I've had stretch marks since puberty. They're light an faded, or so I though. Until today.
I'm weeding in a pair of shorts, bending over and feel something tickling the back of my booty. I, realizing it's not a curious bug, jolts and yelps : "Juni! What the heck, man? That tickles! And it's actually a little inappropriate."
Juni says: "I not mean to tickl you, Momma. I just lookin'. Momma. What dem lines on your legs?"
Me: "Huh?"
Juni: "You know, dem scratches on your legs."
Me: "Juni. What in the world are you talking about?"
Juni, touching my legs again: "These, Momma! Cat scratch you?"
Me: "No, Juni. Those are stretch marks. Thanks for noticing."
Juni: "What stretched your legs, Momma?"
Me: "You did, son. You did."
Juni: "Oh. Okay, Momma. Sorry I did dat."
I hate my legs, but I absolutely love my kid.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Waffles, Bacon and a Rotten Egg
Sunday mornings are nothing short of glorious in our home. Juni plays trains while Jasen cooks breakfast, and I sleep an extra 15 minutes.
Jasen always concocts something amazing. This morning he presented Belgian apple waffles, bacon, omelets and a rotten egg.
The rotten egg put a serious damper on our morning.
Jasen and Juni pick the eggs. Occasionally, they forget one. Which is fine. As long as the egg isn't refrigerated, it won't go bad for quite a while.
Apparently, one of the eggs Jasen decided to put into his omelet somehow turned bad. Very bad. Green, actually. He cracked it open, and immediately began gagging. He threw it in the trash, and realized he needed to take the entire can outside to rid our kitchen of the rancid smell. Even that didn't work. He's running the dishwasher, with the omelet pan inside. Wiping the counters. And gagging. Every few minutes he darted out the porch door yelling he was going to puke.
All I could do was laugh. And hide. I've never smelled a rotten egg, and decided that it was completely possible for me to take one whiff and never eat another poultry produced protein morsel in my life.
I screamed at him to spray some air freshener. But of course he was too busy with omelet number two.
Jasen eradicated the kitchen of the green egg (feeding it to my now very gassy and smelly pup) and sat down to eat his omelet.
And smelled his fingers. Not good. He ran from the living room, gagging and diving for the sink. Three washes later, and he still dared me to sniff his pinkie. No way. Today I learned that one negative to having fresh eggs is, every now and then, there is bound to be a rotten one in the bunch. The rest of the carton is still sitting in our fridge, awaiting its fate. Apparently, the smell was so bad that Jasen can't decide if he wants to risk a nasal disaster again.
Jasen always concocts something amazing. This morning he presented Belgian apple waffles, bacon, omelets and a rotten egg.
The rotten egg put a serious damper on our morning.
Jasen and Juni pick the eggs. Occasionally, they forget one. Which is fine. As long as the egg isn't refrigerated, it won't go bad for quite a while.
Apparently, one of the eggs Jasen decided to put into his omelet somehow turned bad. Very bad. Green, actually. He cracked it open, and immediately began gagging. He threw it in the trash, and realized he needed to take the entire can outside to rid our kitchen of the rancid smell. Even that didn't work. He's running the dishwasher, with the omelet pan inside. Wiping the counters. And gagging. Every few minutes he darted out the porch door yelling he was going to puke.
All I could do was laugh. And hide. I've never smelled a rotten egg, and decided that it was completely possible for me to take one whiff and never eat another poultry produced protein morsel in my life.
I screamed at him to spray some air freshener. But of course he was too busy with omelet number two.
Jasen eradicated the kitchen of the green egg (feeding it to my now very gassy and smelly pup) and sat down to eat his omelet.
And smelled his fingers. Not good. He ran from the living room, gagging and diving for the sink. Three washes later, and he still dared me to sniff his pinkie. No way. Today I learned that one negative to having fresh eggs is, every now and then, there is bound to be a rotten one in the bunch. The rest of the carton is still sitting in our fridge, awaiting its fate. Apparently, the smell was so bad that Jasen can't decide if he wants to risk a nasal disaster again.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Juni-ism
I love the honesty in children. From day one, they make no excuses. If they're hurt, they cry. If they're tired, they sleep. If they're hungry, they eat. That honesty amazes me daily.
