Tag Archives: in the car

Mommy, Why Did You Crush My Fingers in the Car Door?

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This photo has nothing to do with this post

So, I accidentally shut the car door on Mgazi’s fingers the other day. I am POSITIVE that she was more scared than hurt. Regardless, there was a lot of crying, comforting, and apologizing. She was crying. I was apologizing. She finally calmed down and said, “Mommy, I just don’t understand WHY you would do that to me.”

I said, “I didn’t do it on purpose, Gaz. It was an accident. I’m sorry.”

She replied, “It’s okay. I just wish I knew why you did that thing.”

“Mgazi, I just told you. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to shut the door on your hand. I am very very sorry.”

“It’s okay, Mommy. I love you.” She paused. “Can you just tell me why?”

I pretended not to hear her, turned up the car radio. Why wouldn’t she just let it go? Did she want a bigger/better apology? Was she angling for a “Mommy-is-feeling-guilty” ice cream cone? Or did she truly want to know WHY I slammed her fingers in the car door?

Hey Gaz, pick the answer that best fits the question.

A) Because Mommy is rushed and not paying attention.

B) Because you didn’t move your fingers fast enough.

C) Because Mommy has a little pent-up aggression quietly bubbling under her seemingly smooth surface… kidding!

The answer is actually D.

D) Because she did. She did and she’s really sorry.

 

I Kill Innocent Creatures — And Then They Cry.

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The 53 stairs leading up to my house are a minefield of slimy, disgusting slugs. Every morning, without fail, I have to dodge, hop, skip, and weave my way down the stairs in an attempt to not step on one of the suckers. I always make sure I have some extra change on hand, though, just in case.  If I squish a slug, I can assure you I will not be the one who scrapes it off the bottom of my Cole Haan’s. Mgazi will do it. She’ll do almost anything for a quarter.

So far, in the ten years that I have lived in this house, in the thousands of times I have trekked up and down those incredibly annoying stairs, I have never ever stepped on a slug.

I did, however, manage to step on a snail.

Damn! Did I just make it down to the bottom of the stairs, all FIFTY-THREE stairs, violence-free, only to hear (and feel) the dainty shell of a snail crunch under my sneaker?

Please say it isn’t so.

Oh, it’s so. The children saw it all and they made sure I understood the full impact of my actions.

Zaffron: Mommy! What did you do?

Me: What? Nothing! Get in the car.

Mgazi [bending at the waist, inspecting the sidewalk]: Oh no, Zaffy. She is lying to you. Mommy killed a snail.

Tears immediately spring into Zaffy’s eyes. She’s by the car, with me. She can’t even see what Mgazi is looking at.

Zaffron: Mommy! How could you do that? He was just a baby!

Me: Oh for heaven’s sake… I just –I didn’t — for God’s sake, just get in the car. The snail is fine. He’s going to have to crawl away and find a new shell.

Mgazi [still peering at the glob on the concrete]: Nuh uh, Mommy. He’s killed. You killed him.

Me: Gazi, get in the car. Zaffy, you too.

Everyone climbs into the car and I think the episode is over because there is a short stretch of silence (if you don’t count Zaffy’s whimpering.) What was I thinking? There are never stretches of silence in my car. Short or otherwise.

Mgazi: Zaffy, you know that snail that Mommy killed? (Like Zaffy could have forgotten in the last two minutes.) He was crying too.

Zaffy [now wailing]: What? What?? Why? WHYYYYYY MOMMMMMMMMMMY?

Me: I’m sorry! I am so sorry. It was a total accident. I feel awful, Zaffy. Mgazi, you didn’t see the snail crying. Stop trying to rile your sister.

Mgazi: I did. I saw his eyes. And there were tears coming out of them.

Zaffy: WHY MOMMMMY? WHY?

Me: Mgazi, seriously. You need to stop talking. I’m not joking. Not another word.

And we returned to silence… except, of course, for the sound of my oldest child’s sniffling  grief.

Glass of white wineRecommended wine: Do you know what goes great with snails? A chablis — chalky, crisp, and flinty, with a hint of earthiness. Try the 2007 Christian Moreau Chablis. You should be able to get it for around $30.

Snail photo: Copyright (c) 123RF Stock Photos

Mgazi Wants Her Own “Partment”

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We are in the car. 

Mgazi: Mom, how old do I have to be to live in a room by myself?

Me: You don’t want to share a room with your sister?

Mgazi: No, I want my own partment.

Me: Well, I guess the soonest would be eighteen. You can live all by yourself in an apartment when you are eighteen.

Mgazi: I want to live by myself in a partment when I’m a hundred.

Zaffy: Lulu, you won’t have to live by yourself when you a hundred, you’ll probably be married by then.

Long Live Russell (or Daddy, You’re Not Dead Yet?)

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Russell in a jetpack

Russell in a jetpack… but that’s a different story.

It’s late at night — about 10:30 p.m. the night before Russell’s birthday (last night to be exact). We had just picked up the children from the babysitter’s and we were driving home. The atmosphere inside the car was calm. Unusual.

The children were quiet but awake so I mentioned that their dad was going to turn 44 in a mere two and a half hours.

Zaffy said, “Forty-four? Daddy, does this mean that you are going to die soon?”

Russell said, “I don’t think so. I hope not. But I’m a day closer than I was yesterday.”

Mgazi said, “Daddy’s almost dead? That’s too bad.”

And the children drifted peacefully off to sleep.

Glass of white wineRecommended wine: Russell is a fan of bourbon. So, in honor of his impending death, I suggest his college favorite, Evan Williams. Long live Russell!

