Blog It Out, Bitch

by Perez, Nina

  Yes. Absolutely, yes.

  Last night, I did something I hadn't done in many, many, years.

  I dreamt I had to pee really badly and was so relieved when I was finally able to sit upon a toilet and, well, relieve myself. Only to find that as I pissed in my dream, I was actually pissing in the bed.

  And though Jack and Donny slept through the ordeal, I still felt like an asshole. When I told Donny about it today he asked, "Are you going to blog about it?"

  "Uh, no."

  "Ha! I'll blog about it."

  "You will not. You don’t have a blog."

  "I’ll get one."

  Bastard.

  So, I come clean (so to speak) myself.

  My name is Nina. I am 34-years-old. And last night, I peed the bed.

  Balls

  September 24, 2008

  Donny and I are very sarcastic with each other. Kali quickly learned that Mommy and Daddy aren't fighting when they're being rude, sarcastic, or even yelling at each other. She's used to it. It's how we roll. It's all in fun. We sometimes forget that other people may not realize that we're not serious when we call each other jackass or threaten a beatdown. A perfect example would be us in the aisle at the supermarket.

  Donny may ask, "Why are you walking so slow? You move like an old lady."

  "Yo mama moves like an old lady."

  Anyone within earshot may think dems fighting words. But they're not. I like my mother-in-law. I just like the way "yo mama" flows off my tongue. It's my standard comeback to Donny. I can honestly say that when I say it, his mother is the furthest thing from either of our minds.

  But I've noticed that Donny has gotten a little extra smartassy lately. His threats have taken on an air of... certainty. There are threats of backhands, feet up my ass, and ass beatings. And now, I think I know why.

  We were in the car leaving the pediatrician's office the other day.

  "What do you want for lunch?" he asked.

  "I don't care."

  "Yes, you do. You always say you don't care and then I pick something and you don't want it."

  "Whatever you want is fine with me, Donny."

  "Woman, just pick something before I come back there."

  Pause.

  "You know, Donny. Jack's balls are not your balls."

  "What?"

  "I mean, just cause Jack has balls doesn't make your balls bigger. You can't just be acting all like you actin' 'cause there's an extra set of balls in the house. 'Cause, you know, I'll still fuck you up."

  "You can try."

  He laughs, is silent for a moment, and then says...

  "Those are my backup balls."

  I’ve Gotta Find My Groove

  October 20, 2008

  Today is Donny's first day back to work. Kali's in school. It's just me and Jack.

  As I type this I am topless, in panties, with Jack falling asleep against my left boob and a burpee pressed against the right one to catch any milk drippings. I disrobed because I thought I was going to be able to jump in the shower, but Jack had other plans. After I post this I will lay Jack on my bed. If I'm lucky, he'll sleep long enough for me to shower and run downstairs and grab a cup of coffee and some type of breakfast.

  Though I technically can't diet, today is the day I start... well, scratch that. Today is the day I STOP eating a bunch of crap. I gave myself six months to lose baby weight and I've wasted two of them just eating anything I wanted and working out sporadically. Today is the day I get serious. I can't eat less, but I can eat better. (I went shopping yesterday and stocked the house in preparation.) During his afternoon nap I plan on hitting the Wii Fit and elliptical machine.

  But first, I need to wash my ass. So, if I can just... place... him... down... quietly...

  You know, it struck me last night as I loaded the dishwasher that I am going to be a stay-at-home Mom for the first time in like five years. I stayed home with Kali until she started Pre-K. After getting laid off from MCI, I went back to school, always making sure that I took classes that allowed me to put Kali on the school bus and be home by the time she got home.

  I'm not knocking mothers who can't do it, but I feel like it's so important to be home when your kids get out of school. I can't explain it. Maybe because I didn't have that. But, I think it sets a good familial tone when at least one parent is home when the children get out of school; to be there to ask about their day, prepare a snack, and supervise homework. And for the past few years my stay-at-home momminess (just made that up) was really just doing that. It's not hard to be a stay-at-home Mom when your kids aren't at home, but rather in school all day.

