Dear Roger: Is Somebody Trying To Tell Me Something?

I have been asked by a few folk who are not schooled in the writings of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, why I call my ex, the Albatross. If you have ever read,"The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" you would get that I see him as my harbinger of bad luck, my unlucky burden that I am stuck with. The stress is getting to me at times, and yes, I am hostile, very, very, hostile. Not a good place for me to be mentally. My hair is starting to fall out, my insomnia is back with a bloody vengeance, and I have taken to taunting him. Yes, I am a bitch. Its hard to be nice to someone you hold in absolute contempt. I actually dont respect very many men, in fact, other than you and my grandpa and pawpaw, I really cant think of any man that I held in absolutely high esteem or regard. They have all let me down. They are all lacking in some way. Him in more than a few. Hes fat, lazy, a whiner, and he spends more time trying to get around being responsible than he would actually doing the right thing.
I've been an enabler, and im done with that. Hes spending most days away from the house, which is a blessing, but he comes in around supper time, eats and acts like hes in a hotel. Hes sleeping in my teen sons bed, and hes supposed to be taking over the apartment, but considering I paid all the bills this month, including buying all the household things like soap and shampoo and things like that, I dont see him stepping up. I had to spend all my moving money to support everyone and he seems to have no plan. I have a plan. I have goals. I have a job that pays a real wage. He is a burden, 280lbs of dead weight that is driving me to the brink of insanity.
I found myself standing in my kitchen the other night, late, after everyone had gone to sleep and I was ragey and annoyed that my kitchen had been left a mess with dishes stacked up on the counter. I was at the sink wishing him harm. Angry to the point of tears when I felt a very distinct strong pat on my shoulder. I froze. There was no one awake in the house. I was alone, stressing by myself. It was comforting but distressing at the same time. Am I losing my mind? I decided it was time to just go to bed and pull the covers up over my head and sleep until morning.
Later in that week, I was up late with my eldest son, we were having a very intense discussion about the situation. It was actually almost a bitter fight that is only inspired by the albatross. We were saying hurtful things and my heart was breaking as we sat there in the wee hours, each of us unrelenting in our suppositions that we were correct. All of the sudden, the speakers next to us began playing very softly the song,"Black Diamond" by the 100 Monkeys. My ipod was shut off. In fact the switch on it was set to the locked off position because the cats tend to step on it and run the battery down. The speakers had been shut off as well. My son and I both looked at each other, neither moving, both a little freaked out.
"What the hell, mom?" He was goggle eyed as he looked at the Ipod and showed me the blank screen and the locked off position, yet the music was still playing. He gingerly unplugged it, and I think both of us had decided that if the music continued to play we were leaving home and not coming back, but it stopped. The music broke the fight, and we made out peace for the night, both sleeping on what we were fighting over and deciding to start fresh the next day.
The next time was a little more attention getting and more personal. At 0230 in the morning, I was sound asleep in my bed when I was awoken by the sounds of my favorite Spencer Bell song,"The Stars Are Mighty Bright Tonight". It was loud. Loud enough it woke me up. In my groggy mental state I was prepared to go yell at my son who I thought was listening to music too loud. I had forgotten he was spending the night at a friends house. I staggered into a dark living room to find my previously disconnected Ipod, connected to the speakers, but still showing off and in the locked off position, playing the song, loudly. I gently reached down and unplugged it. The shut the speakers back off. Checking all rooms finding all family and others asleep in their beds. Soo...what the hell? Am I finally losing my mind? Im fine with that. Going completely off the rails would probably be a good thing right about now. It would be like a nice vacation from the suck.
The one really positive side effect of the whole iPod thing going on is that now my kids wont touch my iPod or the Bose for love nor money, convinced they are possessed or something. That is a win for sure.

