Mila the Mala

Alexis has a harebrained scheme to convince me that she's injured badly enough to need crutches. I don't know why, I just know that she's convinced crutches are fun (THEY ARE NOT). Thus, the tiny little scratch on her foot is obviously life-threatening. And if she steps on her left foot? It's clearly broken. Or was it her right foot that's broken? She's not sure. She just knows that she's going to keep trying to convince me that crutches are her thing.

Annnnnnd on the other side of the spectrum, we have Mila. Her eardrum ruptured last week and we didn't know. The only reason we found out was that she had a nagging cough and her nose wouldn't stop trying to run away, so we took her to the doctor. Surprise! The baby has a sinus infection! And an eye infection! And an ear infection! And all the other infections!

Mila was a hot mess, is what I'm saying. Except, she wasn't a mess. She was perfectly pleasant and happy all day every day. Nights are always a different story with the little Gremlin, so it really was pure instinct that led to me insisting she needed to see a doctor.

Mom instincts rule once you learn to listen to them.

Which is why I'm beginning to wonder if I should follow those instincts and give our pediatrician a stern Mom Glare. Dude has seen Mila 5-6 times in the past few months for ear infections (the poor Tiny Human should probably just go ahead and get in line for ear tubes now). I'm thinking maybe, just MAYBE, he should start pronouncing her name correctly. I don't actually mind when people pick the wrong way of the two possibilities. However, since we're paying enough for him to put his kids to college, I think it's fair to have high expectations.

Not that giving the pediatrician the Mom Glare will do anything about the automated calls we get from his office.

The office uses an automated system to call and remind you that you have an appointment. It's obviously a robo voice because you can hear it figuring out how to proceed between each word. When it calls, it leaves a voicemail that says, "We are calling to remind you that Mala has an appointment ...."



That's Spanish for "bad," just in case you didn't catch that little fun fact.

Little does the system know, it's the other kid who is a bad hypochondriac as of late.


The Gremlins Come Out After Dark

One of Mila's 235987235913 nicknames is "Gremlin" and there's a very good reason for that. She's all smiles and pleasantries during the day, but hide the fried chicken at night. The kid hates everyone after 8:30 pm.

Except me.

I could pretend that this is all a huge inconvenience, but it's not. I am generally around by 8:30, so it's really only inconvenient for other people. You know, like the husband, who was assigned Mila duty Friday night while Alexis and I went to the Maroon 5 concert.

I received the first "Stripe is trying to tie the dogs up again," text halfway through the opening act. It was accompanied by a photo of Mila that dripped of misery and pissery. She looked like she had spent 20 minutes searching for the matches only to discover that she wasn't going to be allowed to burn the house down.

Of course, I couldn't let the husband win the "I'm Dealing With the Most Miserable Kid" trophy for the night.

Photo by @3weaselsIt turns out that the other kid has very strong opinions about really bad music.

She mostly ignored the first act (who is a great singer, for what it's worth), but the second one had her all sorts of pissed off. It was Magic, otherwise known as that creepy guy who sings about how it's rude that some chick's dad won't let him marry her.

There's a reason that dad said "no," btw. It's because Magic's lead singer is gross. He's slimy-long-hair, shirt-unbuttoned-to-his-belly-button gross. He's the kind of gross that you see at a bar and turn around because he sweats date rape drugs. I mean, he might be a very lovely person, but I'm going to guess he's not. He's gross.

(See also: I am old. See also also: I am a mother. See also also also: I am an old mother.)

Alexis should probably follow her instincts about men forever and ever because she quickly decided Magic needed to shut up. She spent five minutes complaining to me about how they were creepy and then another five minutes telling me that their music is terrible.

Which it is.

Buuuuuut ... I'm not so sure she who listens to Bridgit Mendler on repeat all night long is really in a position to  judge music. She was right about the "creepy" part, though.

The whole thing annoyed her so much that she sat in a chair and pouted. She pouted so hard her lip got stuck to the floor. Then she pouted some more, all the while complaining that she wanted to leave. Right that second. Before Maroon 5 came out.

I actually had to make the kid go for a walk with me for a few minutes so she would stop focusing on how mad she was that Magic sucks. She was taking it WAY too personally and letting it totally ruin her whole night. Which, STOP THAT. Only one of my children is allowed to hate everything at night and Mila's head and that crown are meant to be together.

Fortunately Maroon 5 eventually took the stage and was much better than Magic. Much, much better. There was a crazy fantastic dance party in our row, complete with Alexis doing the Cabbage Patch and every other class dance move you can imagine.

Photo by @3weasels

I'm not sure when the girls will officially declare themselves too cool to hang out with me in the evenings, but I'm glad it hasn't happened yet.



Luck o' The Tiny Human

They say hindsight is 20/20, but COME ON. I should have known better than to discard the leprechaun hat that Kiara wore last year. I can't even begin to explain why it didn't occur to me that there would be a baby who could have worn fun hats if only I still had them.

It's as if I forgot who I am. Of course I'm that person who makes the baby and the cat share clothes.

Alas, I had to settle for letting them share a necklace.

This past weekend I dug up a few of Kiara's special St. Pat's things so that I could capture Mila in all of her leprechaun glory.

And it was glorious.


Right up until the other kid realized there was a mini photoshoot happening. She *has* to crash those parties now, you know. But, this time she didn't have an outfit that would work perfectly for the impromptu shenanigans.

So she settled for acting as the photographer.

And her photos are better than mine.

Because Mila thinks Alexis is the funniest thing since the $3 bill.

Let's pretend it was beginner's luck. It wasn't, but let's pretend.