Regrets

I think it's safe to say that at the tender age of 15 months, Mila has regrets. For example, I'm pretty sure she regrets it each and every time she hands me her pacifier without thinking about it because it vanishes into thin air once I have it. She probably regrets all of that time she spent pretending she didn't know how to walk, too.

Mostly she regrets not willingly walking sooner because YOU GUYS, PLAYGROUNDS ARE AMAZING OMG.

If you follow me on Instagram, well, first ... I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I post slide photos basically every day always. Except not really because if I'm going to spend my evenings waiting for Alexis to finish dance class or cheer practice, I might as well do it with Mila at the playground. We are slowly checking out every slide in the tri-state area because a sliding Mila is a happy Mila.

The best thing about Mila's love for playgrounds is that she's all about doing things herself. I get to stand idly by and make sure she doesn't hurt herself while she manages to climb stairs by herself and then throws herself down the slide all by her lonesome. I monitor closely, of course, but MAN is it the best when you don't have to be all up on your kid for them to have fun. LAZY FOR THE WIN!

It's the bestest, really.

The thing is that I didn't notice that all of the playgrounds in our school district have something in common until we wandered beyond. I didn't notice that all of the swings were removed at some point in the past 4 years. Apparently there's some sort of safety issue with swings and WHATEVER. Whoever made that decision can get off of my lawn. Because, you know, back in my day, broken arms were just a part of growing up. You aren't cool until you've had something in a cast.

The point is, I made it a very long time without Mila seeing a swing. That means I made it a very long time without having to stand there pushing a swing.

Well, that was fun while it lasted.

Kitty.

With the start of school came the loss of my backseat driver in the mornings. For some reason, Alexis would rather be on time for class than ride around with me as I drop off Mila and then head to work. Which, WHATEVER. Someday I will remind the child that she prioritized punctuality and attendance over hanging out with me.

Without Alexis in the car, my mornings are much tamer. Mila and Alexis together in a small space is a recipe for giggles. Lots and lots of giggles. Without the class clown, Mila mostly looks out the car window or says "More" then "Eat" then "More" because she firmly believes there is a waffle tree growing in the car.

Maybe there is, by the way. Somehow waffles do find their way to her face even when we're going down the road.

Earlier this week, our usual morning quiet was interrupted. We were maybe a mile from the house when it started.

"Kitty," Mila said.

"There are no kitties in the car, Mila," I replied. I could have been wrong, I suppose, but I was pretty sure my statement was true.

"Kitty. Kitty." Mila repeated.

"Nope, no kitties," I replied. I glanced in rear view mirror to see if perhaps there was a stuffed kitty sitting on the seat. There wasn't. No kitty toys or shirts or anything.

"KITTY. KITTY. KITTY." Mila's chant became increasingly insistent.

"There are no kitties," I replied. I knew for a fact I hadn't run over a cat in the road. None of our cats had escaped the house. I WAS SURE. There were no cat toys. THERE WAS NO REASON TO BE CHANTING KITTY.

Mila started to cry. As she became more and more upset about my apparent ignorance to the Kitty Concern, she started to slip in her pronunciation. "Kitty" turned into "Diddy." When she yelled "DIDDY. DIDDY. DIDDY. DIDDY," I had to give in and tell her the very long story of Sean Combs and his need to change names like other people change pants. He's not "Diddy" these days. I'm nearly certain of it.

"DIDDY. DIDDY. DIDDY. DIDDY, YOU EFFIN MORON," Mila said. (I'm paraphrasing.)

There were no kitties. Or Puff Daddies. Or Diddies. Or anything, really. The car was actually super clean since Alexis had just vacuumed up the half box of Cheerios that she and Mila were storing in the cracks of the seat. Yet, Mila became increasingly upset because KITTY.

It was a very stressful drive to daycare, is what I'm saying. We got there and nobody lost an eye or anything, but HOOBOY, it was close. It's always the worst when you find yourself arguing with a one year-old, you know?

Finally I burst out of the car and quickly walked to Mila's door so I could free her from the ghostly kitty that was apparently following her around. (Powder, was that you? You are dead, right?)

And then I saw it.

Just beyond Mila's reach, there was an adorable little pacifier. With a kitty on it.

It sucks when you're dumber than your one year-old.

Math is Dumb

I long ago was crowned Alexis' Official Chauffer, which means I spend a lot of time driving her to places and then waiting. And waiting. And waiting some more. It wasn't all that long ago that I made good use of that waiting time -- I worked.

Productivity was at an all time high. Alexis danced and cheered and tumbled while I knocked out all sorts of work.

And then Mila Kool-Aid Man crashed her way into our lives and productivity came to a halt. If she spots me sitting with a laptop, she runs over and key smashes her next novel. It's nothing short of a miracle that she hasn't manage to publish a blog post for me.

Yet. The key word is "yet" because she will make it happen any day now.

I also can't crochet or anything like that with Mila in the room because YOU GUYS. If you pull on the strings, fun things happen! If you pull on them while running, it's even funner!

She's not terribly helpful is what I'm saying.

To be honest, I'm fine with the loss in productivity. Mila may be a handful, but she's MY handful, you know?

It was Monday evening at dance when Mila last crashed my productivity party. There was crafting happening when Mila decided NOPE. NOOOOOPE. The other dance moms that were in attendance at the time commented about the crazy little tornado we call Mila. Of course, there was a comment about how one mom could never do the big age gap thing because "starting over again would be so hard."

Meh. There's always one of those comments.

It was through that conversation that I started to think about how the toddler years aren't really my favorite. I like babies and I like kindergartners. The stuff in the middle has moments of fun, but mostly it's a lot of work. Worthwhile work, yes, but work.

I said as much out loud to the other dance moms.

One replied in agreement. I don't like her any more, though, because she added, "Just when Mila becomes a fun kindergartner, Alexis will be a teen."

I HADN'T THOUGHT ABOUT THAT. Four years from now, when Mila is a super fun 5 year-old, Alexis will be 13. She will NOT BE FUN.

I'm just going to go sit in the corner and cry now.