There’s A New Fairy In Town

I’ve written about how I’m not a fan of Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy in a past post. Despite that, there’s a new fairy (well, two) in town, and it’s one of my own creation.

Before my surgery, I was still rocking Baby Girl to sleep at night. I know, I know — at three she was too old, but she’s so small, and we both loved it…but I wasn’t supposed to pick her up for a few days following surgery, she doesn’t like my husband to rock her, so it was time to make the transition.

She was none too happy about this.

“I not gonna do that!” she told me when I mentioned her lying down in the bed to go to sleep.

I tried talking to her about being a big girl, about reading books and stuff before we go to sleep, how her dad or I will lie down with her, but that didn’t do any good. And then I had an idea.

“If you lie down in your bed, the Big Girl Fairy will come to see you.”

Little Man was listening to the conversation. “The WHAT?”

“The Big Girl Fairy. She’s like the Tooth Fairy, only she comes when little girls do big girl things.” BG knew about the Tooth Fairy from Eli, and she has been very upset over not losing teeth to get a visit, so this was appealing to her.

“Oooh, the Big Girl Fairy?” BG asked. “What she gonna bring?”

“Probably a quarter.”

“Maybe a new PJ Masks toy?”

I shook my head. “The Big Girl Fairy isn’t made out of money. She can’t bring toys every night you do what you’re supposed to do, but she can bring something small, like a quarter. You can save your quarters and buy a treat for yourself later.”

Baby Girl thought about this for a moment. “I really want her to bring me chocolate coins.”

“She can do that!” I said, happy that she was getting on board and not thinking about the fact that would mean candy the first thing in the morning.

“Maybe the Big Girl Fairy can visit me, too?” Little Man asked, grinning.

“She not gonna see you, Little Man, she the Big Girl Fairy, not the Big  Boy Fairy!” Baby Girl informed him.

And so the Big Girl Fairy was born. Baby Girl has been lying down at night with no issue, but she still wants one of us to stay with her until she falls asleep. After about a month, the Big Girl Fairy has stopped visiting for that, though. She now plans to visit if BG goes to bed by herself, plus she visits for trying new foods.

The Big Girl Fairy also has a sister named the Good Girl Fairy. She brings quarters (and only quarters) for behaving and doing chores. For whatever reason, receiving a quarter from the Big Girl Fairy for picking up her toys and helping out is far preferable to receiving a quarter from me.

I am embarrassed that I’ve had to resort to making up fairies to get Baby Girl to do things/transition to things — especially being someone who was like “nah” on Santa at first — but it is what it is. I think it will be easy to phase out the fairies when they’ve served their purpose, though.

Did any of y’all do crazy stuff to get your kids to be more compliant?


23 Questions With Little Man And Baby Girl

A little over two years ago, I did the 23 Questions survey with Little Man. It’s time to do an updated survey for Little Man and get Baby Girl in on it to see what answers she comes up with to these questions. For the record, Little Man is almost 10 and Baby Girl is 3.


1. What is something mom always says to you?

LM: Cuss words. (Laughs) “Clean up your room!”

BG: “I love you.”

2. What makes mom happy?

LM: Saying cuss words. (Laughs) Cuddling with us, being around me and Baby Girl. 

BG: Hugging.

3. What makes mom sad?

LM: Not saying cuss words. (Laughs) Being around smelly dogs.

BG: Yelling. Ooooh!

4. How does your mom make you laugh?

LM: With your blog and Yo Mama jokes.

BG: Her scares me.

5. What was your mom like as a child?

LM: I have no idea.

BG: Like Bilbo (our dog).

6. How old is your mom?

LM: 34

BG: 12

7. How tall is your mom?

LM: I have no idea.

BG: This big. (She steps on her tip toes and holds up her arms.)

8. What is her favorite thing to do?

LM: Watch TV.

BG: Work.

9. What does your mom do when you’re not around?

LM: Not anything good.

BG: Hop your butt around.

10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?

LM: Being the best mom ever.

BG: Prize.

11. What is your mom really good at?

LM: Being the best mom ever.

BG: Working.

12. What is your mom not very good at?

LM: Being the worst mom ever.

BG: Eating.

13. What does your mom do for a job?

LM: Sit back, relax, and watch TV. (Laughs) You predict the weather and write and get paid.

BG: Work. You do the “ah-ti-cles”

I do write, but I do not predict the weather.

14. What is your mom’s favorite food?

LM: Coke, easily.

BG: French fries.

15. What makes you proud of your mom?

LM: Everything.

BG: Working.

16. If your mom were a character, who would she be?

LM: Godzilla. Because you’re evil and big. Not big in a fat way, but big like big and tall. 

BG: Spiderman.

17. What do you and your mom do together?

LM: Play chess, watch TV, talk. 

BG: Play and puzzles

18. How are you and your mom the same?

LM: In every way except for gender. 

BG: Hugging.

19. How are you and your mom different?

LM: In gender and that’s it. 

BG: (Makes a goofy face)

20. How do you know your mom loves you?

LM: You’re my mother, duh.

