I walked through the door after my hour long commute, the closets were done, minus the doors, but hey it's progress. The room was otherwise undisturbed, the place looked ransacked, nowhere near neat and clean, so much for tiny and tidy.
My mother was hollering in the back yard, I stepped into the porch to find her giving Michael swimming classes.
Why would a grown woman jump into a pool fully clothed? This woman does not believe in bathing suits.
"Float, just like I showed you." She commanded.
He caught a glimpse of me out of the corner of his eyes and went into "mommy-is-here" mode. He splashed and kicked as she held him.
"That's not what I taught you." She looked up at me, "Your father wants me to give him swimming classes for an hour each day." As far as I know she wasn't a YMCA employee, classes and training and teaching and discipline where not her forte.
I sat on the swinging chair and watched him emerge from the pool. He was wearing a diaper, holding about 2 gallons of pool water with a cascade of water freely flowing down the back of his legs with each step.
"Mom, he has the Donald Duck ass!" The diaper bounced up and down giving him momentum towards me, he rushed to me and jumped into my arms, work clothes now drenched.
"Mom, you are wearing clothes." I asked, curious about why.
"By the time I go in, change, and get ready for the pool I just don't want to get in, so I just get in when I feel like it. Why?"
"No reason." Common sense, right? I lack it in this house, the sense running around here commonly was not the sense of sensible people in the real world, but living on Ronald McDonald's Retirement Center, I was voted out, 5 to 1.
I walked into the porch and grabbed the Swimmers diapers, my child needed to change before the pool turned into a cotton picking session, that diaper was ready to blow, and I was not about to go cotton picking.
Mike jumped back in the pool, my mom was in the middle of the shallow area, he was on the steps and glided like a swan to her, missing his mark by a foot, swimming like a rock, she grabbed him, he coughed, I waited for a naked boy to diaper.
She took off his diaper, "Ay shit!"
"What do you mean "Ay shit?" I stared at her as she held the diaper, now resembling a fluffy white pillow.
"He pooped!" She began scooping out dime sized balls from the pool to his diaper. I stood up, probably with my mouth wide open. The streaker ran around the pool, he was at the other end now with his toys, I dropped the swimming diaper and stood by my mother.
I pointed to the bottom of the pool.
"No, that's nothing." Said the blind woman.
"Look at it mom, it's poop. Look."
"No, poop floats, doesn't it. That can't be poop."
(Forehead slam against wall)
"Look around, do you think we are in a toilet. Of course it's poop. Hurry up, it's rolling that way." I pointed towards the deep middle part of the pool. "And I'm not getting in." I did a stand still jump, trying to show her I was wearing work clothes.
She hesitated, she didn't want to do it, I ran for the net used to take out leaves and bugs. I handed it to her.
Mike jumped in, yes I repeat, Mike jumped into the fucking pool, on the other fucking side, and I knew that my mother would never make it to that side. I ran and jumped into the other end of the pool, heels and all. That mother instinct does not play, you have no time to think at all. I grabbed him and sat him on the steps, "YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" I yelled at him, not knowing who to clobber at this point. I would have preferred picking cotton.
"I sorry mama!" My heart melted. How do they do that!
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Moving
I have moved in with my parents, not just me, my husband, the kids and the mother in law, too. Three households consolidated into one. We all packed and moved to the country. Maybe not exactly the country, but a house on five acres of land.
The house is kind of Brady Bunch, but with nursing home residents.
It's a nice house, 80's style and an efficiency on the side, which is where I reside with my husband and the two little ones. The main house is where my oldest, my mother in law, and my parents live. I try to stay away and leave them be.
As time goes by I am realizing that I have just moved into a commune, minus David Koresh and plus the creed "Honor thy father, pray for thy mother."
My dad calls the shots, even in my room. We all had to be out of our houses by the first of the month, and that gave me exactly 2 days to pack it and go. I have lost my toothbrush, pillow cases, and the screws to my bed, I am sleeping on the mattress on the floor for the time being, the kids snug in the middle. Yes, a king bed accommodates us all.
We have a pool that is confusing, how could both ends be shallow and then a six foot dip in the middle? Our backyard resembles Grand Central Park, the house is small, the backyard is gigantic, the house even came with a golf cart to ride around the property. Mike has daily tours in the morning and afternoon.
