I have lost count of the ways I have tried to keep this child entertained. We went back to water play today. Walking into the kitchen with no diaper was enough to get me to stop doing dishes and run a bath for a break. Mike needed a short break, so did mommy. And I needed to research.
From my sofa I could look into the bathroom. Trying to google is next to impossible, I am trying to compare the Fisher Price IXL, Mobigo, and the Leapster Explorer. Electronics for toddlers? Where are the days where pots and pans entertained a little boy? Bugs and dirt? Ok, well that he does, but I need him in the house, not out in the open, where his limits are endless and I could get arrested.
I need to know if it will keep him occupied, if I could borrow one a day that would be great, I would analyze his reaction to each of them. If he doesn't understand he slams it on the floor, that would be a "no" check, if he loves it he hides so no one can take it away, taking up hours of his attention (away from me). This is something I am willing to pay top dollar for, if this gave me the free time that I dream of, I am willing to also promote the product, create ads, give online testimonials and even fly my child out for commercials and photo shoots, yes, even travel. I have no problems sitting here waiting to pick him up from the airport.
Dreaming of such a thing I am lost in a daze. Suddenly the sound, the splashing sound. Like Michael Phelps is diving off of the window pane into my gallon sized bathtub. I walk in, the mismatched rug is splattered with water. I stand in place and just stare at the child. He smiles, I can't help but smile back. I sit on the sink and sing the ABC's, he jumps again. My arm goes into position to stop the diving drills. Then the famous crocodile death roll, and we are out of the bathtub.
I wonder just how much trouble he is going to need to be rescued from. I put him down on the rug and he runs to my bedroom, under my covers no doubt.
He reminds me of the movie Friday where they talk about "you can't catch a crack-head", for a moment I rest on the sofa. My child seems to always be high on caffeine, that is the only thing I can think of, now where he gets the drug from, I don't know. I don't have chocolate or soda. At least none that is missing.
But my child likes to do jumps into the bathtub, so he is more Michael Phelps, and I shall dub him Phelps, without the pot.
I know that it will take me a lot of time and energy to put the diaper on, I let him run and drain the battery. Diego jumps in and then Juno, they run from my bed to the living room and back.
I towel the bathroom floor dry and let them run wild, I try to straighten up, I can see the dust on the mirror and glass panels in the bathroom, where does all the dust come from? I turn off the light switch.
There, it's gone.
The towel goes into the dirty laundry bin, making more laundry that I don't want to wash. Going into the boys' room, I look at the toys and head for the drawers, he needs to just wear pajamas today. We are calling it a pajama day. I want to just rest.
Next to the bunk beds are all of my Tupperware, square, rectangle, circle shaped, laying out and sitting in a puddle. My Tupperware, I didn't even realize it was missing, is there nothing sacred anymore!!! He just snatches my Tupperware and uses it as a port-o-potty, his potty is right in the corner. What do I have to do to make him understand which plastic ware to piss in?
After assessing the damage and wrestling my Olympic phenomenon into his Buzz Lightyear pj's I collect the samples, just the right amount of pee to test for all of the recreational drugs 2 year olds take these days.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
Oops, I did it again
You know I haven't had the chance to blog, mostly because everyone who watched my child is now petrified of watching the little felon. So I miss you guys.
I had a chance to blog and decided to spend a little alone time with my other half.
I talked him into a sensual massage and he lay on the bed waiting. I lathered the ointment on my hands, rubbed them together and began the massage.
I rubbed and decided to sit on his bottom, he was having trouble breathing, he didn't admit it, but I could tell, he sounded like he was having an asthma attack. I backed away and sat on the side, we played some Rob Thomas and I was enthralled, I rubbed in circled, tried to get all of the muscles that were balled up into stress and continued the session.
As time went by, like 3 minutes, I realized that the lotion was more of a syrup. But that didn't stop me, I waxed on, waxed off. I did the circles, began to knead and felt like I was making bread out of dough. Little flakes of skin began to appear like skin being rubbed off. I felt more like I was giving him a loopa scrubbing, he noticed.
I blew away the remnants of skin, they looked like spaghetti or thread, dark gray pieces of dead skin everywhere. I blew them away and his skin got hotter, I continued, this should be a good sign, heat.
He turned to me and his eyes did that wierd "WTF" look. I continued with a smile but there was definitely something way off.
He pulled the lotion bottle to his eyesight and read. "Did you know you are massaging me with lubricant?"
I smiled even wider, my eyes no longer visible.
"Do you have any idea how long it will take me to wash this shit off."
I looked at the bottle "Sensual Lubricant" well, I was right about the sensual.
"Nothing soap and water won't handle."
"It's glycerine."
The only thing I know about glycerine is that Bush sings it, and it's a great song, I looked at the ingredients, the first was glycerine. What is that, baby oil, lard, something from "Labyrinth" from the ever smelling stench pond? Really, just scrub with soap and water!
And with that the passion hauled ass out the window.
He went to bathe as I googled and facebook'd.
Definitely should have blogged.
I had a chance to blog and decided to spend a little alone time with my other half.
I talked him into a sensual massage and he lay on the bed waiting. I lathered the ointment on my hands, rubbed them together and began the massage.
