Category Archives: Wunderkind and Family

Gee I look tired? You do not say.

We had parent teacher conferences yesterday.  I left school starving and exhausted.  I made a bad nutrition drive through choice on the way home, stumbled through the bedtime routine with Wunderkind and discovered that he had somehow ripped out the toe of his new cheap shoes.  Daddy W. kindly headed to the store to buy some new cheap shoes.  I kindly headed to bed at 8:20 to spare anyone my continued cranky presence.

8:25 PM:  I pulled the covers over my head and pondered the beautiful mystery of a cold room and a warm quilt.

8:35 PM:  Watch DVR’d New Girl.  Continue to huddle under covers.

9:00 PM:  Turn off lights.  Attempt to sleep.

9:30 PM:  Daddy W. comes home from store. Makes a shit ton of noise unloading whatever he had purchased.

9:45 PM:  I can hear him in there messing with the stove.

10:00 PM:  Smoke detector starts going off and won’t quit.  He finally pulls the battery to shut the fucker up.  I know that he is cooking the Daddy W special:  frozen pizza cooked at 500 degrees until the smoke detector goes off or the fire department shows up

10:20 PM:  Burning smell gets worse in the bedroom. I  have to drag my stupid, tired, sorry ass out of bed to the kitchen to turn on the fan, open the window, save my kingdom from destruction, and ask “JUST WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN HERE? MY GOD!  CAN YOU NOT JUST COOK ONE THING WITHOUT BURNING ALL TO FUCK?  JESUS.”  because seriously.

10:21 PM:  Daddy W. smiles, sails past me to the bathroom, and then heads to bed.  I stand there pissed. And smelling like charcoal.  I open the window, hope the burglars can’t get in, and go to bed.  Nothing is actually in flames.  Hope for the best.

10:21 1/2 PM: I feel a hand on my hip, patting, to which I reply, “I have been trying to go to sleep for two hours.  I KNOW that is just to apologize for stinking up my entire house and not for any other reason, RIGHT?”



So much to say, so little time. Let me start by saying Happy Anniversary to me!

Today is my sixth anniversary.

Yay, us.  We win in the perseverence category. I feel like our marriage has faced so many struggles aside from the always feeling broke (I mean who doesn’t, other than the Romney’s?)… Let’s add an amazing child with two chronic medical conditions that need constant managing and my father who disowned me when he found out I married an African.

Let me let you soak all that in.

My father wasn’t invited to my wedding and neither was my mother.  I basically went and eloped, but never left town. I had only my best friend at my wedding and we were married in Daddy W’s mosque.  It was the simplest of ceremonies.  The Imam was so respectful of the fact that I am not Muslim nor was a I expected to become one.  He explained the Islam view of marriage was that as the wife, I was not expected to work.  I could choose to work if I wanted to and anything I contributed financially was regarded as charity.  Daddy W’s responsibility was to support me and as a good faith example of that, Daddy W paid a $350 dowry to me at the ceremony and bought my wedding dress.

Of course, he asked me for the money back the next morning and I straight up laughed in his face.  Once money hits my palm, it is mine forever.

I held on to the newness and beauty of my marriage for two weeks before teling my parents.  I wrote a letter to my father, explained that I had been dating Ismael and that we got married.  I put it in the mail and then called my mother to tell her before shit hit the fan. Writing a letter is admittedly a chicken shit move, but given my long volatile history with the man I figured it was the best way to hold on to any joy I could.

I knew that my father would disown me, that his bigotry would outweigh any love he had for me.  Not to disappoint, he went off the deep end and banned me from his house.  He didn’t speak to me for most of the past six years.

I saw him last June at my uncle’s funeral.  He didn’t even acknowledge my presence or the fact that he was laying his eyes on Wunderkind, at the age of 3 1/2, for the first time.  He kept his distance and behaved as if I didn’t exist.

Then mom had a heart attack and he was forced to acknowledge me.  We spent hours in mom’s hospital room together as she lay in a forced sedation for a week.  Over the next five weeks, in th hospital and then rehab center, we visited and I saw first hand how poor his health was.  Extremely overweight he can barely walk and falls often.  His joints are giving out and he clearly has something wrong with his heart.