The mosquitoes feed on us like a Chinese buffet just served with crab legs.
I drive an hour from work now, to and from, and play Pandora the entire way.
Once a day I break something and every night I have a glass of Moscato. The days are long, the work is endless.
I am still living out of boxes and waiting for my closets to get assembled, we purchased them from Ikea, so assembly is required. My husband is putting them together, they should self distruct in about a month.
I am back on my writing bug, and am trying to establish a nightly schedule for the blog alone, then when I can write away and work on my unfinished work in progress.
All in all, it's gorgeous. I enjoy sitting outside immensely.
I sit outside on my laptop and my mother sits next to me, she mimics the night sounds, she has tried to talk to crickets, owls and whatever other nocturnal creature that makes it impossible for me to concentrate. I stare at her and wait for the communication to end, it's like listening to whales gossip.
She sees me typing, but just like when I am on the phone, they just don't see it.
I have learned that my mother believes that me drinking Monster energy drinks scare her, she believes that I may kill my parents. I think she is confusing Monster with Four Loko. I have invested in a couple of four packs and drink one daily.
This whole moving in has caused us all to re-evaluate the purposes we have in life, the greater reason to live is to annoy each other to the tenth degree.
At the dinner table, my mom sat with a pad of paper, similar to one you would write a love letter on. She stared at instructions to an appliance in Korean and began "Dearest Wany", that's my mother in law, she then proceeded to pick and choose symbols, like the hieroglyphic code Egyptians used, and wrote my mother in law what she called a love letter, using various drawings of these symbols. My mother in law is out at the casino, we are only 15 minutes away now, and when she returns she will have a letter waiting for her on her pillow.
The pamphlet was an instructional on rice cookers.
The house is kind of Brady Bunch, but with nursing home residents.
It's a nice house, 80's style and an efficiency on the side, which is where I reside with my husband and the two little ones. The main house is where my oldest, my mother in law, and my parents live. I try to stay away and leave them be.
As time goes by I am realizing that I have just moved into a commune, minus David Koresh and plus the creed "Honor thy father, pray for thy mother."
My dad calls the shots, even in my room. We all had to be out of our houses by the first of the month, and that gave me exactly 2 days to pack it and go. I have lost my toothbrush, pillow cases, and the screws to my bed, I am sleeping on the mattress on the floor for the time being, the kids snug in the middle. Yes, a king bed accommodates us all.
We have a pool that is confusing, how could both ends be shallow and then a six foot dip in the middle? Our backyard resembles Grand Central Park, the house is small, the backyard is gigantic, the house even came with a golf cart to ride around the property. Mike has daily tours in the morning and afternoon.
The mosquitoes feed on us like a Chinese buffet just served with crab legs.
I drive an hour from work now, to and from, and play Pandora the entire way.
Once a day I break something and every night I have a glass of Moscato. The days are long, the work is endless.
I am still living out of boxes and waiting for my closets to get assembled, we purchased them from Ikea, so assembly is required. My husband is putting them together, they should self distruct in about a month.
I am back on my writing bug, and am trying to establish a nightly schedule for the blog alone, then when I can write away and work on my unfinished work in progress.
All in all, it's gorgeous. I enjoy sitting outside immensely.
I sit outside on my laptop and my mother sits next to me, she mimics the night sounds, she has tried to talk to crickets, owls and whatever other nocturnal creature that makes it impossible for me to concentrate. I stare at her and wait for the communication to end, it's like listening to whales gossip.
She sees me typing, but just like when I am on the phone, they just don't see it.
I have learned that my mother believes that me drinking Monster energy drinks scare her, she believes that I may kill my parents. I think she is confusing Monster with Four Loko. I have invested in a couple of four packs and drink one daily.
This whole moving in has caused us all to re-evaluate the purposes we have in life, the greater reason to live is to annoy each other to the tenth degree.
At the dinner table, my mom sat with a pad of paper, similar to one you would write a love letter on. She stared at instructions to an appliance in Korean and began "Dearest Wany", that's my mother in law, she then proceeded to pick and choose symbols, like the hieroglyphic code Egyptians used, and wrote my mother in law what she called a love letter, using various drawings of these symbols. My mother in law is out at the casino, we are only 15 minutes away now, and when she returns she will have a letter waiting for her on her pillow.
The pamphlet was an instructional on rice cookers.
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