Blog It Out, Bitch

by Perez, Nina

  I usually stay up later than Donny, like now, writing or watching TV. When I'm ready to fall asleep I'll turn out the light and cuddle next to him. Most times I'll wake him up just long enough for him to spoon me. That particular night, a year ago, I remember thinking, "If I wake his ass up he's gonna want some. Do I want some too or do I just want to sleep?" I woke him up. In the blog I wrote something like, "I am grateful for my husband who, when I woke him to spoon with me made love to me instead and then replied, 'Oh. Sorry' when I later said, 'That's not why I woke you up.'"

  So, this year my list goes a little something like this:

  - I am grateful for my husband who works hard and loves me and our children so much he looks forward to the weekends, not so he can go hang with friends, but because he gets to spend full days with us.

  - I am grateful for Kali who remains sweet and funny, who loves her little brother so much. She is so protective of him. If she's holding him and I go to give him his pacifier she always says, in a cute baby voice, "No, no. He don't need it. He don't need it. Tell her, Jack. Tell her you're fine. You're not fussing." And then there are the times when she looks at him, he smiles back, and then she coos, "Look at those big brown eyes. They're just the biggest brown eyes." I'm proud that her parent/teacher conference revealed that she's a talented writer who comes up with stories well beyond her years. My daughter rocks.

  - I am grateful for Jack who is dubbed by everyone that meets him, "the happiest baby ever." He smiles at you when you look at him. He is just starting to belly laugh which makes us laugh because what does he know about belly laughing?! I love that whenever he wakes up he looks around confused for a second until he catches my eye and I say, "Hi, my handsome boy. Did you sleep okay?" and then he smiles and puts his head down like he's shy and the popular girl just looked his way. And then I melt and scoop him up for wake up kisses which are just as sweet as the million other kisses we share throughout one day.

  - I am grateful that this Thanksgiving the four of us are staying home for our first Thanksgiving as a family of four. Just us. Lots of food. Lit trees. Lit fireplace. Some movies, naps, Guitar Hero, and love.

  - I am grateful that the words, "I love you" are spoken amongst the four of us every single day. Kali and I say it before she leaves for school, and Donny and I tell her again before bed. I tell Jack all day long and he tells me with those big brown eyes. Donny and I say it every day when he calls around 11:30am to check on us.

  - I am grateful for my family and friends who tolerate my crazy ass. Especially Sophie who knows me. Everyone needs a friend that knows them.

  - I am grateful for my education, for my drive and determination to spend 2009 chasing my dreams.

  And you all; I'm grateful for every one of you.

  Like Pulling Teeth

  December 2, 2008

  I have never had the desire to hit my child until last week. And then I wanted to kill her. Kali has had a new tooth growing in behind a baby tooth that wasn’t budging. We were advised to leave it alone, and that the new tooth would eventually push out the old one. Well, that didn’t happen. She’d been complaining that the old tooth was pushing into her bottom lip. I made an appointment for her to go to the dentist on Thursday morning.

  She was very nervous over the possibility of having a tooth pulled. I understood this, and tried to display the appropriate patience. My father agreed to take us to the morning appointment so that Donny wouldn’t have to take any time from work. While Kali and I went into the back, my Dad stayed in the waiting room with a sleeping Jack.

  The dental assistant explained that first they would be taking x-rays of Kali’s teeth. She seemed to handle this news well – she had x-rays of her hand and foot before. The assistant placed the tabs in Kali’s mouth and asked her to bite down. Kali began to cry.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

  “It hurts.”

  “It’s not doing anything but sitting in your mouth.”

  We finally get her to bite down and then we both scoot out of the area so that the x-ray can be taken. Just as it’s about to, Kali starts to gag and spit out the tabs. The assistant and I go over to her.

  “What happened?”

  Kali now has tears streaming down her face, she’s breathing all heavy, and her bottom lip is quivering.

  “I… don’t… want… to… be… here. I… want… to… go… home.”

