Tuesdays With Mooch & Fuss: Black Love
MOOCH
It felt a little strange to watch Mooch sing with a banner behind her that read, “Grandparents and Special Friends Day” in large blue letters. Even though my mom was there in spirit, I missed glancing over at her proud smile as Mooch pretended to be a weather reporter in front of the crowd. The subtle way she placed her right hand over her left and rested them in her lap as she watched Mooch perform from the edge of her seat loomed in the forefront of my mind.
Two very important people did show up for Mooch — live and in full effect. My father, in all of his 76-year-old glory strutted into Mooch’s school with a sharp black suit on; and Ms. Carrie, a woman who fell in love with Mooch when she was just shy of 18-months-old, sat proudly snapping pictures as though my baby were her own flesh and blood.
After the performance, each kid escorted their guests back to the classroom, where they shared work, drew a picture together, and gave their special friends a decorated framed picture to take home with them. It was a truly beautiful event. The best moment was when Mooch proudly introduced each of them to her class. Check out the pics in the gallery below.
FUSS
Fuss has been largely focused on the color red for the past couple of weeks. Her main agenda, however, has been getting to the potty in time to poop. She’s missed that mark many times, but the number of times when she says “boo-boo” or “potty” and successfully lands a big one in the Baby Bjorn (potty chair) is remarkable. We’re very proud of her.
Last week she was really into eyes and elbows, so I rolled with it. She has literally poked each person in the house in the eye no fewer than three times, but hey, she’s learning. Also, I tried a new hairstyle on her which you’ll see below in the gallery. She now looks like my baby picture. Really. I promise this time. Be sure to check out what Fuss has been up to each day on her website.
BLACK LOVE DAY
This year marked the 15th anniversary of Black Love Day, which is celebrated on February 13th. I normally celebrate by attending the Pan-African Film Festival, but there was nothing I wanted to see this year. Aside from the flowers that Hannibal buys me every week, we really don’t like to go spend crazy on holidays relating to love, principals, tenets, etc. So, Mooch and I decided to make our own vegan chocolate covered strawberries. Godiva ain’t got nothing on us. We also had a cupcake each (not Fuss), plus two heart candies from Hannibal (not Fuss — she was pissed when she opened her two heart boxes to find nothing in them). Check out the pics in the gallery below.
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- Sharing her work
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- They drew a picture together
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- She showed off her artwork
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- She sang
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- Fuss was disturbed to find that her box was empty. No candy for babies.
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- Weekly flowers from Hannibal
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- My cupcake and candies from Hannibal
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- Mooch’s Cupcake and candies from Hannibal
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- Preparing to wash the strawberries
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- Clean berries
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- Ingredients
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- Making the frosting
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- Some look better than others, but there’s a lot of love in all of them.
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- Tasting the finished product
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- My kids read on the toilet. What?
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- Little Myshell
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- Red!!!
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- My baby’s cute new training panties
Marital Mondays: Hannibal Done Lost His Mind
We went an family outing to Trader Joe’s Saturday, where I was supposed to be in charge of the list, because Hannibal has no clue what I buy during the week. Anyway, we make our way around the tiny market and I look through the cart to make sure we’re covered for Mooch’s weekly lunch, breakfast items, fruit, and dinner.
It turned out we hadn’t purchased anything for dinner that Hannibal really cared for, so I sent him on a run to the freezer section to grab something he’d like to eat. He came back with salmon, which is normal, and some other fish called “Turbot” that none of us had heard of. I shrugged.
We were sitting at the table after the girls were in bed, and he asked if I’d ever heard of turbot before. “You mean that strange fish you had me buy at Trader Joe’s yesterday? Hell no.” I replied.
“You wanna know why I picked it?” he asked.
“Not really. Why, because it had ‘bot’ in the name?” I said in a monotone voice, while installing Google Reader on my G2.
“You’re darn tootin’! I couldn’t pass up eating anything that may be a robot” he answered, with his usual cheshire cat smile. I sighed and decided to entertain this line of lunacy.
“So, you want to eat robots now? I’m really not going to be able to feed your ass if that’s the case. What could you possibly gain from eating robots?”
“First of all, it was a super fast robot that has a machine brain — a super complicated machine brain — much more complicated than mine, and I caught that son-of-a-bitch and I’m eating it! That’s awesome.” He offered, licking his lips.
To which, I of course responded, “But you didn’t catch anything. You just went to Trader Joe’s and went to the freezer section.”
“Exactly! Not only am I eating a super fast, super smart, hyper-complicated futuristic robot, I didn’t even have to do any work. Trader Joe’s gets them. I just have to be hip enough to shop at Trader Joe’s.” He exclaimed.
“Wait. Is this a commercial?” I asked.
“Isn’t it, Myshell? Isn’t it?”
Thematic Thursdays: Texts From My Exes
I have been LMFAO at Twitter’s @TextsFromMyXes. Are people really that desperate? Yes, sadly, they are. The timeline features such tweets as, “Wore a pair of your underwear to work today. Hope that’s ok. Call me” and “In case you’re listening to this voicemail first, please disregard the first 13. I was angry.”
I guess it’s funny because it’s true. I’ve had clowns send me these very same texts. This is almost as funny as when I found Jesus on Twitter. LOL!
