Further Proof

Bean does this when she’s getting ready to do something mischievous.
She calls it “putting her horns on”.

Putting her horns on.

Yeah. That’s definitely my kid.

She has an iPad and likes to watch Netflix. There are some shows that I don’t want her to watch and she knows it. She’d asked me to hang out with her in her bedroom while she watched a show. I saw her choose something inappropriate and asked her what she was doing. She put on a fake smile and a chirpy tone, “Mom, why don’t you just leave, okay? Go see Dad in the living room. I’m going to stay in here.” I explained that she still wouldn’t get to watch the crap she was after even if I left and she was a little deflated.

She’s just like her Daddy in that she can’t keep a secret for anything. I was getting her dinner ready and she was being quiet. I thought she was drawing on some construction paper until she piped up with, “Hey, Mom! I’m drawing on your table! Right now! Purple!”

Sweety told me the other day that the year I worked after she was born was really hard for him. He never told me that while I was working to keep me from feeling even more guilty. I’m kind of glad that I worked for a bit because Bean got to spend her days next door and I know that shaped how she is. I’m super glad that I have the chance to be at home with her now though.

I’m going to teach her how to draw on the undersides of tables. I think she will enjoy that.

Educated Bean

The Bean turned 3 in November. A few weeks before that, we started kicking around the idea that she should go to preschool. She’s smart. She’s learning a lot at home. She has no idea that she’s a toddler. She thinks she’s a teenager like the girls next door. She refers to people of her size as babies. And she and I were butting heads constantly. I think she was sick of seeing me all of the time.

Mid-October I called to see if there were any openings at the school near our house. Yes. Of course! So I tell the lady that Bean won’t be 3 for a few more weeks but can I come pay a deposit to hold her spot. Lady asks if Bean is potty-trained and when I say yes, she replies that she can start tomorrow. Sweety said that he could tell from the look on my face that I just found out that she could start right away. We took the rest of the week to pick out a backpack, get caught up on inoculations, and for me to be okay with sending my kid away for 3 hours a day.

To put it mildly, she loves it. The shape of the week last week was the octagon (which happens to be her favorite) and I thought she was going to shit her pants from excitement while telling me about it after school.

First day of school. Only a little bit of crying. By the second day, she had friends who were eager to whisk her off as soon as she walked through the door.

First Day of School

Here she is before the Christmas Program. Her class sang a rousing rendition of “Joy To The World”
Christmas Program

We’re working on getting Bean out of our bed because she’s such a little asshole to sleep with. It’s not good sleep for her unless she’s kicking the shit out of Sweety as she tries to pinch a hole in my arm. So now, she goes to sleep in her bed while I stay with her and tell her a story and she knows to get up and get me out of my bed when she wakes up to potty. Bean is quite a little sleep-talker. Sometimes when she’s fighting sleep she will talk or sing. One night she whisper-sang the theme to “Cops” over and over. “Bad boys, bad boys. Whatcha gonna do?” I laid in the dark with her and felt like I was having an out of body experience listening to her. It just seemed too odd.

Last week she started talking as she was getting ready to pass out. “I go to school. I love friends. I have friends. My best friend is…” And she was quiet for a few seconds. (I got kind of excited because I was looking forward to hearing this kid’s name so I could pump her for information.) Then she says, “My mom. She’s my best friend.” Maybe I cried a tiny bit because it was so damned sweet.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

What’s an unmistakable sign that perhaps you need to do some personal grooming?

When your 2.5 year old literally throws her hands in the air horror-movie-style while shrinking away from you screaming, “Mom! I do not like your vagina!” She said it looked like a monster. Thanks, kid.

We decided it was time to get Bean out in the world and socialize with some of her own kind. As it is, she thinks she’s a teenager. Her favorite thing to do is go next door, play with Grandma and Papa and then go into the girls’ rooms over there and sit with them like she’s 13. She sees people her size and whispers disgustedly, “Babies!”. She saw a midget while walking with Sweety the other day and thought he was a baby too. I’m just glad that Sweety got to be part of that awkwardness and not me.

So. Anyway. She’s joined a gym. She gets to go in for a tumbling kind of class once a week and can go each day for an hour of free play. She looooooves it. When she wakes up at night to potty now, she will say that she’s dreaming of her balance beams. It’s adorable.

This outfit that she wore to see the princesses a couple of months ago? On the front it says “I love TMNT” with photos of the Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Let's get moving!

It’s her favorite shirt. She loves the Ninja Turtles. She’s only seen about 5 minutes of one of their shows on Netflix (I won’t let her watch it because she mimics too much. I spend enough time keeping her off of the furniture without her trying to act like a Ninja Turtle) but has decided that they are her favorite and she wears the shit out of that shirt.

She wore it her first Saturday to gym class. Her second Saturday class Sweety took her alone and she wore it again. Some bitch with a stick up her ass commented on it. What the fuck? Seriously? Who the hell notices what a kid wears from one week to the next? Sweety just told her it was her favorite shirt and moved on. Third Saturday Sweety was taking her alone again and I asked if I should make her wear a different shirt. He said hell no, let her have the BEST DAY EVER by getting to wear her favorite shirt AND go to gym class. Sweety…there’s a reason I keep him around. Good guy. By the way, stick up her ass bitch didn’t mention her shirt.

