Mamarati

So I’ve started making myself a list of things I need to blog about, like the nerd that I am… maybe it will help. I am so scatterbrained lately.

And by lately I mean… the last few years.

First I should say I’m sitting here eating cheese turds. I fear I am going to finish them off even though we just got them yesterday after my boyfriend made a trip to Central Market, which is where the cheese turds live.

I call them this because they are really cheese curds, but the first time we got them I told Jacob he had to try these things… and he did and then he said, what are those? And I said — cheese curds. And he acted like he was going to spit out what was in his mouth… and he was all… CHEESE TURDS????

It was funny.

And it’s also evidence that my child talks with his mouth full, eh?

I know. You’re jealous that your kid couldn’t also be raised in a barn and/or by wolves…

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Speaking of children raised in barns… I may have talked before about the children next door… They are the grandchildren of my next door neighbor. They live in Alabama but sometimes come to visit at Christmas or during the summer.

This year, they showed up a couple of weeks after school started.

(Aside: It’s official — the cheese turds are gone! What can you even make with cheese turds besides poutine? I will have to research this further…)

So, yes, they showed up a few weeks after school started and I asked them what they were doing here. Seems like they would be back home. In school. But, having dabbled in homeschooling myself, I thought maybe they were getting some sort of alternative education.

No. They’re here until the first of December and are attending the neighborhood school.

Odd. Why come when school has already started and then leave right before a semester is about to end?

I leave this conversation for another day.

Some background… the mom’s special. I’ve talked to her a couple of times and she’s a real odd one. She’s like that character on SNL who is a one-upper. If you say “My son is 10″ she’ll say “My son is 11″ even though her son is probably only 7 or something. It’s the oddest thing I’ve ever seen.

The youngest boy is 3. (I’ll call him Baby.) The other two boys are in first and third grades. The first grader (I will call him Grill) used to have a grill of all silver teeth and I think his speech must have been affected by this, because you can’t understand a word he says unless you get used to talking to him. It’s like how mothers of toddlers can understand their own kids, but no one else knows what they are saying…

Anyway, now most of the silver teeth have fallen out (they were baby teeth, thank goodness) and now just two silver fangs are left.

The third grader is one of the most persistent children I have ever met in my life. (I will call him Persistent.) They always want to play with Jacob, but every time I let them in the house it’s total chaos. They’re not very well-behaved at all… And they are pushy and know little about gratitude… they want to eat me out of house and home and they touch and pick up every single thing that isn’t glued down. “What’s this?” over and over and over and over…

So, I don’t particularly want Jacob to play with them too much, and he doesn’t like to anyway. He gets really frustrated with how they handle his toys and games. So usually, when we get home after school he just says he’s got homework.

Because we do this, they haven’t actually come over since last year when they were in town. Last year, something was wrong with the sewage next door and so they kept coming over and then promptly going and pooping in my bathroom. Every time they came over, it was a poofest.

Friday, however, I thought I might see if things have changed. Plus, they don’t have a single toy over there. NOT ONE. Not a ball, not a car, nothing. They just play in the dirt all afternoon, no shirts or shoes. Except for the little one. He will have a shirt on, but no pants.

Good times.

So I’m going through all of Jacob’s old toys and thought I would give them a few. I had them out in the living room and when they come in the door, they start looking at them and I go into the kitchen to make some tea, knowing caffeine is going to be needed if I’m going to make it through this afternoon.

All of a sudden, Jacob is all… “WHAT IS THAT SMELL????”

So Persistent says, “It’s Baby’s pants. He’s poopy.”

Me — what???

Persistent — Yeah, he pooped his pants. He goes to the potty but only when he wants to and so if he poops my mom won’t change him if she don’t feel like it.

(BTW, before I let them in the house I told them to go back home and wash their hands and faces and get some shoes on… they were absolutely filthy… food and dirt and grunge all over… even so, when Baby came in the door I sent him back to wash his hands and face again, but he still came back dirty so I washed them for him…)

Me to Baby — are you poopy?

Baby — Noooooooooo.

Me — are you sure?

Baby — I not poopy.

Me — come here!

So he comes over, I lift his shirt and sure enough, his tighty whities are packed with a huge load.

Me — You go next door and have your mom change your pants and you can come back when you’re all clean.

Persistent — She ain’t gonna do it.

Lovely…

So he eventually returned and was cleaned up.

Chaos ensued with much touching and handling of things… yelling at the tops of voices, whatnot. They are hungry, so I start making some food. I ask what they had for lunch, because the little one is just chanting over and over “I’m hungry, I’m hungry.” Turns out they had cake, chips and Little Debbies.

The whole time all this is going on, the cat was hiding in the most remote part of our bedroom with her crazy cat eyes on…

About two hours later, I see the mom in the front yard looking around and hollaring for the boys.

I open the door… she sees me and asks if I’ve seen the boys.

WHAT????

They’ve been at my house for two hours, woman! Please tell me you haven’t been worried about the whereabouts of your children for two hours… including that of your youngest, a 3-year-old!

So, I send them back home. And I breathe a sigh of relief. And I think… I am not going to be so hard on Jacob in the future about his behavior, and I’m not going to worry that he’s too far outside the norm, after observing these other kids in action.

In another incident with these kids, I pulled up in the driveway and Grill was there and he said that he missed his dad…

Me — where is your dad?

Grill — He’s in prison. I miss him. He is fun and can make cool stuff.

Me — Why is he in prison?

Grill — I can’t tell you, it’s dirty.

Me — Just tell me.

Grill — no, it’s nasty.

Me — OK, nevermind, I don’t want to know.

Grill — he stuck his pee wee in somebody’s butt.

Me — Oh.

And I’m thinking, Dear… Usually people don’t go to prison for that unless it’s rape or child molestation, right? I mean, I know there are laws on the books about even having anal sex with your spouse, but if they prosecuted for just that, prisons would be overflowing and orphanages would be full of kids with no parents at home.

So I’m all… Was it somebody big like me or somebody little like you?

Grill — It was somebody big.

Me — So do you get to see him?

Grill — No, but I can write him letters or make him a poster. I can’t make a poster though because I don’t have any markers.

Me — You can come use our markers some time if you want to make a poster for him.

Sad. I don’t know what to think about all that. Especially since the Dad was with them last year when they came to visit. I mean, is this guy a rapist then?

More in a minute… I need to load the dishwasher.

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