Old School Lunch

Do you remember what you ate at school growing up? Here's what my memories consist of:

Elementary School

• I refused to eat hot lunch. Just straight up would not do it, except maybe on Wednesdays when there was that rectangular pepperoni pizza, with the pepperoni just overcooked enough so that it created a perfect crater in which to house tiny little hot springs of grease. This pizza burned the shit out of the roof of your mouth on the first bite, so you tasted nothing afterwards. But it didn't matter. Wednesday was pizza day, grease stains and all.
• The lunch my mom packed usually contained a Ding Dong or a Ho-Ho. 
• The sandwich: Bologna on white bread, with Miracle Whip. 
• Usually a bag of chips. Doritos, Cheetos, etc., or if I was really lucky, those miniature cans of Pringles.
• In later elementary years, I developed a fondness for canned mandarin oranges. My teacher had to open them for me because it had those metal pull-tabs that would slice the insides of your hand and ruin after-lunch recess.

This was me, all through elementary school.

Middle School

• Bringing a packed lunch was so elementary school. In middle school there was a menu, and choices!
• Choices meant I spent my lunch money on a maple bar and Cherry Coke. 
• Sometimes I splurged for tater tots.
• The cafeteria had really good chocolate chip cookies  
• I think maybe I also got kinda fat

Me in middle school

High School

• My high school had an open campus, and my best friend's sister had a car and took us out until we had cars of our own. I received $20 a week, which I spent on:
• McDonald's
• Taco Bell
• Wendy's
• Subway
• Jack in the Box
• Burger King
• SafeWay or Top Foods Deli
• I broke out into the meat sweats just typing that list
• I also just re-lived some really awesome memories, like blowing the speakers out of my Honda Accord, while blasting "Barbie Girl" in the McDonald's Drive Thru

Me in high school

You might be wondering, why did you just take me down this memory lane lined with carbs and preservatives? Let me tell you why: Because times have changed my friend. I have a child in preschool. It's Pre-K, she'll tell you. And my mind is blown. Gone are the days of bologna and Ho-Hos (RIP). Trinity's school is very forward about the children having a protein, a grain, a fruit, and a veggie. Absolutely no candy. And if there is a fancy little sweet treat, like a cookie or fruit snacks, it cannot be eaten until the rest of your lunch has been consumed. You also mustn't pack nuts, or anything with peanut butter. Travis forgot this one time and packed those little peanut butter cracker sandwiches. Trinity will not let him live it down. 

Then there are the kids and their dietary restrictions. Trinity gets bullied by a vegetarian every time she brings meat. So now she no longer lets me pack her sandwiches with any type of lunch meat, and there's already no peanut butter allowed, so sandwiches are out. And if you think she's going to eat sunflower butter made with quinoa oil or some bullshit, she is not. I also hear that another child comments on whether or not the food in her lunch is organic because "she only eats organic." So now when we're shopping, she looks for the word "organic" before we can buy it, so she can proudly state that her lunch is all organic as well. WTF?

This is Trinity in preschool

What have we done to our children? Will they never know the joy of glow-in-the-dark Cheetos and Those orange-stained fingers that ruin everything they touch? Will they be too busy dunking their gluten free, casein free, dairy free, Peanut free, tree nut free K-Toos into Cashew milk to experience a freakin Oreo? And what ever happened to Dunkaroos? You haven't lived until your lunch has a package of cookies with a cup of frosting dip!

Don't get me wrong, I'm all for eating healthy, I really am. I blended up every organic fruit and vegetable known to man, with breast milk, to make baby food. I get it. It's important. But for the love of Chips Ahoy, stop saving their lives and let them live! Giving them a taste of the Blue Box Blues every once and a while will not ruin them for life (except it will ruin all other "healthy" boxed mac and cheese for life, because that shit is the best and there is no denying it).

Sorry for my rant. I'm really just running out of lunch ideas and the struggle is so real. Also, Trinity's birthday is coming up, and what do I bring for a birthday snack? Something organic that's meat free, dairy free, gluten free, nut free, sugar free, and red dye #40 free. They're getting apples. 

Obligatory picture of my kid

2015: In Review

"It was the best of times. It was the worst of times." ~Dickens

I set out to write this blog in an attempt to recall my memories throughout the year and get them down as a record of sorts, to look back on. In an ideal world, I would do this throughout the year, and more specific chunks of time would be recorded and kept fresh. That didn't happen this year. 

