I have decided to name my kids in here, although the names are changed for more reason that I don’t want them to find out about this blog (and how selfish is that) hahahahaha.
Harris is my eldest and turning 14 this year. He is petite and still boyish that I feel good about because truthfully I still can’t come to terms of him having darkening upper lip hair and slowly deepening voice. I was telling a friend that I keep catching him scratching his crotch with me half yelling asking him to wash it properly. But he’s so Libra. He doesn’t f*cking care. “I wash them… they just itch!” and continues scratching in front of me with the odour of smelly armpits swimming at me.
She said, “Maybe his pubic hair is growing?” | NOOOOOO!!!! >>> Me – Panic attack!
Then Elliot is the most sensitive to my feelings. He’s Mr Leo turning 11 in August. Sometimes when he sees me zoned out, he’d come and put his arms over my shoulders with asking me to chin up to him, “Mommy, are you stressed out/sad? It’s okay. I’m here,” and gently pats my shoulder.
Just a few days ago, I caught him staring at me from the side. “Oh Mommy, you’re skin is looking beautiful right now,” he said. Like, are you kidding me son, coz my face is semi pimpled with freckles and hair. I went blurry with a, “What?” “You look beautiful Mom. Why, don’t you believe me?” “My face is full of spots hun. Nothing pretty about that.” “It’s beautiful now, then what term should I use then when the fact is it’s beautiful?” (Awwwww…)
So then there’s Tallulah, my still 8 years old cheeky Scorpion. She’s the binder for all of us. Also my time manager. She bosses me when I’m late in the most diplomatic way, “Mommy, maybe you don’t have to put on makeup. We’re only going there for a short while right? A bit of lipstick will do just fine.” Or, “Mom, you’ll be late for work if you don’t shower now. Go go.” Or she will plan my travel route when my brain is a half baked potato.
And I suddenly miss them all writing this. Hmm. I’m so PMS-y.