Let the Party Begin

By the time my world revolved around third grade, I was already on the outside. I never quite fit where I grew up and everyone knew it. That means Valentine's parties at school were a giant ball of anxiety for me.

I hated them.

So much.

Would I get any Valentine's cards? Would kids write rude things on them? It was all sorts of dumb. (Partly it was dumb because I allowed it to take up space in my head. None of it should have mattered.)

Alexis is a very different kid, though. She looooooooooves everything about school parties, especially the ones that revolve around eating, crafts, and giving kind notes to friends. She was so excited about this year's Valentine's party that she picked out cards in early January.

Yes, I said "picked out cards." As in, at a store. They were like $2 or something. I'm sorry to ruin your image of me, but I don't do the Pinterest crazy Valentine thing. It's awesome if you do, I just choose to use my time in another way. Like, I might eat cake while you slave over Valentines. Priorities, you understand.

When it finally became February, Alexis started writing out the cards. She started with her besties, carefully crafting personal notes on each and every one.

But then she got to the boys on her list. She slammed on the brakes.

"Mom, I can't give ANY of these to the boys. They're too nice!"

I was confused, so I asked questions. It turned out she didn't want to say anything that implied that any boys might be cute, nice, funny, sweet, a bff, or anything other than purely plutonic and an arm's length away.

"I need cards that just say 'Happy Valentine's Day!'" she continued.

Her rules got harder. She didn't want any hearts, XOXOXO ... nothing. No affection. I considered ignoring her over-the-top request, but we're talking about $2. It's not like I was going to be truly inconvenienced if I grabbed another box while I was out.

I succeeded in my mission to find completely bland cards. That's what matters.

But what I adore is that Alexis thinks boys are icky. Can that please last about ten more years?

A Letter To All Of The Babies

Hi babies,

First of all, thanks for being so fantastic. I mean, you're adorable and tiny and so great, especially when you smile and giggle. Life is better with you in it.

But.

But, here's the thing. When you're not happy? NOBODY IS HAPPY. I understand your frustration, of course. It would be super hard knowing exactly what you want but to not be able to get other people to understand your needs. Why we can't figure out that grunt and gesture means you want food, I don't know.

It's totally understandable that you lose it over food. Definitely.

Losing it over a dirty diaper is in the realm of reasonable as well. If my butt were rubbing against the things that we find in your diapers I'd throw a hissy fit, too. We really should be better at figuring out when a diaper is what is making you crankalicious.

But sleep.

Sleep is where I lose my understanding for your brand of crazy. Here's the thing, sleep is LITERALLY the only thing in this world that you can control. You can't walk over to the fridge and grab what you want to eat. You don't know how to wipe your own butt yet. Heck, you don't even get a say in what you wear. But closing your eyes and going to sleep? YOU CAN DO THAT!

At any time, even!

We adults don't have that option, for the record. We actually don't get to decide when we're going to sleep. Sometimes we have to use toothpicks and caffeine to keep our eyes open through a long meeting or whatever. You, though? You can absolutely close your eyes! Right now! And ten seconds from now! WHENEVER!

That's a whole lot of power.

So, maybe do me a favor. Maybe instead of yelling at grown-ups when you're tired, how about you just close your eyes and do something about that yucky sleepy feeling? You can do it! Without permission! We can't stop you!

Take control, babies.

Sleep whenever you want.

And leave us grown-ups out of your drama.

Much thanks,

That Lady Who Has Been Getting Yelled At By Mila For Half An Hour Because She Wants To Be Asleep

Judging From The Street

There are these people that I know, but not really. They're the kind of people that you see from time-to-time and you greet them, make a little small talk, and maybe even sort of make plans to spend more time with them, but that time never arrives. They're the kind of people that you smile at every time you see them, but it takes you a second to place them if you see them away from their "assigned" spot.

I like them. They're nice people.

Sometimes I envy them.

They have a nice yard, a nice house, nice cars, and their deck? Man, I envy their deck. I envy every deck, for what it's worth, but their deck is especially nice.

They seem really happy, too.

Sometimes I hear laughter and I smile. I know it's the man and his teen daughter playing catch. She's at that age where she probably doesn't like anyone, but she likes her dad. At least, it looks like she does when they stand around with softball gloves and a ball, playing catch. They will play for hours on end, laughing and talking as the ball sails through the air.

Sometimes I hear laughter and barking. I know that's any or all of the family playing with their pup. It's an English Bulldog who is far past the playing age, but they try. The pup is way past senior citizen status in Bulldog years. It struggles to walk and has some other health challenges that some people would consider a reason to let it go. They don't, though. They love that dog and they keep it around.

I always think that's a sign of good people. It's hard to make that decision to let a dog go. Not being able to do it is every bit as much of a sign of love as being able to do it, y'know? It's just a different way of getting there.

They're really nice people.

I recently learned that one of the people's barely-an-adult kids passed away.

It was a heroin overdose.

The kid's passing was about as expected as any when the person dies of a heroin overdose, apparently. They kind of knew, but they didn't. They certainly weren't prepared for it.

The entire situation is a reminder that things aren't always what they seem. Those people with the nice decks and the tidy yards sometimes are fighting battles harder than your own.

The battles just take place behind closed doors.