To tell the truth, I'm having a hard time remembering anything that happened beyond this last month. I had to look back at Facebook to recall anything. I saw everything we did this year, and I had to double check the date several times. Oh my god, that was this year? It feels like ages ago.

Apparently, we had a good year. No. We had a great year. It was full of love, laughter, adventures, vacation, friends, and family. I also worked a lot. 

I remember that my New Year's Resolution for 2015 was to make my first quilt. I think I've made 9 now. Holy crap! The first one I made was for my best friend who had brain surgery in January. This was the first time I've ever used a sewing machine. It's also probably my best quilt because I followed the process strictly. I've learned how to cut corners since then.

This last one I made was a king sized one for my mom, who's been complaining all year that she doesn't have one yet. This bad boy was hard to fit through my tiny sewing machine. I almost cried when it was finished.

In March, we took Trinity to California for her fourth birthday and to meet her Auntie Rooms for the first time. She was a fantastic traveler, and had a birthday celebration my four year old self was jealous of. We went to the San Diego Zoo, Knott's Berry Farm, Oceanside, and Disneyland for dinner.

                                                   

 She's lucky enough to have her birthday over Spring Break, so for her 5th birthday, we're going to Cabo! Her Passport photo is amazing. My little criminal.

Both Trav and I traveled a lot for work this year. We're lucky that my parents are around for added support when one or both of us can't be there. I'm always wondering what type of example I'm setting for her. It's either that hard work pays off, and sometimes in order for us to have all the things we do, Mommy has to be gone for a couple days, or sign in to her computer in the evenings. She sees that I have a life separate from her and Daddy, and that's OK. Or, she sees me working all the time and thinks, I don't want to be the type of mom that works all the time. Perhaps I'm driving her to yearn for the life of a homemaker. Only time will tell I suppose, although not too long ago she admitted, "I don't want to be anything when I grow up." My bet is that she doesn't work a day in her life. 

I finally broke down and hired housekeepers. They are expensive and worth every penny. I also wonder what this teaches Trinity. Either that if you work hard, you can have nice things, like maids. Or it's teaching her that she doesn't have to clean because maids will do it for her. Whenever I tell her we need to clean up, she asks, "Why, are the maids coming?" The other day she asked me to make her bed. "Mommy, pretend you're a maid." I am ruining this child. Truthfully, I just like my toilet paper folded pretty. 

Trinity's dance pictures came in this year! Here's a summation about how she feels toward dance:

This one's a little bit better. Maybe she just wasn't super into tap. Hip hop might be more her thing. Either way, we didn't sign up again this year. Maybe next. 

Trinity is in Pre-K this year, and I cannot say enough good things about her teacher. She is kind, patient, caring, and just really good at what she does. There are only 7 kids in her class, which is helpful as well. Just recently, her teacher pulled me aside and asked if I had a moment to speak with her. The immediate 'oh shit' thoughts when through my head. What did Trinity say? Did she curse? Did she make it sound like she's abused in some way? Did she do something violent? Her teacher then asked if I was aware of Trinity's reading skills. Oh thank goodness! Yes, I know she can read. Apparently she's finally doing this in front of people. I stopped letting anyone know, because then she wouldn't do it and I would look like an idiot. Her teacher now sends special assignments home for her to complete. I thought it was so refreshing and amazing for a teacher to care about that enough to go through the effort of doing something extra, and not just counting her as a kid she didn't have to worry about. Yay for good teachers!

Not sure if you guys were aware, but I turned 30 this year. OMG. This seems impossible, but yet, it happened. I love my birthday, but I was dreading it all year. I realized that it's because my 20s were amazing. I graduated college, got a job, got married, bought a house, had a baby, got another job, bought another house. I did all the life things that people do. I won the Game of Life. What happens now?

I'll tell you what happens now. We drink.

On my birthday, my fabulous husband surprised me with a trip to Cancun. I've been wanting to go on vacation FOREVER, and he made it happen. I didn't know this yet, but all my friends would be waiting there to surprise me. He had been working for months to make sure everyone would  be there, and even talked to my work to make sure I was cool to take the time off. It was literally everything I could have wanted, and more. I was on top of the world. 

