6. It takes you 47 minutes to clean up Vaseline. FYI: Cornstarch removes Vaseline from curtains, carpet, rug and toddler’s hair.

8. They will watch the movie twice. And try to watch it again.

9. If you tell them at ONE O’CLOCK in the morning to turn off the movie and go to bed, they will confront you all lined up in a row and one of them (Zoe) will say, “Um, what’s the name of the movie we are watching?” When you say “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”, they will roll their eyes and one of them (Zoe) will say “Because that’s what we are trying to do!”

11. At holy crap o’clock, one of the girls will fall and hit her face on your coffee table and BREAK OFF PART OF HER PERMANENT FRONT TOOTH.

12. The whole entire house will wake up.

13. Details emerge that they were playing a game, a game where two of them were lying on the living room floor in the dark and the other one was trying to run through the living room without stepping on them. Sounds fool proof really.

14. Child with broken tooth is fine and doesn’t want to go home. Give her ice and make them all go to bed. Try to be as stern as one can at holy crap early o’clock.

15. Go back to bed and can’t sleep because husband says we are probably going to get sued.

16. Wake up at 5:30 a.m. due to one of the girls having a coughing fit.

17. Wake up again at 8:45 a.m. to girl and her broken tooth shaking you and telling you she is hungry and wants “thereal“.

18. Get up and bust out the Mickey Mouse waffle iron and make the best! breakfast! ever! trying to erase memory of trauma from previous night.

19. Three eight year old girls can drink an entire brand new carton of the good orange juice with breakfast.

20. Once the sleepover is over and they all hug you and tell you thank you and they had the best time ever, you will decide it wasn’t that bad and that eight year old girls are totally bomb dot com.

FYI: Your toddler WILL NOT become ill after eating a tiny bit of the possibly black toxic snot like substance and the aforementioned substance WILL indeed stain your brand new off white carpet in your living room.

P.S. Don’t buy Tar Pits.

I recently ran into a lady who I haven’t seen since I was pregnant. She was surprised to learn that he’s now 21 months old, hardly a baby.

Soon enough babies are no longer babies.

And we are in absolutely no rush.

With a pension.

Depressing.

I tried to have a grown up job once, in advertising. I worked for a newspaper in Dallas, desperately trying to get out of the restaurant business and away from all the booze and drugs the party folks that came along with it. I had to get away from it due to the fact that I loved it a little too much, like Puffy-Pink-Heart loved it.

What I learned from that was the newspaper folks were just as jacked up as the restaurant folks. On my first day at the newspaper job, we broke for lunch and went to the director’s house and after about three minutes, a plate of coke appeared and was gone just as fast. I had politely declined and soon was serving up drinks in a local draught emporium in our mandatory uniform: a pleated mini skirt and knee socks ala Britney style. Hey, if I was going to be surrounded by drugs and booze, I was at least going to stick with what I know. Besides, I was making twice as much at the bar and I had no idea how to budget my money getting paid every other Friday.

I tried that “Owning your own Business” thing recently and that didn’t really work out for me. I don’t miss it all, maybe that would be different, you know, if I had actually made money instead of hemorrhaging it out in all directions. And I was still working at the restaurant on the weekends, which I am still doing.

Here’s the deal. I’m home all day with Troy. And Yo Gabba Gabba. And Gerber Puffs. And diapers.

And I’m feeling utterly useless.

I’m not saying I don’t like spending time with my child or I want to party my ass off until 4 a.m. and wake up at 2 p.m. Those days are long gone. It’s just that I have the world’s most laid back toddler and I need more of a challenge. Honestly, sometimes he’s so good and quiet, I forget that he’s sitting on the floor right behind me playing blocks. I really think I need a hobby. Or a job that I love as much as a hobby so it doesn’t feel like a job, i.e. not in a restaurant.

Granted, I have a WHOLE ENTIRE three car garage packed full of shit from the store that I could be selling. I totally tried that already. Nobody wants the shit and I’m tired of looking at it. (Just kidding, Jeff! I’m on it, just like we talked about! I’m listing stuff on Craigslist right now! You will be able to park in the garage by Christmas 2022, I swear.)

Kill me.