  Now, though, with Jack I am a stay-at-home Mom. I'm scheduling my classes around being home with him ALL day which means online classes and/or evening classes.

  Boy, I gotta get back on track. The old Nina, who stayed home with toddler Kali, would not be sitting here at 9am with her titties hanging out, hungry, thirsty, and smelling like breast milk. The old Nina would have had breakfast, showered, and knocked out at least one chore.

  I'll find my groove. I'm just a little out of practice.

  Bagel Outrage

  October 26, 2008

  I'm not one of those Yankees who move to the south and constantly bashes it. I'm not going to rant about how the people can't drive (they can't) and how if there's the tiniest sprinkling of moisture in the air they drive slower than my grandfathers (they do; who are both dead and one was legally blind), or how you can't find a decent slice of pizza to save your northern heart (you can't), or how there are still pockets of racial intolerance (there are.)

  Why? Because the south has several redeeming qualities that make all of the above tolerable. Two of which are sweet tea and great houses at reasonable prices.

  But I've come across a greater atrocity that cannot be ignored any longer: the inability to find a decent bagel in the state of Georgia. Newsflash: Lender's bagels aren't bagels. Thomas' Bagels aren't bagels. I need a New York City deli bagel. Think a massive hunk of carbs that makes your jaw hurt when you chew it. Slather on some cream cheese and that's a meal. Add a cup of steaming coffee and that's heaven. I can't find that here and after 15 years, I can't take it anymore!

  Wanna know the the final rape of the fine delicacy that is a bagel? The Olsen twins revealed on Oprah that one of them (I don't know, nor care, which) scoops out the inside of a bagel and adds cream cheese to it before she eats it. Let me repeat that. She scoops out the inside of the bagel. What the fuck? What's the point? That's like eating a pizza without cheese. A hot dog without mustard. It's pointless. And un-American. Michelle Bachmann should be calling an investigation of that.

  How Donny Almost Died

  October 27, 2008

  Let me start with a little back story leading up to Sunday so you may all better understand my state of mind.

  Kali stayed home Thursday and Friday with a bad cough and cold. If there's one thing I hate about this time of year, and it probably is only the one thing, is the return to school means the return of catching cooties. I was trying to take care of her and Jack while keeping them separated. On Friday, around 11am, Jack threw a holy fit. He was fed and changed, but no matter what I did he continued to cry and squirm. I knew he was getting sick.

  By Saturday he had a stuffy nose and slight cough, but never a fever. Sometime Saturday early evening, he was being particularly fussy when Donny said, "I wonder if he has a sore throat because I do."

  WHAT?

  When was he going to tell me this? I was pretty pissed. For the first time in nine years together, I made him sleep in the guest bedroom. So, he's all knocked out downstairs and I'm left upstairs with a sick, cranky baby. And I was hungry and thirsty. By the way, since I'm breastfeeding I'm ALWAYS thirsty. Seriously. When I get something to drink I usually down the first glass right away and then settle with a second. Anyway, I'm hungry, thirsty, sleepy, but I don't want to leave Jack alone and I don't want sick ass Donny and Kali around him either... though he was already
sick.

  Donny must have known he was creeping up my shit list because when Jack and I woke up on Sunday, Donny brought me breakfast in bed. So Sunday, yesterday, we're chilling in the bedroom. We're watching stuff off the TiVos because they're all getting backed up. While watching one show we'd be transferring another from another room into the bedroom so it would be ready to go. I was on the laptop playing Scrabble. Occasionally, one of us would leave the room to go switch out a load of laundry, go the bathroom, etc.

  I'm watching TV and playing away when suddenly Jack starts screaming. I hadn't noticed, but while he was laying on his back on our bed, minding his own damn business, his father decided to take the baby nail clippers provided by the hospital to clip his nails. Now, you all should know that I have asked/told Donny not to use clippers on Jack until he's much older. With Kali, I would either bite or file her nails down. All the baby books recommend holding off using clippers because it's easy to clip too much and possibly hit a nerve.

