Sometimes I hear this voice in my head that warns me not to do something. And usually I ignore it because I have other voices in my head telling me the opposite. These voices are all talking to me, helping me make choices and decisions, and I typically tell fear, worry, and caution to sit down and let’s have fun! Not that I do bad or crazy things, but I often ignore perceived risks. I don’t operate in fear. Never did.

But as I get older and wiser, I think I need to let that voice have some say….sometimes.

Picking up the lid, I see my neighbor’s can wide open next to me. In that moment, I decide to do something I NEVER do. I toss the soft drink cup lid into my neighbor’s open and empty can. Why did I do this? No damn clue.

Moments later I hear “did you just throw trash in my can?”

Mother fucker.

It was now 9:27am and I was standing in the kitchen, making Evie mac and cheese. Because if my two-year-old wanted a steak at this time, I probably would have made it for her. The time it was taking me to prepare this gourmet meal was apparently too long. Evie climbed up on the countertop and yelled for her “cheese.”

And at the moment, the events of the morning caught up to me. Whatever control I had had up until this point, melted like the creamy packet of orange cheese I was holding in my hand.

I stopped squeezing the foiled packet into the bowl.
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and cried.

The scene.
Evie is naked, per usual. What potty-training toddler isn’t? Plus I feel like her bedroom is a mile away now in the new house. It’s easier to let her go commando than walk upstairs to get her a pair of underwear.

So there’s Evie in her birthday suit. She’s also on my countertop, squatting down so her head doesn’t hit the light hanging above her. Gianna’s boyfriend is standing nearby, getting ready to feed Evie her 50th snack of the day. He is so good with her and she loves hanging out with him. Probably because he gives her gummy worms and soda all the time. Then apologizes to me like he had no clue that’s like giving her crack. But I like him anyways. Because despite giving her crack, he plays with her so well and that gives me time to get shit done.

I followed the girls around all night, watching them laugh, take photos, and stalk (so not casually) a group of young boys. We took a break after they lost the boys and grabbed some flatbreads. They scarfed down their food, handed me their iPhones, and ran off to the nearby rollercoaster line that promised them a 30-minute wait. I sat at the table, babysitting their devices, and finishing their pizza scraps.

Alone, with just me, some crust, and their electronic devices, I was hit with this thought:

I am the holder of phones now.

This morning, we left the house commando (just her). The potty came along just in case I needed a vessel for her to let loose in. Of course, the urge came…right in front of a glorious house.

I didn’t want to ask her to wait, so I parked the stroller and whipped out her potty right in front of their gate. These people were probably having a grand old laugh, sipping espressos on their patio facing the bayou, watching my toddler take a piss on their security camera.

Whatever. This is life. Enjoy the show! I closed the potty with a click and hung it back on the stroller, pleased with Evie and myself for a successful #1.

Not thinking, at the time, that it’s been a solid day since she’s gone #2 and she is normally a once-a-day pooer.

You know what comes next….