I grew up poor, and when I say I grew up poor, I don’t mean that I could only afford the knock-off Caboodles; I mean that I wore my brother’s old underwear and my gross annual income was the exact same as my husband’s current net. MONTHLY.
We ate whatever we could get our filthy little hands on, we perfected the art of reusing grocery store paper bags for our trash cans and we wore whatever was given to us.
Usually, we looked like absolute trash.
The problem with that is simply that children reach a certain age when they stop caring at all about what they look like, right in between the “I got dwessed all by myselfes!” phase and before the “I’m getting laid, dammit” phase, and couple that with some significant levels of poverty and the daily dumpster dive for discarded treasures (one man’s trash, yo) (is still just trash) (but is more fun to dig through rotten fruit and old coffee beans for than reading the fucking Bible) (again) and you have some stank-ass children.
My middle brother’s feet smelled exactly like week old vomit, all the time. Not kidding.
One of the little rich-bitches that I lived near growing up, who’s family was probably in the same income bracket as I am now, but whom then seemed like she, as all of those girls seemed to me, was dripping in Hamilton’s, she asked me why I looked so much better than my little brother and sister all the time and the only answer I could come up with was that I cared enough to try.
My children do not share my dedication to personal appearance in the face of great adversity. Perhaps because I stopped caring enough to try once I could afford not to. Or perhaps because fuck if those yoga pants aren’t the most comfortable things ever invented.
My children are lucky enough to not have the slightest inkling as to what the words hunger or need mean, but they are still disgusting little piggies, and it infuriates me. Of course, I am that mother that is all, “when I was a little kid” and “you have no idea how good you have it” and it infuriates them. We are at an impasse.
My oldest son is full-on in the middle of fucking puberty, which makes me feel so old I kind of want to see how much I’d go for at Sotheby’s, and means that he is having all sorts of issues with his T zone. And he knows what a T zone is, which means he’s only a few months years away from knowing what a G spot is and that will officially be the last mythical thing he believes in and my job will be OVER.
I’ve fully lost my train of thought here.
Oh, that’s he’s almost too big to cuddle but is far and away big enough for me to smell, all the time, everywhere I go, even when he’s not there, and it’s wigging me out.
Yesterday, I made him let me groom him. Death. By. Mother. I might as well have grabbed a coat hanger and started ranting about how hard I work and dishrags or something. I brushed his teeth, properly, made him floss AND rinse, and then I *gasp* washed his face. WITH NOXEMA. Sorry if I don’t want to spend the next 6 years looking for my son’s gorgeous face under a blanket of oozey pimples, but I didn’t gain one hundred and five pounds for him to run around looking like semen-filled bubble wrap.
He’s got my skin, which means he’s either very oily or Sarhara dry, so Noxema is just about his only real option. And it smells like yo gramma, which is awesome. So I slathered him up, taught him how to wipe it all off, gave him his very own pint-sized tub of Noxema for his bathroom, and then basked in the glory of his perfectly soft, clear skin for one whole day.
Later that night, I watched him reading his book and I couldn’t help myself. I reached out and rubbed his little cheek, and then told him how beautiful his skin looked. He told me that was the worst thing I’ve ever said to him in his whole life.
And that is music to any mother’s ears.
Tagged with: noxema, over-parenting, Puberty, stinky children
Sincerely, Jenni
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 15:27Ack! Who invented pimples anyways?
anne nahm
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 15:41which means he’s only a few months years away from knowing what a G spot is and that will officially be the last mythical thing he believes in and my job will be OVER. This made me laugh until farts squeaked out.
Kelley @ Magnetoboldtoo
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 15:45semen filled bubble wrap…
I am totally SMSing that to The Damn Emos.
Bwaaaaaa haaaa haaaaaaaa
Kori
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 15:48See, I too swear by Noxema; screw the proactiv and the clearasil and whatever, at our house it remains the lovely blue jar, hands down. And cheap knock-offs don’t work the same.
Ree
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 15:54I’m not even going to tell you what my brother used to do with Noxema.
Seriously.
Avitable
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 16:05“Semen-filled bubble wrap” is my favorite new phrase.
daysgoby
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 16:15Mmm, used to date a boy who used Noxema…..
I mean…. totally NOT! THE! POINT!
Do you still look for the little boy you used to have?