I rubbed and decided to sit on his bottom, he was having trouble breathing, he didn't admit it, but I could tell, he sounded like he was having an asthma attack. I backed away and sat on the side, we played some Rob Thomas and I was enthralled, I rubbed in circled, tried to get all of the muscles that were balled up into stress and continued the session.
As time went by, like 3 minutes, I realized that the lotion was more of a syrup. But that didn't stop me, I waxed on, waxed off. I did the circles, began to knead and felt like I was making bread out of dough. Little flakes of skin began to appear like skin being rubbed off. I felt more like I was giving him a loopa scrubbing, he noticed.
I blew away the remnants of skin, they looked like spaghetti or thread, dark gray pieces of dead skin everywhere. I blew them away and his skin got hotter, I continued, this should be a good sign, heat.
He turned to me and his eyes did that wierd "WTF" look. I continued with a smile but there was definitely something way off.
He pulled the lotion bottle to his eyesight and read. "Did you know you are massaging me with lubricant?"
I smiled even wider, my eyes no longer visible.
"Do you have any idea how long it will take me to wash this shit off."
I looked at the bottle "Sensual Lubricant" well, I was right about the sensual.
"Nothing soap and water won't handle."
"It's glycerine."
The only thing I know about glycerine is that Bush sings it, and it's a great song, I looked at the ingredients, the first was glycerine. What is that, baby oil, lard, something from "Labyrinth" from the ever smelling stench pond? Really, just scrub with soap and water!
And with that the passion hauled ass out the window.
He went to bathe as I googled and facebook'd.
Definitely should have blogged.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Haircut Fiasco
It's been ages since I last cut my hair. I needed a new look, a new style, something that took me out of my current funk. I decided on Sunday morning that today was the day. The boys were getting a haircut, I would ride with and update my mane. As we were getting ready, the phone rang, and Lucy (short for Lucifer, my mom's pet name) called that Mike wanted to come home. My dad was already on the way with him, he pulled up before I hung up the call.
The boys went to get a haircut, I stayed home. Did the usual, laundry, cleaning, dishes. When my husband walked through the door, he told me to go ahead.
"Honey, I just got my hair done with Stacy and she did a good job." He knew I was hesitant for just anyone to cut my hair, my regular hair dresser would only see me on Saturdays, I couldn't wait I was head set, this would happen today.
"Ok, I will call."
I called and the little boy on the line said that she was almost done, he would write my name in for the next seat. I headed over and walked in.
"I am here for Stacy." He looked at me puzzled.
"Did you call?"
"I did." There was no sign of my name, he jotted my name down on a paper and put the paper to the corner. Possibly the corner just for Stacy. I sat down and read a magazine.
About this hair cutting place, there is a certain hair dresser that scares the bejesus out of me, she looks like this.
I avoid eye contact, conversations and any kind of possible run ins with her. She is less than 5 foot tall, wears heavy make up, has a nose that was flattened, possibly she slept on her face as an infant. *But aren't there doctors that fix that stuff for free, all she needs to do is move into a tent in a foreign country and apply, they should fix it, para free.
I am focused on reading, Gremlin girl is 2 feet away, cleaning up after her last client. She walks up, charges the client and calls out the next victim.
"Silvia." I look up, unable to breathe. This can't be. I asked for Stacy, she couldnt possibly be Stacy, she should be Broomhilda, or maybe even Anastasia. But Stacy doesn't fit her, unless it's short for Stacylopogus. I stand up, muster the best smile I can, and have a seat.
My husband was a walking dead man, he knew my fear of the gremlin. He even made a point not to allow her to get wet. I sat and explained the cut I want. I needed a Xanax now. I was sweating, dazed, and could feel my breaths growing deeper and deeper.
She pulled out a book with several cuts, the one I wanted in the middle, she set the book in front of the mirror and began to wash and dry. I was still in utter disbelief that she was touching my hair. I thought she did floors.
From time to time I watched over to the Dufus child, going through Vogue magazines at the front desk, he was the one who picked up the phone. I wondered where there was a pick, the ones at the end of the combs, and how far I would get if I attempted to stab him in the eye.
I looked at her name and it started with an N, but I couldnt pronounce it, or her country I am sure. She was hard to understand, but they called her Nacy. How fucking sweet.
I really wanted to say, my appointment is with Stacy, but didn't have the heart or the balls at that moment. I continued to concentrate on my breathing.
She talked, and talked, and I understood one out of every three word she spoke. I wondered if she was a big fan of Steven Speilberg.
She discussed the turmoil in Haiti, inquiring why they didn't just drive supplies and haul them all over here in a bus. I hoped that her gift from God came through her hands and scissors, she wasn't curing any diseases soon, she wasn't even capable of helping those in Haiti, her ideas were shot to hell as soon as she opened her mouth. Maybe she was a former member of the Bush administration, they get all kinds of kooky ideas.
After combing my hair, she sprayed Miracle spray.
