Fast Is The New F-Bomb
The saying is true, kids really do grow up too fast. Azul, my five year-old, soon to be six, dropped his first f-bomb and my husband’s response was, “I’m surprised it took this long.”
Now, I have never claimed to be the best influence on my child, he’s mine and I’m his, so we get what we get, and I am well aware of the hypocrisy of parenthood, but trying to be a completely different person around him seems to be more effort than I am willing to exert. I freely admit to having a potty mouth and Azul does know what constitutes a “bad word.” He usually asks, “Can I say a bad word?” when he is telling a story, and because I want to know what he’s thinking, I generally say, “Yes.” I appreciate the fact that he asks permission and it most commonly happens when he is quoting someone. Not me!
We were recently on a family vacation and spent a lot of time walking around and checking out the sights. One afternoon while walking down the main drag in Waikiki, there was a sign advertising hair braids and henna tattoos, so of course I asked my five year-old, “Do you want to get some hair braids and henna tattoos?” In addition to talking inappropriately in front of him I am also extremely sarcastic. I think it is good for the soul to not take everything so seriously and it promotes critical thinking. So I am either raising a son who won’t be gullibly taken advantage of, or an ass. Sigh!
After the question I posed, holding his daddy’s hand, he looked at me with a funny expression on his face and said, “Can I say a bad word?” Well, the bad words he normally experiments with are not bad words at all, like “damn” or “heck” or “hate.” Oh, there is the occasional “shit,” but who doesn’t let that slip every once in a while? Even the FCC has a term for it, it’s called a “fleeting expletive.”
So, in true fashion, yes was my reply. And he looked up at me with his cute little five year-old face and said, “Fuck no!” With disappointment in my husband’s eyes, I cracked up laughing and said, “Well I guess he doesn’t want it. And he is very adamant about it.”
Even without the hair braids and henna tattoos, his growth has been one fleeting expletive after another!
Boy Enforcements
At the age of five, almost six, Azul has made a very important life decision and I think we both may have contributed to it. My contribution: taking him everywhere with me, watching the news while he is in the room and being very open with him while we are talking. And his contribution: HE IS FIVE!
There is no question he can’t ask, and I have tried to reinforce that ever since he started talking. So, he is good at asking when he doesn’t understand something and he pays attention to very minute details. Now, not every question is answered to its fullest, but enough to understand the basics. Also, being an only child he is around a lot of adults and therefore adult conversations.
One current topic of conversation was having babies. My sister just had twins and we went through the “baby talk” and the fact that babies are in the mother’s belly and when they are born they come out. EEK! You can read that uncomfortable conversation at Oh Baby!. His concern and I guess what he understood was, it hurt! He decided that, “I never want to give birth to a baby.” So, I explained that women have the babies and not the men. That seemed to get him through and ease his mind. Ugh, men!
Another current event covered in the News a lot lately is same-sex marriage equality. I explained to Azul what that means legally and for the people who want to be married. He never had a problem with this or questioned it at any point; it is amazing how intuitive children can be.
The third idea to throw into the mix is adoption. A little over a year ago we had new next-door neighbors move in who have a little girl, Nadia, who is originally from Guatemala and was adopted when she was an infant. She is now eight and the two of them play together all the time. It is cute to watch them. Of course he had some questions and this idea of adoption intrigued my astute five year-old. I’m not sure what he was thinking when we talked about this, but again it seemed like his concern was over pain and how neither parent had to go through it.
He is now five, two months away from being six, and the one thing he does not like is GIRLS! Not even Nadia, he would never admit she was his friend. He calls his friends who are boys his “boyfriends,” and I’ve referred to girls who are his friends as “girlfriends,” and his reply is always the same, “I wouldn’t go that far!” Meaning they are just girls. When I asked why, he answered, “because sometimes you need boy enforcements!” Again, ugh, men!
Put all this together in a developing brain, where all ideas are new and original thoughts are original, and you get the proclamation, “I’m going to marry a man. And adopt a baby!”
“Really?” was my response, while I paused my dinner prep and looked up at him.
“Yes, I don’t like girls and I don’t want to have a baby, that will hurt. And I’ll adopt a baby.” He said it very matter-of-factly, as if he had put some thought into it and this was his conclusion.
He had it all set out, so the only thing left for me to do was compliment him on his thought process and continue with dinner. Huh? I wonder if we should have peas or corn tonight.
A Dirty Job
I have been a mommy for five years, ten months and 2 days, and I have also been dirty for five years, ten months and 2 days. It is an odd coincidence, that the dirtiness starts immediately with parenthood, and you won’t even know what hit you, but one day you’ll look in the mirror and see the white crusty spit-up you have been wearing proudly like a well-planned accessory on your shoulder all day without noticing. And spit-up is not the worst of it, you’ll be peed on, pooped on and puked on, the sad fact being you get used to wearing the “Three Ps” and then eventually come to expect it.
During your child’s infancy your primary adornment will be mostly involuntary bodily excretions. But soon your little blessing will start to develop hand coordination, which of course means dirty hands. They will grab, touch and hug you, which is one of the best parts of being a parent, but they also grab food, dirt and any and everything sticky. So when those chubby little arms wrap around your face and you are getting the best hug you’ve ever received, you’re also getting a facial of sloppy wet teething cookie infused with cat hair.
And the dirt seems to grow along with your child, taking on a life of its own. Sometimes you won’t even be able to identify it or figure out its original origins. This is most obvious during the next milestone, crawling. When mobility starts, all of a sudden you will notice first of all how dirty your floors are, then how much of that stuff gathers on your pants right around the ankles. It moves up your legs and to your knees like a vine circling round and climbing, finally ending with little blooms of hand prints on your derriere.
Through the years those hands get bigger and so do other parts like that cute little nose and all the things it holds. You will soon become a human tissue and the preferred one as well. And when you squat down to hug your little “big-kid,” who is running toward you at full speed, you make contact and then in all the excitement, an unexpected sneeze! With a wipe of their face on your sleeve, a new embellishment rests there.
Wear your badge proudly parents. It’s a dirty job, but somebody has to do it!
Carmelina Hart 