ClassyFabSarah
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 16:15My brother went through this stage. And my mom and I tried to help. Bought him Proactiv and every other thing on the planet. Then we realized he’d have to apply it himself to keep up the results.
And we had to give up. Because seriously, if he can’t take care of himself… we aren’t even going to try.
I’m prayin to the patron saint of lost causes. For teenage boys everywhere.
Nicole
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 16:32I’m going to be looking for an opportunity to use the phrase “semen-filled bubble wrap” now.
Dawn
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 16:33I have the same issue with my boy…I’ve even put a tube of pimple cream in his bathroom…Ugh, I say, just wash your damn face…you don’t even HAVE to use soap, just put the damn rag on your face and CLEAN IT.
Ugh…maybe it’s a boy thing…
sarawr
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 16:58“semen-filled bubble wrap”
Oh my God.
I am scarred for life, but also laughing so hard I can’t see. Way to go, Mr. Lady.
Matt
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 17:31Yesterday I was Stumbling and came across a website that was nothing more than a page that said “You Will Now Have ‘The Final Countdown’ Stuck In Your Head,” in big block letters and you know? Try as I might I couldn’t get it out of my head.
Until now, as it has been replaced with the most disgusting mental image I have ever experienced. Europe was a picnic compared to the thought of reproductive packing material. Thanks a lot.
MFA Mama
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 17:49Semen. Filled. Bubble-wrap.
I <3 you for that.
Cid
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 17:56I don’t even want to think of my gorgeous 11 year (or 9 or 7) year old becoming any of the above. But I love Noxema. I used to think it would get rid of my beauty (moles) marks.
joanne
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 20:11I dont think I will ever be able to touch bubble wrap again
mn
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 20:39you’re not helping me look forward to the wonder yrs…
i have seen tough times, still am, glad you are rich now!!!
traci
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 21:30A)we lined garbage cans with newspaper because my parents were hippies and poor.
B)my daughter, my 9 year old organically fed skinny minny of a child, has breast. BREAST?!?!
Stone Fox
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 22:16who knew abject poverty and unfortunate pizza face could be so hilarious?!
thanks for the laughs.
i was also poor – not dumpster diving poor – as a kid, and had pizza face as a teenager.
life sucks then you grow up and pretend to be a productive member of society. it’s all good!
humpsNbump
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 22:23I love that your washing your son’s face with Noxema. I love, even more, that after your little compliment is said that was the worst thing you ever said to him in his whole life.
Love it.
~ humps
Misty
Tuesday, 10 November, 2009 at 23:51I am so glad to hear that I am not the only one having to wash their sons face. How hard is it wash your frickin face??? I told him that the next time he didn’t wash his own face I was coming in the bathroom while he was taking a shower and washing it for him…so far thats seemed to work.
tracey
Wednesday, 11 November, 2009 at 1:43Trying to hold my son still enough to wash his pimply forehead (which wouldn’t be so broken out if he’d just WASH HIS HAIR that hangs past his shoulder blades) is like nailing jello to a wall…
Also, I never knew when I got knocked up with him that I would be doing the “smell test” on his body and mouth odor. That knowledge might have been enough to make me reconsider….
Matt
Wednesday, 11 November, 2009 at 8:12Gross, I can’t believe I used to be one of those. It makes me want to apologize to my mother.
Ellie
Wednesday, 11 November, 2009 at 8:33I can’t believe you SAID that to him. Well, as long as none of his FRIENDS were around…..
BusyDad
Wednesday, 11 November, 2009 at 13:00Oh gross. Thanks for ruining semen filled bubble wrap for me. Now all I’ll think about is pimples.
The Urban Cowboy
Wednesday, 11 November, 2009 at 13:33“…semen filled bubble wrap…” I wont be able to get rid of this vision for a while.
Melanie @ Mel, A Dramatic Mommy
Wednesday, 11 November, 2009 at 13:38My little guy is 7 and I’m so SCARED! He gets in the car some days and the smell! Holy Moly the smell. I’m trying to metrosexualize him and talk about proper hair and face care etc. but feel I’m fighting a losing battle. *sigh*
tena
Wednesday, 11 November, 2009 at 13:48you’re way better, less emabarassing mom than I- I popped my son’s zits on his nose and scarred him for life- both literally and figuratively.
David
Wednesday, 11 November, 2009 at 15:09What’s a T zone?