I can laugh just as much as the next person, maybe more. She combed my hair and it was straight. Einstein went on a half hour lecture on how I didn't need a straightener my hair was straight when wet, thanks to her Miracle spray, all for the bargain of $30, she must not know that the Jew in me runs deep. For all of you blessed with straight hair, please know that when wet, most curly hair looks straight, it's wet. There is no Miracle. She commented over and over again about how "Now she believes in Miracles." Laughing hysterically. I dazed off into the mirror, my panic attack in full force.
She finished the cut and then at the bangs she dug the comb in and twisted it from side to side causing a waterfall of dandruff, making me flustered and embarrassed. She looked at me after combing my hair into Little Mary Jane. (Surely because she was on some heavy Mary Jane) and looked at me and said. "OK."
I looked in the mirror, no gel, no blowdry, no mousse, no nothing.
"This is great." I said, wanting to run.
I thanked her and walked over to pay Vogue boy.
"So was that Stacy?"
He looked at me, "I don't know who got your call."
Hint, hint asshole! I spoke to a male, you are the only one fitting the description although at the moment, I am sure that these woman are more capable than you will ever be at any kind of customer assistance. I wanted to, but didn't. I walked away, giving him dirty looks, answering his questions with one word.
I know that the hair cut is great, but I don't think I could deal with her. It's that curse of little foreign people, it was like being caged with my beloved mother in law, having her ask me questions about things she would never understand.
I love the haircut, but really need to find a new place, unless the haircut comes with a shot and medication, they won't be seeing me again. Sorry gremlin chick.
The boys went to get a haircut, I stayed home. Did the usual, laundry, cleaning, dishes. When my husband walked through the door, he told me to go ahead.
"Honey, I just got my hair done with Stacy and she did a good job." He knew I was hesitant for just anyone to cut my hair, my regular hair dresser would only see me on Saturdays, I couldn't wait I was head set, this would happen today.
"Ok, I will call."
I called and the little boy on the line said that she was almost done, he would write my name in for the next seat. I headed over and walked in.
"I am here for Stacy." He looked at me puzzled.
"Did you call?"
"I did." There was no sign of my name, he jotted my name down on a paper and put the paper to the corner. Possibly the corner just for Stacy. I sat down and read a magazine.
About this hair cutting place, there is a certain hair dresser that scares the bejesus out of me, she looks like this.
I avoid eye contact, conversations and any kind of possible run ins with her. She is less than 5 foot tall, wears heavy make up, has a nose that was flattened, possibly she slept on her face as an infant. *But aren't there doctors that fix that stuff for free, all she needs to do is move into a tent in a foreign country and apply, they should fix it, para free.
I am focused on reading, Gremlin girl is 2 feet away, cleaning up after her last client. She walks up, charges the client and calls out the next victim.
"Silvia." I look up, unable to breathe. This can't be. I asked for Stacy, she couldnt possibly be Stacy, she should be Broomhilda, or maybe even Anastasia. But Stacy doesn't fit her, unless it's short for Stacylopogus. I stand up, muster the best smile I can, and have a seat.
My husband was a walking dead man, he knew my fear of the gremlin. He even made a point not to allow her to get wet. I sat and explained the cut I want. I needed a Xanax now. I was sweating, dazed, and could feel my breaths growing deeper and deeper.
She pulled out a book with several cuts, the one I wanted in the middle, she set the book in front of the mirror and began to wash and dry. I was still in utter disbelief that she was touching my hair. I thought she did floors.
From time to time I watched over to the Dufus child, going through Vogue magazines at the front desk, he was the one who picked up the phone. I wondered where there was a pick, the ones at the end of the combs, and how far I would get if I attempted to stab him in the eye.
I looked at her name and it started with an N, but I couldnt pronounce it, or her country I am sure. She was hard to understand, but they called her Nacy. How fucking sweet.
I really wanted to say, my appointment is with Stacy, but didn't have the heart or the balls at that moment. I continued to concentrate on my breathing.
She talked, and talked, and I understood one out of every three word she spoke. I wondered if she was a big fan of Steven Speilberg.
She discussed the turmoil in Haiti, inquiring why they didn't just drive supplies and haul them all over here in a bus. I hoped that her gift from God came through her hands and scissors, she wasn't curing any diseases soon, she wasn't even capable of helping those in Haiti, her ideas were shot to hell as soon as she opened her mouth. Maybe she was a former member of the Bush administration, they get all kinds of kooky ideas.
After combing my hair, she sprayed Miracle spray.
I can laugh just as much as the next person, maybe more. She combed my hair and it was straight. Einstein went on a half hour lecture on how I didn't need a straightener my hair was straight when wet, thanks to her Miracle spray, all for the bargain of $30, she must not know that the Jew in me runs deep. For all of you blessed with straight hair, please know that when wet, most curly hair looks straight, it's wet. There is no Miracle. She commented over and over again about how "Now she believes in Miracles." Laughing hysterically. I dazed off into the mirror, my panic attack in full force.
She finished the cut and then at the bangs she dug the comb in and twisted it from side to side causing a waterfall of dandruff, making me flustered and embarrassed. She looked at me after combing my hair into Little Mary Jane. (Surely because she was on some heavy Mary Jane) and looked at me and said. "OK."
I looked in the mirror, no gel, no blowdry, no mousse, no nothing.
