It's her party, and I'll cry if I want to

Even this party planning committee would be in
hell trying to find a space for a 3-year-old's party.

I am currently in the throes of planning L.'s third birthday party. It's kind of awful. When the fiance set out to finish the basement, I was told there was a good chance it would be done by the end of February, early March at the latest. Well, there was a snag when the guy who was supposed to hook up the heat had to get surgery on his hand and we now have no idea when it will be done.

Our upstairs is way too small for 15 adults and 5 children. Heck, when we have a simple playdate, it seems crowded!

We recently went to a birthday party for one of Layla's friends and the condo had a nice open floorplan, perfect for kettling little ones, while keeping the parents on the sidelines to act as ropes in a wrestling ring and bounce them back in.

So, last night, about four hours were spent on Google looking for a space to hold L.'s "The Lorax" themed birthday. Holy. Moly. First off, let's put some things into perspective:

Never would I ever ...

Don't let the smile fool you, there is FEAR in those eyes.

"When I'm a parent ... "

Let me stop you right there, oh childless ones who say these words. You think you're so wise. Well, I hate to speak in terms of absolutes, but you're not. Despite how many kids you've babysat for or how many younger siblings you've taken care of, you have no idea how your mind somehow changes and, dare I say it, warps  when you have a child of your very own. A child you're responsible for shaping and turning into a decent human being. Not to mention, you have to keep this child alive! And, though a lofty goal, at the very least, you picture these happy, heartfelt moments with your children 24/7.

I won't spoil the surprise for when you find out in the first 48 hours at home with your new child that these heartfelt moments are hard to come by when you're not even sure what you're supposed to do with this little one and you're sleep deprived and you're questioning every single thing you're doing and wondering if you're doing them all wrong.

And, as soon as you find the answer you're looking for and something "works," the next day, you'll be searching for a new answer to a new question and/or the answer you just found that worked will no longer work.

Holidays don't have to equal stress

Some tips I've accumulated over the years to cut down the holiday stress. Some are wholesome, some not so much ...

Beating SADD

The Lights at Virginia Beach, where the fiance and I
went for Thanksgiving.

I felt my seasonal grumpies start in October, of all things. There's been a lot of stress at work and at home while we slowly moved into our house. I lost about 40 minutes a day in the car because my commute is longer. I was pretty busy when November hit and I kind of took it one day at a time to try to make myself happy anyway I could (Read: Goodbye, diet. Hello comfort food.)

Once the end of November hit, while most people complained about how early people were pushing Christmas, I was happy to see decorations up. I had remembered my trick last year to staying positive.

Failure to Laugh

So, if you've seen my blog in the past week and a half, you've noticed I haven't posted anything. Unfortunately, when it came down to it, I picked the wrong year to try to participate in the 31 Days challenge. All week, I've had Kirsten Dunst's voice running through my head from "Elizabethtown" -- coincidentally another Cameron Crowe movie, the writer/director of "Almost Famous" from where the photo used in my 31 Days button comes from.

"You failed! You failed, you failed, you failed, you failed, you failed, you failed ..."

Day 14: Retiring a joke

Today, I laughed at: nothing I can really describe.
I don't really know how to explain the laughter I had today (late, late last night/early morning). I got home from work and when the fiance met me at the door of the house we're moving into, he said, "Do we have to paint tonight? I'm sorry, I'm just not in the mood."

The fiance as we were brainstorming
the future location of the bar
in our basement.

I was so relieved because I felt the same way. I had been rushed all day and I really wanted to just sit.
I knew I had the energy if I needed it, but I did not really have the motivation to do a good job.

So, instead, we grabbed a few beers and went downstairs to the basement to look at how the walls were coming along. We're hoping to finish the basement so we'll have it as a big play room, initially for L., but I'm guessing the fiance will have more toys down there.
Anyway, as we planned out things for the future, I began to get that feeling in my stomach like when you're about to go over a rollercoaster hill. I started laughing and I couldn't even describe to the fiance what was so funny. 
It wasn't so much that it was funny, but I was so excited about spending my life with him in this home we're putting together, the only expression my body could release was laughter. And so I laughed. I smiled until my face hurt.

Surviving a cold with a toddler

It was inevitable. I was getting sleepy at work, the tickle in my throat was getting more annoying and what I thought were allergies were getting stronger. None of this clicked until the head congestion set in halfway through my last day of work for the week and I realized I was getting sick.

Ugh, one of the worst annoyances to a mom. The common cold. On top of being annoying to deal with, deal with a cold has to be one of the biggest triggers of Mom Guilt. And I have to keep reminding myself to take time for me. But, tell that to any mom and she'll nod graciously, but secretly think, "Yeah, OK, like that every happens."

So, I prepared. I got my liquids, my Tylenol Cold and Sinus and my tissues set up in the living room and L. got to watch as much TV as she wanted while I sat like a zombie, pretty much doing the bare minimum of making sure she didn't hurt herself or get into trouble. 

It's the little things

I only have my daughter for half the week. Even though I'm not an avid fan, the boyfriend periodically will remind me how comedian Louis C. K. finds himself a better parent because of only having his kids half the week. I guess that's true. I get to give 100 percent in that concentrated amount of time, rather than stretching my energy over the course seven days.

For a long time when the separation was new, I would hold myself to the expectation of having something fun planned for every time I had L. That got to be too much energy and waaaay too much money. I've also realized that L. gets as much excitement from pulling up to our neighborhood park as she does when we drive halfway up the state for free admission at Kidcity Children's Museum every third Thursday of the month. It recently resonated with me that it's the little things when I see her that add up to big memories.

Here we are at the park and L. is being chased by little Freddy Krueger.
Five minutes later, little Freddy would not share any of the sand toys.
Little Freddy Krueger is a jerk.

Our new addition

We're proud to announce an addition to the Self-Evident Supermom household. Meet Biff the Basil Plant.

Appropriately named after Marty McFly's archenemy in "Back to the Future." Not that the basil is a bully, but because one of boyfriend's friend will seem to see Biff everywhere. Wherever we go or whatever we watch, he's convinced Thomas F. Wilson plays a role in life in general. He will then ask, "Is that Biff?" and we've just started saying yes.

These pictures do not reflect the actual moment

I think on the days I have my daughter, I take about 20 photos per day. Of those photos, three or four make it to Instagram. Of those, one may make it to Facebook.

When I look at other photos of my friends' kids, I picture that picture being the exact window into how that child actually acts. If I were to do that with my photos, I would think my daughter is constantly happy, silly and adorably silent. That's the thing with photos: There is no sound.

What people don't see are the minutes prior when I'm chasing my daughter and telling her not to run into the woods, pick up rocks and throw them, or not to eat the bubble wand. The photos they see are her face with woods in the background, looking happy and attentive. Or walking on a rocky path that winds around the pond in front of our apartment building. Or surrounded with bubbles that I blew seconds before with the camera poised for action.

It's all a lie.