Dear Roger:Unscrewing The Screwed(And I Dont Mean Screwed In a Fun Way)With Limited Tools

I fucked up. I think it is my martyr complex masochistic tendencies that led me to do it, but do it I did and now I am so totally fucked that I dont know what I am going to do to begin to unfuck it without resorting to some kind of destruction of the epic kind.
When my worthless, albatross, ne'er do well, couldn't hold a responsible job if his life depended on it always looking for the next get rich quick scheme, makes the step father in the movie,"This Boys Life" look like a saint, EX, lost the house in Flag and ended up homeless, I figured that it was his own damn fault, he had the cheapest house payment in Arizona and almost no bills, he could have gotten off his ass and gotten a real job but he thinks working in places like Wal Mart and whatever are beneath him, so instead he loaded up all the stuff that he thought was important and he headed my direction, getting my sons all excited because even though he is a bastard to them half the time, they don't see him as a problem, hes their father and they love him. The dont care that they hadn't had decent clothes or shoes or a Christmas of things like that when he had them, he bought them soda and ice cream and let them play video games all day, all things I cut out when they got here.
He sold everything out of the house to fund his trip here, all my appliances, my furniture, my decor and my books and things that I had collected over the years, all he put in storage was a couple of my paintings and a couple of my antiques I threatened to end him over if he sold. My things were sold, his junk that he collected and hasn't even used in 10 years, he brought with him, along with a dog and a cat that he knew we couldn't keep.
He arrived right before Thanksgiving, creating as much drama as he could, and right away I got made the bad guy because the dog had to be found a new home, which luckily it did, a great home, much better than he had ever given it. All his junk was just piled into my sons room even though he swore it was just for a week or so and then,"Things were gonna happen". Thats been then story ever since.
The things that have happened is that my stress level is through the roof. I let him in because my sons begged me to for the holidays. I felt sorry for him because he was homeless even though he had been given a home and everything. I wanted my sons to be happy, so I let in a man who I put in prison for trying to kill me just 4 short years ago. Im on edge all the damn time. Hes supposedly got a good job that is going to make him the money to allow him to take over this apartment so I can move down to a neighborhood with a better school for gifted kids, but I have seen no progress. He hasn't brought in any money.Imagine, no child support and instead supporting the 280lb food blister that makes shitty comments about you constantly.
I was sitting on the couch with my daughter the other night looking at dresses on the Betty Page website, he walks by and says, "I dont see why you are looking at those kind of dresses, you could never carry them off."
10 years of that shit. My daughter looked at him and said,"That was a mean thing to say to my mommy." He told her, "Well, its true, your mommy is not girly at all." My daughter just glared at him and hugged me. And he wonders why she looks up to other men?
He comes in from working this supposed job, eats food, leaves his plate on the counter, and then goes into my kids room and sleeps on my teen sons bed. My teen son has been relegated to the couch which means the living room is unusable once he needs to go to bed and its become tense over that. Getting him to help is getting harder and harder and last night was really bad. He had been helping with Spencer a little because he likes dogs. He was eating the last of the dinner and Spencer needed out, in fact had been bugging him pretty hard, he ignored him to mess with his iphone and Spencer wet in the floor in the dining room and he tried to yell at my son. I got in the middle of it and told him that while I had also worked all day at a job that paid actual money and contributed to the support of the family, I had then come home and cooked dinner and cleaned house, my son had watched children all day and had taken the dog out several times, while he, he had come in, sat down and eaten the last of the food and done nothing but complain. He just whined,"Well Im sorry I come in tired!" God knows driving around and sitting in a truck looking at Facebook is hard, I guess he doesn't realize we can see him?
I have to get shed of this cancer. I don't know how to do it. I moved a thousand miles away, gave him everything and didn't ask for anything except peace and quiet, and I cant even get that from him. I refuse to continue to support him. I only support the ones I love and he is not even within that galaxy. I just have to figure out how to unfuck what I have so badly fucked up, and yes, it is my fuck up. I made the classic mistake that I used to see as a cop, I allowed the bastard back in, now I have to get him out, even if I have to take my kids and move again to do it.