The very next day, everything changed. That's how it goes, right? That's all it takes. One day. One moment. One phone call. We had all the Christmas decorations out, getting the house ready for the holidays, since in a few days we'd be on a plane to Mexico. Travis got a call, or a text, or both, that his brother Tommy (older than Trav by 10 months) was injured on Mt. Jefferson, and Search and Rescue had been called. From there, we just stopped. We just sat there and waited by the phone for more updates. Travis didn't know where they were, but he was determined to go find them himself. We both knew there was no way he was suddenly going to climb a mountain at 5pm on a Sunday, but it felt more productive than just waiting for the phone to ring. We packed the car and waited. As soon as we found out what hospital he was going to, we were leaving. I called my mom for her to come stay with Trinity, so when we got the call, we could leave right away. 

16 agonizing hours later, we got the call. The voice on the other end said four words. Tommy didn't make it. I tried to change those words around a million times so that they meant something else. That's what I do. I manipulate words until they sound just right. Nothing I do can ever make those four words make any sense. 

Maybe it was because we had so far to fall. Maybe we were leading too charmed a life. Maybe the universe had to take something back, to make us appreciate it more. Maybe it was just a tragic, freak accident. Either way, life is now split into a Before and After of sorts, and nothing on either side makes much sense. My life is the same, but everything is different.

 Six days later, we went to Cancun. Because what else could we do? As much as you hate to admit it, life keeps going. You wake up in the morning, and you have to do something to fill the time until you go to bed at night. What better way than white sand and beautiful blue waters with the people you love the most? It wasn't the trip we were supposed to have (or maybe it was?), but it was a good escape and we managed to make some great memories. Thank you to everyone who deceived me for months to make this trip possible!

If this year's taught me anything, it's that life can change in an instant. In 2016, I plan to focus on what's important. First, being the best version of myself possible. That includes being more patient with Trinity, working out every morning, spending more time being present with family, and less time focusing on work and my phone (dont worry work, I wont slack too much ;)). 

I hope this finds everyone happy and healthy. Here's to 2016!

You had one job!

It is no secret that parents wear many hats. We are a dictionary, a personal shopper, chauffer, cook, hairdresser, bank teller, the list goes on. But really, if you narrow it all down, we all have one job: To raise a human who will someday be able to survive without us.

If you had to apply for the job of parent, that's what your Objective line should say on your resume. And yet, I'm finding this to be more challenging than originally anticipated. I also feel like I take this more seriously, and pay closer to attention, due to the fact that my child is an only, and that I am as well. For children with siblings, self-sufficiency comes a little more naturally. There are times when they have to figure it out themselves, because Mommy is busy making sure the other children are still alive. Only children don't get this built-in neglect of sorts. Someone is always there to count on. 

Why get your own kite going when Dad is willing to run around like a fool?

I feel like I'm worried about this more than normal parents for two reasons:

1. I still don't survive without my parents
2. My child refuses any opportunity for independence

Let's touch on #1, for just a sec. I still need my parents, more so than I feel like other people my age do. I'm financially independent, at least, but that's basically where it stops. My mom takes care of my daughter while I'm at work, and always has. Even if I'm working from home, she comes over and keeps Trinity busy, and then tells me when I need to be done working. If we're going somewhere for the weekend and it's going to be a pain to take Guido, I drop him off at my parents'. If I'm having car problems, I call my dad. If I want to know how to cook something, I call my dad. If something isn't going quite right in my life, I talk to Mom, who usually helps me see why it's in some way my fault. If the truck slides off our driveway into the ditch, I know that Dad's standing by with his truck to pull it out.

"Let's call my dad"

 If a friend's car catches fire on our way to a camping trip, I call my parents, ask them to bring their Tahoe to the side of the freeway so we can load it up and take it for a week, and then send Dad with the tow truck that came for the broken car. You know, normal stuff.

                                    

I'd like to think it was different when I was younger, that I had some sort of drive for independence. In a way, I did. My parents never did my homework for me, or helped me apply to colleges. I came home from school to an empty house at a young age, but I can remember my best friend cutting my steak, or rolling up my sleeping bag for me, because I just couldn't figure it out.  

Cue my child, and my keen awareness of my shortcomings. I figure it will be simple, I just won't do stuff for her that I know she can do for herself. But she refuses. She's 4 now, and still has a hard time dressing herself without becoming frustrated. She really prefers to stand there like a manequin and have me do it for her. At school during dropoff, the kids have to unzip their backpacks, get their lunch and waterbottle out, put those things where they go, and hang up their backpack and coat. Getting Trinity to do this is like pulling teeth, and it's painful to watch. She's so distracted by all the other kids, and then the zipper becomes complicated, or she can't get the lunchbox out. Most times, another kid just does it for her. I'm afraid she'll never work a day in her life. I went on a fieldtrip with her class last week, and Trinity was the only kid on the bus who did not buckle or unbuckle herself. Not because she can't, but because she simply chooses not to. Other kids did it for her after I refused. She simply does not care.

