momtuition

I know it’s been a while and everyone has been asking what’s going on with the blog so since we already know each other I’ll skip the formalities.

So… What does it say about a person who still has underwear from 1996. Still in good condition though. This means that I would be kinda ok with the ER situation I spoke about before – You know – Where they cut your clothes off of you. The only thing though is; the panties are kinda sorta… Ahhh… Above my belly button… Annnd… Covers my entire ass… I mean… ENTIRE A-S-S!

Anyway… The hot doc cutting my clothes off – Sees my panties… I don’t want the first thing that comes to their mind to be “What a *Bingo-Bag!” (Translation: Grandma Panties… I think). I mean… Can you imagine?

Plus Charlton loves cheeks… Yes, those ones too. (LOL)

In my defense though, I had just started working back then and could afford to buy my own Vickies (Victoria Secret) – And those were totally the “it” panties then – You know what I’m talking about. So Don’t Even Pretend…

As a matter of fact, I still sometimes wear some of them. They’re still a part of my tier system. Yes; I totally have a tier system. Tier one is for new ones. Tier two is for anything going on 8 months or so to a year but still in pristine condition. And tier three is for the older stuff like my period, non date-night and it’s-so-not-happening-tonight-panties. There’s one rule I have about tier three though – And that is not to leave the house in them. I would just die, if God forbid I got in a traffic accident or something and a police officer or EMT saw me in one of them. I would just die. Mind you if it’s a tier one I’m going to be upset if they cut it off – And I have already discussed this with Charlton and there are certain instances in which he would be ok with another person taking off my panties and this is one of them. Actually, I think he would want it to be a tier one too :). I wonder if this is something you can put in a will. Hmmm… Oh wait, I can’t, because I’ll be dead before the read it. Hmmm…

1, 2, 3… Let me count the ways one man can *rample-up wan bed aff a wan ly-dung. (Translation: mess-up a bed by just lying on it once). I can lie on the bed and just get up and run my hands over the top to smooth it out and you can never tell I was in it. With Charlton… Noooo – The comforter will be hanging off to one side, a pillowcase may be half way off the pillow, he wants like 4 pillows under his head at once. It’s awful. I want to ban him from the bed sometimes but… Think about it… Can’t be so cruel to myself

Ok… I have a confession to make…

Ten years ago while we were in New York I gave Charlton cabbage sautéed in pork fat – He’s a vegetarian. He ate it all and thought it was sooooo good… Like the best cabbage he’s ever had – And I never told him the truth.

Whew! There. I got it out. I feel better now. That shit has been weighing me down for some strange reason lately. I’ll tell him though; eventually. This will be one of my “old-and-grey” conversations

I swear, it wasn’t intentional. It was my dad’s wife who cooked it. She’s from down South and she cooks like Paula Deen – With butter and butter. I took the food back to the apartment. It was meant for ME but he tasted it and ended up eating all of it. I saw him eating it but it wasn’t registering at the time that it was cooked with pork fat. By the time that dawned on me it was too late. I couldn’t stop him then – He was enjoying it too much. I told myself that I would tell him later that night but I guess I forgot and I’m only now remembering. You believe me right?

A conversation that begins with…

Charlton: I’m going to cut off my balls

Never ends well…

Me: (I’m speechless) – I give him my best “Say what!” look

SIDE NOTE: We’re in the kitchen so he comes to the sink where I’m standing and gives me the; “I just told you that I was going to cut my balls out please say something.”

Me: Why would you want to do that?

Charlton: I was listening to something on the news and they were talking about the life expectancy for men verses women. Long story short… I may just live a little longer without my balls.

Me: What about me?

Charlton: What do you mean – What about you? How is this about you?

Me: What about sex?

Charlton: I’m not talking about sex. When did this conversation turn to sex?

SIDE NOTE: Ladies and gentlemen and the few pets who read this blog… He’s kidding right?

Me: Any conversation with balls has to involve sex

Charlton (He’s giving me the evil-eye): Says who Spin Doctor?

SIDE NOTE: In case you’re wondering who’s Spin Doctor. It’s yours truly – Picked up a few other nicknames since my last post. Spin Doctor is one and the other is Hitler. By the way, when I’m called Hitler, I’m given a salute. I know… I couldn’t make this up if I wanted to.