Dear Roger: May You Have One Just Like You

I spent the first day of the new year out wandering around with my daughter. We were both a little stir crazy from being stuck in the house with all the boys and we just needed some girl time away from them. Its been bitterly cold outside so going to the park or anything like that was out of the question, so I decided to take her shopping with me for few things I needed for the house. She was excited to get to go shopping without any boys along and I cant say I blame her. She has really been developing her own particular style and while its unique, its not exactly what I like to see my nearly 8 year old daughter aspiring to dress like.
For most of her life she has been a very girly girl, choosing very fancy dresses and carefully put together outfits that always made her look like quite the young lady. She was colorful and stylish and managed to pull of the funky cool vibe of Easter/Punk almost all year round, but now I am noticing she is leaning very much more towards the punk end of things. I was always pretty much like that so I don't have too much of a problem with it, after all, I wasn't too much older than her when I was walking around with a mohawk and skinny jeans with objectionable writing all over them, and a denim jacket with weird patches and safety pins all over it and dog chains on my boots. I made quite the impression, even compelling the more wary in my home town to pull their small children behind them and covering their eyes. I never was really into the tighter all over clothes with heels and things until I was much older, so I guess this may be why I am kinda distressed by my daughters new fashion desires.
She still wants dresses, but the one she was really wanting today was the kind of dress you might see on a 20 something, all backless and cut to show off things that an 8 year old does not have and instead of wanting a pair of boots that went well with her punk pants she wanted a pair of fancy patent leather heels.
I never really learned to walk well in heels.There was a brief period of time in Dallas when I was dating a very classy, wealthy, older man who took me nice places and those nice places required things other than cowboy boots, but I never really enjoyed walking around in those heels and I have a feeling I was more comic relief than anything else when I was wearing them. I don't want my daughter to be that kind of awkward, so I guess its inevitable that it I want her to be able to learn how to act and dress like a lady, I should let her start by learning how to walk in a basic pair of low heels. I drew a line at the dress. Shes is not going to be wearing anything backless as long as I have anything to say about it, and when she drug me down the makeup aisle and started telling me all about the stuff she thought she needed, I think she realized she had lost me.
I really dont have a clue how to wear makeup. Her older brother has worn more makeup in the last couple of years,(guyliner), than I have worn in the past two decades. He would have to be the one to teach her how to use it, and I have already said that she is not allowed to wear anything outside of lip gloss until she is old enough to have a job and earn the money to buy it herself.
She has compelled me to spend more time learning about how to take care of her hair because she insists she wants to keep it long, so I have learned to comb and condition and even a little bit about how to braid it, and for the first time in a long time, I bought hair product that wasnt the cheap kind because she has been complaining about her hair having split ends, (tell the truth, I cant tell what the hell she is talking about), but her brother says she is right. So I have buckled on a lot of things, and I am trying to get more with it about what is girly friendly and such, but I wont cave on a few things and that may annoy her, but there will be no tattoos, no make up, no slutty dresses, and I am still chief of security and retain the right to keep that nunnery in the Irish Sea as my ace in the hole if she starts looking towards California a little too often.
She did throw me a curve ball the other day I really dont know what to do with and this is one that really makes me wish my Paw paw Joe was still alive more than ever, She asked about getting Baptized. I have no idea when is the right age. I dont think shes in the right church for it, but shes been wondering about it. The only one of my kids that are Baptized is my eldest, and he just got it done last year. Im the wrong person to ask and her brother has refused to get involved in it because he thinks it will force me to get into a church, im afraid it will go the other direction that my lack of faith will pull her away from hers, even though she still says her prayers for her loved ones every night.I hope someone will steer us in the right direction or I will find out like so many other things shes trying to do, its too much, too soon and it will wait. I really dont know, but I do know I wish things would slow the hell down!