She's the same way with school stuff, which may worry me more. She's a brilliant child (and I'm not just saying this because I'm her mother). She's insanely smart, but you might never know because she has no desire to show it off. Her teachers label her as "easy going," and at her conference said that's why they had no idea she was so advanced. It was only when they tested her 1 on 1 that they realized she could count higher and identify more objects in French than any other kid in her class.  If you ask her to say anything in French, she will not do it. When she doesn't think I'm listening though, I'll hear her sing French songs, and she'll speak it in her sleep. She can read books, but won't if you try to make her. She really doesn't care what you think of her, and will not do something just to please you. She gives not even 1 shit. If she could articulate her feelings about it, it would probably be something like this:

Luckily, she simply says "no thanks." Other than feeling like I'm failing miserably at my only job as a parent, I'm thankful that she's still young, and hopeful that she'll be able to buckle herself in by the time she's old enough to drive. I suppose she'll learn soon enough that you can't survive forever off of your good looks and charm (or can you?). Either that, or she'll live no more than 30 minutes from me her entire adult life and I'll be there with whatever she needs. I guess it's been working for me. 

Mother's Day hike. She just could not walk another step, so I picked her up and she promptly fell asleep.

The Holiday Letter

THE MOUNTAIN TIMES

By now, I suspect those of you who were going to receive the Christmas card have received it. If you didn't, apologies, you really missed out. I always feel like our cards should come with a newsletter, because I find those brilliantly entertaining. So here it is, the recap of our year. I'll try not to bore you to tears. 

PS: I chose The Mountain Times because our last names put together makes us The Mountains. This has caught on with some people, and it tickles me to no end. 

So anyway, it's been almost a year since we moved to our new house in Eugene. Eugene is a strangely unique place, a big(ish) city with small-town charm. A nice mixture of hippies, hipsters, and down-home Oregon folk. People talk to you like they know you, customer service is generally on point, and on Game Day, you're part of a large family if you're sporting green and yellow. Go Ducks! galore. Here are the Top 3 Most Eugene Things that have happened to me thus far:

1. I witnessed a biker get taken out...by a Smart Car. Not sure who was hurt worse.
2. I went to parent orientation night at Trinity's preschool and was immediately spritzed in the face by lavender water. "It's refreshing AND calming!"
3. I was hit on at a bar with the pickup line, "You look like you eat pretty healthy. Do you eat all organic?"

I treasure each of these memories and hope I will continue recognizing and appreciating these uniquely Eugene experiences as the years go by. 

After Snowmageddon 2014 in February when we couldn't leave our house for 4 days, we bought a brand new Subaru Forester. Something also very Eugene. We love this car. It goes everywhere and does everything and makes our late '90s Accord feel like an early '70s Pinto. What ever did we do without heated seats, Bluetooth, and XM Radio? 

We've only had one scare with it, and that was when Travis attempted an oil change, and instead of draining the oil, he siphoned out all the transmission fluid, leaving it immobile. It took me a few Google searches to realize this somewhat common mistake, so we had it towed to the dealer for the most expensive oil change/transmission fluid fill of all time. No more DIY oil changes.

The highlights of our summer consist of our annual Cultus Lake trip, a new paddle board, the Willamette Country Music Festival , and my 10-year reunion (ugh I'm so old.) The memories I glean from these all kind of run together in an alcohol-induced slideshow that include late night boat rides, shooting stars, midnight burpees, paddle board yoga, endless lines, beer garden shenanigans, and watching the sun come up over the water. Good times indeed. Let's see it in color

Trinity started school in the fall. It's really her first time being around a lot of other children on a daily basis, so I was afraid she would be socially awkward. While she does tend to do more observing than participating, she fits in really well and seems genuinely loved by both the kids and adults at the school. Her French is coming along splendidly, and I suspect she knows a lot more than she lets on. Her school recently hosted a Winter Celebration where the kids sang, danced, and put on a little play. The adults in the crowd recorded this on their phones and looked on with pride, all while having absolutely no idea what the kids were dancing and singing about. It was amazing. 

As expected, Trinity's health has been less than ideal since starting school. She washes her hands regularly, sleeps well, and eats balanced meals (as balanced as you get with a 3 year old), so I found myself wondering how she could keep getting so sick. Then Trinity tells me in the car the other day, "Rosie and I were holding hands, and then Rosie used my hand to wipe her nose." I guess that's my answer. Sorry kid, no coming back from that. 