Tuesdays With Mooch & Fuss: Blueberries and Activism
Mooch got her assessment from school this week, and it basically says she’s awesome. Her school does a full on narrative about each kid. Some excerpts include: “M’ma-Syrai is a highly creative writer. She uses detail, dialogue, and description in her stories, and her narratives are always sprinkled with interesting twists and funny moments.” “M’ma-Syrai grasps math concepts quickly … (she) is adept at counting money, telling time, and measuring to the nearest inch.” “M’ma-Syrai is interested in learning about history and how people lived in the past. M’ma-Syrai is quite the activist when it comes to something being unfair.”
In other news, she has joined the kinky curly committee and her curl definition is on serious point!
Also, last week, she performed during an all school circle time. She played a weather reporter. Here’s a picture of that:
Fuss’ vocabulary now includes:
Open, light, green, red, computer, back pack, belly button, eye, nose, ear, hi, bye, up, down, uh-oh, on, off, wet, boo boo, hair, glasses, broccoli, banana, blueberries, chair, potty, wipe, ba ba, bottle, M’ma, hot, cold, kitchen, crying, walk, and water.
She still hardly ever says Mommy. 
She calls me M’ma. To be fair, those words are pretty close to each other.
She hasn’t felt well all weekend, and Kaiser kept us waiting for an hour this morning, so I’m not sure whether she has an ear infection or not. Hopefully, she’s just teething or she has a common cold. This fever is unrelenting, though.
She climbs the stairs now. I should have a picture of that by next Tuesday, because she isn’t feeling so hot. I don’t want to be all, “Climb the stairs, kid. The people in my blog want to see. I don’t care if you’re sick.” I’m not that much of a douche nugget.
Also, her favorite food, not fruit, but food altogether is blueberries. She will move an obstacle (even if it’s a six-foot-tall person) out of the way to get to them as noted in the pic below.
Marital Mondays: How Teething Can Ruin Your Marriage
Take a crazy ass normal married chick, who is used to her adorable little cherub sleeping for twelve amazing hours each night, and throw in a 13 month old, who is trying to cut two lateral incisors at the same time, and you have yourself a recipe for a ruined marriage. Here’s how:
5:20pm – The poor kid is in too much pain to eat.
6:00pm – We give our little angel her bath
6:30pm – She is given Tylenol for her raging fever, two beautiful breasts for nourishment, and a good tooth brushing. She falls asleep easily.
11:00pm – She’s wails as though she’s been stabbed by a hooded intruder. I pick her up and rub her back, while listening to the mucous rattle in her nose, until she falls back to sleep. I lay her down and walk out.
Hannibal snores loudly.
3:15am – I am in a deep sleep. My stresses don’t exist. I spend my days on a beach with Morris Chestnut massaging my shoulders. Hannibal looks on jealously, while collecting dirty towels.
3:30am – I feel hot breath on my face. I realize this is not the Jamaican sea breeze blowing over me, and I open my eyes to find a seven-year-old staring at me with wide eyes.
My fight response kicks in, and I jump and shriek accidentally smacking the child in the face.
Hannibal snores loudly.
3:40am – I console the child by insisting that nothing from any movies that she’s ever seen will come and get her, because I’m too crazy for anything bad to happen to her in our house — also, because most of the movies she’s seen are cartoons, and being attacked by cartoon characters is just weird.
3:45am – Child insists that she will only be safe if Ribbit-Sob, the frog created at Build-A-Bear, which she casts aside each night at about 9pm is returned to her arms.
3:50am – We finally find Ribbit-Sob under the bed, and the child agrees to try to fall back to sleep. I return to bed. Hannibal snores loudly.
4:00am – Close eyes and attempt to ignore Hannibal’s now Olympic rate snoring and return to the beach with Morris Chestnut.
4:14am – Wailing begins. Open eyes.
4:15am – Peel self from bed, and go to infant’s room to retrieve her and bring her to our bed. Hannibal snores loudly.
4:16am – Nurse baby and try to sleep on my side propped on one shoulder with hot infant incessantly kicking me in the ribs.
4:25am – Hannibal mumbles something and continues snoring loudly.
4:35am – Detach baby from breast and close eyes.
4:36am – Open eyes.
4:36am – Did we remember to lock the front door?
4:40am – What the hell is the thermostat on?
4:41am – I’m thirsty.
4:41am – I get up to check the front door, turn down the thermostat, get water, and return to bed. Hannibal and baby snore loudly.
5:00am – I think I went to sleep.
5:05am – The baby coughs and accidentally wakes herself up. She won’t go back to sleep without nursing.
5:20am – My head is pounding, so I lay awake for an hour
6:20am – I fall asleep.
6:30am – Mooch’s alarm clock goes off, so she can go to a beach meditation, and it wakes me. The baby sleeps soundly. As Mooch begins clanging cereal bowls together in the Children’s National Breakfast Orchestra, Hannibal scratches his balls, “Can I help you with anything, baby?”
6:35am – *tears*
7:00am – Hannibal returns to sleep and snores loudly.
7:45am – Hannibal wakes and helps Mooch get out of the front door.
10:45am – Mooch returns, eats, and changes clothes.
12:45pm – Hannibal takes Mooch to go visit some recording studio and leaves me here sleep-deprived with a screaming infant.
1:00pm – *tantrum*
2:00pm – Her fever is still not gone, and she starts having uncontrollable nose bleeds.
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Author: Myshell Tabu
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