Like There’s a Pinball in my Mind

Do you ever see someone living the same fucked up life that you lived in 20 years ago and want to shake the shit out of them until they realize they are short-changing themselves? Yes. Yes. I am there. And I know it won’t do a damn bit of good to say anything to her because I remember. I remember being that full of hope girl thinking, “I can fix him. Nobody else understands him.” blah, blah, blah. Lather, rinse, repeat. At some point you wake up and realize that it’s not your job to fix somebody or make them happy. That shit is on them. And if you don’t want them to suck the life out of you that you need to go. Related: I saw Sweety stalk out of the house today intent on beating the living shit out of someone and lucky for them that they weren’t in. Argh. Argh. Argh.

There’s a letter on the way to me from Lintball’s lawyer. If I pay him 20k then he will sign his 1/3 of Mom’s house to me. Nevermind that I know there’s no way 1/3 of that house is worth that much. There’s been no appraisal done. That’s just what he wants to go away. I’m going to find out if I own 2/3 of the house if I can rent it out (by rent it out I just mean let someone live there that I trust to keep the lawn mowed) to keep him from coming and going as he pleases and not pay him doodlysquat. The idea of taking out a mortgage on a house in the middle of nowhere Oklahoma sort of makes me feel pukey. I know it’s a completely emotional decision. The dickweed was saying that he was still living there but it turns out that he moved out last November. Bought a house with his fiance (now wife). I found this out in May. As of April, he was telling his lawyer that he still lived there. I hope he dies trapped in a fire. Really.

The Budman is no longer with us. I had to put him to sleep on May 5. Monday. Cinco de Mayo. If I’d have been heartless, I’d have made him wait a day just so it wouldn’t be on a day that would be easy to remember. Something weird? I’d just had him tuned-up for another year and got a new batch of crazy pills for him along with some other stuff. Even with that, he’d seemed more off than normal for a few days. On the Wednesday before, I had a talk with him. Told him it was okay to die. He’d been here long enough and that Mom would be excited to see him and he could put in a good word to let her know that I took excellent care of his grouchy ass. He didn’t eat again after that talk. For about the week prior, I’d been giving him human food as a treat and he wouldn’t even touch that. And he quit barking at all at night after that talk. I buttoned him into bed and he’d still be there when the sun came up. I’d take him out to potty, he’d drink some water like a camel, and I’d put him back in bed. He’d stumble out out of bed a time or two during the day and I’d take him out to potty in the shade because if there was sunlight he’d see his own shadow and it scared him. I wish that I’d have taken him to the vet earlier but he’d gone a couple of days without eating before so I thought he might snap out of it. After it was done on Monday, the vet told me it was the right thing. That no pills would have fixed him. Even though he peed all over the floor and was a cantankerous furball, I really miss him. And now I’m crying again. Yay.

At the end of May a friend came to visit and we went to Cinderella’s castle for lunch. We hauled the Bean along because she’s still young enough to be free. That kid lost her mind when the princesses came out and talked to her. Do you see the crazy shining in those eyes? She reminded me of the look I had on my face when I met Scott Sigler. I guess the crazyeyes are hereditary.

Can you tell she's excited to meet Jasmine?

The first princess to say hi, Aurora.

Notice the knot on her head? Two days before we were at the post office and she was in the middle of her very first full-on tantrum in public. It was just glorious. I was hustling her out of there and holding her hand with one of mine and using my other hand to open the car door. Just as I swung the door open, she broke free and rushed towards the car. Door met head with a solid thud. I think the princesses saw this little dirt urchin with the broke ponytail, lumped up noggin, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles tee shirt and deduced that she had a sad life so they needed to be extra nice.

After lunch with the princesses, we made a pitstop in the bathroom. I asked Bean if she had fun and she said yes. Then she said, “Going back to see the princesses!” No, Bean, we aren’t. “Yes. I’m going to uyu with princesses! I love them!” Uyu is what we call nursing. It’s the Korean word for milk. No, Bean. You uyu with Mama, not the princess. Cue tears as the Bean starts wailing that the loves the princesses and wants to uyu with them. Thanks, kid. When I came out and told Sweety what she said he replied that he wanted to uyu with the princesses too.

We’re on Day Six of weaning the Bean. I was going to do the whole baby-led-weaning thing where she weaned herself whenever she was ready but the kid was starting to do some damage with her teeth. She eats an incredible amount of food and takes man-sized shits. (Have I mentioned how happy I am that she’s potty trained? I give thanks every time I flush the toilet instead of strapping a diaper onto her.) She was starting to be a little meanass sometimes when she nursed. It was like she knew it was a way to hold me hostage so she’d be mean while she was nursing. Even if she was being nice her bottom teeth were wrecking me. It was time to stop the madness. Sometimes she begs for uyu. “Please, Mom! Can I uyu?! Just because I want to? Please! Just for one minute!” “I’m mad. I’m angry. I need uyu.” So we go through all of the ways that she’s a big girl who doesn’t need uyu and that we can snuggle in other ways. I think it would have been easier to wean her when she was smaller and couldn’t voice her displeasure so clearly. It’s gotten to where I can usually distract her with a backscratch and a bedtime story and singing her nighttime song until my throat is dry.