2017 total: $12105.73


Pants on Fire

I am going to need all of the children to figure out that I *know* when they're lying.

First, the Big Kid. She is a terrible, no-good liar and she should know by now that I always know when she's saying something that isn't exactly the truth. She has a million tells, none of which I'm going to document because she doesn't need to know how I know, but I DON'T NEED HER TELLS. I mean, "Did you let the dogs out today?" is real easy to confirm when there's six inches of snow on the ground. THERE ARE NO PAW PRINTS, KID. STOP LYING.


The Tiny Human, though. The Tiny Human has no tells because she is an expert liar. If she would choose what she's lying about a little more wisely, I probably wouldn't know what is going on. But, maybe lie about things I don't KNOW FOR A FACT?

Picture the scene: a birthday party. A bunch of preschoolers sat around a television watching a movie. A mom asked the group of friends, "Do you sleep in your bed?" because she, the mother of the birthday girl, has not slept alone in months.

And then Mila replied, "Yes! I have a Mickey Mouse bed! I sleep there every night!"

Let's spot the lie, shall we?

Mickey Mouse. Yes, I can confirm that her little white toddler bed is currently dressed with a Mickey Mouse comforter. That part checks out.


Mila has never once, not even ONCE! slept in her toddler bed. She was crap at sleeping in her crib, so I graduated her to a toddler bed thinking that would get her attention. It did, but not enough for her to decide to sleep there. Thus, it has been MONTHS and she has not once slept in that bed. Not even for a second. I think maybe she's allergic to it, or even just the idea of it.

Choose wiser, girls. If you're going to lie, at least make it be about something I won't take the witness stand about.


Problem Solving at its Best

Mila attending her first birthday party has opened up all of the cans of worms. First I can’t figure out if I’m supposed to stay or what, and then there’s the whole gift-finding thing. OMG I FORGOT HOW HARD IT IS.

How did I forget that? Or did I purposely block it from my memory?

Mila knew exactly why we were at Target. She was there to select one $20 or less item for her bestie. She knew that, but she forgot it every 1.0007 seconds. “Can I have this?” “This looks fun!” “I want this!” WE ARE NOT SHOPPING FOR YOU, CHILD.  

Then, when she finally did remember that she was shopping for her friend, it turned into a game of Supermarket Sweep. Mila ran up and down the aisles as quickly as she could, grabbing everything in sight and tossing it in the cart. She tossed approximately 11235409586353981 toys over her shoulder, yelled, “This is perfect!” and then ran on to try to find the hams and laundry detergent. It was INTENSE.

Once the cart was full, I asked her to try to pick one thing. I asked her to pick one out of two things (instead of one out of all) because I’ve met her. I didn’t want to melt her brain. No matter, her reply was “My friend wants them both!” Forget about narrowing it down to one thing out of a sea of choices.

It was time to help. “What does your friend play with when you’re at school?” I asked.

“She plays with me,” Mila replied.

Technically true, but not what I was after.

“What toys do the two of you play with?” I asked.

“All of them,” Mila replied.

Also probably technically true. Still not what I was after.

“What toy do you play with the most?” I asked.

“Whatever my friend wants to play with,” she replied.

That one was my fault. I should have made it clearer I meant “you” as in “you and your friend” rather than the singular. I blame English for being dumb and not having plural ”you” (unless we’re counting y’all or yinz, but even that is in inexact science).

I decided to try another angle. I decided an animal toy would be best/easier. We would just go find the little animatronic pets and call it a day. “Does your friend like cats, dogs, or birds?” I asked.

“Yes,” Mila replied.


“Okay, Mila, which toy do you think your friend will like best?” I asked.

“She can just give me the toys she doesn’t want. It’s okay!” Mila replied.

And there it was. Her real plan for world toy domination.

March18 092


To Party or Not To Party

Okay, Internet, I have a question. What is the appropriate age for leaving your kid and running away during a birthday party? I am very serious about this question because apparently I am wrong.

So wrong.

First, let's rewind. When Alexis was little, I dreaded birthday parties. They are the worst for introverts because I am expected to sit there and talk to other humans. I am really very bad at talking to other humans, especially when that talking needs to stay superficial and small talk-ish. If we could get past the weather and basic niceties, I might be able to cope, but I can't cope. Small talk with strangers is dumb. And, thus, the very second I felt Alexis could handle being at a birthday party without my supervision (somewhere around age 6 or 7 because she was insanely shy), I was sooooo out of there.

It was glorious.

And then came Mila.

There are many things that have been a hard reset now that Mila is around. Diapers and middle-of-the-night feedings and OMG I HAVE TO DO BIRTHDAY PARTIES AGAIN. I hadn't considered that particular reset, so I was very much so not amused when Mila received her first party invitation. Any and all "Oh, man, meh baaabyyy is growing" thoughts were quickly replaced with, "OH NO, I HAVE TO EXTROVERT" thoughts.

Extroverting is the worst.

But, whatever. She and I walked down the street to her very first birthday party because, as luck would have it, her best friend from preschool lives in our neighborhood. We got there and Mila was really very excited, but a little hesitant to let me out of her sight, but whatever. She's three. It's not like I'm leaving her at the party and running away to go be productive somewhere where I won't have to talk to people.

Buuuuut ... I was the only parent who didn't run away.

Parent after parent showed up with their 3 or 4-year old. Parent after parent ran off, leaving the kid at the party. I heard every last one of them introduce themselves to the party hostess, so it's not like they already knew her.

I was literally the only parent who stayed. Which, HI. THAT'S SO AWKWARD.

So, Internet, is it just me or is that super weird? Because if I'm free to run away, I might have to rethink the next few years of my life. They might just be a lot less painful that I was expecting.