The Magic of the Wizard

As I slowly backed out of the parking space, Alexis asked a question. "What does it mean when a person has to wear a mask?"

It was a very roundabout way to ask what I knew she was wondering. "Do you mean the little girl that was in front of us? She was probably wearing a mask because she's sick and other people's germs could make her sicker," I answered.

Alexis connected the dots, realizing that I was talking about the kind of sick that doesn't always end fairly. "That's really sad. I hope she's okay." Then, after a long pause, "I'm glad she got to have a fun night."

"Me, too," I replied softly.

She did have a fun night. There was laughter when the Scarecrow danced. There was pure joy when Glinda sparkled and shimmered as she told Dorothy to click her heels. Happy hugs were shared between what I assume was a mom and her daughter when the happily ever after played out on stage.

It was really very clear that the little girl with the hat and mask fully immersed herself in the magic of the musical as she watched The Wizard of Oz. She loved the show and I loved that she happened to be seated atop her mom's lap, directly in my line of sight. I had the privilege of catching a few glimpses of a very good night even as I had my own very good night.

I hope the evening was as much of an escape as it appeared to be.

And I hope that little girl gets to have years and years of nights just like that.

Thanks to the Pittsburgh Cultural Trust for providing Alexis and me with tickets to The Wizard of Oz, now showing at Heinz Hall. We are grateful not just for the night out together, but that we were able to catch a tiny glimpse of why theater and musicals are so very important.

A New Day, a New Challenge

When last we met in this space, Mila was delightfully happy and healthy and HAHAHA THAT WAS A FUN DAY.

It's over, though. With a new day came a new outbreak of hives. Given that she was already on a course of prednisone, WELP. I'm going to say we can't quite blame the bath stuff and that we are at the beginning of the long path of figuring this whole thing out. In the meantime, the poor little creature is itchy and, oh, hey, did I mention that the new outbreak came with the new day?

That's not exactly true.

That new outbreak came at a quarter past CRAZYPANTS TODDLER ZOOOOOOOOOMG.

Imagine the scene: Last night Mila sweetly and convincingly said, "I go sleep?" It's part of her routine at this point. When she's feeling ready to go to bed, she simply asks to go to bed. 15 minutes later, after cuddling in the glider in her room, she's sound asleep. (I am SO good at sleep training. Obviously.)

We were 12 minutes into the 15 minute space between her request to sleep and the first tiny baby snores when something happened. A tiny little Mila fluttered her closed ideas then slowly rose to her feet. By the time she as upright, she was ZOMG SO AWAKE. It was like a zombie awakening, but worse. She wasn't undead. She was AWAKE. ALL OF THE AWAKE. It was as if someone had mainlined Red Bull into her bloodstream. Her eyes were wild. Her mouth wouldn't stop spouting words and non-words. Her hands were Muppet flailing so quickly they were invisible to the naked eye. Her tiny feet carried her up and down the hallway and then up and down the hallway and zooooooom! She was running laps. She was running prednisone-fueled laps because apparently THAT is what happens when you give a toddler steroids.

Sleep? The last thing that little person was going to do was sleep. EVER.

I carried a flailing Tasmanian Devil down the stairs and set her free amongst her piles of Christmas toys. I figured she might as well play while I tried to quickly finish some work. She zipped from toy to toy as I quickly tapped out some words on my laptop. When I finished, I drug the still flailing Tasmanian Devil to bed with me thinking that the only way she would go to sleep was if I laid down with her.

That didn't work out so well.

It was after midnight when the prednisone high finally wore off. It was instantly replaced by the itchy. One second the flailing was happyexcitedzomgweeeee! only to instantly switch over to hivesarestupidmakeitstopugggggh!

When morning showed up for duty, the hives were in place and the itchy was a thing, but Mila was mostly fine. The undead little toddler was ready to tackle the day.

I was dead tired. I was ready to tackle a bed.

The hives can go now, please.

The Meanest

Despite my best efforts, I'm really very bad at vacations. I do crazy things like work all the way through them. I also do crazy things like get zero sleep and FAIL MISERABLY AT PARENTING OMG.

To make a very long story short, Friday night as an epic failure at our house. It was the sort of fail where you find yourself begging your toddler to just sit still and go to sleep and OMG WHY ARE WE AWAKE, CHILD STOP KICKING ME IN THE FACE QUIT MOVING OMG SLEEEEEEP PLEEEEEEEEEEEEASE. I gave up on trying to get Mila to sleep in her on crib about two hours into the night and gave up on anyone getting any sleep an hour after that. She couldn't sleep and she couldn't sit still and OOF.

It all made sense when the sun rose for the day and I went to get her dressed.

Hives. The kid was covered in hives. So many hives. Hive city. NO WONDER SHE WOULDN'T SLEEP.

"Hive" is a weird word, for the record. It sounds gross, even. And mean. It's definitely mean word. It's the sort of mean word that has fangs and drools as it snarls at you.

The assumption at the time was that some new bubble bath was an evil jerk who invited the hives to a unsanctioned party. I called the Zyrtec police and they broke up the party. The hives seemed to have gone home to their mom's basement.

Alas, the next day they came back. And they brought friends.

I was very chill about the whole thing the first time. Things happen. Toddlers are delicate flowers that sometimes can't handle new experiences. A few hives are no big deal. The second time, though? The second time I was not amused. The second I saw that the hives had returned in multiples, I stuck Miss Mila in her car seat and took her straight to urgent care.

Drugs, man. They are magical. While there is reason to question whether or not the bubble bath is to blame for the whole incident, Mila is 100% better and then some.

But I'm still a jerk for not realizing she had hives and THAT was why she couldn't sleep. And I suck for losing a day of vacation to something as dumb as hives.

Hives, man. They're mean.