"This is great." I said, wanting to run.
I thanked her and walked over to pay Vogue boy.
"So was that Stacy?"
He looked at me, "I don't know who got your call."
Hint, hint asshole! I spoke to a male, you are the only one fitting the description although at the moment, I am sure that these woman are more capable than you will ever be at any kind of customer assistance. I wanted to, but didn't. I walked away, giving him dirty looks, answering his questions with one word.
I know that the hair cut is great, but I don't think I could deal with her. It's that curse of little foreign people, it was like being caged with my beloved mother in law, having her ask me questions about things she would never understand.
I love the haircut, but really need to find a new place, unless the haircut comes with a shot and medication, they won't be seeing me again. Sorry gremlin chick.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
The Great Escape Part 3
We already know that Mike D left my house to go hang out at the meth house down the street. We also know he darted from my mothers house also. Well here is the one that was left.
I walk into the house and everything is eerily quiet. Something obviously wrong. I walk into the living room to see the sofa in front of the door. That's odd. I decide not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Clean up my bedroom, clean the bathroom, a load of laundry, check on Mikey.
Instead of knocking, since I seem to have a knack on timing, I call first, my mother in law answers.
"Oh my God, Oh my God, so scary, so scared, ask Diego, ask..." The line went dead, not because of an intruder cutting the lines, she started to hyperventalate and must have hung up on me. I look to Diego, with his head set and Mario videos and point for the headsets to come off.
"What happened?"
"Huh!"
"What happened, I talked to your abuela, she said to ask you, what happened?" The first and only thing in my mind was that a crack head tried to break in, we have had knocks on the door from random junkies asking to use the phone. As if!!!
"Oh, Michael ran away, but it's ok, he was with Juno." Nonchalantly he says this and continues to listen to his you tube video.
The back door flies open and my mother in law comes in carrying Micheal like a dingo.
"He left, one minute and he left. I went get food for Diego, come back, door open, I walk outside, no Micheal. I look in bed, in closet, no Micheal. I take car and Diego go to part, carumba, Michael at park with Juno, is Juno fault." All in one long breath.
"Juno? Michael walked to the park, two blocks away, and it was Juno." She turned a shade of velvet red, the sweat began to prespire, I could see a fainting spell coming.
She spoke, but I just stared at the little human that would one day get me arrested.
"Ball." A couple days at daycare and all he says is ball.
"Michael walked to the park." I repeated and had a seat on the sofa.
She had tears in her eyes.
"Michael walked to the park." I repeated once again, no wonder the sofa was in front of the door.
My child walked a block up and a block to the left to a park with no supervision.
"Good thing he in daycare." There was another slap in the face. She was so against the notion and now I am sure it was her idea, that's just how it goes.
I poured a shot of whiskey, had three and tried to let the image settle in my mind.
I looked to the doors, the windows, how would I ever restrain this child?
"Me lay down." Yes you do that. Go lay down, leave me with the felon.
I called my mom, who ten minutes later called my grandmother. I dealt with three crying elders whom haven't a clue in the world of how to stop him, and somehow want me to have him evaluated by a psychiatrist, because something isn't right.
I called my husband and have never in all my years heard so many four letter words come out of his mouth. "What he went to the park to buy weed? How the hell did he walk to the park, explain that to me?"
"I wasn't here." Well I wasn't.
The Snoopy teacher took over, wah, wah, wah, wah.... He went on and hung up on me, furious. Absolutely furious, and somehow I was at fault, because this never happened with him, although he doesn't watch him that much, if I would sit and surf the web in front of the boob tube all day, he would never get out either, but shit around here doesn't grow legs and put itself back, someone has to play Molly Maid.
Any ideas on what to do now, aside from deadbolts, we seem to lock eachother out of the house all the time, my hubby has a key to all 3 doors, then my and my eldest have keys only to the side, which has a chain lock, this is a mess, I can't dead bolt the front door, it's my mother's day gift. The sofa stays there. I will just have to teach my eldest how to be a ninja, I can climb a fence, him? Not so much.
I walk into the house and everything is eerily quiet. Something obviously wrong. I walk into the living room to see the sofa in front of the door. That's odd. I decide not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Clean up my bedroom, clean the bathroom, a load of laundry, check on Mikey.
Instead of knocking, since I seem to have a knack on timing, I call first, my mother in law answers.
"Oh my God, Oh my God, so scary, so scared, ask Diego, ask..." The line went dead, not because of an intruder cutting the lines, she started to hyperventalate and must have hung up on me. I look to Diego, with his head set and Mario videos and point for the headsets to come off.
"What happened?"
"Huh!"
"What happened, I talked to your abuela, she said to ask you, what happened?" The first and only thing in my mind was that a crack head tried to break in, we have had knocks on the door from random junkies asking to use the phone. As if!!!
"Oh, Michael ran away, but it's ok, he was with Juno." Nonchalantly he says this and continues to listen to his you tube video.
The back door flies open and my mother in law comes in carrying Micheal like a dingo.
"He left, one minute and he left. I went get food for Diego, come back, door open, I walk outside, no Micheal. I look in bed, in closet, no Micheal. I take car and Diego go to part, carumba, Michael at park with Juno, is Juno fault." All in one long breath.