Juni is beautifully, brutally honest. Like the time when he said "Mommy...I love your big fat belly. It's just so warm and soft. Mmmmm."
Thanks, son.
Yesterday, my grandmother Corky asked Juni if he had to potty, since his hands were grabbing his crotch. "No. I just scratchin' my balls."
Excellent. Thank God my Corky didn't hear or understand him. She's the most uber-conservative, ultra-mannered woman I know.
Juni is slowly learning social etiquette's, which makes my job less embarrassing. But at the same time, it makes me a little sad. He's learning to not be completely honest at every moment. He's learning not to speak his mind every chance he gets. He'll learn the cool dance moves instead of moving his toddler body so freely to the music. In short, he'll grow up. Which is wonderful and sad mixed together. But at least he won't be telling his grandmother about scratching his balls.
Juni is beautifully, brutally honest. Like the time when he said "Mommy...I love your big fat belly. It's just so warm and soft. Mmmmm."
Thanks, son.
Yesterday, my grandmother Corky asked Juni if he had to potty, since his hands were grabbing his crotch. "No. I just scratchin' my balls."
Excellent. Thank God my Corky didn't hear or understand him. She's the most uber-conservative, ultra-mannered woman I know.
Juni is slowly learning social etiquette's, which makes my job less embarrassing. But at the same time, it makes me a little sad. He's learning to not be completely honest at every moment. He's learning not to speak his mind every chance he gets. He'll learn the cool dance moves instead of moving his toddler body so freely to the music. In short, he'll grow up. Which is wonderful and sad mixed together. But at least he won't be telling his grandmother about scratching his balls.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
1 Day
Every morning Juni darts down the hall, climbs into my bed and and asks for chocolate milk and Tom & Jerry. He then proceeds to ask me "Mommy. What we doin' today?" ad nauseum until I answer him with an itinerary for the next 18 hours.
Some days I have a full day of activities scheduled, other days it's errands and work, and occasionally it's just lounging around the homestead. Regardless, Juni wants to know. So I decided to randomly pick a day and record just what I did, so Juni can some day get a feel for what his life was like at 4-years-old.
Juni snuggled into my bed at 6:15 this morning. Yep. 6:15. Not really my time to shine. But by 6:30 we were downstairs, sippy cup filled to the brim with chocolate milk, Tom and Jerry barely audible on the television, and me stirring three heaping spoonfulls of sugar into my coffee.
By 8 am Jasen had made his daily morning call, reminding me of everything he and I had to do, and asking me to do about 10 more things. I did what I do every morning. Tell him I'm tired, I'm working on it, and that yes, I will do whatever favor you need if you will just not call me for another few hours.
By 10 a.m. the house was clean, Juni dressed and me finally awake. I'd also invoiced a job, printed out the financial report to date for the company, checked my personal email and answered the business emails. I'd also built a train track with Juni, helped him feed his fish, changed his sheets and convinced him to not build a train table in the middle of my bedroom, but instead to drag two tables next to Jasen's side of the bed. It's the little things, really, like watching Jasen have to crawl to his side of the bed that give me the most pleasure.
The heat index was in the mid-90s, so I shoved my thunder thighs into the longest pair of shorts I could find, pulled my hair up and headed to the barn.
I found myself wrestling a full roll of silt fence into the back of my 4-runner along with 5 heavy-as-hell and even more awkward bundles of wooden stakes. I was also regretting the sandals and white shirt I wore, and constantly expecting a snake to lunge out of the grass and scare the crap out of me. I fought about 100 yellow flies, and lost the battle. Five got into the car, and I'm thinking about 13 got a great brunch off of my ankles. I also noticed a pumpkin patch from last year's discards and am pretty stoked about the gigantic pumpkin I'll get to carve.
