him I look at his teeth, I have a teeth thing. And say Jesus Christ Travis whens the last time you brushed your teeth. He always says he’s been busy, or he’s already brushed them. But I never get close enough to smell his breath. I try to stay away from most people closely, it’s a thing I have.

I guess the moral of this is that I will probably have to get my son some deodorant, since febreeze sport tide isn’t going to be able to wash away the stench of homelessness that wafts from him. Nothing against homeless people, but most of them, don’t smell like angels…assuming angels smell good and clean, which I’m sure they do. Along with deodorant, his uncle should probably brush his teeth more, because even though my son is silent on the walk home, I can’t imagine how many other people he has stated this too.

 

Fluffy

It all began way before the turtle named Fluffy, but I can't pin point a direct moment, so I will start here. Fluffy a tiny little turtle bought on a trip to Brooklyn NY to surprise my son. I didn’t name him Fluffy directly, but I knew in my mind what my then 3 year old son would name the creature. He has in our life tried to name several of the creatures that have come to live and then die in our house Fluffy. He had a slight Justin Beiber fascination that his father killed, quickly (although he is still allowed to listen to his music), and since has named everything Fluffy. Okay by me, one less name to remember. This Fluffy the turtle survived for quite a while, we learned he had a love of freshly killed bugs, so we fed him these in great abundance. And then one morning I went to get my morning or midmorning…whatever afternoon drink and I caught my husband throwing Fluffys habitat in the garbage. What the hell? And he replied, the turtles dead Tershia.

My son was away for the night, and I thought well how the hell am I going to tell him that yet another creature has died. I guess this is the point where I should stop and explain our track record with pets. Before Fluffy my husband bought me a kitten he rescued from the humane society for Christmas. Just about 30 days after I had my daughter, another ass to clean, thanks! This cat, because the creature could not be called a kitten had a bad habit of shitting everywhere. One of his favorite spots, my brand new babies’, brand new crib. His ending spot was our downstairs neighbors stove…needless to say he didn’t last too long. Before him Cookie Bunny, another one named by my son, she lasted awhile until she went to my parents’ house to stay and met her death. Did I mention we are a family of murderers?

Before Cookie Bunny my parents have had several cats hit by cars, each one my son names, each one meets it death, and we like good American parents lie like assholes to our child so he doesn’t have to think about death, and so we didn’t have to explain it.

After my son killed our fish Beiber Fever by feeding him all of his food at once, and then watched me flush him down the toilet. I didn’t think that sugar coating death would really work any longer. The fish lasted a whole of two days, and when I found him dead on the table with my son gazing into his bowl with pride in his eyes. I stated he’s dead Zaryus, you fucking killed him. I have a tendency to curse in conversation with my son, and because of this he has a tendency to talk like me when he thinks I am not listening. Dead he responded. Dead, let’s flush him down the toilet before dad comes home.

So when I picked Zaryus up on the morning of Fluffys demise in a somber voice I said to him. Zaryus, Fluffy is dead. Dead? Yes, your dad got rid of him. He of course wanted to know where, and I said the garbage, he said this would make the house stink, and I said his dad took the garbage out. Dead? The car was quiet and then my son probably the most logical four year old I know said, well mom we had a bunny who died, a cat who shit all in Zoeys bed so he had to go, a fish who I killed, and now Fluffys dead. Yes dead. Well he responded after pondering death, life, shitting in bed cats. So do you think we could go get another fish?