Sesame Street Live, Responsibilities, And Keepin It Real

Fun filled Wednesday with Sesame Street Live.
P.S. Cookie Monster stole the show. Screw Elmo.

Lots going on this past week. Like so much. We sat through an hour and a half of live Sesame Street. Let me just explain something real quick. I have a weird phobia of masks, painted faces and anything covering someone's real features on their face. Sitting through this is like sitting through my own personal Halloween nightmare. Awful. Thank God we were sitting dead center of the middle section so when these demon things walked down to hug and visit kids who were seated in aisle seats, they were nowhere close to me. Thank goodness for that. Other than that, it went really smoothly... until some asshole was selling balloons in the lobby as we left. ALL OUT MELTDOWN. Kill me. We were so close to making it out with no tears. So I told my child what any quick thinking mom would tell their screaming child "Tyler Grace, you know who gets balloons? When do you get balloons? That's right. On your birthday. Is it your birthday? No? Then maybe next time. I bet every single one of those kids have birthdays today." Bullet dodged. She told every child with a balloon walking out the door "Happy Birthday." Don't look at me like that judgemental parent, tell your brat to say "thank you" and walk off. Don't ask questions.

Totally excited to see Sesame Street.

Another thing I learned, kids' shit is expensive. Let's run down the total cost for taking a child to see Sesame Street Live:

3 Tickets: $120.00

Valet Parking: $13

2 Cokes & 1 Popcorn: $8

Cotton Candy: $5

That brings the total to $146.00 for an hour and a half with a 15 minute intermission. So 1 hour and 15 minutes to entertain my child. Wow. That's pretty steep. But she loved it and that's the reason I get up and go to work every day, so she can be able to do things like that. Even though it's not my favorite.

 

Another funny from Tuesday night. I met up with my mom and TG after ballet class at Cici's Pizza for some, stuff my face until I'm miserable, food. Probably shouldn't have ate those last two pieces. But whatever. We get home. She's supposed to be in bed. Haha, yeah, right. I walk in and what is she doing? Blowing up swimmies to wear to bed. You can't make this shit up. She wants to wear swimmies to bed. Ok, Mom, think. Is it cool that she's blowing up swimmies, absolutely. But what in tarnation am I going to do when she falls asleep with these things on and I have to get these things off her arm without waking her up? Yeah. So, crying, kicking and screaming ensues... her, not me and we finally wrangle these things off her arms and in to bed she goes. Two hours later... she's still up watching Netflix. A girl after my own heart.

Swimmies are awesome for bedtime.

Also this week, she has learned how to stick a straw through a CapriSun. Now this can be good or bad. Not sure. Before, I knew every time she snuck in the kitchen to get one because I would have to stick the straw in. Now, I'm no use. What am I even here for? She can reach the Poptarts, stick a straw in a CapriSun, wipe her own ass and brush her own teeth. Maybe this weekend we'll attempt to tackle learning to tie shoes. She can't wear velcro forever. My job is done.

 

With all the super exciting things we've accomplished this week, it's time for a break. A short break, but a break nonetheless. I've been married with kids and I've been single with kids. It's easier when there's two people helping. Trust me on this one. So tonight I've enlisted the help of the "Baby Daddy." After work, I will drive 45 minutes home to pick up Miss TG, pack our bags and head to GA to invade the "Baby Daddy's" apartment for the entire weekend.

 

Awesome. What's that mean? That means I get to sleep late tomorrow. That means she gets to see both of us, together. We do this at least once every 3 or so months and I'll tell you why. We get along, better than most ex's, it's never been weird or uncomfortable. It just is what it is. We were friends before we were "together" and we're friends now and co-parents. I think it's important for Tyler to see us together in a family setting, understand that mommy and daddy are a team and to never try to use us against each other when she's a teenager, because we will not have that shit. Ever. Sure, we differ on opinions of things, but never in front of her. Ever. We will hash that shit out privately and come to her later with an agreed upon decision and an unbreakable united front. Don't argue about crap in front of your babies. They know more than you think they do.

 

So shout out to all the single mommas, single dads, co-parents, blended families, step parents and everything in between who keep it real. Always remember who comes first. You make sacrifices for those you love, especially for your children, even if that means playing nice with someone you'd like to punch in the face on occasion. Occasions like joint birthday parties... see below. 

 

Generally how we feel most of the time at joint birthday parties for Tyler Grace.
Me: Oh, cute, a picture. Smile pretty. Act like you don't want to kill everyone here.
Evan: Keepin it real and telling everybody how we both really feel.

We do them together for her, definitely not for us. We do it because until she's a grown up, no matter who E and I are with, we still have to remain a family unit for her. That's OUR family. No one else's. If I ever get married again, he HAS to know that her dad will be present for Trick-or-Treating, Christmas, Birthdays, School Plays, Softball Games, Gymnastic Meets, Dance Recitals, Soccer Matches, Football Games and Volleyball Tournaments... every... single... time... sitting on the other side of me, "big-boy'ing" you out of the way. Dear Future New Husband, you're always invited and you're part of a new family, but I have a "Pre-Started" family and it comes with obligations that suck and that aren't for the faint of heart. Sometimes we don't like it and wish we had made babies with someone else, but we didn't. E and I started this family and we're determined to finish raising her... together... as her parents... the best we can... even when we don't like it.

 

So, Baby Daddy, thanks for letting us crash your pad this weekend because we needed a "get away" and for letting us turn it into a girls' paradise complete with hairdryers, straighteners, weird smelling shampoos and whatnot, makeup, fingernail polish and Taylor Swift. And also, for probably feeding us and buying me beer. It's much needed.

 

Also this week, Happy Birthday to this gem.