Looking Forward to a Better Tomorrow

Dear Alexis,

Today was . . . well, actually, this whole week has fallen under the category "Challenging." Today was most certainly the most intense day of them all, but they've all been rough.

For your father and me, that is. Not for you. You've been perfectly happy as you've doled out the . . . uh . . . challenges.

I'm not sure what crawled into your brain over the past weekend, but there seems to be some sort of alien worm inside your head, giving you ideas. It seems to have given you the mistaken impression that we negotiate in this house. We. do. not.

If I ask you to eat your dinner, the correct answer is to open your mouth and shove some food in it.

If I ask you to go upstairs and get your pajamas on, I expect to see your little behind in motion, headed towards your room.

If I tell you (I don't "ask" when it's a safety thing, little miss) to stop balancing and swinging from the arms of the two couches, I expect your feet to hit the ground immediately.

If I tell you to pick up your toys before someone trips and gets hurt, I want to see a flurry of action, with toys finding their way into their storage boxes.

I do not want to hear, "But I'm just . . ." I don't want to be met with silence. I don't want to hear about how you'll do it, but only after you've done fourteen eleventy bazillion other things. I don't want to have my requests met with half-assed attempts at negotiation.

I do not negotiate with terrorists, not even tiny ones. Period.

Miss Alexis, you've already lost the privilege to do pretty much every fun thing we had planned for this weekend. I really hope you evict that evil worm from your brain tonight because when you don't have fun? I don't have fun. So, how about we try inflating my ego and then making me think I'm imagining things? How about you try answering with, "Yes, ma'am" a few times tomorrow? It's a sure way to make me think I've completely lost my mind. And isn't that the goal? I mean, isn't that why you Tiny Terrorists do what you do?

Oh, and don't even think about coming to me in 30-some years and complaining about how your sweet little daughter thinks everything is game for negotiation. I'll tell you that paybacks are a bitch and and that no, you can't have an apple instead of eating whatever I made you for dinner.

Much love always and forever,

Your Mother AKA She Who Would Have Been a Lawyer if She Had Wanted to Argue All Day Long

Oh So Random

-- I haven't mentioned much about the March of Dimes Walk for Babies, which happens to be this coming Sunday, mostly because I think sometime around mid-April I fell into a black hole and was whooshed across some sort of wrinkle in time that landed me in mid-May. I swear the past month just plain hasn't existed. Anyway, if you have donated, YOU ARE AMAZING. Thank you so much! If not (and you can) every little penny makes a difference. It's all about Maddie and her family, and others like them. No one should have to go through the horror of losing a child.

-- OH WAIT. It wasn't a black hole that sucked away my April, it was the literal hole in our back yard. Thanks to a streak of really amazing weather in early April, I was able to dig out about 85% of what will be a pond. And then it started raining. And it rained some more. And then it rained some more. Any time there was a day that didn't include rain, we either had plans that couldn't be changed or the weather forecast said there was supposed to be rain, so I didn't even try to work outside. Currently, our back yard looks like we are preparing to host the Mud Wrestling Olympics. I'm sure the neighbors are starting to get concerned, but they're going to have to keep suffering because this weekend? MORE FREAKIN RAIN.

(Why, yes, I am trying to jinx the weather into cooperating. Can you really blame me?)

-- There is a giveaway over on the Review page. It's a fun one for anyone with a kid in his or her life, and especially good for those of you with boys. Soon to be joining it is another giveaway, this time a little something from TGIFridays, so keep an eye out. Two words: free appetizers. For bunches of people. OK, so maybe that was six words.

-- It is significantly easier to photograph an insane child than it is to photograph an insane kitten.

 

No. Really.

Psst . . .

Please Back Away from Audrey

If there is one thing I have learned in the past few months, it's that I don't ever want to let anything happen to my car again. I mean, it wasn't at all my fault that someone decided to run a stop sign and smash it, but OMG did I pay the price for her error.

Six weeks.

SIX WEEKS.

That's how long it took to get my car back.

Apparently Audi parts are made of leprechaun poop, unicorn horns, and zombie sweat. The only way to get all three ingredients together is for a tiny fairy to walk slowly from the United States to Germany and then dispatch her minions to China to conjure up some magic. Along the way, the minions take a tour of Australia, swim to Greenland, and fly to the moon. Then, and only then, will they work with the fairy to contact Santa so he can deliver the part to the body shop.

Oh, and if the body shop thinks they have everything fixed, but then finds more damage? Expect to have to repeat the whole process. At least twice.

Seriously, there wasn't much damage at all, but it took FOR-FREAKIN-EVER for the parts to all come in. I about lost my mind waiting because I loathe driving a rental car. LOATHE. It's not that the Toyota I was driving was all that bad, it was that I constantly felt like there was a target on the thing. I really didn't want to deal with it getting scratched or dented or whatever. I was absolutely certain that it would happen, too.

Fortunately, I was wrong. Unfortunately, it turns out the target is actually on my now completely scratch-and-dent-free Audrey.

Just today, the commute from Alexis' preschool to our house involved a deer running into the road, inches from the passenger side door. Yesterday there were three turkeys hiding in the road at a blind curb. There have been groundhogs, birds, and even a cow, all vying to be the first to punch my car in the face. I haven't even had it back for a full week yet.

And then there are the humans.

Pittsburghers, why do you keep crossing the center line? And why do you insist on turning left in front of me? And is there a reason you keep tailgating me? KNOCK IT OFF.

I hate my car, but I hate it even more when she takes an extended vacation at the body shop.