Tights Waddler

Alexis' bedroom is really very clean. Truly.

Alexis' old bedroom, on the other hand, looks like it is inhabited by a lazy clothes whore. Or Paris Hilton. Same difference. Either way, the closet puked up about 200 shirts, the dresser pooped a giant pile of pants, and then Alexis threw a whole bunch of other clothes on top of the pile just so there would be more SPARKLE! and GLITTER!

Her old bedroom is basically a walk-in closet, except that there is no "walking in" happening because it is TRASHED.

It's not entirely her fault. Somewhere along the way, the kid switched which bedroom is hers. Which, fine. Whatever. If she wants to sleep up in the loft, that's fine. The thing is that there isn't a dresser in the room she wants and the closet is very not short person friendly. It has been a year since she switched rooms, but we don't seem to be doing much to fix all of that so that her clothes will be in the room where she sleeps and put away.

I'm saying that it is absolutely my fault that all of her clothes are still in her old bedroom. It most definitely is.

It's not my fault, however, that she digs through laundry baskets like a dog digging a hole under the fence. She launches things left and right and up and across the room and KABOOM! it looks like a bomb went off in there. It is extremely overwhelming to even consider trying to find something in that room.

That's my excuse. That. Right there.

I used to be fantastic about keeping Alexis' clothes sorted. The very second an article of clothing didn't fit her anymore, it was packed away and replaced with something that did. That's not really the case these days. I consider sorting through her clothes and immediately start hyperventilating because OMG IT IS SO MESSY IN THERE, so then I consider that she is very nearly old enough to handle all of that herself. Closing the door and walking away seems like a great answer for the now. I'll revisit the issue in a year or so when I finally make her sort it all by herself.

Except that maybe NOW is the right time to revisit the issue.

I figured that fact out a few weekends ago when we were at the zoo. We were there for the usual Halloween party, so Alexis was walking around in her costume. Since it was cold out, I made her wear tights under her Little Red Riding Hood dress.

She wore tights all right.

I noticed the problem when I witnessed the kid walking like a penguin all around the polar bear exhibit. She could barely move her knees and was sort of waddling. She asked for help at one point and that was when I realized that the crotch for her tights was all the way at her knees.

Because she was wearing size 2T tights.

She's nearly seven years old. She hasn't worn size 2T in a very long time.

So can someone please explain to me how a kid can put on tights that are WAY too small and not realize there is a problem? Because I'm completely confused by that fact.

Could We Please Stop Leaving Notes On My Husband's Vehicles?

As the husband rushed to get into his truck at the end of a long work day, he realized there was something on the windshield.

A note.

WAIT. I do believe I've written this post before ...

... and indeed I have.

It was just over a year ago that the husband walked up to his car and discovered that a City of Pittsburgh contractor had managed to dump pink paint all over it. The persons responsible left a note and blah, blah, blah. It eventually got cleaned up. We ended up losing some money over the whole thing, but it wasn't terrible.

Since that fateful pink shower, I wrecked my car, stole the husband's car from him instead of buying a replacement, and left him to drive our big old truck. It's technically my old Ford F250 that should be parked in the driveway 99.9% of the time. It gets terrible gas mileage and is very, um, let's call it "rustic." I bought it at a great price so that we would have something for hauling mulch and furniture and all of that sort of worky-type stuff. I guess since it is mine, I should have been the one driving it. However, the husband has been driving it because OH HELL NO. It's a REALLY big truck and I can't be trusted to get it out of our driveway without running over a city block. It's for your safety that I make him drive it. Truly.

It was that big truck that he walked up to after work this afternoon. It was that truck where he found the note.

Which was written by a Pittsburgh Police Officer.

And which explained the brand spanking new damage to the back fender.

This is where there would be a photo of said damage if I had gotten home before it was dark out, but I didn't, so go ahead and imagine a very large truck with a big dent in the driver's side back fender. It's such a big dent that the bumper has been pushed over a few inches.

The truck isn't worth a whole lot, obviously, so we're thinking that the damage is enough to call it totaled.

o_O

But back to the note. After a few minutes crawling down the rabbit hole, the husband had an explanation as to what had happened. A postal worker had a heart attack while driving and ended up crashing into the truck while it was parked on the street. It happened to be parked near the former Igloo, right at the top of the hill, just yards from busy streets and pedestrians.

So, basically, our big truck got in the way of what could have been a very bad thing. We don't know if the postal worker is OK or not, so it's still a bad thing, but had he made it down that hill at the speed he was traveling, it very easily could have been a very, very bad thing.

And that is why I'm glad our truck was probably totaled today, even if it is a giant pain in the ass that we're now down to one vehicle and had no intentions of parting with the truck anytime soon.

Changing the World One Banana at a Time

I've already shared this photo just about everywhere I can share it, but you know what? When your kid makes you breakfast, you tell the world.

MY KID MADE ME BREAKFAST.

BY HERSELF.

ON PURPOSE.

It happened the day that Sandy managed to do a whole lot of nothing here in Pittsburgh, which was a huge blessing no matter how you look at it. School was canceled just in case. I could go on and on about how back in my day we went to school no matter the weather and we walked through ten feet of snow uphill both ways (which, seriously, we did -- it's so windy in North Dakota that it is absolutely possible that you walk uphill one way and back uphill to go back because the snow has suddenly drifted in a new way). I won't go on and on about it, though. I would never, ever want to be that person who has to make the school delay/cancellation decision. Can you imagine deciding that school should go on as usual and then having a student die in a tragic car accident on the way there? Unfathomable.

I'll stick to having to juggle schedules and working at home so that kids everywhere can stay home and be safe, thank you very much.

On the day that Sandy did nothing, I spent the morning with my head buried in a laptop trying to finish some documents before a deadline while Alexis entertained herself. She could have watched TV or played with toys, but instead she chose to make me breakfast. She washed some raspberries and poured out some chocolate pudding and she sliced some bananas for me.

She sliced some bananas for me.

With a knife.

By herself.

Without me realizing what she was doing.

Obviously, nothing bad happened, but the moment that it dawned on me that she had pulled a knife out of the drawer and used it without supervision was a scary one. I had no idea she could reach the knives now, which was sort of irrelevant considering I was sitting ten feet away but had no idea she was using a knife.

So many bad things could have happened. They didn't, but they could have.

It only takes a second for the worst to happen. Every day I'm grateful that we made it one more day without living that reality ourselves.

This is where I get up on my soapbox and I ask y'all a favor. Could we please extend a little empathy when things like this happen? It was a horrible accident and there are no winners. No matter how much blame is thrown around and no matter how many excuses we make for why that could never happen to us because we are so much more careful than that mother, there is but one truth.

It could happen to any of us.

It's terrifying, but it's true. All it takes is to get lost in a fog of important work while our kids are in the kitchen grabbing knives. It can happen because we boil water on the front burner of the stove. It can happen whether we are watching them closely or look away for a second. Terrible things happen just walking down a sidewalk, while in the care of someone we trust ... anywhere.

Everywhere.

Recognizing that the worst can happen to any of us is the only way we can support and look out for one another. It's really all we can do as we teach our kids to be independent people who will some day change the world for the better.

Just as soon as they're done making us breakfast, that is.