On Monday, my sister, mother and I will all gather again at the Heart Center where mom was hospitalized and wait while he undergoes at heart cath and who knows what kind of medical procedures after that.

I don’t know what the immediate future will bring, but for now, I know that today is my sixth anniversary.  I’m going to go to dinner with my husband, enjoy his company, and try very hard to simply enjoy tonight.  Tomorrow will take care of itself.

State of the State in the Whatchamacallit Household

I have had some otherwordly virus this week that morphed into a sinus infection that caused me to be actively teaching about something in class and the running dialogue in my head was …

I feel like shit. Like shit.  Oh I don’t feel good. I feel like shiiiiiit.

So I was present, but I’m not confident that a lot of good quality education went on this week.  I thought about taking a sick day but I never seemed quite sick enough for that.  Instead, on Thursday I dug out an old unused anitibiotic and started taking it in massive quantities.  Thank God for pharmaceuticals.

Today is the first day I am beginning to feel like myself which is good because Nephew is back from his three day sojourn at camp with his class and I’m Referee in Chief between him and Wunderkind.

I get it.  Wunderkind can be supremely annoying.  Especially if you are the beloved.  The object of his attention and affection.  And if you are new in this house, congratulations, you are the beloved.  He will be on you like a tick and you will have no respite from his three year old shenanigans.

But, the African way seems to be to beat the living crap out of the younger thus firmly establishing the pecking order of oldest to youngest and I’m not too into that.  When my husband’s family visited this summer they brought three cousins with them ages 4 – 8.  Wunderkind lost his ever loving mind during their 9 day visit and literally beat the shit out of the four year old girl every chance he got.  I spent the visit scooping him up, running for time out, and secluding him in our bedroom.  His auntie came and thought she solved the problem by telling Wunderkind, “You all are cousins.  You will learn to love each other.  It is not my concern if you hit each other from sun up to sun down, I don’t want to hear about it.”

Fix the problem?  I call that adding fuel to the fire because to Wunderkind, that sure sounded like PERMISSION, AUNTIE.

Now to say the tables are turned on Wunderkind would be an understatement.  Cousin is 11 years older, twice as tall, and twice as heavy.  I’ve had to explain to Nephew the proper way to get Wunderkind off his back and the consequences of not obeying to Wunderkind.  I have been setting guidelines for behavior – chores for Nephew, NO DAMN BITING, new rules for Wunderkind (If Nephew’s door is shut, stay OUT.), and for God’s sake Nephew do not feed the allergic Wunderkind ANYTHING unless you ask me first.

As for Daddy W., he finally got the hint that I was SICK GODDAMMIT and handled dinner for the kids last night by ordering pizza.  He could have ordered strippers for all I cared, I just wanted to sleep in peace.  Today, he rewarded himself by taking off and going to the libary to “study.”

I’ll bet he’s napping.  I know I would be.

The Exhaustion Chronicles, Part 1 of 39284902481

Well, I did it.

I gave birth to a full grown, 14 year old African boy this afternoon at 4 PM when Daddy W picked his nephew up from the airport.  I will be mummy and chauffeur and homework helper and God only knows what else every moment from now until May starting with getting him ready to leave for camp with his new class in the morning.

I’m fucking exhausted, people.

Turns out I wasn’t as ready for a visitor, especially a year long one, as I had hoped.  “Here’s your room! Now let’s get in the car and spend your grandmother’s money on necessities like clean, non drooled up pillows and pillow cases, socks, and clothes for you to wear to camp. And bright and early tomorrow morning?  We will put you on a bus and send you away for three days.  Tis the American Way!  Cheers!”  Nothing in the world makes you come out of your shell faster than having to explain to your new auntie in the middle of the Wal Marts that yes, you did bring enough underwear for camp because it’s tell me now while we are right here or forever keep your chafing to yourself.

Daddy W. has claimed that Nephew will be with us for one year as he goes to our international school to better his English.  I saw that the immigration paperwork is good for five years which would carry him through high school. I think Daddy W. is pulling a fast one on me.

