And then my heart exploded.

Picture this:

There's an adorable 1-year-old boy walking around, with a totally confused look on his face.

He looks at me.

"Mama?"

Please note that I keep telling him that his Mama will be back, and that I'm watching him for a few hours.

His 3-year old sister steps in to help me.

3-year-old: “Don’t worry, that’s Monca. I know her. She’ll take good care of us.”

And then my heart exploded.

Penny and me

A few weeks ago, I sat down beside Penny on my bed and we had a heart to heart talk.

Penny, I said. I named you after a song, and I'm going to see that song performed live. Live, Penny! Can you believe it?

Penny snorted at me, rolled over for a belly rub, then started snoring.

It's always Penny and me tonight.

I named my first dog of my adult life after the song Penny and Me, which my favorite band, Hanson, sings.

It was glorious.

Close enough

I had a pretty cute playdate with a 2-year-old over the weekend.

When we lined her stuffed animals up, she surprised me by counting them.

"One, two, three, four, five, six."

I thought I was in the presence of the smartest 2-year-old ever. I asked her how old she was.

"Five."

Nope, kid. Try again.

"Three."

She has a birthday coming up, so I figured that's close enough.

:)

Eventually.

I wrote this three years ago. It still rings true today.

---

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

Stay

I was thinking about this last night.

After my friends get married, a few months after the ceremony and reception, I always ask them how they knew they married the right person.

I'm single and prospecting, as one of my co-workers put it this morning (ha, ha). I ask my friends that question because I don't know the answer.

My oldest and best friend had my favorite answer. I remember that conversation like it happened yesterday.

We were sitting in a garage last summer, playing with dogs. I was talking about my personal life - which doesn't happen very often - and I remember specifically what she said to me on how she knew she picked the right person to marry.

"He stayed."

It's a simple answer.

All you have to do is find someone who will stay? I always thought there was some unknown magic trick to love (or something like that...).

It turns out that nope, there's no magic trick or formula.

All they have to do is stay.

Last summer, I thought that answer was bullshit. There has to be some way to know, I thought. 

I get it now. Staying is important.

One of the consequences and side effects of being human is finding a person who won't stay.

When I look at my married friends, how happy they are and how their spouses blend seamlessly into our group of friends, I have a little glimmer of hope.

Eventually, someone will stay.

Eventually.

Cerveza

I don't remember the conversation exactly, but it went something like this:

I went to a Mexican restaurant with my friend and her 2-year-old daughter to eat dinner. Said daughter's name begins with an "A" and the daughter recognized the letter on the table cloth.

Then the 2-year-old recognized the letter "A" all over the table cloth.

My comment: Congratulations, friend. Your kid is going to learn to spell "cerveza" before her name.

Then, the inevitable struggle to get a 2-year-old to eat started. There were threats made that if she didn't eat, she wouldn't get a candy and a ball. (In the end, she got a piece of candy and a ball.) There were negotiations and more threats.

I tried to keep my mouth shut and not laugh at the struggle between Mom and daughter.

Good luck when she's a teenager, Mom and Dad!

We talked about sentences we say to kids that make no sense. Friend's example: Yesterday I told her to not put milk on her foot.

It happens.

At the end of dinner, my friend made two comments.

First, she told her 2-year-old that she just gave Monica a blog post.

Second, she told her 2-year-old to tell Monica thank you for sitting with them and watching them fight over food.

2-year-old: Thank you.
Me: You're welcome. Anytime.

When I got to work this morning, I got a text message. Kid had tacos and rice for lunch, and apparently was not interested in eating the same thing for dinner.

At least she got a ball and a piece of candy out of it.

It not you. That another girl.

There is an 8x10 framed picture in my house of me and my best friend at her wedding.

When my 4-year-old twin nieces were at my house, they wanted to know who the girl in the photo was.

I told them that was my friend, who got married that day. I told the twins that my friend has a daughter their little sister's age.

That's neat, my favorite red-head told me in her cute mousy voice. But she had another question: Who is the other girl in the picture?

Um, kids, the other girl in the picture is me. It's your aunt, whom you've seen on a weekly basis for the past four years. I was at the hospital the day you were born. Birthdays? I've been there, every single time. I give you noseys multiple times a week.

No it not, the twins said. It not you. That another girl.

Uh, no. Did you have too much to drink at lunch? The girl in the picture is Aunt Monica.

But you have glasses, the twins told me.

In the middle of my living room, I took my glasses off. I had glasses 2 seconds ago, I told the twins, but now I don't.

Now do I look like the girl in the photo?

But the girl in the picture has long hair, they told me.

Yes. After that picture was taken I cut my hair.

Little cute red-head: No you didn't. You didn't cut your hair.

It was at that point that I admitted defeat, hung my head in shame, and changed the subject.

I remember when the twins were little tiny helpless baby burritos. And now they argue with me about whether a photo of me is actually me.

Quotes for fall

While walking with a friend after work one day:

Me: Sometimes I just don't feel like wearing pants.

Friend: That's the quote of the week.

Fyi, I was talking about wearing a skirt. My skirts don't fit me anymore. Ah, bummer.

Kid-Monica was apparently a jerk.

I got a text message yesterday that made my day.

"My parents are cleaning out their house. My doodle bear seems to say 'Monica' on it."

Indeed, in the center of the bear's chest, is the word "Monica" in purple marker.

Haha!

I don't remember the doodle bear, and I certainly don't remember writing my name on my best friend's toy when we were probably nine years old.

Oh my God, it made me laugh though. Kid-Monica was apparently a jerk. I like how it's underlined too. Ha!

:)

Part of me is surprised is doesn't say 'Hanson!' on it.

This is 30

A conversation I had recently:

Me: I have a lot of space in my house, but it's all really stupid space. I loved those built ins when I looked at the house. They were beautiful! Now all I do is dust them and they're always dirty.

Friend: I loved my pedestal sink when I looked at this house. It's so pretty! Now I'm like, "There's no fucking storage in here!"