"Juno? Michael walked to the park, two blocks away, and it was Juno." She turned a shade of velvet red, the sweat began to prespire, I could see a fainting spell coming.
She spoke, but I just stared at the little human that would one day get me arrested.
"Ball." A couple days at daycare and all he says is ball.
"Michael walked to the park." I repeated and had a seat on the sofa.
She had tears in her eyes.
"Michael walked to the park." I repeated once again, no wonder the sofa was in front of the door.
My child walked a block up and a block to the left to a park with no supervision.
"Good thing he in daycare." There was another slap in the face. She was so against the notion and now I am sure it was her idea, that's just how it goes.
I poured a shot of whiskey, had three and tried to let the image settle in my mind.
I looked to the doors, the windows, how would I ever restrain this child?
"Me lay down." Yes you do that. Go lay down, leave me with the felon.
I called my mom, who ten minutes later called my grandmother. I dealt with three crying elders whom haven't a clue in the world of how to stop him, and somehow want me to have him evaluated by a psychiatrist, because something isn't right.
I called my husband and have never in all my years heard so many four letter words come out of his mouth. "What he went to the park to buy weed? How the hell did he walk to the park, explain that to me?"
"I wasn't here." Well I wasn't.
The Snoopy teacher took over, wah, wah, wah, wah.... He went on and hung up on me, furious. Absolutely furious, and somehow I was at fault, because this never happened with him, although he doesn't watch him that much, if I would sit and surf the web in front of the boob tube all day, he would never get out either, but shit around here doesn't grow legs and put itself back, someone has to play Molly Maid.
Any ideas on what to do now, aside from deadbolts, we seem to lock eachother out of the house all the time, my hubby has a key to all 3 doors, then my and my eldest have keys only to the side, which has a chain lock, this is a mess, I can't dead bolt the front door, it's my mother's day gift. The sofa stays there. I will just have to teach my eldest how to be a ninja, I can climb a fence, him? Not so much.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Time out for Granny
Mike D's first day was fine, I dropped him off, waited for the tears, and as I walked out the door called his name for a kiss good-bye. He looked at me as though he smelled a fart. I was merely taking him away from toys, he looked back at me confused, I left.
Day two was a little more like what I expected, he started to kick the back of my car seat when I pulled in, I pulled him out of the car seat and the teacher literally had to peel him off of me.
Day three started in bed, he refused to get out. After a good lucha libre match, we were on our way, I drove as fast as I could, within the speed limit, and he wailed like an ambulance which was quite proper for the moment.
My tears were held back, I hated to hear him cry, but he was at the point that no one wanted to watch him. I was going to have to start bribing, and I can't afford scratch offs and cold cream, not with their high demands.
I called the day care to check on him and was told that he was fine once I left, he did cry, but not for longer than five minutes. My heart fluttered. However, there was another matter that I now had to deal with. Again, secrets kept from me from my frenemies.
I called my mother in law. "Are you picking up Michael early from day care?"
"No, I just get there to watch, make sure she ok. She just sit there."
"She said you are getting there much earlier than wake-up time." I waited.
"Yes, I go fifteen minute early only, I no make noise, I sit corner, watch kids, watch her, see what she doing. Mikey still sleep."
She is a voyeur. She has been arriving early to the day care to watch what the owner does while they sleep. What is now happening is that when the owner sees the car pull up, she immediately lifts Michael from the cot and waits for her at the door with the child in a lethargic state, he must think he is going through the Wonderland tunnel, waking up with wierd looking humans where nothing seems logical.
"You can't do that, you have to go at three on the dot."
"She no let him sleep, she bring him out asleep, then seven pounds of pee pee in his diaper, she no good." That was her logic. Forget the fact that she is playing big brother by the mega blocks, it must be that surveillance camera instinct with her side job, watching and following people in a flea market, stalking those who may steel the shiny sequined fashionable shirts on sale. *snickers*
"Who likes to be stared at in the still of the dark, she has all those kids napping and here you come to sit at circle time in the corner to stare, of course she has him ready, she wants you to stay outside. Stop going early and quit scaring her." I could hear her puffing away at her Virginia Slims.
"Ok, I go 3:15." Did I hear her right?
"No, three o'clock. No 3:15! You go three o'clock." I slowly sounded off the vowels in my attempt to get her to understand what I am saying since I can't speak Korean.
***
I call her on the cell phone at 3:15 pm giving her enough time to do her inquisition and strap Mike D in the car.
"Uh huh." That would be her hello.
"How's Mikey?" I waited to hear him in the background.
"Me go now, me watchee teevee."
Inhale, exhale...
My brain is ready to burst, but in a work setting I can't scream, and driving home to beat her is not an option. If I argue she could get nervous and get into an accident, been there, done that. So I smile and look into my customer-service-mirror where I can see myself smile as I talk, my teeth have a hard time parting, I manage to tell her, "Ok, drive safe, call me when you get home."
Really is it that difficult to drive somewhere at a specific time, this is precisely why I do not count on her for anything that has to do with a schedule, aside for her owl like ways, she just cannot adjust herself to human time, she sleeps during the day and watches poker all night long, I am waiting to hear a cock a doodle doo at six in the morning to mark off the time adjustment in her body.
