Kids, Cougars, and INPY Moments
It’s been awhile since I’ve written, and that’s mostly due to the insanity that my life has been since Thursday night. It’s been non stop, really…from meeting some friends for a baseball and beers early Happy Hour that somehow turned in to an 80’s dance party on Thursday (It was U-G-L-Y and I ain’t got no alibi) to a Happy Birthday for Arjewtino and Freckled K party on Friday night where I swear to god I saw my ex…not that one, the old old one…the “I’m pregnant and dying” one. Wasn’t her, but what a crappy way to start the night.
Anyhow, by the time the weekend came, I was ready to sleep in…but couldn’t because I had to go to a Wedding Party for a lesbian couple that I know. They got married in the UK, came back for the party and to pack, and are moving to Holland. I wanna go…I mean, really…TAKE ME WITH!!! And what did this party have that made it f-f-f-fabulous? Besides well, lots of lesbians?
A fully stocked bar in the basement with home made brews. 5 of them to be exact. THAT’S a wedding party.
Right. So we’ve got a dance party, a birthday party (complete with me getting a date with Alyssa Milano…which I’ll tell you about some other time) and then a lesbian wedding reception. This is all by Saturday afternoon. OH! And somewhere in the midst of all of this, there was the single greatest overheard conversation of the summer so far. It went a little something like this…
2 cougars sitting behind me, and one is clearly upset because her boyfriend just ditched her. Tragic, right? I KNOW! Her friend is doing the “friend thing” and comforting her and then…well, she got off the tried and true path of “he’s an ass” and went with a less traditional route; Let’s Find Out What You Did Wrong. This is damn close to verbatim here, kids;
“Why did he break up with you?”
I don’t know!
“Well, you did things for him right? You didn’t give him shit about watching sports? You made him feel like the man? Wore sexy stuff for him?”
YES! I did ALL of that!
“You gave him lots of head, right?”
Well, I mean, sometimes, sure, but not everytime. Why?
“Why!? Oh honey, you’ve GOTTA give him blow jobs. Constantly! You have to suck your man’s dick or he will find someone else to do it for him.”
It was then that I chose to spit (as opposed to swallowing) all of my Earl Grey tea. I also looked over my shoulder and mouthed the words “True dat” to our poor recently dumped woman.
OK, still with me…I know there’s a lot to catch up on here, and right here is what I like to refer to as the INPY Moment. Where it goes from funny and kinda Ha Ha to “Jesus this shit does not happen to me”.
There’s a three year old girl living in my apartment. This is not a joke. This is not a euphemism. I will say it again.
There is a three year old girl living in my apartment.
How did this happen? Glad you asked. No, it was not a basket on the doorstep. I’ve had a houseguest for a while now. My friend who is getting divorced…you remember her? She and soon-to-be-exHubby have filed the paperwork and she’s looking to get started in DC. Staying with me while she gets her life restarted and …
Ahem. Yeah. There’s a 3 year old in my apartment. For the next two weeks.
Now, if you know me, you know I dig kids. What you might not know is that I have logged significant hours taking care of kids of all ages. I got it down. I can do everything from change a diaper for a one year old to lecture on the do’s and dont’s of dating with an early teen. I. Got. It. COVERED.
This little cutie though? I got nothin. I don’t think she likes me. She’s been here since Saturday and she still won’t even look at me. The normal “shy and cute to play with me’ timeline for me? ’bout 48 hours. And that’s a LOT of kids. I mean, I got my technique down and everything.
We have not even had the cute eye contact giggle moment. Hell no. She sees me looking at her and it’s sheer terror followed by hiding quite literally UNDER her mom.
She cries about missing her daddy at night and in the morning. And that just breaks my heart. I’ve been that kid, I know that sucks. (In all fairness, she’s cuter than I was. Blonde curls, huge brown eyes) Also, she can’t be away from her mom for more than a minute. I’m talkin’ two seconds where she can’t see her and it’s “MOMMY!” I mean, literally. I’ve known a million kids, and I know a trillion Jedi Mind tricks…this kid’s having a hard time. Normally, you throw on a video, or give them a game to play….or even just something “bright and shiny” (A Rumpleminze bottle, for instance) and they are good to go for at least a few minutes. Not this little lady. And I get it. I do. I mean, first her mom goes away for a few weeks, then she comes to DC and her dad’s gone. It’s confusing. It feels like your structure, which is your safety net…what allows you to be a kid in the first damn place…it’s just GONE.
I remember the first time my mom left the apartment after she and the Old Man split up. We had this big window in the living room and she walked passed it on the way to her car…I felt sick. I was 7, and I remember this so vividly. I felt ill, but Kid Brother? His 2 year old world just could not take it. He lost it. It was the first time I actually hurt more for someone else than I hurt for me.
As for my house guests? Well, I kinda just stay out of the way. This kid’s got enough going on without worrying about the 6’4 deep voiced Leviathan scaring the shit out of her, too. She wants to hide when I walk in? Dig it. Under the couch is a good place to hide, yo. Trust me, there’s room. Don’t want to speak above a whisper directly in to your mom’s ear when I’m within your line of sight? No problem, blondie. I’ve got secrets, too, and I certainly won’t begrudge you yours. Wanna play twister DIRECTLY in front of the TV while the Yankees are on, only to then decide it’s time to watch Dora the Explorer? That’s tougher, but I am prepared to work with you on this.
Really, Kiddo, I’m just gonna steer clear. I will say this, though; It DOES get better. You’ve got two parents who love you even if they don’t love each other, and they are both good people. You just hang in there, enjoy what you can in this bizarre and totally confusing period of your life, and know that I won’t make any sudden movements, even when ARod gets hurt.
Oh, but can we PLEASE do something about the early morning “Where-am-I-where’s-my-mommy” freak out thing? That one is just rough, and anything you can do would be greatly appreciated.