Wunderkind is smitten even though Nephew is ten years older.  Wunderkind has not left Nephew’s side for one moment and lobbied hard for sleeping in the same bed with him.  “But mommy!  He has two pillows! Someone has to sleep on the other one.”  Nice try, little one.  Get your ass in bed.

Which reminds me, as we were taking Nephew to his first American out to eat dinner at ….McDonald’s (yucko) Wunderkind pulled out all of his nice words to welcome Nephew, including fart, poop and the perennial favorite “Get. your. ass. in. bed.”  which is used shockingly sparingly around here given his nightly bedtime antics.  Clearly, we do not use it sparingly ENOUGH.

So.  to recap.  14 year old nephew, here for 1-5 years like he is doing time with us.  Wunderkind is in love… hope that holds out.  And in other news, I have started round the clock Dayquil / Nyquil combos in order to combat the cold that took control of my face today while I attempted to teach 6th grade and caused my eyes and nose to simultaneously weep clear fluid. I swear the kids thought I was suddenly crying.  Nothing says I’m a professional like a weeping teacher.

Have I mentioned that I’m fucking exhausted?



Significant, unforeseen, upcoming household changes

Somehow my husband’s ex-girlfriend found my previous blog.  About every 8 months she would look me up, read through my posts and then blow up my email with nasty grams.  Unfortunately she is also the mother of his daughter, so we will always be connected.  I have a lot I could say about her, but because I am such a lady, I will keep it to myself.


Ahhh…. feel the air clear already?

Some changes are getting ready to take place in the Whatchamacallit Household.  I’m giving birth to a 14 year old African Boy next week.  Oh yes. I am.  He’s going to get off a Southwest Airlines plane next week and I already feel like I’m in labor.  My husband has been working behind the scenes to bring his nephew here for some time to attend an  American school and improve his English.  School arrangements, Visa applications, passports, etc.

I can’t even get him to do the fucking dishes around here.  Something is clearly misplaced.

And in his usual fashion, he didn’t tell me too much about it until I asked.  “Is HE coming here?  If so, WHEN?” and Hubby waved his hands around as if to distract me as he said “the third? the fourth?”

Hold up, jack.  Of SEPTEMBER?  Because that is next week.

Oh yes.  Of September.  As of Tuesday, September 4, at 4:05 PM I will become Tanti (auntie) and my work and responsibility around this casa will increase a hundred fold.  Seriously. I know how much a 14 year old can eat.  It’s significant.

Then after our conversation this morning, Hubby tried to get out of dressing our own son for preschool.  It went exactly like this:

My foot hurts.

The fuck it does.

He dressed our son and “the fuck…” has become my new standard reply for every single thing he ever tries to get out of again as long as a teenage alien is living in my home.

Ain’t marriage grand?


Why the anonymous blogging?

I have a blog already.  I like that blog.  My family, friends, and coworkers love my blog.  But….

I am a blue person in a red, red county in a red, red state.  I can’t blog about politics.

I am in education. I can’t blog about anything controversial.

I am a lifelong member of a fairly conservative religion.  I am in favor of gay marriage, though I am not myself a gay or lesbian.  I can’t blog about that.  I’m not even sure that I want to, but I can’t.

I love to blog about food and family, but think it bores my readers who already read my blog.  Plus when I blog about my real food aspirations, then they see me eating school lunch, I look like a real asshole.  Really, I’m just a morning challenged time challenged person who can’t get my shit together enough to pack a decent lunch.

I like to curse.  I really, really like it.  I can’ t curse on the blog I already have for all the above mentioned reasons.  Other than being an asshole because if I were, I would curse on that blog.

Most of all…when your beloved Republican mother and half the county reads your blog, you can rarely be yourself.  You can share cute stories and funny mishaps, but your opinions?  You keep those to yourself.

I’m tired of self censoring.  I just want to type and write and write some more.

I’m removing the shackles.

So I’m stepping out…quietly..anonymously… cheating… on my old blog with my new blog.

I’m Whatchamacallit Mommy.  Come, meet the fam.