It’s supposed to be winter where I live, but it’s anywhere between 50 and 60 degrees currently with lots and lots of rain. Due to it being so warm still, I have this annoying bird that chirps directly into my window every morning at 7:45 am. You would think since it’s a bird that it would be beautiful and soul warming but no, just no. I get the resurrection of Satan song with a little Sebastian from The Little Mermaid hell bird. I’ve debated on opening my window and screaming at it to stop before I cook it, but the moment I get up it flies away to live another day.
So after hellbird flew away, my 10 year old walks into my room bundled up in his car blankets sniffling away, tears filling his face. I’m laying in bed thinking to myself I haven’t even had a cup of coffee yet, I’m not ready for 8 am antics. So I cover my head in hopes that he didn’t see that I was awake, but it didn’t work. He saw me, and when he saw me, he threw his blanket off his body like something out of a Jay and Silent Bob movie. At this point I was terrified. I didn’t know if he was going to the people’s elbow me, fart in my face (yes that’s a regular occurrence here), or tell me about his insanely weird dream. I tensed my body to prepare for anything he was about to throw at me but he just stood there, ugly face crying and cry screaming random words. So I sat up and asked him what was wrong and to stop cry screaming because I couldn’t understand a single word out of his mouth. After a couple of short breathing sessions, he finally calmed down and just stood there blankly.
The next thing I know he darts at me, arm up in the air screaming, as he shoves his armpit in my face. I didn’t know what was going on and pretty sure he picked up on it because the floodgates once again opened. After a couple of minutes of breathing exercises and finally calming him down, he fully showed me what was going on, and when he did–it took everything I had to not bust out laughing.
First, he shows me this one little armpit hair growing out of his skin by pulling on it. He kept saying how he didn’t want it there and how it needed to come out. Still pulling on it he turns his back walks into the bathroom, only to return with my black tweezers asking me to help him pull it out. I politely declined.
Then he attempted to pull it out on his own, enter screaming and sailor swearing. And I just sat there in complete and utter awe at the fact that he’s pulling out this one little curly hair from his armpit. It took everything I had to not bust out in hysterics during the whole ordeal, and probably ruin the chance that he would ever talk to me again about the concerns he has or may have. So by the praise of Jesus I kept it together, hands on my face, elbows on my knees.
Once he pulled the hair out successfully, he then without any reservation, dropped his drawers–covered his private area, and began pointing at his balls. A musty scent wafts in my general direction and I sat back, disgusted (my 10 year old hates showers and it’s a battle daily, but that’s for another day), trying to maintain some sort of composure. He’s in tears again about hair beginning to grow down there, mind you I’ve told him his body is changing. I just haven’t gone into full blown detail about how much it’s about to change. And he goes at the hair again with the black tweezers like a toddler tinkering with building blocks. His first attempt to pull the hair out ended up with him in the fetal position, swearing, I’m assuming because it hurt him. I let a chuckle slip and his face flipped up at me so fast with the child death stare, that I quickly went quiet. He went back to screaming he was dying and I had to intervene.
“No, you’re not dying. Get up, put your clothes back on, and get in the shower.”
“Yes, I am. I’m turning into a monster. Hair’s not supposed to be there, it’s not normal!”
Enter daughter having her own personal moshpit in her crib because the ordeal woke her up, and my house now becomes who can sing the song of their people louder. Kai tells Saoirse to be quiet, she pauses for a brief moment nodding her head in agreement, then begins banshee screeching her morning “I’m awake now” song. I’m still just on the bed in full thinking man, confused as to what is still going on. I have one kid, hands on the crib railing, headbanging away. The other on the floor in full fetal screaming he’s dying because he has hair growing where it should be during pre puberty.
My wonderful husband finally comes home from duty, hears the noise and heads upstairs to investigate the insanity that is our bedroom. He didn’t even walk fully in the bedroom door before he turned around and walked back downstairs. Thanks babe, thanks for all the help, really, thanks. Anyway, I take a deep breath in, gather my thoughts, maintain my composure, and get up off the bed. I squat down by Kai, who by the way is still in the fetal position screaming, put his blanket over him and tell him to go get in the shower. He wipes his face, grudgingly agrees and heads toward the bathroom. My daughter is still handbanging away to her own beat. So I pick her up, change her diaper and head downstairs; while the other spawn is in the shower singing the opening song to Super Readers, off rhythm and off key.
So much for a peaceful morning and my few minutes of peeing in peace.