BG: You kiss me.

21. What does your mom like most about your dad?

LM: Everything. 

BG: You do something funny

22. Where is your mom’s favorite place to go?

LM: Home.

BG: Chuck E. Cheese’s with me.

23. How old was your mom when you were born?

LM: No clue. 

BG: 3

We Weary All Right

My husband and I thought the parenting thing was pretty easy with Little Man. How hard could it be to raise a kid who was kind, respectful, relatively easy-going, etc., right? So we had another kid and the universe pretty much laughed in our faces when it handed over Baby Girl.

There is so much I love about Baby Girl. And I feel like it’s important to emphasize that before I write anything else. Funny, bright, strong-willed, spirited, loving…did I mention funny, already? She has quite the sense of humor and can already deadpan with the best of them.

But whoa, that child. I’m scare to look at my hair too closely in the mirror, because there are probably gray hairs. Some of it would be due to worrying over her and the rest would be because of how taxing she can be.

Here are a few of the things that might lead to her having a shit fit at any moment:

Baby Girl, eat your breakfast.

Baby Girl, time to take a bath.

Baby Girl, you watched your show, now it’s time to turn off the TV.

No, Baby Girl, I can’t play; I have to work right now.

Baby Girl, it’s time to pick up LM from school.

Baby Girl, here is the lunch you ASKED for.

Baby Girl, I can’t carry you right now, walk and hold my hand.

Baby Girl, let’s work on our letters.

Baby Girl, time to go to bed.

Considering that five of the items on that lists are musts every day, there are lots of shit fits. I don’t understand why it’s so problematic to eat a meal or put on pajamas. Little Man had his complaints over food that was deemed spicy or clothes of textures he didn’t like (hello, sensory issues), but it wasn’t anything like this. Attempts at reasoning with her are fruitless and generally met with her throwing her head back and screaming loud enough that I fear the neighbors will call CPS since it sounds like she’s being killed. It’s her way or it’s hell, so unless it’s one of those minor “pick your battles” situations, it’s hell.

I know some people think we suck at discipline, but we try so hard. We’re consistent, we try to offer choices, we do all the things that are usually recommended for tricking toddlers (well, preschoolers) into behaving. She mostly sees through that and is like “fuck this.”

She makes me so weary and on edge — those shrieks make my anxiety go haywire. Going out in public, going grocery shopping, whatever has me in that anxiety mode, knowing the odds are high that the shit will hit the fan. I just want one day where we do the things we have to do and there is compliance and no screaming. Some people say a compliant child is a child who can’t think for herself or some shit, but I think they’d welcome a compliant day or two if they were in my shoes. When she’s not in that mode, she’s in total sweetheart/hilarious/all the good things mode, so the bipolar joke/misconceptions where people flip from one mood to the other rapidly would totally apply here.

(Can kids this age have bipolar disorder? Maybe the apple didn’t fall far from the tree? Shit, I’m not looking that up and getting my brain off on something else right now.)

Baby Girl is three and a half now. We’ve been in this “phase” forever it feels like. Really, though, she started off refusing to eat food and being very demanding about who held her when she was 6-9 months old, so forever isn’t much of an exaggeration. Much like I did with ages 2 and 3, I’m hoping that some of this stuff phases out as we get closer to 4. (After writing this and reviewing, I realize that the instances of her head banging the floor have decreased big time, so there’s some progress.)

On another note, this child will be going to kindergarten next year. Sure, it’s a year and a half away, but still, it feels so weird to say that, considering she was only 4 months old when I started this blog. A part of me wonders how she’ll be close to being ready — physically she still moves more like a toddler and she rarely lets anyone (including her preschool teacher) know what she knows (like, she’ll say that a T makes the “ssss” sound or that a 2 is a 9 just for the hell of it). But, again, a year and a half is roughly a third of the time she’s been on this earth now.

Now y’all know there is loads of good stuff I could write. Many of y’all have seen it on my other blog, Instagram, Twitter, etc. But I don’t usually write about the more stressful aspects there, unless they’re kinda funny, so this is me venting. I kinda feel like an asshole for venting about a three-year-old, and am aware that this probably reflects on my parenting fails more than anything, but…whew.

I’ll move on to Little Man for the next post.


Hello, 2018

My husband thinks I’m weird. Again. Shockingly, after being together for almost 13 years, I can still manage to surprise him with my weirdness. This time it was because I commented, “Thank God, I hate odd-numbered years” after the ball dropped and we welcomed 2018. You’d think that for a guy who gets irritated when he finds out that I stopped pumping my gas at the $12.97 mark instead of the $13.00 mark, that he’d somewhat understand. But  nope.

So that’s how my 2018 started, which was probably better than how we’ve previously rung in the New Year — with drunk people who had access to fireworks, firearms, and Fireball. Yikes. We watched part of the new Dave Chappelle special on Netflix, switched over to watch the ball drop, argued for a few minutes, and then finished the special. Obligatory “we’re officially old” comment. And then my husband turned 40 yesterday, so the oldness is legit on his behalf, and now I’m old by association.

