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?