  Through clenched teeth I said, “Kali. Cut it out. They’re just taking a photo of your teeth. It’s not going to hurt you.”

  She was being a TOTAL drama queen. And to make it even worse, I guess the assistant didn’t like the way I chose to handle it because she kept being overly nice about the situation any time I said anything.

  Bitch, this ain’t good cop bad cop. This is, I’m the Mommy and you work here so just shut the hell up and let me deal with my child.

  We tried to get the x-rays a few more times, but the machine was broken so she said we’d do it when Kali goes back next week for a cleaning. By this time, Jack was awake so he and my Dad joined us in the back.

  The dentist finally comes in, takes one look at the tooth and declares that it needs to come out. She said we could do it now or later. I chose now. And Kali lost her shit. She was crying and heaving and acting like we’d just sentenced her to death. When she said she had to go to the bathroom, I said I’d go with her. Part of me was afraid she’d pass out and crack her head open on the sink, but mainly I was concerned that if there was a window in the bathroom, Kali’s ass might be ghost.

  When the dentist applied the numbing gel to her gums, Kali had the nerve to ask, “How much more are you going to put on there?” The dentist and I replied at the same time, “Oh, you want this.” I’d forgotten about the numbing gel before the actual needle. When it was time for the needle, from my position at her side and holding her hand, I told Kali to close her eyes. But because other people were talking, she didn’t hear me so she saw the needle coming.

  “What’s that? What’s that?”

  “Remember that stinging little pinch I told you about? Well, that’s it, but it won’t hurt ‘cause of all that gel, okay?”

  Thankfully, she didn’t even react when the needle went in. By the time the tooth was actually pulled, Kali was a trooper. She didn’t even know it was out until she was sitting up and asking what the gauze was for.

  “The blood,” I said.

  My father said I shouldn’t have mentioned the blood.

  “Why? The tooth is already out. She’s gonna see the blood eventually.”

  “Wait. My tooth is out?”

  All that drama for nothing. They put her tooth in a plastic pouch which she insisted on playing with later that evening.

  “Girl, go put that tooth under your pillow before you lose it.”

  “I’m gonna put my tooth under a different pillow to see if the tooth fairy can guess which pillow.”

  “Listen, she ain’t got time for games.”

  Later that night, before bed, I said to Donny, “I got twenty dollars cash back when I bought groceries earlier and the machine gave me four five dollar bills. I meant to stop at Starbucks or something and use the change to put under Kali’s pillow, but I didn’t have time. Before you leave for work, can you get one of the fives out of my jeans’ pocket and put it under her pillow?”

  He agreed.

  That next morning, I woke up about ten minutes later than usual and Jack was up as well. I was nursing him when I realized that I couldn’t put off waking up Kali any longer, or she’d run the risk of missing the bus. I was cradling/nursing Jack and headed towards Kali’s room when something told me to check my jeans. Sure enough, all four five dollar bills were there. Damn, Donny.

  I grabbed one, and still holding the baby, I made my way to Kali’s room. I’m standing over her bed, watching her sleep, and trying to figure out which pillow the tooth is under without waking her up. I squat down and try the obvious; the one her head is on. I pass my hand under the pil
low and I don’t feel the bag with the tooth. Damnit, Kali! I try searching under the dozens of other pillows, but holding Jack is making it difficult. I place him on the bed next to Kali, and begin to search again. No luck. And then…

  “Hey! Hey!”

  Yes, that was Jack saying the only word he knows in an effort to wake up his sister. And it worked. I was wearing a pair of panties and a t-shirt so I quickly stashed the five dollar bill in the back of my panties.

  Kali wakes up and for one moment I thought, maybe she forgot. No such luck. The first thing she did was lift the pillow her head was on and because I don’t see the bag with the tooth, I’m wondering if maybe it fell behind the bed. Maybe I can just hand her the five dollars saying I took it from under her pillow moments before she woke up, and I can worry about finding the tooth later.

