Grilled Cheese and Love

I ate lunch with the kids from my art class today. I do this every Monday after art because I get to spend more time with the kids, because by the time I finish the class I am starving, and because Monday is grilled cheese sandwich day. Real grilled cheese. With butter.

Today I did not sit down to eat right away. Though I was eager to wolf down the grilled cheese that was waiting for me in the kitchen, I still had some cleaning up to do in the art room. As I was picking up bits of string and paper, I heard one of the teachers tell two boys to settle down and keep their hands to themselves. This is not unusual. It is something that we say to the kids at least once during each meal. I kept cleaning.

I heard the teacher tell the same boys not to touch each other’s plates or cups or bodies while at the table. Then I heard another teacher tell them the same thing a minute later. This got my attention. Not because of the amount of times the teachers had to repeat themselves, but because there were no accompanying screams, whines or sobs. I walked over to where the kids were eating, expecting to see the beginning of a fight or some sort of antagonistic behavior. Instead, they were each grinning and bouncing with excitement in their chairs.

I grabbed my sandwich and sat on a stool directly across the room from the boys. They were facing each other and giggling.   One teacher asked the boys if they were finished eating. This calmed them down and they returned their attention to their lunch. I watched them closely. They were eating quietly, smiling, chewing. They were happy. Really quiet, and really happy.  I kept watching. It was weird. Why were they suddenly following directions so well? Then I realized that they were holding hands under the table.

One of the other teachers noticed as well and we just sat there looking at them in awe. She whispered to me that one of the boys had been gone on vacation and this was the first time these guys had seen each other in two weeks. Needless to say, they were overjoyed at having been reunited; so overjoyed that they could not contain themselves. They soon forgot about their grilled cheese and proceeded to touch each other’s arms, pull at each other’s sleeves, and touch their heads together.

I’ve never seen anything like it.

Another Trip

Today I figured out why I’m not a drug addict. It’s because I associate all the best highs of my life with being at the dentist. I went back today for part two of my cleaning. Part one consisted mostly of me laughing uncontrollably due to the Nitrus gas. So naturally when the hygienist asked me if I would be needing the Nitrus again today, I said yes. There was no laughing today- I came prepared. I decided earlier in the day that I would take the opportunity to just relax and let myself fall into it.

Within minutes, my mind was flooded with memories. I remembered playing at my friend Rachel’s house, on the floor next to her bed. I remembered her flowered bedspread with matching pillowcases and the bed skirt that would brush up against my leg as we played with our Barbies. My bed at home didn’t have a bed skirt and I was fascinated by it. I wondered if I put one of Rachel’s Barbies under her bed if she would ever find it.

I remembered swimming in her pool and how the water seemed darker than the water in our pool. Somehow it seemed much deeper and almost like an adventure to swim at her house. I remembered getting out of the water and the feeling of my swimsuit slowly drying on my skin, lightly scratching me as it returned to its original shape. I thought I looked better in my swimsuit than I did in my clothes. I wished I could wear it to school. I felt that the people who weren’t nice to me would be nicer if they saw me in my swimsuit. A voice called me out of my memory and asked me to open my mouth a little wider.

As I drifted away again, I thought about how I ended up at this dentist in the first place. I was eating popcorn and it pulled out my crown. I then remembered being very small and watching movies with my parents. I worried that we would run out of popcorn. I wished there was infinite popcorn. I would watch my parents almost as much as I watched the movie- to make sure I laughed when they laughed. I remembered my dad noticing this and telling me to enjoy the movie and to laugh at what I thought was funny. I said I understood, but I lied. It was so important to me to laugh when he laughed.

This happens to me at the daycare all the time. If I laugh, even if it is at something I have just read on my phone, at least one kid near me will catch my eye and laugh too. I think it’s about feeling like they are part of something with me. Maybe it makes them feel closer to me. Or maybe they just like to laugh.

The chair moved me into a more upright position. She started cleaning my lower teeth. There was more poking and scraping, but not enough to keep me out of my memories. I remembered lying on my bed, drawing with my mom. I wanted her to be there and watch me. I remember needing help drawing the arms of a girl, but not wanting to need help. I remember getting angry with my mom for how she drew the arms. She added the crease of the girl’s elbows, and I didn’t want it there. I erased it furiously and shook off all the eraser bits. My mom asked me if I knew where all those bits went when I blew them. I looked up at her in wonder, and asked “where?”- Anticipating some magical answer. “The floor,” she said, smiling.