Dear Roger: If You Give A Kid A Monkey

Talking to my daughter about what she wants in the New Year is kinda a reminder that I may not have failed all my kids totally when it comes to instilling morals and values in them. While she may be a bit of a roughneck at times and prone to popping her brothers in the nose when they steal her Jackson and do crude things to him, she is pretty damn selfless and all of her New Years wishes were for people other than herself. I mean, she said she hopes she gets to see her favorite boy again,(that's a given), but she said,"I want him to eat and sleep and be happy and get all that he wants so he smiles big." For her brothers she vowed to try and not pop them in the nose so much anymore and to try and be patient when they bug her when she is painting or drawing or doing one of her plays. She also vowed to be better about combing her hair and keeping clothes on.
The clothes on thing is a bone of contention between me and all my kids. It drives me a little nuts that they insist on trying to hang out in the living room in their drawers. I ask them, "What are you gonna do if someone comes over?" I always get the scoff and the eyerolls with the,"Nobody ever comes over, nothing exciting ever happens, its hot in the house because you are an anemic weirdo, so let us be." I've gotten Stubby to wear his pj pants that he got for Christmas, but the other three? Its all underwear all the time or worse. I've told my oldest son he should not be in the living room in a towel, ever, because that is bound to end badly with his prankster brothers and a grabby pup around, but it never fails, he always seems to remember something he forgot to ask me just as hes about to get into the shower and then he comes stomping out into the living room, towel barely around him, to say whatever is problem is. Poor daughter clamps her hands over her eyes in defense and usually shouts,'Eww! Soo much hair!!" just to piss him off and then the boys start darting around acting like they are going to grab the towel, Spencer gets into the act and all hell breaks loose. Never mind the fact we live on a busy city street and I keep the blinds open so we get some natural light and I can see out, which means of course, others can see in. My vow is somehow, someway, to put an end to this potential bit of trauma looming. My eldest is 16, stands close to 6ft tall and easily passes for 18, he should not be wandering around in his drawers in the living room or around his little sister, its just ...eww.
Hopefully a lot of things are going to change shortly, and daughter is a big part of it. We are still working on moving down to the Hawthorne so she can go to a better school that will actually be able to allow her to follow her dreams and that will challenge her. Its disgusting to me that the schools here spent all the money to have her tested, found out that yes, she is extremely gifted in all kinds of ways and then they have nothing to offer her other than teaching the slower kids. They have moved her into some 4th grade classes and given her free rein to do pretty much what she wants in reading, but no music, no extra art nothing that she really wants, just like they did with my eldest son who is now dropping out of high school in frustration.
The boy is a natural musician, picking up musical instruments like most pick up breathing, hes also just as gifted and smart as his sister and the schools have done nothing for him except injure him and frustrate him so I am going to help him withdraw when the office re-opens and he is going to try the online college program, but if its the same lack of challenge that the regular schools offer, then I will guide him though getting his GED and mourn the fact my dreams for him will have died because I failed him soo terribly. He might still be able to work his way through some community college program and eventually get a scholarship into a decent college, but A&M will never be in his future, studying Psychology and Music Theory with the idea of using music as therapy for the mentally ill will just be a pipe dream for him.He is not a fortunate son, and he has asked me to let him try to handle things more on his own in this next year, but its hard for me to do that. While he is a young man, he is still my baby and I want the best for him. He encourages me to focus more on his siblings, trying to guide them into things that will ensure their futures are brighter, but I just worry that time is short with him.Maybe he will surprise me and find his hook and run with it, but he has never had the best of examples so I can only hope he just keeps practicing and focused on his music. He played me a song the other day that he had written himself, and it was really cool, so maybe, just maybe the boy knows something that I don't and he will rise above things and make it. He has his faith, and I don't fault him that, in fact, considering hes spending New Years at a church based party over spending it at some big teen party he got invited to? I'm not complaining at all.
I just had to fuss at daughter for tackling and attempting to eye gouge her older brother for some monkey related trauma. I'm thinking that in spite of her best intentions, her New Years resolutions are going to get broken pretty early on.
Mine? Mine are to try and keep moving forward in spite of the 280lb dead weight I allowed to find us and then reinfect our lives like a cancer of the worst kind.
I have my kids to keep things funny and bright and hopeful and with them making sure life is never dull and boring, I have a feeling things will be okay, no matter where we end up or what we end up doing, though if daughter has her way its sure to involve monkeys, music and a lot of silliness. I see nothing wrong with that.