She called to tell me that he was fine, and she would be watching tv. No one could have ever prepared me for what happened next.
(It will be in the next blog, kinda long.)
Day two was a little more like what I expected, he started to kick the back of my car seat when I pulled in, I pulled him out of the car seat and the teacher literally had to peel him off of me.
Day three started in bed, he refused to get out. After a good lucha libre match, we were on our way, I drove as fast as I could, within the speed limit, and he wailed like an ambulance which was quite proper for the moment.
My tears were held back, I hated to hear him cry, but he was at the point that no one wanted to watch him. I was going to have to start bribing, and I can't afford scratch offs and cold cream, not with their high demands.
I called the day care to check on him and was told that he was fine once I left, he did cry, but not for longer than five minutes. My heart fluttered. However, there was another matter that I now had to deal with. Again, secrets kept from me from my frenemies.
I called my mother in law. "Are you picking up Michael early from day care?"
"No, I just get there to watch, make sure she ok. She just sit there."
"She said you are getting there much earlier than wake-up time." I waited.
"Yes, I go fifteen minute early only, I no make noise, I sit corner, watch kids, watch her, see what she doing. Mikey still sleep."
She is a voyeur. She has been arriving early to the day care to watch what the owner does while they sleep. What is now happening is that when the owner sees the car pull up, she immediately lifts Michael from the cot and waits for her at the door with the child in a lethargic state, he must think he is going through the Wonderland tunnel, waking up with wierd looking humans where nothing seems logical.
"You can't do that, you have to go at three on the dot."
"She no let him sleep, she bring him out asleep, then seven pounds of pee pee in his diaper, she no good." That was her logic. Forget the fact that she is playing big brother by the mega blocks, it must be that surveillance camera instinct with her side job, watching and following people in a flea market, stalking those who may steel the shiny sequined fashionable shirts on sale. *snickers*
"Who likes to be stared at in the still of the dark, she has all those kids napping and here you come to sit at circle time in the corner to stare, of course she has him ready, she wants you to stay outside. Stop going early and quit scaring her." I could hear her puffing away at her Virginia Slims.
"Ok, I go 3:15." Did I hear her right?
"No, three o'clock. No 3:15! You go three o'clock." I slowly sounded off the vowels in my attempt to get her to understand what I am saying since I can't speak Korean.
***
I call her on the cell phone at 3:15 pm giving her enough time to do her inquisition and strap Mike D in the car.
"Uh huh." That would be her hello.
"How's Mikey?" I waited to hear him in the background.
"Me go now, me watchee teevee."
Inhale, exhale...
My brain is ready to burst, but in a work setting I can't scream, and driving home to beat her is not an option. If I argue she could get nervous and get into an accident, been there, done that. So I smile and look into my customer-service-mirror where I can see myself smile as I talk, my teeth have a hard time parting, I manage to tell her, "Ok, drive safe, call me when you get home."
Really is it that difficult to drive somewhere at a specific time, this is precisely why I do not count on her for anything that has to do with a schedule, aside for her owl like ways, she just cannot adjust herself to human time, she sleeps during the day and watches poker all night long, I am waiting to hear a cock a doodle doo at six in the morning to mark off the time adjustment in her body.
She called to tell me that he was fine, and she would be watching tv. No one could have ever prepared me for what happened next.
(It will be in the next blog, kinda long.)
Monday, November 8, 2010
Daycare Evaluation
I drove to the daycare, it was like strutting through town in the donkeys as the Three Amigos, the directions by my mother were simple because they were too good to be true. We were searching for a center and should have been looking for a house. We drove passed and made a three way u-turn at a neighbors. Found it, just hoped she would not be scared away by any of the investigating squad.
The daycare owner was very nice and in her 40's, the room that held the class was small but enough space for the kids to run around, with her keeping an eye, making sure none escaped. She answered our questions, and when my mother in law would ask something, she would look to me to translate.
She was licensed and had a schedule, the children didn't need to necessarily follow the schedule, however most did.
She went over the daily agenda, she even cooked their lunch, homemade meals.
"All the children lay down at noon and nap until 2:30 pm, there is no exception."
She was very direct and seemed to have a handle on her class.
"And if they don't want to nap?" I had to ask, almost like a warning for her.
"He will nap, if not he can lay there until it's time to wake up." She didn't know what I was about to enroll into her little Indian tribe. A little Asian-Puerto Rican-Cuban toddler was just what she needed to shake things up, a mutiny was surely in her future, scalping included.
"I can assure you that he will behave, he will also include himself in all of the activities as well as act accordingly. It may take a couple of days, but it will happen." She was doubtless.
Was her last name Christ? I was ready to give her my Zephyrhills bottles from the trunk of the car to see what she could do with those. If she did turn them into wine, she would need them more than me.
She walked me and the investigative trio out to see the back, there was a wooden fence outside of a chain-link fence heading directly into a covered lanai with sun faded toys and plastic cars, abused and used as weapons by the finest toddlers of West Tampa. There was no way anyone could get over those fences, this place was like Alcatraz.