An hour later and I pulled up at the site. Jasen and Mauricio were drenched in sweat and hungry for lunch. Unfortunately, loading the materials meant the seat next to Juni had to house the 34 pounds of pure junk that was resting in the back. Jasen and Mauricio were too hot to move any of it, so I drove down the road with Jasen next to me, Juni in his carseat, and Mauricio in the very back. The entire car smelled like fresh sweat. Not a bad smell, but not real appetizing, either.
The best part of lunch was seeing the smile on a man's face when he heard Juni answer me "yes, ma'am." Point Mommy.
After lunch it was off to the local art store for supplies, the ice cream store (more for me than Juni) and to Juni's great-grandparents house, where I proceeded to try and force 24 hours worth of food down their throats in 3 hours.
Jasen's grandparents are 86 and 81 and completely hilarious. I spent the afternoon begging Buddy not to look for the scissors for another minute, explaining to Gang-Gang that she gets her hair done every week and that yes, I did remember who and where the stylist was, begging Juni not to jump off of the couch and break a bone, and listening to both of them tell me the same stories over and over. I love it.
Their house smells like grandparents. My Granny and Grandad. I took a little cat nap on their couch, and dreamed about Granny and Grandad's house. It was wonderful. With the smells of old people and bacon in my nose it was almost like being at Granny's again. But I digress.
I left their house at 3:30, picked up a payment, deposited it in the bank, called Jasen to tell him that yes, they did underpay us yet again and that yes, they know it and yes, honey, I'll stay on top of them. I picked up toiletries for Jasen and Juni, some candy for Vans care package and lollipops or Juni, since the bank didn' have any.
Juni fell asleep in the car, so I woke him just in time to pull into the parking lot at his Tae Kwon Do class. Mom met us, which was a nice surprise. I spent the next 45 minutes watching Juni spar with a kid 6 inches taller and two belts higher than he, and felt that familiar churn in my tummy. He loves karate class. I'm not so much a fan of the punching and kicking, but I get it.
That night I sliced okra, bathed Juni, cleaned the kitchen, found the cool Thomas You Tube videos, fixed a boo-boo, helped with yet another train set, and guilted myself for not recording more of Juni on DVD. I also figured out exactly what line items our check was short on, sent an email to the company, explained the financial printouts to Jasen, and worked on a project I'm creating for my sister.
After a little Project Runway and watermelon, I'm here, trying to type quietly in bed, and regretting the watermelon choice. I've also just remembered what I forgot to do today: find account numbers for the financial planner, answer some of my personal emails, order some things online, call the estate attorney, contact the corporate lawyer, begin my letter to the DBE and put away the laundry. Damn it.
Some days I have a full day of activities scheduled, other days it's errands and work, and occasionally it's just lounging around the homestead. Regardless, Juni wants to know. So I decided to randomly pick a day and record just what I did, so Juni can some day get a feel for what his life was like at 4-years-old.
Juni snuggled into my bed at 6:15 this morning. Yep. 6:15. Not really my time to shine. But by 6:30 we were downstairs, sippy cup filled to the brim with chocolate milk, Tom and Jerry barely audible on the television, and me stirring three heaping spoonfulls of sugar into my coffee.
By 8 am Jasen had made his daily morning call, reminding me of everything he and I had to do, and asking me to do about 10 more things. I did what I do every morning. Tell him I'm tired, I'm working on it, and that yes, I will do whatever favor you need if you will just not call me for another few hours.
By 10 a.m. the house was clean, Juni dressed and me finally awake. I'd also invoiced a job, printed out the financial report to date for the company, checked my personal email and answered the business emails. I'd also built a train track with Juni, helped him feed his fish, changed his sheets and convinced him to not build a train table in the middle of my bedroom, but instead to drag two tables next to Jasen's side of the bed. It's the little things, really, like watching Jasen have to crawl to his side of the bed that give me the most pleasure.
The heat index was in the mid-90s, so I shoved my thunder thighs into the longest pair of shorts I could find, pulled my hair up and headed to the barn.
