All Those Words…
A conversation with Luca, 4.
Luca: Mommy, I don’t like this painting.
Luca: Because the faces are ugly and they scare me.
Hmm… but, you know the way someone looks has nothing to do with the kind of person they are, right? There are people that others have decided are pretty on the outside, but on the inside they are ugly. And, other people that have been labeled as ugly, who have insides more beautiful than you can imagine.
Do you understand this, buddy?
Are you listening to anything I’m saying?
Gah. Well, I was just explaining that you can’t know what kind of person someone is simply by the way they look. There’s this saying, sweetheart, “Never judge a book by it’s cover.” Do you understand what that means?
Luca: Mommy, I’m still not listening. Can you just stop saying all those words?
* * *
I live in a house with three pairs of testicles.
If you suck at math like I do, what I’m saying is that I live with five males – three of the human variety and two of the fur.
The two male dogs used to have testicles, but they don’t anymore, so the math can be confusing.
Anyway, the only other girl in our house is my dog Chelsea (Chi-Chi Boom Boom is her street name).
Chi-Chi is the best listener, but she sort of clams up when it comes to dishing advice. Also, it’s hard for us to share clothes, and especially shoes, because she’s always like, “Mama, I need two more heels to complete my outfit.” LIKE IT’S SOMEHOW MY FAULT SHE HAS TWO MORE FEET THAN I DO.
Anyway, back to my testicles…
My first born, Luca, got most of my personality, bless his heart. But, there is one thing he did get from his dad – the inability to hear any of the words that come out of my mouth.
I mean, I could go on and on to my husband, confessing to him that I’m really a Russian spy hooker, and he’d stare back at me and maybe blink once or twice.
Same with my oldest son, minus the Russian spy hooker part, because he’s far too young to know every single detail about his mommy.
Finally, there’s my youngest, Leo, who’s only one and has yet to get a grip on anything in life besides his penis.
Don’t get me wrong, I love being the mom of boys. But, despite how much I love hearing myself talk, there are times I crave actual back and forth conversations.
So, I finally reached my tipping point
of the month, last night.
I was going on and on about something super important! to my husband, while he was making a salad.
He was replying with the obligatory grunts and nods, but I could tell he wasn’t really giving my butt-boil the attention it deserved.
So, I blew up…all over him.
You know what? Sometimes, like RIGHT NOW, I imagine that the old lady who narrates Caillou…narrates your life, too.
“He really wanted her to shut the fuck up, he just didn’t know how to tell her, so he thought it was best to keep slicing the cucumber and smiling.“
After cocking his head back and forth, like a dog who doesn’t speak English, he said, “Babe, I’m sorry, it’s just that Luca’s right about all those words. You say a lot of them…and I love that…but, sometimes I just have a hard time keeping up.”
(Not to be confused with a hard time keeping it up – I thought I should add this on his behalf, since I’m no longer angry at him.)
A lot of words?? A LOT OF WORDS! I’ll show you a lot of words. Wait, you know what? Never mind. Whatever. I have work to do and also I’m not even hungry for a stupid salad. And, in case you care, my boil is the size of a dime and I may need to have my right buttock amputated. So, just prepare yourself for the possibility of lopsided doggy-style sex for the rest of your life, okay?