Little Man and I talked about writing down New Year’s resolutions, but we didn’t. Considering that both of us essentially had “be organized and get shit done” as one of our goals (his was phrased less cursey), it appears that we aren’t off to a great start.

I had a few goals last year, some I was successful with and some I wasn’t. The main goals was actually losing more weight, which I did. I was down almost 40 pounds when Thanksgiving rolled around. And then after Thanksgiving, my extended birthday weekend, the cruise, multiple Christmas get-togethers, and my husband’s birthday, it’s more like 35. Now it’s time to get back to it. Another goal was to open an Etsy shop, which I did. I only had a few sales (most of my sales were from my Facebook page), but I was able to check that off at least.

Now for some positives from 2017 that weren’t really goals. I was hired for a new job about a month ago. (And got offered for two others I applied for within the same week, go figure!) Typical work from home content writer, part-time, flexible schedule deal. It’s more hours than the other freelance gigs I’ve had in a while, and I’m still trying to get adjusted to that. I like more hours, but finding the quiet time I need to write has been tough, especially with the kids out of school. Note to self: maybe don’t start a new job during the busiest time of the year.

The positive thing that I’m most excited about from 2017 — I was recommended for cochlear implant surgery and will get implanted this month. The insurance company denied it at first and gave the two most bullshit reasons ever, but after a peer-to-peer with my doctor, they approved it, so yay! The doctor said it isn’t guaranteed to work well and that it could take up to a year to see max benefits, but I’m hopeful. Worst case scenario (assuming I don’t die or get meningitis and then die), is that I lose the residual hearing in that ear and am in about the same place I am now. Best case — through rehab and relearning to hear in that ear, I might get close to normal hearing in that ear. The risk is worth it.

This is a big deal, since it recently hit me how much of a struggle it would be with most traditional jobs (Baby Girl will start kindergarten fall of next year), struggling with using the phone, not being able to hear most conversations with background noise, etc. If the implant works, I’ll have more options as far as job opportunities go, plus it’d be nice not to depend on my husband so much.

So, hello 2018 — bring it on.

Any goals for your year or are you just gonna keep on keepin’ on? 


Things Kids Say: Strawberries, Fevers, And More

Yesterday Baby Girl gave me enough material to do a few weeks worth of Things Kids Say. Instead of making you wait for it, though, I’ll post it all today, because I’m cool like that.

While changing Baby Girl’s diaper, she started scratching herself. She’s got a bit of a rash going on. It’d be nice if she were ready to potty train (and she did show interest briefly but has since flat-out refused to go on the toilet), but that’s not where we’re at right now. So, as usual, I instructed her to stop her clawing.

“Baby Girl, don’t scratch at your vulva — it’s already red,” I told her.

“Ooooh, Mommy, do it look like a strawberry?” she asked excitedly. I had to inform her that, no, her vulva did not resemble a strawberry. File that one under “Things I Never Thought I’d Say.”

*      *      *

Little Man is sick with the flu. Again. Yep, he had to go ruin our Illness Free streak, which I think lasted about three weeks. (I’m kidding — poor Little Man.) So, Baby Girl loves going to the doctor and often asks to go. She has a little doctor kit that she plays with a lot, too. (Yep, I’m already boasting to Sam that our daughter is gonna be a doctor.) I commented to BG that Little Man was sick, so she asked about the doctor, expressed regret that she didn’t get to go, and immediately went to doctoring.

“My doggy sick. I get my step-o-scope and shot and take his fever.” She went through the motions with the toy stethoscope and syringe, used the thing that’s used to check the nose and ears, and then pressed the button on the digital thermometer I had left out. (You can tell she’s paid close attention in her visits.)

“It say he got five dollars! He sick!” she said when the numbers popped up on the thermometer. Poor dog.

*      *      *

Our power went off briefly yesterday evening. After taking out the lantern (which BG declared to be “amazing”), Sam talked about getting some candles out. This made Baby Girl super excited.

“It’s my birthday?! Yay! It’s my birthday! Where’s my cake?” It took a while to make her understand that there was no cake. I was tempted to stick a leftover birthday candle in a Little Debbie cake, but she didn’t eat her supper, so no Debbies for her.

*      *      *

And now for the super sweet thing she said yesterday — we were waiting on a call from Little Man’s doctor (the insurance denied his Tamiflu prescription, saying they wouldn’t cover it more than once in a 90-day period, so the office was trying to get that sorted out). I didn’t hear the phone ring, because sucky hearing, and Baby Girl told me it was ringing. I told her a little bit later that I appreciated her telling me it was ringing.

“Mommy’s ears don’t work very well, so I need your help hearing things sometimes,” I told her.

“Your ears not work?” she asked.

“Not very good,” I answered.

“Poor Mommy,” Baby Girl said, looking sad. “I go see Santa tomorrow. I say I want new ears for you. I say, ‘Pleeeease, Santa!'” All the feels right there.