An Open Letter to Sweet Little Ol' Ladies

Dear Nosy Old Ladies of Pittsburgh,

Hi. You don't know me, but you have met me. In fact, you have spoken to me. Well, more like you have spoken AT me. You started by making a statement of the obvious and telling me that my kid is cute. That is a very true fact, and flattery gets you everywhere. The problem is that you followed that up by dropping a little dig.

"She looks so cold!"

or

"She really should have her coat zipped."

or

"Did she lose her hat and gloves?"

and my personal favorite

"Poor little thing is going to catch pneumonia dressed like that in this cold weather!"

SHUT UP.

Did I say that loud enough? I can wait for you to turn up your hearing aid. Ready? OK. S-H-U-T U-P. SHUT UP.

*ahem*

Look, my kid? Is a hot-blooded little freak. She was surely the only person at Heinz Field a few weeks ago who was sweating when it was 20 degrees out. She's always hot. ALWAYS.

Today she wore a skirt, tights, and a sweater to daycare. When I picked her up? Her hair was SOAKED because I had dressed her too warm. FOR THE CRAPPY ASS WEATHER.

Personally, I was wearing a turtleneck and sweatshirt and was still freezing. I learned a while ago that she's not me and I'm not her. If I'm comfortable, she's hot. If I'm hot, she's about to melt. So if she says she doesn't want to wear a hat, her hood, gloves, or even have her coat zipped, I roll with it. She is perfectly capable of telling me she's cold. If she says it, I put more clothes on her, or at least I would if she were ever actually cold.

She's not.

So, do me a favor and mind your own business. I am a master nagger (Mr. Husband loves to tell me to get off my Nagasawki). I'm doing a very sufficient job of fussing at the kid that she has to wear a coat and whatever else my Mother Brain says she should be wearing. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, because we have it under control.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

The Lady Who is about to Start Punching Old Women if They Don't Quit with the Unwanted Advice

Guilty without a Cause

I have spent the past few weeks fighting guilty. Guilty because we weren't planning a birthday party for Alexis, and guilty for even feeling guilty about not having a birthday party for Alexis.

We don't have family near by, so we've never had a birthday party for her. In my mind, One and Two Parties are for the attendees. The kids don't care, so if you spend any money, you're really only doing it for the grown-ups you invite. Three starts to walk that line. Alexis would have enjoyed having her friends together for a party, and it would have genuinely been for her.

But.

But, our house is way too small for more than two or three kids. If you add in the adults that come with those kids, you're way past capacity. When I scoped out places that I knew Alexis would like, and that would help with the whole entertaining a group of Tiny Terrorists thing, we were looking at a minimum of $400. I could not, at all, justify spending that kind of money on a party for a kid that may or may not even remember it. On top of that, she certainly would have spent most of the party hiding because of all the strangers that would end up being involved once the kids drug their adult supervision along.

Just thinking about what could be done with all that money was enough for me to be convinced that there was no reason to have a party this year. I didn't even feel guilty about it, until I realized I didn't feel guilty. That's when I started feeling guilty that I DIDN'T feel guilty.

Nobody ever said the chaos that goes on in my head makes any sense. It doesn't.

So, instead of a party, Alexis got a full day of The Royal Treatment. I woke up her with over a dozen balloons. If you ever want to have a REALLY good morning, try that trick. Balloons first thing in the AM? A HUGE win. Lots of giggles and grins and "thank yous" and wide-eyed glee.

After the balloons came The Great Cupcake Reveal. I like to send treats to daycare for Alexis' birthday, and this year she got to pick the decor. I thought she would go for penguin cupcakes, but she went with her other love, panda bears. I stayed up until 2:00am the night before getting a kazillion of those things made. It was totally worth it because the second Alexis saw them she GUSHED.

Then came the decorations. I figured that just because we weren't having a party, that didn't mean I couldn't decorate for one. Our living room became awash in Disney Princess signs, banners, etc. Alexis LOVED it, so much so that I'm leaving all the stuff up for a while.