I found myself wrestling a full roll of silt fence into the back of my 4-runner along with 5 heavy-as-hell and even more awkward bundles of wooden stakes. I was also regretting the sandals and white shirt I wore, and constantly expecting a snake to lunge out of the grass and scare the crap out of me. I fought about 100 yellow flies, and lost the battle. Five got into the car, and I'm thinking about 13 got a great brunch off of my ankles. I also noticed a pumpkin patch from last year's discards and am pretty stoked about the gigantic pumpkin I'll get to carve.
An hour later and I pulled up at the site. Jasen and Mauricio were drenched in sweat and hungry for lunch. Unfortunately, loading the materials meant the seat next to Juni had to house the 34 pounds of pure junk that was resting in the back. Jasen and Mauricio were too hot to move any of it, so I drove down the road with Jasen next to me, Juni in his carseat, and Mauricio in the very back. The entire car smelled like fresh sweat. Not a bad smell, but not real appetizing, either.
The best part of lunch was seeing the smile on a man's face when he heard Juni answer me "yes, ma'am." Point Mommy.
After lunch it was off to the local art store for supplies, the ice cream store (more for me than Juni) and to Juni's great-grandparents house, where I proceeded to try and force 24 hours worth of food down their throats in 3 hours.
Jasen's grandparents are 86 and 81 and completely hilarious. I spent the afternoon begging Buddy not to look for the scissors for another minute, explaining to Gang-Gang that she gets her hair done every week and that yes, I did remember who and where the stylist was, begging Juni not to jump off of the couch and break a bone, and listening to both of them tell me the same stories over and over. I love it.
Their house smells like grandparents. My Granny and Grandad. I took a little cat nap on their couch, and dreamed about Granny and Grandad's house. It was wonderful. With the smells of old people and bacon in my nose it was almost like being at Granny's again. But I digress.
I left their house at 3:30, picked up a payment, deposited it in the bank, called Jasen to tell him that yes, they did underpay us yet again and that yes, they know it and yes, honey, I'll stay on top of them. I picked up toiletries for Jasen and Juni, some candy for Vans care package and lollipops or Juni, since the bank didn' have any.
Juni fell asleep in the car, so I woke him just in time to pull into the parking lot at his Tae Kwon Do class. Mom met us, which was a nice surprise. I spent the next 45 minutes watching Juni spar with a kid 6 inches taller and two belts higher than he, and felt that familiar churn in my tummy. He loves karate class. I'm not so much a fan of the punching and kicking, but I get it.
That night I sliced okra, bathed Juni, cleaned the kitchen, found the cool Thomas You Tube videos, fixed a boo-boo, helped with yet another train set, and guilted myself for not recording more of Juni on DVD. I also figured out exactly what line items our check was short on, sent an email to the company, explained the financial printouts to Jasen, and worked on a project I'm creating for my sister.
After a little Project Runway and watermelon, I'm here, trying to type quietly in bed, and regretting the watermelon choice. I've also just remembered what I forgot to do today: find account numbers for the financial planner, answer some of my personal emails, order some things online, call the estate attorney, contact the corporate lawyer, begin my letter to the DBE and put away the laundry. Damn it.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Bird, Mouse and Cat: Three Doomed Fish
Juni didn't sleep more than 45 minutes at a time until he was 9-and-a-half months old. To describe those months as exhausting would be a gross understatement. There are no words to describe. At one point I thought he had some terrible stomach disorder. Nope. Reflux. I tried a vibrating crib. One of those bears that emits a heartbeat and sloshing sounds like the womb. I wedge to elevate his head. Then pillows under his crib mattress to elevate his entire top half. Nothing worked.
He slept in his swings for the first six months of his life. And when I say slept, I basically meant cat naps in between screaming fits. At the urging of his pediatrician, we Ferberized him at 10 months. Pitiful, but he did learn to fall asleep on his own, and would stay that way. For approximately 2 hours. And then I had to repeat the process.
I'd fall asleep sitting beside his crib, on the floor, so that when he did scream it wouldn't wake up my husband. I'd fall asleep nursing him in the rocker. I'd fall asleep while he played on the floor. I'd fall asleep just about anywhere.