Signed-
Seriously. I’m a guy. I don’t know. Should I? Is it important? Are there clothes for it that I’m not already wearing? Please stop laughing at me. I honestly don’t know.
David
Wednesday, 11 November, 2009 at 15:22Never mind. I asked teh Twitter. Loralee told me. Forehead, nose, chin. I’m really disappointed, as I hoped it was something dirty. Damn. Another day ruined.
Kristin
Wednesday, 11 November, 2009 at 17:38Oh my. You are so funny. But seriously, what is with the teenage smell? My almost 16 year old girl is so foul sometimes I just have to shriek at her. I know she showers, I know her clothes get washed (okay, probably not enough) and I’m constantly airing out her room….ugh.
Mrs. Schmitty
Wednesday, 11 November, 2009 at 18:37Yea, boys are gross. My son’s head smells all of the time. Even right after he washes it. I don’t know what it is…I just hope he grows out of it!!
Trenches of Mommyhood
Thursday, 12 November, 2009 at 9:38OMG – thanks for the sneak peek into my life in a few more years….ACK!
Lee of MWOB
Thursday, 12 November, 2009 at 9:53Oh. Dude. You are on a roll sista. I am chuckling over here but not about you dumpster diving. You’re amazing. Semen filled bubble wrap and how much you’d go for at Sotheby’s and death by mother. Friggin’ classic perfect Mr. Lady. Just why I love you. Or one of the reasons.
My lil’ dude is 2. And I think I’m gonna go grab him, strip him naked and run his soft yummy skin all over me right now.
Thanks for the inspiration.
:-)
BIG RED
Friday, 13 November, 2009 at 1:21Please tell my Bunny that I’ll love him no matter how much he stinks.
And I can’t wait to cuddle him and kiss his little wee cheeks in Feb.
However, if those wee little bunny cheeks are all zitty, I’ll pin him down, sit on his chest and pop those suckers and make him wish he used his momma’s Noxema.
katie
Friday, 13 November, 2009 at 7:39Puberty is cruel cruel cruel on all participants involved. But I’ve got to just say how much I love the smell of Noxema. Good memory connections there.
Amo
Friday, 13 November, 2009 at 14:23Thanks to the noxema flashback, I can’t get ‘Teen Spirit’ out of my head….
Suebob
Friday, 13 November, 2009 at 20:23You are disgusting. And great.
raino
Saturday, 14 November, 2009 at 10:19love it. so funny. is noxema really good for that. must tell the ladies.
Anissa@FreeAnissa
Saturday, 14 November, 2009 at 15:36The fact that my husband asked “WTF is a T-zone” explains a lot about our marriage.
And as my own son is on the cusp of puberty, it’s either find reasons to laugh or new ways to hide the liquor on my breath. Mmmm, minty freshness.
Kat
Saturday, 14 November, 2009 at 15:41I regret to inform you that the reek of them doesn’t necessarily diminish as they get older. I have a 23 year old slob and I don’t know how the boy ever gets a date, but he does.
Tricia
Saturday, 14 November, 2009 at 15:51All I need to know…? Does Noxema really work??? really?
ali
Saturday, 14 November, 2009 at 19:24I am so not ready for the days that I can smell my boy before I can see him…
Brittany
Saturday, 14 November, 2009 at 21:27There were so many amazing things in this post that I just want to C&P here and be all, OMG THIS IS THE FUNNIEST THING I HAVE EVER READ.
But I would literally be C&Ping the entire post.
You are that amazing.
Ok, just one, “which means he’s only a few months years away from knowing what a G spot is and that will officially be the last mythical thing he believes in and my job will be OVER.”
That killed me.
amanda
Monday, 16 November, 2009 at 10:45I just rediscovered Noxema and, this may be a bit tragic, it smells liek my youth, not my grandma. Did I fail?
Jaina
Monday, 16 November, 2009 at 13:12I love the fresh clean feeling of a face washed with Noxema, especially in the summer.
Momo Fali
Monday, 16 November, 2009 at 15:05The G-spot isn’t mythical. Just sayin’.
LiteralDan
Friday, 20 November, 2009 at 14:28You should start telling him he’d damn well better starting growing some pimples and not showering, or he’s out on the street. Then watch him start looking and smelling like a Gap model until it’s too late to break the habit.
You’re welcome.