All that before she even went to school.

After school she got to pick where we would have her Birthday Dinner. (I'll be kind and not mention the part where Mr. Husband convinced her she wanted to go to Chuck E. Cheese. *ahem*) So, off to Chuck's rat hole we went where Alexis dined on cardboard and had a blast collecting the tickets Mr. Husband and I won playing basketball.

Once we returned home, it was time to massacre Cinderella. Er, I mean massacre a Cinderella CAKE. Alexis had picked a tiny little Cinderella cake this year, and she actually ate it this year. I'm not sure who had more fun with it--her eating it or me enjoying the fact that she was slaughtering Cinderella. Probably me.

After the cake it was time for the present. OMG, the present! I totally nailed it when I picked out her gift. She loves it SOOOO much that is worthy of its own post, just as soon as I manage to stop laughing long enough to hold the camera still while she plays with it. Best. gift. ever.

Now that I have the benefit of 20/20 hindsight, the guilt is gone. A customized day of The Royal Treatment was waaaaaaaay better than any silly ol' party would have been.

One gold star for me. Now I'll just have to make sure I totally fail the kid at some point this week so she doesn't get too used to having it good.

Happy Birthday, Baby

Dear Alexis,

So.

Three.

You're three.

How did that happen? I could swear just yesterday I was listening to a very frightened ultrasound technician tell me that she thought you were upwards of 11 lbs 14 oz and needed evicted immediately. In a flash we were in a operating room, with you screaming (because you were so pissed off to have been ripped from the place you intended to stay for a very long time) as a room full of onlookers tried to hide their disappointment that you were *only* 9 lbs 12 oz. How did we get from there to here so quickly?

In a flash you have learned to smile, to laugh, to talk, to walk, to sing, to melt my heart, and to melt the heart of everyone you encounter. You're something, kiddo. You KNOW you're cute and have quite the ability to harness that cute thing for evil. In the best way imaginable. I love nothing more than to heed your command to look in the mirror in the morning, because I know you're going to look carefully at yourself, then carefully at me, and will then proclaim, "I'm bootiful. You too, mommy." That? Is why you get your way so often.

Of course, there to here hasn't seemed so quick when you are in a Why Sort of Mood. You're a smart kid, no doubt about it. I'll tell you some day how I know you got that from me, and how it's not quite as fantabulous as you might think. I'll save it, though, because those Why Sort of Moods are helping you learn things about this world I would have never imagined. Listening to you spell your name, s-t-o-p, g-o, and c-a-t just blows me away. You wouldn't know how to spell those words if you weren't forever asking me to spell everything I say. So keep on asking, no matter how annoyed my betraying eyes may say I am.

When I think about what makes you different from other kids your age, it's easy to figure out the #1 thing: You are happier. You are seldom caught not wearing a smile (unless, of course, there is a camera around--you just LOVE screwing with me). That smile lights up rooms, infecting everyone with a little glow of Alexis joy. You love to play tricks, and are just as good at dishing it out as you are at receiving it. Many times your daycare teachers have commented that they can prank you in ways that they can't the others, because they know you'll realize just how funny it is to have a ball unexpectedly tossed at your backside. Not only do you "get" the joke, you will encourage the joke with endless giggles and prompts like "do it again!"

And your laugh. Oh. my. hell, your laugh. You have the most infectious laugh I have ever heard. Nearly every day you drag me into a giggle fit, because it is physically impossible to hear you giggle without joining in. Thank you for that. I appreciate your demands to have fun far more than you can possibly understand.

I appreciate you.

So does your Dad.

Happy Birthday, my dear sweet Alexis. Thank you for three years of bliss, and I look forward to a lifetime of giggling right along with you.

Love,
The Lady Who is Thinking about Buying You Balloons Every Single Day after Watching You Glow with Glee this Morning