  “She didn’t take my tooth!”

  “What?”

  “It’s right here!”

  “Right where?”

  “Here!” And she points to this tiny tooth, not in the plastic baggie, that blended in perfectly with the design of her sheets.

  Son of a bitch.

  “Well, why did you take it out of the bag? Maybe she couldn’t find it. Maybe it was hard to see. Maybe you shouldn’t make it so hard on the tooth fairy. Leave it there, she’ll come back tonight.”

  I made plans to make the switch while she was at school and then claim that she must have come while Jack and I were napping.

  Later that morning, after she left for school, I went to the bathroom. And I was just pulling up my panties and about to flush when I remember the money. I didn’t feel it in my panties… and looked down to see it floating in pee water.

  Perfect.

  A Penis by Any Other Name

  December 8, 2008

  The other day Sophie and I were on the phone and Jack, who was lying across my lap on his belly, farted.

  “Aww, Jack tooted.” I said.

  “Tooted? What’s that?”

  “He farted.”

  “You guys have names for everything. A pacifier is a bo-bo, bowel movements are poo-poo, and fart is toot.”

  “That’s right. We call his penis a wee-wee or a worm.” I added.

  “What?”

  “Yup. What do you call it?”

  Sophie has a son, Leo, who’s about to turn 2, and a daughter, Zoe, who’s 5. “We call it a penis and a vagina.” She said.

  “That’s weird.”

  “Why is that weird? The other day Leo and Zoe were sitting on the floor with their legs open rolling a ball back and forth and the ball hit Leo in his diaper. He said, ‘That’s my penis!’

  I laughed. “Sophie, that is weird. Your children are going to grow up sexually repressed.”

  “Why?”

  “Because no one uses those words.”

  “What’s wrong with saying penis and vagina?”

  “Uh, the words are PENIS and VAGINA. They’re so clinical.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with Leo knowing the proper word is penis.”

  “If you want to make sure he never gets laid, sure.”

  “Nina!”

  “Think about it. When we’re kids, we have cute names for it, when he’s a teenager he’ll call it dick, cock, johnson, etc., and when he’s an adult having sex he’ll come up with even filthier names for it. No one says penis or vagina except doctors.”

  “What do you use for vagina?”

  “Poo-poo or cootie cat.”

  “Example.”

  “’Kali, go take a bath and make sure you wash your poo-poo.’”

  “So, let me get this straight. Poo-poo means both shit and vagina?”

  “Yup.”

  “See, this is why kids should know the real names for their body parts. If Kali were molested, God forbid, and had to testify and said, ‘He touched my poo-poo,’ they’d throw it out of court!”

  “No, ‘cause I’d know he either touched her shit or vagina. Either way, I’m fucking him up. Also, I didn’t say she doesn’t know the correct names, we just don’t use them.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because! They’re penis and vagina and it just sounds weird.”

  “What do you call your boobs?”

  “Boobs.”

  Silence.

  “Or ninny-jugs.” I add.

  “What? Nina! What are ninny-jugs?”

  “The jugs from which he gets his ninny, ninny being milk.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Why? What do you call them? Lactation orbs?” I snorted

  “You’re not funny. What do you call pee?”

  “Pee-pee. Why? Do you make your kids say urinate? ‘Leo, come urinate in the urination vessel.’”

  “Shut up. I guess I’m just sensitive because I told you what my mother made me call my vagina when I was a kid, right?”

  “You did, but I forgot. Tell me again.”

  “Munchie.”

  “Oh, she was just setting you up to be a lesbian, huh?”

  “I hate you.”

  Taking Jack to the E.R.

  December 9, 2008

  I'm a good mother. I know I am. I adore my kids. I would do anything for my kids. There's not an ass born yet that I wouldn't kick for my kids.