"I speak to the kids in Spanish, we have a little Russian girl and most children speak two languages." This was a plus, he would be at daycare and Spanish 1.
I looked to my mother who smiled from ear to ear, to my mother in law who shook her head vehemently to show me her disgust of the daycare center, her eyes were short straight slits, not that they were much different than usual, but her smile matched her eyes, she was not thrilled.
The daycare owner handed me the paperwork, I told her I would have to discuss the final decision with my husband and left with a smile.
The car ride back home was worse than a presidential debate, they bickered over the care, the antics of the mini-felon, who was at fault and who would take and pick him up, the more they argued the more they realized this was for the best. My mother threated to leave my mother in law at the daycare in the event she blocked this whole operation from being executed.
"I am sure she can add a little Korean girl to her class and complete her melting pot of children. You could dance and perform when I pick you up, like the dolls in the "It's a Small World" ride."
Before we made it home, my mother in law decided that she would pick him up, she didn't really leave my mother with a choice, my mother didn't battle this one out.
The deal was I drop him off in the morning at 7:15 am and mommy in law dearest would do the honor of picking up Mike D.
All I had to take was his cereal for the milk, diapers and a daily change of clothes, the prayers for the daycare owner would be recited on the way to work.
The daycare owner was very nice and in her 40's, the room that held the class was small but enough space for the kids to run around, with her keeping an eye, making sure none escaped. She answered our questions, and when my mother in law would ask something, she would look to me to translate.
She was licensed and had a schedule, the children didn't need to necessarily follow the schedule, however most did.
She went over the daily agenda, she even cooked their lunch, homemade meals.
"All the children lay down at noon and nap until 2:30 pm, there is no exception."
She was very direct and seemed to have a handle on her class.
"And if they don't want to nap?" I had to ask, almost like a warning for her.
"He will nap, if not he can lay there until it's time to wake up." She didn't know what I was about to enroll into her little Indian tribe. A little Asian-Puerto Rican-Cuban toddler was just what she needed to shake things up, a mutiny was surely in her future, scalping included.
"I can assure you that he will behave, he will also include himself in all of the activities as well as act accordingly. It may take a couple of days, but it will happen." She was doubtless.
Was her last name Christ? I was ready to give her my Zephyrhills bottles from the trunk of the car to see what she could do with those. If she did turn them into wine, she would need them more than me.
She walked me and the investigative trio out to see the back, there was a wooden fence outside of a chain-link fence heading directly into a covered lanai with sun faded toys and plastic cars, abused and used as weapons by the finest toddlers of West Tampa. There was no way anyone could get over those fences, this place was like Alcatraz.
"I speak to the kids in Spanish, we have a little Russian girl and most children speak two languages." This was a plus, he would be at daycare and Spanish 1.
I looked to my mother who smiled from ear to ear, to my mother in law who shook her head vehemently to show me her disgust of the daycare center, her eyes were short straight slits, not that they were much different than usual, but her smile matched her eyes, she was not thrilled.
The daycare owner handed me the paperwork, I told her I would have to discuss the final decision with my husband and left with a smile.
The car ride back home was worse than a presidential debate, they bickered over the care, the antics of the mini-felon, who was at fault and who would take and pick him up, the more they argued the more they realized this was for the best. My mother threated to leave my mother in law at the daycare in the event she blocked this whole operation from being executed.
"I am sure she can add a little Korean girl to her class and complete her melting pot of children. You could dance and perform when I pick you up, like the dolls in the "It's a Small World" ride."
Before we made it home, my mother in law decided that she would pick him up, she didn't really leave my mother with a choice, my mother didn't battle this one out.
The deal was I drop him off in the morning at 7:15 am and mommy in law dearest would do the honor of picking up Mike D.
All I had to take was his cereal for the milk, diapers and a daily change of clothes, the prayers for the daycare owner would be recited on the way to work.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
One Minute
Months ago, daycare was considered a four-letter word within the vicinity of my 2 year old and his caregivers, Thing 1 and Thing 2. That all has changed. It only took a minute.
Whenever the caller ID on my cell phone shows that the call is coming from my mother's house, the Psycho music should begin to play, there is hardly ever anything good coming out of those calls.
"Oh my God, only one minute, just one minute. I went to pee and he disappeared."
I can only assume she is talking about Mike D, she wouldn't be this concerned over my father's disappearance. At this point I can only wonder if she has called me with his reappearance or if I must call in the swat team.
"Did you find him?"
"He was in the middle of the street, yes I found him. He was in the kitchen with me, I went to pee and went back to the kitchen and he was gone. He closed the door and I didn't even notice, then I started looking and he was there."
"He's ok, it's ok." That little shit!
"I can't do this. I have to cook for your dad by the time he leaves at 2 pm, I have to clean, I can't keep him, he is too much." Her voice was shaky and I could hear her eyes swelling. Mike D has put us through alot, from the moment he was conceived.
"He walked out the door and all you see is the little turd in the middle of the street with that damn red ball, it's bigger than he is. In the middle of the street!"
She kept apologizing and there really was no need, I knew this was coming.