 

Did That Wall Just Hit My Car?

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I had a bad day. It started first thing. I misjudged while backing my car into a parking spot at work. Actually, to be more accurate,

I slammed my husband’s brand-new electric vehicle into a wall.

The day kinda went downhill from there.

This is what I saw when I first inspected the car from a standing position.

This is what I saw when I first inspected the car from a standing position.

This is what I saw when I knelt closer to investigate further.

This is what I saw when I knelt closer to investigate further.

This is what I saw after I fainted.

This is what I saw when I fainted.

I showed the girls the damage when I picked them up from school.

Mgazi: Ooooh. Daddy is going to be mad.

Me: No, I think it’s okay. I told him this morning. He’s not too mad.

Mgazi: No, he’s lying to you. He’s going to be mad.

Zaffron: I don’t think it’s so bad.

Me: Really?

Mgazi: No, she’s lying to you. It’s bad.

Zaffron suggested I scrape the other side of the car to match… she said that people would then think it was decoration.

Glass of white wineRecommended wine: On days like today, I recommend you reach for whatever’s in the fridge. What’s in my fridge tonight? A California chardonnay called Three Wishes.


 

It’s Vodka Not Vodika

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This conversation took place in the car. Of course.

Girls in car

Look! I can drive, say cheese, and take a photo of all three of us at the same time! *Smile* Actually, we haven't even pulled away from the house yet.

Mgazi: How old do I have to be to chew gum?

Me: Thirteen

Mgazi: Awwwww. Why thirteen?

Me: Because I said thirteen and it sounds like a nice number. Would you prefer fourteen?

Zaffy: I want fifteen!

Me: Deal.

Mgazi: Yay! We can chew gum when we’re fifteen!

[48 seconds of silence. I know this because silence is such a precious commodity in our car that I have taken to subconsciously tracking how much of it I experience during any given ride. Let me tell you, it's not much.]

Mgazi: How old do I have to be to drink wine?

Me: Twenty-one.

Mgazi: Why twenty-one?

Me: Because twenty-one is the legal drinking age. If you drink any kind of alcohol before you are twenty-one, you are breaking the law. This will make the police officers mad. This will make your mommy mad.

Mgazi: How old do I have to be to drink soda?

Me: Twenty-one.

Mgazi: Why twenty-one?

Me: Because soda is bad for you. It’s only good when mixed with alcohol.

Zaffy’s Strategy for Not Getting Pregnant

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So, I’m driving the kids home after school. Mgazi announces that she doesn’t want to have babies. (There is no context to this proclamation. The previous discussion had centered around Zaffron’s snack bar strategy at school. “Mom, I know I’m only allowed to go to snack bar once a week. That’s why I went twice this week. Next week I’m planning to take some time off!”)

Sooooo… Gazi doesn’t want to have babies.

Zaffy: I can help you with that.

Mgazi: You can’t help me, Zaffy.

Zaffy: I can. Just don’t let your husband, you know the one you marry, don’t let him put his penis anywhere near your vulva.

zaffyMe: It’s vagina, Zaff. But vulva will work too in this case.

Mgazi: Vagina, Zaffy. Not vulva. (She sighs like she can’t believe her sister doesn’t know the difference.)

Zaffy: That’s what I said. Don’t let a penis go near your vagina and you won’t get pregnant and you won’t have babies.

Silence. Seventy-seven seconds of it. I know this because I keep track. Silence in the car is precious to me and I savor every second of it. And usually about 50 seconds is the threshold that must be crossed in order for me to determine that a conversation is over. Fifty seconds and they’ve lost interest. But apparently this particular conversation has staying power.

Zaffy: But what if it sneaks in?

Me: What if what sneaks in?

Zaffy: What if my husband’s penis sneaks into my vulva?

I take a peak in the rearview mirror to see if she is serious. (I have a healthy suspicion that she messes with me sometimes, purely for the entertainment value.)  A little crinkle has formed between her eyebrows. She is genuinely worried.

Me: I can’t imagine how that would happen, honey.

Zaffy: What if we’re in bed sleeping and it sneaks in and I don’t know it?

Me: You’ll know, babe. If it tries to sneak in you’ll wake up. I promise.

Zaffy considers this.

Mgazi: I’m going to adopt.

Glass of white wineRecommended wine: No wine recommendation today. Too much wine and a sneaky penis can surprise your vulva — and we know what happens then!

You too can have conversations like this! Be it in the car or at the beach!

Enroll your child in OWL (Our Whole Lives), a series of sexuality education curricula for six age groups: grades K-1, grades 4-6, grades 7-9, grades 10-12, young adults, and adults. (Second and third graders are on their own.)

More Complaints from the Back Seat of the Car

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Lulu at Moanalua Park on January 10th

Luyanda (Mgazi) at Moanalua Park on January 10th

On the drive home today Luyanda complained from the back seat, “Mommy, Zaffy hitting me!”

I knew this wasn’t accurate so I said, “No, Luyanda, Zaffy didn’t hit you.”

She tried again, in the same tattle-tell sing-song voice, “Mommy, Luyanda hitting me!”

Zaffy Envies Squirty the Elephant

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The best stuff is heard from the backseat of the car

The best stuff is heard from the backseat of the car

We were driving to the grocery store. Zaffron was tucked into her carseat, holding a blue plastic elephant. She was talking to herself. This is what I overheard:

“This is Squirty. He can walk in the street by himself. He can take a bath all by himself. And he can drink the bathwater.”