JavaJennifer

Because they are children I am for want of naming them on-line and decided that with their 3 enormous smiles… cheesy smiles… that I would start calling them the three enchiladas.

Back when LizBeth was no more than 4, I took her to see a children’s play with another little girl, LynnCate.  LynnCate knew the meaning of the word “no” for LizBeth, “no” was then and remains now a mere stopping point on her quest for world domination.  I babysat incessantly when I was in high-school and college and worked in a toy store for a number of years so although I wasn’t in my 20′s yet, I thought I knew kids.  I thought that if you put them in a chair that they would, you know, sit in it.

Why would you sit on a chair when you can rock on the legs, climb the back, stand on the seat?   Why would you sit if you could crawl on the floor between the legs and jail yourself?  Just as the words, LizBeth-don’t-rock-in-your-chair were coming out of my mouth she did a face plant into the the metal cross bar that supported the table. 

Blood.  So much blood.  And the silent wail that kids make when they’ve really hurt themselves.  Then her lungs filled with air and the scream bounced through the atrium at Crown Center.  Calling False Auntie and Uncle was next and I swear- to this day- I wish I could have called and told them “Hi, I’m a crack whore” instead of “Hi, your daughter is bloody and I think I knocked her tooth out”.  That they were both as understanding as they were, especially in the light of what was some heady dental work is something I’ll never forget.

Just having 3 kids for what is now the downside of 48 hours I am stunned by how loud the voice of protection screams.  I dropped three of them at school this morning but only two got off the bus.

Panic.

I’ve had these kids for less than 24 hours at this point and you’re telling me that I’ve already lost one?

In less than 2 minutes I have the 2 that got off the bus strapped into the mini van and I’m violating all kinds of neighborhood laws (speed limit 25MPH my ASS, I’m missing a kid here) and haul back over to the school.  The trick to all of this is not to let the 2 that I have think that there’s anything to be worried about, right?  I’m the adult here… my inalienable right as grownup-by-proxy is to keep my cool.  Everything is fine. I’m sure the missing enchilada is at school…

…which of course she was.

Me: Did you get your wires crossed (she is not taking the bus tomorrow)?

Her: Nope.  It was loud and I didn’t hear them call my bus.

Me: Oh.  Ok.

Me inside: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME????

Whatever.  I made  a quick recovery and put gas in the mini-van and took them to the mall to see the movie Up which we were able to catch in 3D.   I took a picture of them in the movie theater wearing their 3D glasses with gummy worms hanging out of their mouths.  Priceless. 

One of them is afraid of previews (He’s 6 now but had a bad experience with a preview for Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban where they showed Death Eaters)  Death Eaters scare me and with a new Harry Potter movie out next month, I checked with the theater manager to find out what previews were being shown.  All in 3D, all Disney.  I told him I’d take him out of the theater but he wanted to stay and this small gesture of trust made me think that, you know, we were bonding.

Then I looked over and his head was where his butt should have been and his feet were up on the back of the chair seat. 

Me:  Enchilada Bean !!!!!!!!!!!!!(this is like saying “Andrew Michael!!”)

Enchilada Bean:  What? (Gummy bear is now inching it’s way to his left nostril)

I don’t even have a chance to point out the obvious before he’s wriggled into a new position: taco style.  He has literally folded himself into the seat so that when you look at him head on, his face is peeking out between his knees.  And then in a flash he’s sitting cross legged like a yogi.  Then he’s standing.  Sitting.  Standing.  And so it goes, me playing  Jedi mind games with myself… really, what harm is being done here?  Annoying? Yes.  Threat to personal safety? Possibly.  I am saved by dimming theater lights  when a 3D meatball lands in our laps.

There are moments like these, hundreds that flash in the minutes you spend with children.  Like teasing me about my my new “boyfriend” (TS).

The Middle Enchilada:  How old is he?

Me: 42.

The ME: He’s an old man! Do you kiss him?

Me:  All the time.

The ME: Ewww gross! Are you going to marry him?

Me: Yes.

The ME:  HEY! I REMEMBER WHEN WE WENT TO YOUR FIRST WEDDING AND WE WORE OUR RED DRESSES AND YOU GOT MARRIED ON THE BEACH AND WHAT WAS THAT GUY’S NAME ANYWAY?

I am laughing so hard by this point and I am saved by an ill-placed cemetery right next the the mall.  The enchiladas hold their breath and by the time we’ve passed we’re on to the next thing.

The Enchilada Bean: Which would you rather eat, crab guts or lice?

Me: Easy.  Lice.  Sauteed with some butter a little garlic, some fava beans and a nice Chianti.

All of them: Ewwwwww gross!!!

And so it goes with one uppping the gross factor until I declare the mini-van a gross-free zone.

It has been a wonderful, exhausting day.  I can’t imagine doing it full time.  Can’t imagine doing it and having a job.  Couldn’t have predicted before tonight how much my own ovaries ache from not having had a child.   Or how protective I am of these three. 

I see threats… everywhere.   A man who smiles at us in the mall looks like a pedophile to me.  Every piece of food has the threat of lodging in a throat.  Taking them to the pool and trying to keep my eyes on all of them was more multitasking than I’ve done, maybe ever. 

The tightrope you walk is wanting them to gain their independence.  To grow and experience the smaller successes that lead to greater ones.  It’s true, you can’t wrap children in bubble wrap and truer still that you don’t want too.

The irony is that it doesn’t stop you from trying.

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This entry was posted by javajennifer on Monday, June 8th, 2009 at 9:17 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.