Drip. Drip. CRAZY.

Parenting essentially boils down to a series of highs and lows, which I'm convinced is just kids yanking chains like the little puppet masters they are. That's the explanation for why I had an icky feeling when I should have been celebrating Mila staying in her own bed all night without really harassing me for the first time in several weeks. I knew I was going to pay for that good night.

AND, OH, I DID.

TWICE.

On the second night that Mila woke up in the middle of the night in a hysterical fit, I didn't even bother to try to help her calm down and go back to sleep. I snagged her from her crib and did the laziest thing possible - I took her back to bed with me. That's usually the fastest way for everyone to go back to sleep. Maybe it's not ideal, but SLEEP. That's the part that matters.

Unfortunately, Mila was too angry to sleep. She yelled and she yelled and did you know that when a toddler is wrapped around your head, the yelling is super loud? So loud.

I'm only capable of about 20% of my normal thinking power in the middle of the night, so I'm not sure when the yelling had a few meaningful syllables in it. For a while I had no idea why there was so much yelling, but then suddenly I caught a hint.

Waaaaaaa!

And then another syllable.

Teeeeeeeeeeeeeer!

WATER!

I stumbled through the dark to find a sippy cup and thrust it at the still yelling child. She threw it back at me and then got madder because it wasn't in her hands, so I shoved it at her again and again until she stopped yelling long enough to figure out I was trying to help.

And then she gulped down the entire cup of water. 

PROBLEM SOLVED!

Except, it wasn't solved because the cup was empty and you guys, empty cups are the worst. THE WORST. How dare the cup be empty when Mila drank all of the contents! The universe is stupid.

So I needed to refill the cup.

At that point, I was waaaay past the point of deliriously tired. It was dark, I refused to turn on any lights, and I was stupid from being yelled at by a tiny human. I sort of maybe managed to get some water into the cup, but the lid? Oh. The lid.

I know I screwed up the lid thing because when Mila threw the cup at me a few moments later, I ended up wet. But before I could try again to get the lid thing right, Mila snatched the cup, yelled "MINE!" and curled up into a ball.

And then went to sleep.

While holding the leaking cup.

All the while, the water kept drip-drip-dripping on me. It was like some terrible form of torture because SLEEPING CHILD! FINALLY! But water. Wet. I can't sleep when water is slowly dripping on me.

So I decided to poke the bear and pry the cup out of the sleeping kid's hands.

"MINE!" she snapped.

Each and every time I thought she was finally asleep enough for me to be able to slowly pry away the cup, she would snap out a "MINE!" and then resume snoring.

Basically, the kid can't remember to clearly say "water" when the time is right, but she absolutely can make sure she tortures me until I am a puddle of stupid.

Balsamic Roasted Brussels Sprouts

I know I've had this conversation online before, so I know I'm not the only one that has weird food trauma stories. By that I mean sweet potatoes. I just can't eat sweet potatoes. I got sick after eating them TWICE, and that's enough. We've broken up.

I have a similar history with Brussels sprouts.

A very long time ago I prepared steamed Brussels sprouts and they were amazing. They were so amazing that I was happily mowing them down when I looked down and saw ... half a bug nestled in the center of a Brussels sprout. The other half was exactly where you think it might have been. And with that? I filed for divorce from Brussels sprouts. Years and years went by and I was dooooone.

Because, yeah. Blech.

But then I tried them again. And I fell in love again. 

You guys, Brussels sprouts are so good. So very good. I'm dancing with them at least once per week lately, but with one change since the first time around -- I always cut them in half before I cook them.

Yes. Yes, I do have issues. At least I know it?

Balsamic Roasted Brussels Sprouts

1 pound Brussels sprouts (each sprout cut in half!)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon garlic salt
1/4 cup olive oil
1 1/2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Toss the cut Brussels sprouts into a large shallow pan. I used a glass 15x10 baking dish, but whatever is oven safe will work just fine.

2. Sprinkle the salt, pepper, and garlic salt on top of the Brussels sprouts.

3. In a small bowl, use a fork or whisk to combine the olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Pour them over the Brussels sprouts then toss things around until the sprouts are well-covered.

4. Bake at 400 degrees for 20-25 minutes. Toss them about halfway through that bake time to help them cook more evenly.

5. I accidentally dropped some parmesan cheese on top of mine when they were done cooking and it was not a terrible thing. I might even call it a happy accident.

It's A Shame She's Always So Unhappy