So Much Change. So Much Awesome.

Like pretty much every Apple nerd, I had to spend a part of today clearing space on my phone for iOS 7. It was an easy quest because I never delete videos and I happen to have a kid who frequently steals my phone and makes videos for me to find later. As I copied Alexis video after Alexis video after Alexis video over to my laptop, I happened to come across one from 2010.

I had totally forgotten that I had once asked her that question. They won a few more than ten that year, BUT NOT THAT MANY MORE. Let's not get into details because that was BPA.

As in, Before Pirates Awesome.

Now that we have entered the era when they don't totally suck ----

HOLD ON. I'M WATCHING THE GAME RIGHT NOW AND MCCUTCHEN JUST HIT A HOME RUN. WOOOOO!

Ahem.

Anyway. This year is different and just so I can say "I told you so" one more time, I called it. In February.

I can't explain how I knew way back then that this year is different, but I did. I was absolutely positive, even as they made like the Succos during the preseason.

So when I found that video of Alexis predicting a sucktacular season a few years ago, I decided I should ask her about this year. She doesn't have a clue how many total games the Pirates play. She doesn't know anything about the 81 or 82 milestone. She just knows that they play and she really likes them.

So.

Her answer this year?

"105."

They aren't going to win out for the rest of the season. We know that.

That means she's predicting quite a few playoff wins.

Here's to hoping she's right.

Girls Are Squirrels, But Boys Make Noise

Back when the streets were filled with potholes, the laundromat was boarded up, and the neighbors' homes were just feet away from ours, I went to school at a place called North Hill Elementary. It was your typical unremarkable school in the midst of an unremarkable place. There wasn't much there worth noting, other than maybe a fantastic teacher named Mrs. Brown, the woods behind the school that were filled with ghost stories, and an odd octagon-shaped addition that housed several classrooms.

It's the school where I learned to read, the school I attended when I first realized I was ... different, and the school where I spent recesses playing Star Wars with the boys, despite the fact that I had never seen any of the movies. I won contests for fundraising, got in trouble for stealing a classmate's winter hat during a game of tag, and avoided eye contact with a boy named Clinton.

But, really, it was unremarkable.

Except for one man.

There was a man, a janitor, who wasn't your ordinary janitor. He wasn't invisible, nor was he the subject of mockery. Instead, he was the janitor that everyone liked because he was a genuinely nice guy.

I don't remember his name. I don't remember what he looked like. And, yet, I remember him. He's the man who stood by the trash cans in the cafeteria. He guided new students in the proper process for cleaning their trays, always making sure to be kind as he reminded everyone to not throw away the silverware. He made it a point to greet each and every kid, always with a smile on his face.

He's the man who constantly rattled off the phrase, "Girls are squirrels, but boys make noise." To this day I have no idea what he meant by that, but I think he was saying that girls are the smarter gender. Go with me on that one, ok?

He was just a nice guy who had an odd saying, but yet 30 years later, he sticks with me.

I often wonder who will stick with Alexis. Who are the characters that will become permanent fixtures in her memory? And will they be good memories?

She Speaks The Truth Sometimes

I don't really have any regrets (mostly because regrets are pointless), but if I could put a message in a bottle and throw it through time so that it would smack me in the head in 2006,  I would more than a few things to say.

For one, I'd tell myself that 7-year old Alexis was STILL going to be fighting to sleep in my bed every night, so was it really worth that nightly battle thing? The war was not meant to be won.

I'd also tell me to skip the baby food wars with Alexis because POINTLESS. The kid didn't like jar baby food. She preferred lima beans, diced sweet potatoes, and all sorts of other choking hazards. I would advise myself to put on a helmet and prepare to play defense because trying to get her to eat "safe" purees was an exercise in stupid.

And then there is the "appropriate clothing" battle.

The good news is that I figured out I wasn't winning pretty quickly. I only tried to wrestle the kid into a coat and proper shoes for about a month before I said FINE. THEN FREEZE. Which, I still say that. Nearly every day.

I say it nearly every day because nearly every day, Alexis says SO WHAT? to the weather forecast and wears whatever the heck she wants to wear. If she wants to wear cute fuzzy boots in August, you just go ahead and try to stop her. If she wants to wear flip-flops in the snow, same thing. YOU tell her. I'm not. I'd rather spend that energy rolling my eyes at her as she pretends she's not cold and flat-out denies that she has goose bumps.

"I'M NOT COLD, MOM."

The only way to get her to wear a coat in the winter is for her to decide that her outfit accessorizes well with a coat. She's probably putting it on over top of a sundress anyway, so whatever. WHATEVER. There is no point to arguing with someone who is legitimately rarely cold. The best part is that she knows better than to complain to me about being hot/cold because she's dressed wrong. I truly have no reason to care.

If I don't care, neither should every person we encounter.

It has been happening for as long as I can remember. Alexis ventures out dressed completely inappropriately. I bite my tongue because POINTLESS. Picking battles and such, you know? But, while we're out, some well-meaning stranger will inevitably wander up to us and say something super helpful like, "Oh, honey, you look so cold! You should tell your mom to get you a coat."

Thanks, awesome person, but the kid has more coats than Burlington Coat Factory.

This morning the temperature dropped down into the 40's, which to Alexis is a sign that she should wear a tank top, shorts, and flip-flops. So she did. I said nothing to her and let her venture on out to the school bus dressed like she was headed to the beach, even as the leaves softly floated to the ground all around her.

Whatever.

Some random neighbor (who I didn't recognize, which is weird in and of itself) was out walking her dog just as Alexis was headed down the sidewalk. That random neighbor stopped walking her dog, turned to our door, and shouted across the street, "Your mom didn't dress you right for the weather, sweetheart!"

Thanks, sweetheart.

I was standing right there.

I've noticed that when people have something critical to say, they try to direct it towards the kid in question rather than the adult. It's fabulous.

ANYWAY.

Alexis is aware that I will not take the blame if she doesn't dress appropriately for the weather. I know she knows it's her problem and now I REALLY know because she turned to that stranger and yelled back, "It's OK! I don't listen to my mom!"

Truer words ...