Remembering this made me laugh out loud, startling the dental hygienist. I had been so quiet up until that point. She asked how I was doing and told me it was time for my polish. She said I could pick my flavor. I had the choice of mint or a whole bunch of disgusting flavors, so I chose mint. Because of the noise, I couldn’t really escape. When she finished, she went to find out if my insurance covered fluoride treatments and she left me alone with my gas. I started to miss Rodrigo. I wished he were in the chair next to me with a gas mask on as well. I imagined us holding hands and talking about how each of our days had gone. I told Rodrigo I had to pee and asked him if I should even bother getting up and going to the bathroom or if I should just go in the chair. He said he wouldn’t judge me if I went in the chair, but I’d probably be happier if I went to the bathroom. I was smiling when the hygienist came back and told me my insurance did not cover fluoride treatments. She turned off the gas and turned up the oxygen. Within moments I was completely clear and back in the present.

Gettin Fixed

Now that I have dental and vision covered on my husband’s health insurance plan, I have decided to take full advantage. I’m getting everything all fixed up. I went to the dentist today- whose name by the way is Dexter. Which is really cool if it’s not your dentist. I was a little nervous to go, but it turns out he’s actually a nice old man who did a very thorough check up on my teeth. Basically everything is all good, but could be better if I flossed more. Before he sent me over to the dental hygienist to get my teeth cleaned, he gave me a long talk about Nitrus gas and why he likes using it. He said if I wanted some for my cleaning I could have some. “Will the cleaning hurt?” I asked. “Not a bit” he replied. “But you are offering me laughing gas?” I asked him. “Oh yes,” he said, “only now we do it with Oxygen so it wont knock you out completely. It’s more like having a glass or two of wine. I highly recommend it.”

Well, who am I to go against medical advice? I decided to have some. The dental hygienist set me up in my chair and put a mask over my nose. “Let me know when your fingers get tingly” she said. “Okay” I replied. She started cleaning and a little while later asked me if I felt any difference. I told her I didn’t, so she said “okay I’m going to turn it up. Let me know if it gets to be too much.” I started feeling really relaxed almost immediately and then I started laughing. “I guess its working now” she said. So I was just chilling, trying to keep my mouth open which was difficult because I couldn’t feel it anymore. Then she asked me if my fingers were tingly yet. I forgot about my fingers. I wiggled them. “Oh yeah.” Then I laughed for a while and she couldn’t get into my mouth. I guess I laughed for a long time because the hygienist told me she wouldn’t be able to finish my cleaning in one appointment. I would have to come back. “At least you’ll get more Nitrus,” she whispered on my way out.

Before biking back home I decided to pay a visit to the optometrist nearby. I made an appointment for an eye exam tomorrow and was asked by one of the clerks to fill out a patient information sheet. There was a section on family history with a whole list of diseases. I told her that my father sees black spots in one eye, but I don’t know what that is called. She thought about it for a while and then said “just write “black spots” and the optometrist will know if it is hereditary or generic.” I told her I doubted it was generic. This same girl then asked me if I was looking to buy new glasses as well. I said I was and she offered to help me find something that would fit my face. I said “no thanks” and I looked at some glasses myself. I put on a pair and she came over and said “ wow. So European. So you. Seattle just hasn’t gotten there yet.” I say “I don’t even know what that means.” “I know, right?” she replied and walked over to help someone else.  I am so confused.

The New Girl

There was a new girl in my art class today. I think she is about three. She is funny and sweet and had no problems with the other kids. She had so much fun in art and participated the whole time. We made temporary sculptures from objects we found around the room. We stacked them up, taped them together, and then took them apart and did it again. This new girl made a particularly successful sculpture of a small boy doll taped between two pieces of plastic bread.

After art class and lunch, most of the kids take naps. A few kids go home early. This girl was one of the kids leaving early. Her mom would be arriving in a few minutes. Seemingly out of the blue, she starts crying out that she misses her mom and she wants her mom to hold her. I tell her that she is in luck because her mom will be coming in a few minutes and she will give her a big hug. Still crying, she looks me in the eye, and very clearly, like she is explaining something to a one or two year old says: “I know but I want her to hold me right now,” and then starts crying even harder. I rubbed her back and told her I knew how hard it was to miss your mom and then I told her that when she saw her mom she could tell her about all the fun things she had done. She looked up at me hopelessly, so clearly thinking: “you just don’t get it.”