  Everyone thinks I have the perfect husband, and most times, like 99.9 percent of the time I do. But Donny. doesn't. fucking. listen. I know this about my husband. Maybe because I'm so controlling he has to find little ways to exert his own power, but he picked a bad fucking time to do it yesterday.

  He immediately scooped Jack up and started pacing with him trying to calm him down. I'm cussing his ass out. Not only was he doing what I asked him NOT to do, but it was dark as hell in our bedroom. I keep the door to the master bathroom closed and the door leading out to the hall closed because I hate sunlight. So, if he was going to be a jackass and clip the baby's nails, one would think he would at least do it with decent light.

  Jack settled down pretty quickly and Donny assured me he was fine. I'm thinking he probably pinched his skin. So, we're back to watching TV. Jack is lying on the bed in front of Donny, on his back, and falling asleep. I remember we were watching The Unit and a loud explosion on the screen startled Jack, but he quickly went back to sleep. I'm not sure how much time had passed - maybe ten minutes - when I looked and realized that both Donny and Jack were gone.

  I thought that was odd. The only places Donny could have gone were downstairs to get something to eat or drink, or down the hall to switch out a load of laundry. None of those things required Jack's presence. So, I paused the TiVo and headed downstairs calling along the way, "Donny?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Where's Jack?"

  "Right here."

  "What are you doing?"

  And then Kali calls out, "Cleaning him up."

  Now, at first I thought they were giving him a bath, but why would he be doing that now and without me? I enter the guest bedroom and there's my baby on the bed, in nothing but a diaper, Kali's rubbing his head and Donny is putting a small band-aid on his finger. Kali says, "His finger won't stop bleeding."

  I literally saw red. I snatched him up.

  "I'm taking care of it, Nina," Donny said. And to his credit he sounded heartbroken, but I didn't care.

  "Yeah, you're doing a real good job taking care of him. Give me my son."

  And I stomped upstairs. Donny followed and I slammed the bedroom door behind me. I sat on my bed trying to assess the damage, but I couldn't tell how bad it was because of the blood. Donny sat next to me and I allowed him to put the band-aids on. Jack is now screaming and I start to nurse him to keep him calm. All is well until I glance down at the band-aid put on not fifteen seconds prior and see that it is SOAKED with blood.

  I yell at Donny to take it off. I take some gauze and apply pressure to try and stop the bleeding. Every time I checked, it would spill blood and I couldn't tell what the problem was exactly. The whole time, by the way, I'm cussing Donny's ass out. I don't even remember all I said. I know at one point he said something like, "I feel horrible. I feel like the world's worst father and you're making me feel worse."

  And I replied, "Good. You should. Because I fucking told you not to use those things on him."

  And so you know, I'm not downplaying my words so you will all think better of me. No. I fully admit I was a cussing, evil, pissed off mother bear yesterday and I was cussing his ass out. I'm downplaying it because the more I think about it, the more pissed off I get and for Donny's sake I need to stay mellow. He doesn't want to come from work today to death.

  I called my Dad and asked if he'd come sit with Kali while we took Jack to the pediatric ER and filled him in on what happened. He said we should keep applying pressure and he'll meet us at the ER and take Kali back to our house, but he thought it would be best if we got going and not waited for him to get to our house.

  So, off we went. We were signed in and there only about five minutes before I saw my Dad pull into the parking lot. Holding Jack, I met him at the automatic doors. I'd just recently gotten the bleeding to stop and showed my Dad the damage. A crescent shaped piece of nail was missing from Jack's right thumb. The skin underneath was exposed and raw. Just thinking about it makes me want to call Donny now and cuss his ass out.