Dear Roger:Decisions and Revisons

Things are about to change, and pretty damn dramatically, one way or another. I've been too damn pissed off to write a decent letter for the past few days so I have just concentrated on writing my other stuff. Being pissed off seems to be a pretty constant state of being for me lately, and that's not a good thing. I was happy for a long damn time, and I don't know what it is lately other than the time of year, the people around me and just the general fuckery that has gone on in my life over the past month, but I am annoyed to the point I want to smack up on something pretty damn hard. If I was in Texas or Arizona, I would take a pistol and a box of rounds and go target shoot at a tree until I felt better, but up here, I just haven't found the place or the time to get into that.
Not having a man around,(NO, the ex does no count in any way shape or form, its like having an old, neutered, dog in your house that piddles on the rug and smells weird, so just...ugh! NO!), has made me cranky. I know I need to get laid, badly,(not badly, goodly), but I don't see that happening any time soon. I still scare the hell out of what passes for men up here and I am not so far gone yet as to be ready to switch teams. I dont get out much. That really hurts my chances for getting any, but that is my own damn fault. If I was more demanding, I would be able to force my son to stay home and baby sit or I would be able to just get out, but I dont see the point. I dont have any money to spare on running around or eating out or anything like that, and its frustrating to have to be soo damn careful all the time because I am supporting 6 people with what I make when its not even enough to support 2. Im grumpy.
My rays of sunshine in all this have been the kids. Stubby has been his usual up and down self, alternately playing nicely with his sister and then harassing the hell out of her. She popped him in the nose the other night for stealing Jackson again and then calling him ,"Gay" , (referring to both monkey and boy), she bloodied his nose and was thumping on him pretty hard, even going for a good old fashioned eye-gouging when I managed to get her pulled off. Dont think I have seen her that furious in a long time. Stub knew he had stepped in it and I got his nose under control and then sent him in to sit on his bed,(the top bunk for his safety), while I got her calmed down. It took a while and a lot of talking. Bless her heart, 1st loves are always the toughest. I remember mine and while I was older, and it ended in a horrible fashion, I do remember the angst. Sticky came out and tried to comfort her, and that was pretty sweet, even her big brother got on Stubbys case about saying mean things, that don't make a bit of difference but shouldn't be said to like they are hateful. I swear, 9 year old boys are rotten little critters.
Daughter is working more and more on her skateboarding. She named her skateboard,"Stella" and she narrowly misses my toes about half the time I am in the kitchen. I worry about her falling, but she hangs onto the counter most of the time. Her father let her fall backwards off the damn slide at the park and bang not only both her elbows really badly, but her skull too. She had a huge knot on it, and scrapes. She told me much later about it and said that when she cried he told her to ,"Get over it and rub dirt on it", so she did. Rub dirt on it? I may kill him. Yes, I do coddle her a little more than the others,but again, she was not a well child when she was born. You nearly lose a kid, you tend to baby them just a little. I also baby Sticky just a bit, but hes gotten so damn independent that when I try he gets annoyed at me. I got what I pretty much wanted with him. I did my best when he was little to make him tough and resilient and independent and I tried to instill in him an attitude that even though he might have Downs Syndrome, that there were a lot more people out there who were more retarded than him who were supposedly normal, and you know what? I have. He got his new glasses last night and he put them on. He didn't like them. He said,"They aren't cool enough for me, they need work." I knew it. I told his father they weren't going to work, but his father wouldn't listen and now we have a problem because when Sticky hates something, he hates something. I will have to see if I can exchange them, or maybe get them adjusted to where he does like them, but he likes his Buddy Holly style glasses, and hes hard to convince to change, just like with his shoes. The boy likes skater shoes, his father tried to cram him into some dorky assed Brahma hiking boots because they were cheap, irresistible force? meet immovable object.The boots went missing. Never to be found. Then some of the dumb asses things started vanishing when he was being mean to Sticky over the boots. Sticky may have Downs, but hes not stupid. Payback is a bitch and that is one kid you dont piss off. All my kids are heathens. Its a constant rolling dog fight in the middle of a circus around here with the monkey drama, the dog that has now decided cat turds are the most tasty treat in the world, the weird, face biting cat that always seems to be in heat, and the wandering crackheads. To add to the fun, Chance came stomping out of the bathroom yesterday wrapped in his sisters bright pink towel, complaining that the tub wasnt draining. Eww. I knew this didnt bode well. I went in and poured some vinegar and baking soda down it with a hot water chaser, and it didnt help much so I got my multi-tool,(the one I used on crime scenes when I was an investigator), and using the needle nose pliers part, I reached into the drain and began pulling things out.
Now my ex looks like a low rent David Crosby, bad hair and all...okay? He is at that age where hair is departing his body in amounts that equal that which Chance is now growing and then manscaping it off voluntarily. I have a daughter with butt length curly blonde hair, and my hair and now past my shoulders. The other two prefer to adopt the butch cut so they contribute much to the problem. What I pulled out of that drain looked like an overweight ginger gerbil with leprosy. I have poked around in rotten people guts, so I have a strong stomach, in fact, pretty much nothing fazes me, Chance however, is a candy ass. I pulled that mass out of that drain and then shook it at him, speculating about the contents of said mass, including what him and the ex might have contributed to it, and the boy about hurled on me. The rest of the kids scattered quicker than if I had said,"Whos going to clean the toilet?"
I got it fixed. Traumatized my kids, had a decent laugh and survived another day. This too shall pass.