Even now, at four years old, Juni rarely sleeps through the night. He wakes up screaming for me, saying he's scared. One week it was deers. the next it was the blinds on his window. Or the little closet door. Or just nothing. He'd wake up because his overnight pull-up leaked. Which isn't just a quick kiss and back to bed. It's changing clothes, sheets, pillows. All at 4 a.m.
Sleeping in the Norge house is miserable. Even though Jasen doesn't get up with Juni, it still wakes him, and I have to hear about it in the morning.
Three weeks ago I hit my breaking point. I was falling asleep in his bed again, in the middle of the night. Which just plain sucks. The kid sleeps like a crazy person. I'd wake up, sweating from his plastic mattress cover, his feet lodged in my spine, me tinkering on the edge of the mattress clutching Beary. Sucked. Big time.
And so I resorted to bribery. I am now a full-fledged, card-carrying supporter of bribery. It's amazing, really. One day after the aquarium Juni asks for a fish tank. That night, I bribe him: "you sleep in your bed all night, without screaming your head off, and you can get a fish tank." He's definitely allowed to come into my bedroom if he's scared or doesn't feel well, but screaming like someone's stabbing him with a butter knife is out of the question. As a child who suffered from night terrors her entire childhood, this troubled me a bit, but I also realize how rare night terrors are, and work hard every day to not project my anxiety onto him.
My point is, the bribery worked.The first night he woke up once. Ran into my room, sounding like an elephant, but no screams. I led him back to his bed, and within 2 minutes he was snoring just like Daddy. Friday made three weeks with no screaming. Jackpot! So we headed to the locally owned pet sore.
Three fish later, and we were ready to roll. He named them Mouse, Cat and Bird. Adorable. He fed them, decorated their little tank. and stood on the same wooden stool I stood on as a child, staring at them and talking to them.
It was wonderful. My plan had worked, bwahahaha.
And then, disaster. The yellow fish went belly up. "Mommy...what wrong with that fish? He sleeping?"
I figured Juni could handle it. He's seen dead chickens, cows, snakes, unfortunately, he even saw me run over my dog, Shelby, and reminds me of my murderous act at least once a week.
So the kid understands that animals die. So I told him the truth. "Okay. I get a new one? Not a yellow one, though. They no good. I want a guppy. A whole family, so they can have babies. Alright?" Alright, Juni. I'll go back tomorrow and get you a while guppy family.
And then as I snuck his sleeping body into his bed, I saw it. Three floaters. Damn it! I had single-handily murdered Bird, Cat and Mouse. They were stuck in the plastic plants. They looked like they were sleeping, so I went with it. Told Juni they were so tired from the trip.
I was so upset when I got into bed, Jasen actually sat straight up at one point and said "F*** the f***ing fish! They're f***ing fish for Christ's sake! Jesus! Just go to bed. You didn't mean to do it. He'll get over it." And then has he laid down, rolled over and closed his eyes I heard him grumble "Damn f***ing fish."
Okay. I get it. It was like a cheezy sitcom where the hamster dies and the parents run out, looking for the twin to said hamster. Something I never thought I would ever do.
And yet, first chance I got, I snuck out of the house, found said twin fishes, and bought them. I spent $15 on water conditioners, including one with live bacteria to make their home the perfect fishy habitat. Then I bought two gallons of spring water, just to spoil the little buggars.
And so now, what began as a $30 bribery is now up to $50. But this morning, Juni woke up, asking to see his fish first thing, and I didn't have to lie and say there were napping. They were alive, happy, and waiting to be fed. It's amazing what we'll do for our children. We don't want to see them hurt, even if it is over a f***ing fish We want to see them happy, rewarded, and succeed. And with the newly named Cat, Mouse, Bird, C and J fluttering their happy little fins, I can officially stand at the top of my stairs and shout "Victorious!" I have made fish live! For more than 12 hours! Woo. Friggin. Hoo, baby!
He slept in his swings for the first six months of his life. And when I say slept, I basically meant cat naps in between screaming fits. At the urging of his pediatrician, we Ferberized him at 10 months. Pitiful, but he did learn to fall asleep on his own, and would stay that way. For approximately 2 hours. And then I had to repeat the process.