  We sat down and waited to be called. Donny was across the waiting room with Kali. He knew to give me space. My Dad whispered that when he hung up with me he told my stepmother, "She sounds amazingly calm. But I know she's pissed." My stepmother had the same response, "What was he thinking?" She'd been around during one of our conversations about how it's best to file the baby's nails.

  While we were in triage, the nurse kinda tsk tsk'd Donny for using the clippers, but told me not to be too hard on him. Too late. While we waited to be called to the doctor, Donny went to get Kali something to drink from the vending machine. He came back with something for her and him, but not me or my Dad.

  "You know, did you decide you weren't high enough on my shit list? Do you want to take Kali out to the parking lot and push her in front of a moving car?"

  A short while later Kali was hungry so he took her to Wendy's and of course, that's when we were called. My Dad went back with me and the doctor told us that Jack didn't need stitches and that it was best to keep it clean and uncovered. As for the cold, she told me what I already knew which was that without a fever, there's nothing to do but to let the cold run its course and she agreed with the saline drops and suction in his nose we'd been doing already.

  It was a two and a half hour ordeal I'd rather not have gone through. I know Donny feels bad, and I'm less pissed than I was yesterday, but I'm still upset. There was a moment when I was holding Jack, trying to nurse him and keep pressure on his thumb, and he kept moving his hand and blood would get everywhere (his face, my boob, my bra, etc.), where I came thisclose to punching Donny in the face. Seriously. And in the few seconds it took me to think it (just put Jack down on the bed in front of you and haul off and punch him in the face), I just as quickly realized how wrong it would be. But I was that angry.

  And it's not because I don't expect there to be accidents, but this one could have been avoided. There was no good explanation, and he didn't dare offer one, for using those clippers after I'd repeatedly asked him not to.

  When we got home I called my friends Lacey and Brett who I knew would be worried. When I told them that Donny was downstairs making dinner and pretty much walking around like a puppy who knows it did something wrong, Lacey said, "Whenever Donny sees you coming he's just going to piss on the carpet."

  When my Dad and I were in the exam room waiting for the doctor to come in, my Dad told Jack, "You can milk this thumb for video games and bikes, Jack. Get caught playing hooky from school? Just tell your Dad you skipped school ‘cause your thumb hurt."

  Well, When You Put it Like THAT

  November 25, 2008

  The other day I was talking to one of my single, childless girlfriends and she was going on and on about the things that I used to think were so important back before I found "the one," got married, had two kids, and a mortgage. I tried not to get frustrated as I listened to her, keeping a watchful eye on my sleeping, beautiful, precious baby boy. I was worried about his upcoming physical therapy appointme
nt, stressed over an issue with Kali and some little boy on the school bus, and about ten other things.

  I listened as she pondered why some guy hadn't called. Had she been a little too easy? I wanted to say, "Yes, you probably were. And if he doesn't call, fuck him. Not literally. You already did that. But figuratively. Just get over it." Because in my mind I'm thinking there is more to life than this bullshit. And I smugly thought how wonderful it was that I didn't have to worry about such nonsense anymore. I have real, grown-up problems, damn it! I'm responsible for the lives of two people!

  Finally, I couldn't take it any longer. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I felt the need to point out all that she had to be thankful for, and that she shouldn't be wasting time on silliness when the rest of us have real worries that go beyond what some random guy thinks of us after giving up the butt. I pointed out that she was independent, attractive, smart, and made decent money. And though I don't regret my life at all, I wouldn't mind having some of her "problems" for a couple of days.

  Then she said, "Yeah, but you know what? You get more love in a day than I get in a month."

  And I didn't know what to say. "Um, there are your parents..." I offered this up lamely.

  "True, but that's different. I want someone like Donny. I want someone to love me who doesn't have to. You are so lucky that a good man decided he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. He chose you."

  Well, when you put it like that.

  I guess when you're so busy living your life you don't realize how lucky/blessed you are. This time last year I wrote a blog about the things I was thankful for. It is because of that blog that my friend Emily was able to help me pinpoint the exact night our son was conceived.