Me: What am I spinning? No balls mean no sex. It will affect the men on the battle-field. You know that right?

Charlton: Huh? What men? Oh my! I’m just trying to make a point with you – And you’ve gone down a totally different road

SIDE NOTE: By this time we’re out of the kitchen and in bed. Not like that you perv. We’re just talking – But you can’t say that that’s not some totally awesome irony there.

Me: I’m, not going down a different road. I’m still right by the balls where you are

Charlton: *Me tap tark to you buddy – (Translation: I’m no longer talking to you)

Me: But you agree that this has a lot to do with sex right?

Charlton: (No response)

Me: That’s it?

Charlton: (Turns his back to me)

Me: Ok, that’s how it is?

Charlton: Yes. Stop talking now

To be continued… 🙂

Moving right along…

If your kid has no filter, don’t take them to the bathroom with you.

Kuba and I go to the movies. About a quarter of the way into the movie I begin to feel the urge… I want to pee. I didn’t want to get up because the cinema was packed and I did not want to lose our seats, plus didn’t want to leave Kuba there alone. Anyway, I sat through it. But everyone knows what happens when you hold it for an extended period. Yep. That… The gentle breeze. LOL

I knew there was going to be a rush to the bathrooms after the movie so I waited for that to pass before going in. When we got in there it was empty. I took Kuba with me.

SIDE NOTE: Is Kuba to old now (he’s 10) for me to take into the ladies room with me?

Anyway I’m in the stall doing my business and it’s one of those flows where you’re thinking; “This is Guinness World Records material”. Or is that just me – Am I the only one who thinks like that? By the way, sorry for the visual (whatever you’re getting) that I just gave you.

Anyway, I’m praying to God no one comes in. I know a fart is on the horizon and it’s one of those ones whose full potential should only be released in private. Or in my case, in the company of my kid who is right outside leaning against the door. As soon as I was done I heard the clicking of a stall door – There was an intruder but it was too late to stop the raging bull about to escape my body. Folks, believe me when I tell you that I was doing all I could to stop it – So much for all those kegel exercises. It was failing me big time. It started coming out in short bursts. And that’s where Kuba comes in. I swear to God he must have Superman hearing.

Kuba: Hey… What’s going on in there?

Me: I’m not answering him. Actually I can’t answer him. I can concentrate on nothing else but trying to keep the lid on this monster – And God help us all if I attempt to utter a word.

Kuba (He’s whispering now and speaking in slow motion for some reason): Moooom, arrre yooou ooook?

I’m trying to hold it in but I’m leaking fast like a used tire. Then it was out. LOUD! REALLY LOUD! I think my knees buckled.

I want to die. Just kill me now.

Kuba (laughing and speaking at the top of his voice): Oh My Gosh! Mom, are you ok?

Me (thinking): No one can identify a fart – But – If I speak, whoever is in here might recognize my voice. So I keep quiet and have evil thoughts of my kid – And pray to God no one else smells this – Dead Dog Alert! Damn! It was fierce! OMG! I’m gonna die from involuntarily ingesting my own fart.

Kuba: Mom, did you fart?

Me (evil woman tone – under my breath): Kuba!

Kuba (laughing): Ewww… Yuck! That’s disgusting!

Me (evil woman tone – under my breath): Kuba!

Then I hear what sounds like the beginning of laughter in another stall – Like the person is trying not to laugh but can’t help themselves. Then I guess they couldn’t hold it in anymore – anywhere else I think they would have been rolling on the floor.  Kuba joins in on the laughter. Then he says…

Kuba: It’s not funny! It’s inappropriate

SIDE NOTE: I usually tell him this because he loves to laugh after he farts – thinks it the funniest thing. So what he’s saying now is from some scripting we’ve done.

This makes the lady in the other stall laugh even more

I’m beginning to stifle a laugh too but I still wish that my kid would just shut up.

I hear the sink running so I assume that the person is now washing their hands. Their phone rings…

Victim: You’re outside? *Bwoy me ha wan juak fuh ghe you see. Yuh guh ded wid laugh* – (Translation: Boy, I have a joke to share with you. You’re going to die laughing)

The person eventually leaves. Thank God! I’m finally able to make my exit but not before dousing the place with my Victoria Secret body mist.