I am forever amused by the crazy things that come out of her mouth. She's incredibly perceptive and grounded for her age. I still maintain she's an old soul. The other night after getting out of bed a few times, I put her back and tell her that she really needs to go to sleep. "I'd rather go to Applebees," she says. Me too, kid. Me too. 

*obligatory work-related update*

Travis and I continue to work our lives away. He's been enjoying all the travel experiences his job requires, and I'm thankful that mine allows me to work from home. We are both lucky to work with some amazing people, and I'm especially excited about what the new year will bring for me professionally. ;) More on that later. 

Trinity is especially excited for Christmas this year, and the giddiness is contagious. Without meaning to, we may have gone a bit overboard on the gifts. Hopefully she doesn't get too overwhelmed. I don't feel too bad, since I really try to focus on providing experiences, not toys throughout the year. 

I hope this Christmas finds you extremely merry and your New Year is the happiest yet!  Happy Holidays from the Mountains!

An Ode to Fathers

I thought I should take a moment to appreciate all the dads out there on this day. Specifically the dads who have really embraced fatherhood, not just donated genetic material to create a tiny human. So, Happy Father's Day to the dads who:

• Have napped with babies in their arms
• Have been puked on, pooped on, and peed on without batting an eye (or at least without puking themselves)
• Have contemplated pushing down other small children at the park who dare look wrong at your child
• Have walked out of stores carrying bright pink princess cars
• Attempt dressing their kids (seriously, this is hard)
• Go to every gymnastics class
• Still carry that kid in the hiking backpack, even though she is definitely big enough to walk
• Still can't say no to "please Daddy?"
• Moonlight as dinosaurs

I'm lucky enough to say that Trinity's daddy has done all of this and more. I'm good at giving him a hard time about his odd dad ways, but I rarely tell him Thank You for being such an awesome dad. He's patient when I'm not, understands when I don't, and teaches things I can't. Thanks Trav, for being the perfect donor of your genetic material. We created a pretty awesome kid, and I guess you deserve at least 30, 40, ok 50% of the credit. I definitely could not do this without you.

In honor of Father's Day, Trinity answered a few questions about her dear ol' dad.

1. My dad is funny because: He laughs like a little bird! tweet tweet
2. My dad thinks I am funny when: I sing and dance
3. My dad is 29 years old
4. His favorite thing to do is: Play with me
5. His favorite color is: Green and Blue
6. My dad's job is: at an office
7. He loves to eat: Rice and broccoli
8. He is really good at: Loving me
9. My dad loves when I: Play with him
10. My dad always says: Love you
11. My favorite thing about my dad is: Lots of things

It is evident in her answers that she feels loved and is not starving for attention from her dad. But maybe he should do something about that laugh...

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!!

Threenager

See what I did there? It's like she's 3, but somehow she possesses the demonic qualities of a teenager. I'm not ready for this. I thought I still had about 10 years. I think people talk about Terrible Twos just because of the alliteration, but in reality Two is not bad. Two is just a tiny human learning how to communicate and showing frustration when they can't do so adequately. Three is a culmination of all their communication skills effectively used against you. Middle-aged men always tell me they feel sorry for me when she becomes a teenager (some kind of weird phenomena in itself). They should feel sorry for me now.

Her favorite outfit

Balance beaming on her own these days

You know you have a Threenager when:

• She has a very strong opinion on her outfits, and her choice is usually something you disagree with.
• She cannot go anywhere without her lip gloss, or her stuffed lamb
• She refuses to go to bed until the wee hours of the morning, and then sleeps until late afternoon
• She has to learn the hard way. For everything.
• She runs hot and cold. Either she just wants you to hold her, or "stop messing with me!"
• She must do everything herself. This usually results in something spilled or bruised
• She listens zero percent of the time to anything you say.
• She wants the pink shoes, the pink ones, PINK, PINK SHOES! Once the shoes are on, she bursts into tears and declares she wanted the purple ones.
• The TV apparently belongs to her
• She talks back with attitude, defiance and conviction. 

That little sassy onion spouts back like it's nothing!

• Me: Trinity, did you hear what I said?? I said NO!
• Trinity: Did you hear what I said?! I said YESSS!