"Mom, I can get him in a daycare, it's ok. Call the neighbor lady, see if she can squeeze him in."
Later that day, when I walked into my mother's back porch, it looked like there was an intervention ready to commence.
My mother in law sat on the palm tree couch, my mother paced. She has been in the process of chain-calling potential daycares and both had been chain-smoking. Mike D was emptying the drawers of bras and panties, the cost of silence.
They went back and forth, exchanging horror stories and trying to figure out who could watch him what hours, there was no happy medium, they both had upcoming visits to the doctors and dentists, and trips to the casino. I sat there as a spectator. If I could only pack the kids and move everyone to Alaska, this would be pointless.
The phone rang and my mother looked up at me, "It's her."
I looked to my mother in law, "Who is her?"
"Lady watch Mikey, no good, no good."
"No good for who? You, me or her?"
"I watch Mikey, she no watch Mikey good, he very different."
"He isn't retarded and he isn't a prodigy, he is what they call ADHD or exceptionally spoiled."
My mom was pacing in the yard, smoking like she needed to catch up to the little Korean chimney. She hung up the phone and walked in.
"She needs to meet you and him. She can have up to 6 children, she has 5, she sounds promising. I think we are gonna like her." She smiled, I smiled. Then my mother in law chimed in.
"She stupid, how she watch 6 kids, she no watch Mikey, no good." My mother in law was already becoming the brick ball, there was a battle brewing. "He bad boy."
"You can't tell her that, we are all going to go and the day we get there and he is outside with the keys to the house, smoking a cigar, that will be the day we pull him." My mother was not playing games. "He is a curious little boy, who needs to play and be social with other kids.
"She doesn't need to know we are sending over a monster, we will just scare her, and then she will reject him. He is too young rejection, you just sit there and smile." My mother said this and glared at my mother in law.
"We are all going?" I asked.
"All of us, now time to get Mikey decent looking." She picked up the child rummaging in the undergarments and came out with a polite looking toddler, free of dirt and the waves in his hair somewhat controlled, now if only she bought it.
We all jumped in the car and headed for the daycare.
Whenever the caller ID on my cell phone shows that the call is coming from my mother's house, the Psycho music should begin to play, there is hardly ever anything good coming out of those calls.
"Oh my God, only one minute, just one minute. I went to pee and he disappeared."
I can only assume she is talking about Mike D, she wouldn't be this concerned over my father's disappearance. At this point I can only wonder if she has called me with his reappearance or if I must call in the swat team.
"Did you find him?"
"He was in the middle of the street, yes I found him. He was in the kitchen with me, I went to pee and went back to the kitchen and he was gone. He closed the door and I didn't even notice, then I started looking and he was there."
"He's ok, it's ok." That little shit!
"I can't do this. I have to cook for your dad by the time he leaves at 2 pm, I have to clean, I can't keep him, he is too much." Her voice was shaky and I could hear her eyes swelling. Mike D has put us through alot, from the moment he was conceived.
"He walked out the door and all you see is the little turd in the middle of the street with that damn red ball, it's bigger than he is. In the middle of the street!"
She kept apologizing and there really was no need, I knew this was coming.
"Mom, I can get him in a daycare, it's ok. Call the neighbor lady, see if she can squeeze him in."
Later that day, when I walked into my mother's back porch, it looked like there was an intervention ready to commence.
My mother in law sat on the palm tree couch, my mother paced. She has been in the process of chain-calling potential daycares and both had been chain-smoking. Mike D was emptying the drawers of bras and panties, the cost of silence.
They went back and forth, exchanging horror stories and trying to figure out who could watch him what hours, there was no happy medium, they both had upcoming visits to the doctors and dentists, and trips to the casino. I sat there as a spectator. If I could only pack the kids and move everyone to Alaska, this would be pointless.
The phone rang and my mother looked up at me, "It's her."
I looked to my mother in law, "Who is her?"
"Lady watch Mikey, no good, no good."
"No good for who? You, me or her?"
"I watch Mikey, she no watch Mikey good, he very different."
"He isn't retarded and he isn't a prodigy, he is what they call ADHD or exceptionally spoiled."
My mom was pacing in the yard, smoking like she needed to catch up to the little Korean chimney. She hung up the phone and walked in.
"She needs to meet you and him. She can have up to 6 children, she has 5, she sounds promising. I think we are gonna like her." She smiled, I smiled. Then my mother in law chimed in.
"She stupid, how she watch 6 kids, she no watch Mikey, no good." My mother in law was already becoming the brick ball, there was a battle brewing. "He bad boy."
"You can't tell her that, we are all going to go and the day we get there and he is outside with the keys to the house, smoking a cigar, that will be the day we pull him." My mother was not playing games. "He is a curious little boy, who needs to play and be social with other kids.
"She doesn't need to know we are sending over a monster, we will just scare her, and then she will reject him. He is too young rejection, you just sit there and smile." My mother said this and glared at my mother in law.
"We are all going?" I asked.
"All of us, now time to get Mikey decent looking." She picked up the child rummaging in the undergarments and came out with a polite looking toddler, free of dirt and the waves in his hair somewhat controlled, now if only she bought it.
We all jumped in the car and headed for the daycare.
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