  And I know my kids. The other day Kali got off the school bus with her head hunkered down under her coat's hood. It was rainy and cold. Like a mother out of a freakin' commercial I greeted her at the door and asked if she'd like some chicken noodle soup. I'd recently bought a huge case of Campbell's from Sam's Club. You'd have thought I was stocking a panic room. Kali declined the soup as she kicked off her sneakers, but kept on her coat, claiming fatigue and slowly made her way up the stairs. I paused for a moment then followed.

  By the time I reached the second landing she was already in her room at the top of the stairs, closing the door behind her. She left it open a sliver, peeking at me through the crack.

  "Well, if you change your mind..."

  "Okay," she said and closed the door.

  I stood there for a moment and realized that my child was hiding something from me. I opened her door to find her taking off her coat by her bed. I expected to find that she'd left her sweater in school or something and was afraid she'd get in trouble. But she had the sweater on.

  "Are you hiding something from me?"

  "Well, I did take my hair out in school and I lost my scrunchie."

  Ah, I then realized her raven, curly, long hair was free flowing and not in the neat ponytail I'd put it in that morning, and every morning before that.

  "Well, if it's tangled tonight when I brush it, I don't wanna hear your mouth."

  I suppose I should have yelled at her for trying to be sneaky, but Jack was sleeping and I didn't want to wake him as I saw a nap in my near future. See, a good mother.

  And though Jack has only been with us for four months, I know him too. My baby isn't a constant crier or whiner. So, when he was downright inconsolable last week, I knew his slight cold had taken a turn for the worst. I took his temperature under his armpit and it was 100.2. I called the doctor and was told that to get an accurate reading I'd have to take his temperature rectally.

  "Can you hold on one sec?"

  "Sure."

  "DONNY! Come take Jack's temperature."

  I don't think anyone should be sticking anything up anybody's booty hole at any time for any reason. But being a good mother means that I will not think about myself and always do what's in the best interest of my children. And by "do" I mean, "have Donny do."

  The doctor instructs, "Just stick it in until you can no longer see the silver tip." I relay this to Donny and he does. 101.2. I'm told that for his size and age that I shouldn't bring him in until it's 102.2 or higher. Also, just keep giving him Infant's Tylenol every four hours. We took his temperature rectally for the next few days.

  Just yesterday I told my Mom about it and I told her how calm Jack was when we took it. Totally unlike the first time it happe
ned to him: He was just a few minutes old and past that just entered the world crying jag. He was lying in the warmer calmly staring at his sister while a nurse cleaned him up. Then she stuck the thermometer up his ass and Jack lost his shit. My Dad has the whole thing on video. Anyway, back to my Mom...

  "Yeah, you don't stick it in much and most babies do just fine. Just put some Vaseline on it and they're okay."

  Silence.

  "You did put Vaseline on it, didn't you?"

  "Hey! Donny took it, not me!"

  See? A good mother.

  "You ask Donny how'd he like it if I came down there and stuck a dry stick up his ass?"

  Better him than me.

  When Jack woke up crying at 1am this morning I wasn't surprised to feel he was also burning up. He'd been fussy all evening and almost impossible to get to sleep. I lubed up the thermometer and took his temperature. 102.7. If Donny was fully awake he'd have probably come up with a better plan, but he wasn't and agreed that he should stay home with Kali (who was sleeping) and I'd take Jack to the emergency room.

  I nursed Jack, gave him some Tylenol, and Donny got him dressed while I threw on some clothes. I tossed a yogurt, spoon, and bottled water into his diaper bag along with a book and we were off. Halfway there, I realized I hadn’t brushed my teeth. I told myself I'd scarf down the yogurt as soon as possible to cover any possible funk. I was carefully scanning the road for deer, possible kidnappers, and murderers. I'd been thinking a lot about mortality and bad luck lately as a 19-year-old died right outside the entrance to my subdivision Friday night. Car crash.

  I got to the hospital at 2:20am, bummed to find that the Pediatric ER closes at midnight, and I had to wait with the sick adults, of which there were two. There were also two sick infants before me. Jack wasn't triaged until about 3:40am and this included another well-lubed stick up the butt.