Dear Roger: Monkey In A Box, Duct Tape and Rabbits

It was a pretty decent Christmas. Having started early getting things for the kids as well as carefully planning for what to get them, allowed me to make sure that each of them had a nice stack of presents to make up for the paltry amount of last year. I didn't get what I want, hes still around and they were sold out of the small sized hoodies, but then maybe I have been a very bad girl? Its irrelevant, my kids were happy and that is all that matters. Of course there had to be some fun had by the boys torturing my poor daughter. The largest box under the tree was for her. It actually was a pretty damn big box that contained a keyboard complete with stand and adapter as well as some books and such, but when she spotted it, my eldest son walked over to it with her and kind of shoved it towards the back of the pile and said,"Damn mom! You forgot the air holes!" Leading the poor child to suspect we had been up to some nefarious behavior. I dont know what was worse, the fact that she is aware of such goings on in the world, the fact she looked at me like she suspected I might be capable, or that the rest of the family would conspire along with me. She dove at the box in an ill fated rescue attempt and had to be restrained. I threatened her brother with bodily harm if he didn't clear up her misconception, but I know he kept leaving that shadow of a doubt in her mind, especially later when I saw him show her my empty duct tape roll. I ended up sleeping on the couch because I had to guard the tree and presents from her and sure enough, at 4:30 in the morning she was up and out and trying to effect a rescue.For a brilliant kid she is alarmingly single-minded. I made sure her rotten brother was woken up equally early.
She was, of course, delighted with the keyboard, but I also think she may have been a little disappointed that her favorite boy was not, in fact, duct taped in the box. Who knows? She is an odd child. She started practicing on her keyboard and kept at it for well over 3 hours straight. She is already writing down finger placements and trying to figure out how to read music.She is fascinated with all the different sounds the board makes and loves to play it at the same time her older brother is playing his electric guitar.
Yes, I voluntarily purchased my children musical instruments for Christmas. Yes, I am insane. I have listened to the eldest torture to death every song from my youth with the guitar over the past couple of days, and now he has started on the songs that daughter holds dear. She got a hoodie with an ipod connection and was walking around with my ipod listening to "Sinners Dream" and singing along. Son decided he wanted to play it on his guitar. A heated debate occurred over whether or not it was fair that he "torture" her with playing bits and pieces of every single song she loves over and over again until we all cringe. I gave him headphones, but he claims its not the same as hearing it through the amp. We all suspect hes just an exhibitionist.He played the song on the guitar, she sang, I guess it was a fair compromise. Im sure my neighbors are about ready to kill us all, and if they weren't musicians, I would think they would have already been over, but so far no complaints.
My daughter came to me yesterday with an interesting proposal for our New Years tradition. She said that since she had been the first to say,'Rabbit Rabbit" last year on January 1st,our luck had been pretty exceptional. I had gotten a job, her brothers had come home, she had gotten to see her favorite boy again and gotten to hug him and talk to him(the highlight of her whole year), and things had just gotten better for us all around. She said, "I think I am lucky, so maybe you should just sleep late that day and let me have it again." I think she is right. It has been a good year with the one exception, and if we could figure a way to deal with that, then this next year will surely be even more awesome.
We know we want to keep moving forward and upward and there is no way that the dead weight I have hanging around my neck in the form of the albatross is going to prevent that from happening.