I'd fall asleep sitting beside his crib, on the floor, so that when he did scream it wouldn't wake up my husband. I'd fall asleep nursing him in the rocker. I'd fall asleep while he played on the floor. I'd fall asleep just about anywhere.
Even now, at four years old, Juni rarely sleeps through the night. He wakes up screaming for me, saying he's scared. One week it was deers. the next it was the blinds on his window. Or the little closet door. Or just nothing. He'd wake up because his overnight pull-up leaked. Which isn't just a quick kiss and back to bed. It's changing clothes, sheets, pillows. All at 4 a.m.
Sleeping in the Norge house is miserable. Even though Jasen doesn't get up with Juni, it still wakes him, and I have to hear about it in the morning.
Three weeks ago I hit my breaking point. I was falling asleep in his bed again, in the middle of the night. Which just plain sucks. The kid sleeps like a crazy person. I'd wake up, sweating from his plastic mattress cover, his feet lodged in my spine, me tinkering on the edge of the mattress clutching Beary. Sucked. Big time.
And so I resorted to bribery. I am now a full-fledged, card-carrying supporter of bribery. It's amazing, really. One day after the aquarium Juni asks for a fish tank. That night, I bribe him: "you sleep in your bed all night, without screaming your head off, and you can get a fish tank." He's definitely allowed to come into my bedroom if he's scared or doesn't feel well, but screaming like someone's stabbing him with a butter knife is out of the question. As a child who suffered from night terrors her entire childhood, this troubled me a bit, but I also realize how rare night terrors are, and work hard every day to not project my anxiety onto him.
My point is, the bribery worked.The first night he woke up once. Ran into my room, sounding like an elephant, but no screams. I led him back to his bed, and within 2 minutes he was snoring just like Daddy. Friday made three weeks with no screaming. Jackpot! So we headed to the locally owned pet sore.
Three fish later, and we were ready to roll. He named them Mouse, Cat and Bird. Adorable. He fed them, decorated their little tank. and stood on the same wooden stool I stood on as a child, staring at them and talking to them.
It was wonderful. My plan had worked, bwahahaha.
And then, disaster. The yellow fish went belly up. "Mommy...what wrong with that fish? He sleeping?"
I figured Juni could handle it. He's seen dead chickens, cows, snakes, unfortunately, he even saw me run over my dog, Shelby, and reminds me of my murderous act at least once a week.
So the kid understands that animals die. So I told him the truth. "Okay. I get a new one? Not a yellow one, though. They no good. I want a guppy. A whole family, so they can have babies. Alright?" Alright, Juni. I'll go back tomorrow and get you a while guppy family.
And then as I snuck his sleeping body into his bed, I saw it. Three floaters. Damn it! I had single-handily murdered Bird, Cat and Mouse. They were stuck in the plastic plants. They looked like they were sleeping, so I went with it. Told Juni they were so tired from the trip.
I was so upset when I got into bed, Jasen actually sat straight up at one point and said "F*** the f***ing fish! They're f***ing fish for Christ's sake! Jesus! Just go to bed. You didn't mean to do it. He'll get over it." And then has he laid down, rolled over and closed his eyes I heard him grumble "Damn f***ing fish."
Okay. I get it. It was like a cheezy sitcom where the hamster dies and the parents run out, looking for the twin to said hamster. Something I never thought I would ever do.
And yet, first chance I got, I snuck out of the house, found said twin fishes, and bought them. I spent $15 on water conditioners, including one with live bacteria to make their home the perfect fishy habitat. Then I bought two gallons of spring water, just to spoil the little buggars.
And so now, what began as a $30 bribery is now up to $50. But this morning, Juni woke up, asking to see his fish first thing, and I didn't have to lie and say there were napping. They were alive, happy, and waiting to be fed. It's amazing what we'll do for our children. We don't want to see them hurt, even if it is over a f***ing fish We want to see them happy, rewarded, and succeed. And with the newly named Cat, Mouse, Bird, C and J fluttering their happy little fins, I can officially stand at the top of my stairs and shout "Victorious!" I have made fish live! For more than 12 hours! Woo. Friggin. Hoo, baby!
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