I finally exit my safety net and the traitor (aka Kuba) comes up to me and says; “Mom, you made it.”

By the way, I would have died laughing too. I think farts are God’s gift of laughter to the world.

So… What else has been going on with us?

Charlton and I have come up with a secret handshake. We’re still trying to figure out in what scenarios we will use it though.

I was addicted the US Presidential elections. Actually I started tuning in since the Republican primaries but got really into it during the summer. Meaning all politics all the time – Every TV in the house – So I did not miss anything. Kuba would lay in my bed some nights and watch Hardball (Chris Matthews) with me. I’m sure he’s quite the pundit now.

I no longer dream of giving up my career and clipping coupons. I now want to be a medium! Looking for some people to practice on though. So if you’re interested hurry up because Charlton is considering an intervention. Says he’s worried about me. I don’t know what for.

News flash! Any day now I’m going to be thirty-six, which means that I’ll officially be off the calendar. Don’t stop. You read right. Keep reading.

Never walk into a pizza shop for the first time and the cashier has their back turned to you. Let someone else take your spot so you have some time to get used to their face. I recently walked into a pizza shop and the cashier’s back was turned to me – She was talking to one of the chefs. When she turned around to take my order I gripped the counter and said; “Oh my God!” The thing is I didn’t mean for her to hear it. Really… I’m not like that at all. I usually have my shit together. I get shocked like that I usually can scream and do all my facial expressions in my mind. But something happened that day – My brain did not have enough time to compute the shock. If it’s any consolation I felt really bad that she heard. But damn! The man who continues to sell her bleaching cream should be jailed and her eyelash lady should be doing some significant community service.

This is the last year that I will hide in my house from the Jehovah’s Witness people. I mean it! This is it! Come 2014 it is not happening! I will send Kuba out to them instead – LOL. Two of them came by our house and this is how it went down…

I see them coming into my yard so I run to my bedroom to hide. Kuba’s in another room watching TV – It’s too late for me to call him now – I can’t shout, they’re going to hear me and know someone’s home. I hear a knock on the door…

JW: *Inside! Inside! (Translation: It’s a Caribbean thing. I think it means “hello, anyone inside” all wrapped up in one. I never really got it but whatever)

Me: I’m praying Kuba does not betray me

JW: (Knocks on the door again)

SIDE NOTE: I’m crouching down looking out the window (I can see the front of the yard). I’m thinking I’m safe – Kuba can’t hear the knocking. He’s busy watching TV. Unbeknownst to me Kuba was already headed for the door. I hear the door open…

JW: Hi, is your mommy home?

Me (thinking): Just say no. Please Kuba. Do this one for mom

Kuba: My name is Kuba. Nice to meet you

SIDE NOTE: Ahhh… He gets it right on cue. Scripting working well. So proud.

JW: Nice to meet you too. Is your mommy inside?

Kuba: There

SIDE NOTE: I’m sure he’s pointing in the direction of my room.

JW: Can you go and call your mommy for us please?

SIDE NOTE: I’m thinking; “Evil thoughts go away. I love my son. I love my son.”

If he was at least twenty I believe I would have punched him in the face when he opened my door.

Kuba: Mom, come here please

Me (whispering): Not now Kuba

Kuba: Come. Here. Please

SIDE NOTE: Obviously what I’m saying does not please him so he’s sounding urgent.

Me (whispering): Go and close the door

SIDE NOTE: I know, it’s awful and I feel so bad about it – But I didn’t want to send him out there to… What is it called these days? LIE! To my horror Kuba starts pulling me and…

Kuba (pulling me out the room): Moooom. Cooome. Heeere. Pleeease

I’m pulling away from him now. Why is my kid doing this to me!

SIDE NOTE: You would think they would just leave and let me wallow in my shame. By now they must know I’m in the house. My son has obviously made that known with is insistence.

Kuba stops pulling me and walks out the room and I whisper to him; “Not now honey.” I swear to you – That is all I said. Kuba goes out and says to the folks, very politely if that’s possible…

Kuba: Go away

I stare at the bedroom floor looking for the hole for me to jump into hell.

What lesson have I taught my son?

DISCLAIMER: Evil thoughts were real but no one was hurt though. Love my kid too much 🙂 

P.S. I guess things may look bad if I don’t say Happy New Year so… Happy New Year! From my heart of course 🙂