Dear Roger: Wash The Monkey! Please?

My small daughters companion has reached a point of grubbiness that leaves me worried that the CDC is going to come looking for us in their bunny suits. The beady eyed little minion has substances on it that make it somewhat sacred in her eyes so when mention is made of giving it a bath, she reacts as anyone who has their rather dubious religious icon threatened, she freaks the hell out. "Nooo! You cant! What if it came off?,(referring to her favorite boys autograph on the paw), and his sweat would be gone!!"while I think that would be perfectly acceptable, she, however does not. I have tried to convince her we could get the monkey,"resweatted" (I swear to God I have lost my mind having kids), the next time we went to one of his concerts, or maybe the monkey could just stay clean for once? but NO! she went ballistic. "Are you crazy? NO! What if he never comes back? What if I don't get to see him again? What if he forgets me?No! No Baths! Besides, Jackson doesn't like baths!"
Her brothers have offered to perform run by Axeing's of him to quell the odor a bit, but I don't want bloodshed and that would just lead to an escalation of tensions amongst the siblings. Its bad enough that they often steal him and stuff him down their pants and hide him in the dog bed.
She is very protective of that little stuffed monkey, she sleeps with it every night, and he has special jewelry and a special blanket and when she does her plays or sings her songs, hes always there. He was in our family Christmas pictures yesterday and when her brother tried to get her to leave him out of the family picture, she yelled at him,"Hes part of the family, get used to it loser!" Her brother just shook his head and muttered about the weirdness that is his family and smiled for the camera. I drew the line at posing with the thing, and bore her glare for it, though I took a picture of her with it.
She knows its a bit on the grungy side at this point and she likes to torture me with it. I am a bit of a germaphobe, and I don't like things near my face that I KNOW are a bit uh...contaminated? So what does the child do when I am on my knees trying to get a picture of her brother? She sneaks up behind my and just as I go to tell him,"Smile" she reached around and had the monkey kiss me full on the mouth. Thats right...I got a mouthful of contaminated monkey, but I also got a smile from my son for the picture as the room disintegrated into hysterical laughter at my reaction. I walked into my room yesterday after falling asleep on the couch to find her asleep in my bed with the monkey cuddled up next to her on.my. pillow. siiiiiiiigggggghhhhh.
I wonder if maybe Santa could write her a letter and tell her the monkey needs a bath or if I should just keep waiting it out?