She was really suffering. She wasn’t scared that her mom had forgotten her, or that she wouldn’t show up. She was just expressing with absolutely no shame at all, how much it hurt her that she couldn’t have what she wanted most at that moment. It was heartbreaking, but also so beautiful. She hasn’t yet learned to hide her feelings because they don’t make sense to other people.

I picked up a book and started reading it to her. Still whimpering, she climbed in my lap and listened. I had just about finished the book when her mom showed up. At the sound of her mom’s voice, a huge smile broke out across the girls face. She jumped out of my lap, sprinted towards her mother, and leapt up into her arms. Her mom asked her if she had fun and she said “yes, but I was very sad because I needed you to hold me and you weren’t here. Then she sighed and said “I’m better now, but I’m still a little sad.”

Here is the sculpture she made:

The Overflow

It happened just as we were walking into the main room to sit down for lunch. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed one of the girls fascinated by something on the floor. She was poking it and squishing it in her fingers. I asked her what it was and she said, “Chicken poop.” I told her it looked a little bit too big to be chicken poop. Then she said “Oh, then it’s kid poop.” It sure was.

I picked her up fast and washed her hands before she could stick her fingers in her mouth. As I was washing her hands for the third time, she told me whose poop she thought it was and then she said “its okay. He’s like me. I poop too.” Inspired by her inclusive and non-judgmental attitude I said, “that’s right, everyone poops. I poop too.” “But do you poop on the floor?” she asked. No. I guess I don’t.

After she was clean, I decided to go check on the possible culprit. I asked him if he had poop in his diaper. He said he did. He seemed pretty indifferent about it. I took this as a good sign. If he didn’t care, then maybe it wasn’t that bad. I was wrong.

There was so much poop in that diaper that for a moment I just stood there staring at it. I finally snapped out of it, and began to change my first diaper ever. I didn’t really know what I was doing. I mean, I get it in theory – take off the dirty diaper, clean the kid off, put on a clean diaper. Its just that there are some in between steps that are not explained in that theory. I had seen regular pee diapers changed on the changing table, but this was a whole different story. I’m not even sure where I went wrong. I think it might have been how I grabbed the diaper. I underestimated its weight and it kind of flopped the other way. Poop fell all over the place. Luckily the kid is awesome, and he was in a really good mood. He was smiling at me and saying poop a lot. I cant imagine what it would have been like if he were crying.

I finally cleaned everything up and we made it to lunch. To my surprise, I had not lost my appetite. In fact, I was starving. Apparently so was the boy. He made his way through three bowls of rice and peas. I looked up at the clock and smiled. I only had five more minutes of work. He could eat as much as he wanted. The next diaper he filled would be for someone else.

Elementary Letter

Dear Julie,

Mrs. Sherman is making us all write you letters because you moved to Kenya. I can’t believe you are IN Kenya! Did a giraffe really lick your face? That is what Caroline told everyone. I wish you were still at school but don’t ever come back. Jessica B. told everyone you got your period and now everyone is laughing at you. Even me. I know I will get mine too but not yet! Justin said it was because you had a big booty that you got yours so early. Is that true? I am sorry for making fun of you but you wouldn’t want to come back anyway because the classes are a lot harder this year and you know you are not very good at school. Don’t be sad if you don’t have any friends. I will still be your friend even though you moved to Kenya. I will write to you even though I don’t have to. If you want to be my pen pal then write me back!

Your friend, Olive

That Nasty Brew

We are living in an age where it is possible to clone human beings and regrow hands with magic science powder. We are obviously living in the future. So how is it possible that cough syrup tastes just as awful as it did when I was a kid? It makes me gag. It makes me shiver. It makes one of my eyes close. It tastes like alcohol and sugar and rubber and gasoline. I would rather be sick for a few days than swallow a spoonful of NyQuil.  I would rather have a sore throat and a cough. I would rather suffer in silence and complain out loud than drink that nasty brew.

Rodrigo however, does not agree. He stares at me as I argue and whine and present really well thought out arguments as to why I don’t need the medicine. He stands next to me patiently, cough syrup in one hand, spoon in the other, as I lie right to his face and promise to take it later. He smiles at me and pours the syrup. I threaten him. I look at him through squinty eyes and a wrinkled brow. I tell him the only reason I am taking it is for him. He hands me the spoon. I take the medicine.

I gag and I shiver and my eye closes a little bit. I run to the kitchen and stuff my mouth with blueberries and cheese and I drink Gatorade. Everything tastes like cough syrup. I glare at Rodrigo and tell him he just likes to see me suffer. “How does your throat feel now?” he asks.

Dammit! It feels better.