Straight-faced, unafraid. I know what you are saying, "Aw Hellll NAW!" Because that's what I said. And Because we all get ghetto when we talk about the way our children may or may not act in the future. But they do. They will. Maybe they'll get slapped for it, or put in timeout, or sent to their room. But they will still do it. 

Yes I know I should not be playing with the Windex, but I'm really sad you caught me doing it

I should mention that she's not yet three. Her birthday is next month. And don't ask me about party planning, because there is nothing worse than toddler parties. Let's wait til she has a social group, perhaps, and not torture the poor adults who love her with Minnie Mouse party hats. I feel like last year's Disneyland trip should somehow carry over to this year. One way or the other, she'll be loved and spoiled and she'll feel special on her day.

Something else that makes her a threenager: Preschool visits. I liken this to my college visits, except college tuition didn't cost as much. I swear. Oh, and $25 extra per month for an organic snack? WTF!? You cannot come up with snack money from the Lexus payment you'll get from me on a monthly basis? Sweet lord! If she is not fluent in French and cannot do the quadratic equation by the time she hits Kindergarten, I will be pissed! Oh wait, I can't send her anything with peanuts in it? There goes my daily PB&J plan. A parent can't even pack a lazy lunch anymore. What is this world coming to? AND you want a little kickback for school supplies?! How about she brings her own? I guarantee I will spend less than what you are asking. It's like this everywhere. Or, I guess everywhere that's considered a reputable preschool. Also, you need to enroll by February to get a spot for the FALL semester! I'm blown away. Absolutely flabbergasted.

This is how petticoats were created. A toddler with a tutu saying, "it makes my dress twirlier!"

She enjoys selfies

I can't wait to see what else Three will bring. I can only anticipate being told she hates me, angry door slamming, and an ever-expanding wardrobe. As long as there are no boys involved, bring it on!

I will leave you with this Trinity-ism:
Her: I have the tootins!
Me: Oh no! What did you eat?
Her: *Thinking* ...It smells like I ate poop!

Giving Thanks: Mother/Daughter Edition

It's November. The month of Thanks. Also my birthday month; you're welcome! I refuse to post every day all that I am thankful for, because no one wants to read that shit. But I do think it's important to give thanks for those with the ultimate thankless job: Motherhood.

She's been giving me the finger since Day One

I have been in a unique position the last few months to experience motherhood while simultaneously living as a daughter. Parenting while also being parented. If this is confusing, see my last post about why we are living in my parents' house. Wearing these two hats is unnatural. I only have one head. Parenting a toddler is hard enough without having to do so in a small opinion-filled bubble. At the same time, I am so thankful that I have this bubble to parent in, or else we'd be renting some random apartment somewhere waiting for this short sale to go through. How is it possible to be filled with so much gratitude and so over it at the same time?

Being in this mother/daughter tug-of-war has helped me see things from both sides. Mothers everywhere know that it's a thankless job, but being a daughter isn't always a walk in the park.

As a mother:

• You give and you give and you keep giving when you have nothing left, and your kid still says your dinner is gross. 

• You get up 10 times per night for a week straight because your kid is sick, only to end up sick yourself after your daughter coughs in your mouth. Even after you're sick and you'd kill for some sleep, you forego the NyQuil because you know you'll have to get up with her again tonight. 

• You spend so much time putting her to bed, putting her back to bed, taking her to the bathroom for the 5th time, reading one more book, and filling up her water, that your husband is asleep on the couch by the time you're ready to watch that show together.

• You miss the Monday Night Football matchup that will decide if your fantasy team wins because she realllllyy wants to watch Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood together. 

• You change three poopy pairs of underwear in under 2 hours because she insists she's not a baby and does not want to put on a diaper. 

As a daughter:

• You vent about an issue you're having in life, only to have one of your character flaws pointed out to you

• You have to justify why you refuse to put your daughter in her carseat with that puffy winter coat on

• You're in charge of fixing, updating, and functioning anything technical

• You do your laundry wrong

• You're a terrible driver

• Your life expectations are unrealistic

While being a mother and/or a daughter can sometimes feel like a big Fuck You,  in the end everything seems to balance itself out. Any grief you get from your mom is for all those years she thanklessly put up with your crap.

Of course, there are wonderful, fulfilling aspects of being both a mother and a daughter. You get a shopping buddy for life, a best friend and confidant, someone who will take care of you forever and who will honestly tell you if that dress was a bad choice.

So if you're a mom, Thank You. You don't hear it enough. And if you're a daughter, thanks for putting up with your mom. She's only crazy because you made her that way.