Human Cicadas and Low-Hanging Diapers
/“Anyway I know you used to write blogs, so I was wondering if you had any resources you could share…”
Used to.
It was a text from a friend who had reached out asking for advice, and that phrase “used to” was really bothering me. Spinning around in my head.
Has it really been that long since I’ve written a Peanut Butter Urinal blog?
Well, yes, it turns out it had been that long because a few days later, I had two emails from relatives asking if I was okay.
And yes, aside from the typical day-to-day frazzle, I’m good. Tighe and I just celebrated our 14-year wedding anniversary with a quick mid-week trip to Nashville, and it was a blast. Not any quieter than our home, of course, with live music on every corner of the city, but at least Nashville noisiness is harmonized.
And speaking of our home, here’s a quick and very up-to-date State of the House:
· It’s a rainy Thursday morning, but despite the downpour and occasional thunder, I only just now convinced Lou to come inside. He’d been in the backyard using a stick to mix rainwater with the ash beneath the grill, so his face looks like that of a coalminer.
· Every single light in the house is on. Except the lamps in the master bedroom because Lou switches off the surge protector every time he walks past.
· There are probably faucets running, too, because running water is one of Lou’s other passions.
· There’s a massive load of laundry in the dryer, most of which accumulated in the short time we were in Nashville.
Tell me you have a Lou without telling me you have a Lou
· There’s next to no food in the fridge. I like coming up with creative dinners out of leftovers, but I don’t think we even have leftovers. Aside from some baby carrots in the fridge, we don’t have a single vegetable in the house. “Good!” Tess quipped snidely when I mused that out loud earlier.
· My Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen is blaring music, but it’s not my playlist filling the airwaves. Somehow Sam found a way to hack the system and we’re listening to one of his stupid beats, Chicken Wing or Banjo or whatever. And I feel older than ever.
· Breakfast dishes litter the table. Somehow Lou has found a way to quietly acquire everyone else’s meals as they slip away from the table, so there are five plates/bowls at his seat and only crumbs at everyone else’s.
· Even though we’ve just crept into the noon hour, I’ve only seen Nate and Sam for about 20 minutes so far today. They came down about an hour ago to eat some cereal and then retreated to their bedroom lair on the third floor as Lou slid their bowls across the table toward himself.
· My new watermelon mint candle from Trader Joe’s is wafting away in the dining room, but it doesn’t cover up the inexplicable scent of dog poop I keep getting a whiff of.
· Three of four kids are still in pajamas. And the fourth kid, Sam, is in his underwear because that’s all he sleeps in. So no one is actually dressed except me.
· And finally, my period is five days late. Nothing to worry about, I’m sure—Tighe and I have both been vaccinated against future pregnancies. He had a vasectomy and I had my tubes out during my final C-section. But the lack of rhythm makes me slightly uneasy.
Lou and Tess are currently playing in the basement, but as I scramble to type these words, I can hear Tess’s scream and the footsteps bounding up the steps to the kitchen.
“I think Lou pinched me,” she wailed, her bare feet pattering on the hardwood kitchen floors.
“You think? Don’t you know?”
“Well, I wasn’t looking!” Now she was annoyed with me, too. Which is typical. There’s a lot of attitude flowing from that 4 year-old bundle of estrogen. And much of it is directed at me.
Lou trailed behind her, traces of charcoal still streaking his forehead. He was still sporting his Paw Patrol pajama top and a very heavy diaper that was hanging on by a thread on one side as the other side had already come unhinged.
“Did you feelhim pinch you?” I asked skeptically.
“Well, yeah…” She did a complete eyeroll, as though she was speaking to a complete idiot or an incompetent customer service rep, before continuing. “I was reading him a book and he also smacked me with a flashlight.”
“Lou!” I said, feigning sympathy toward Tess and discipline toward Lou. “Did you hurt your sister while she was very kindly reading you a book? Did you check on her to see if she’s okay?”
Lou dutifully wrapped both arms around her torso and kissed her forearm, the only part of her body he could reach.
“Two books, actually,” she said, wiping away the last tear and standing proudly now. Reading two books when you’re illiterate is pretty impressive.
“That’s great, Tess! Which two books?”
“Colin the Chameleon aaaaannnnnnd Peanut Butter Sucks,” she said this very nonchalantly, as though she’s an expert in every topic.
I know the book she’s referring to. It’s called “Peanut Butter and Cupcake,” and there is nothing derogatory about peanut butter in that book. In fact, it’s about friendship, but Tess’s level of comprehension is in question right now.
A few nights ago, I took the kids for a walk after dinner while Tighe was at his weekly golf match—he lost, for those of you who only clicked on this link to check in on Tighe’s handicap.
Nate and Sam had sped ahead on their bikes and I was trolling along slowly with Tess and Lou, who periodically had to stop and pick up sticks and bugs or stare up awkwardly at other people’s homes.
“Do you hear that?” I said during one of our pit stops, referring to the cicadas chirping.
“The cicadas?” Tess replied. Her head tilted back so she could peer up at the trees. “Why do they make that sound?”
“Well,” I began. Let it be known that I love lecturing, but I rarely get a few words out before I’m interrupted. Every single time. Which is a shame because I have a lot to say. My favorite topic is the Cold War, but I could certainly do a few stanzas on cicadas.
“… they rub their legs together to attract a mate…”
“A mate?” I don’t mind being interrupted by Tess’s need for clarification. It shows interest and engagement. What I do mind is being interrupted by Nate and Sam’s irrelevant drivel. But they were blocks ahead of us at this point, probably already at home, so I was free to continue.
“Yes, a mate is a boyfriend or girlfriend that they’ll lay eggs with. So, just like we look at a pretty girl and say ‘I want that girl to be my girlfriend’ or at a handsome boy and want the boy to be our boyfriend, cicadas want a boyfriend or girlfriend who can rub their legs together really loudly.”
“Human cicadas?” Tess’s arms were crossed at this point and one index finger had come up to rest thoughtfully on her chin, as though she was on the cusp of curing cancer. Or achieving self-actualization. Or finally making the distinction between a lowercase ‘b’ and a lowercase ‘d.’ Higher order cognition at the 4 year-old level.
“Nope, just cicada cicadas.”
“But the cicadas want to datehumans?”
“No. They only date other cicadas. I’m just comparing them to humans so it’s easier to understand.”
We were almost home at this point, meaning that we were within earshot of our neighbors. Do they hear the absurdity of these conversations on the reg? Do they also weep for the future?
Earlier in the week, I had to lecture Nate about why his “that’s what she said” jokes don’t work. It turns out he doesn’t know anything about sex, but he was calling out “that’s what she said” after nearly almost everything he said.
He cut me off when I got to the part about the penis squirting semen into the vagina. “Okay, you’re just freaking me out now…”
I was in the garden, pulling sucker stems off the tomato plants, but I felt like Frank Costanza sitting at the kitchen table explaining women’s cup sizes to George while Estelle ran off to fetch a bra from her bedroom.
“Can I go now?” he said, uncomfortably shifting back towards the house and into the kitchen.
I followed him inside, where I was met by Tess, who needed me to address three burning questions on topics I know nothing about: the physics of icemakers, unrequited love, and where Tighe goes during the day.
And the countdown to bedtime continues…
