Lola is 3: SUPER Random Thoughts. And Stuff.

I started this Sunday, the day after Lola's 3rd birthday party. Life derailed my train of thought several times, then a death in the family seems to have taken me in another direction, but this was what I STARTED thinking about after her party.

I will put a link to a blog at the end of this that contains some nice poetry, written by my recently deceased first cousin, Carolyn. Her funeral is today, her blog made me want to come try to finish this, or at least post what I came up with for future reference.

Somehow in the long, slow blink of a sleep-deprived eye, my Lola is three. 

She has changed tremendously in her short life. She used to be a staunch Republican, but now she’s more liberal-minded. Okay obviously NOT REALLY, but it is amazing how kids have a certain personality at each stage, and it seems like they change almost COMPLETELY every couple of years.  She was shy and painfully emotional, still is somewhat, but my Lola has become a funny, sweet wonderful child. I adore her so very much I cannot even put it into words.
from mediabistro.com

It is interesting to look at how my children have changed.

My son Tinny was a very difficult pregnancy,
then a great baby,
then a HORRIBLEY active tantrum-havin’ toddler,
then a very sweet young man,
a life-questioningly painful teenager,
and I feel like he’s slowly turning into a kind, family-loving young man.

Lola was a beautifully quiet, lovely roommate as zygote and fetus,
unfortunately a very colicky never stop crying for NINE months baby,
she turned into a shy but quickly got better toddler,
now she is extremely sweet and wonderful to be around.
She is still very emotional, but a very helpful people pleaser.

Baby Bug was a more difficult pregnancy,
totally sweet baby,
now shaping up to be a LAST CHILD kind of toddler.
Like omigod-how-much-is-the-morning-after-pill kind of terror.

FYI: In case a “friend” ever asks you about the morning after pill, NO Insurance covers that shit right now, it’s $50 at CVS and worth every fucking PEN-NAY. My husband said it’s still cheaper than a hooker. (I feel kind of comforted that if he visited a hooker it would at least be a higher-priced hooker, ya know?)

Okay enough about my husband with hookers, back to my a-hole kids. (Yes, I think my mom does read this, why do you ask?)

I don’t know if it’s more a matter of the kids alternating stages of sweet and terrible, or if as a survival technique one can sense how much trouble another is causing and subconsciously adjusts their attitude a little for whatever reason. I want to say it’s that last thing, probably because I have years ahead of having three children and if they all went through a tough stage simultaneously, I’m not sure I would be the kind of alcoholic that would be high functioning. That’s a great thing about the future, you just don’t know.

For Lola’s third birthday I did a Spongebob theme, I mean if you count cake, plates and a couple decorations my sister brought as a “theme.” I thought it would be an easy cake to make. She does love Spongebob even though now we’re pushing her toward Elmo, and semi-educational stuff for her allotted television viewing time. Plus we’re cheap and we don’t have Nickelodeon anymore.

Tinny and my very detail-oriented niece, Hanna, did a wonderful job on the cake. I didn’t even play around with alternative flours this time, too tired, too many other things, and the last one was a giant, frosted hockey puck made of sawdust.

 The party was great, no games or anything, Lola mostly just likes to play with toys right now anyway. She got great gifts, including the Fisher Price digital camera. This is Ha-UGE because she is obsessed with the cameras and pictures on our phones. She likes to leave my phone all over the place, and we have to play phone scavenger hunt. Not a fun game.

One of MY favorite things Lola got? A double stroller from my oldest sister’s resale shop. That probably sounds weird, but for someone who is broke, has two small children and desperately needs to exercise, this is SOLID GOLD, believe it. This is our FIFTH double stroller, and I no idea just how SKETCHY used strollers can be. 

from ivygateblog.com
Normal people probably just buy new strollers and don't think much about it. 

We're on a one-income budget so resale shops, Goodwill and hand-me-downs are our bidness.

You can try to test those damn strollers in the store. You can even put a bunch of crap in it and roll it around, but you just don’t KNOW how much they suck until you put your big, chubb-ay bag-o-butter kids in there and actually push ‘em around your neighborhood, full of notoriously shitty sidewalks.  

Seriously, not only are the sidewalks all cracked and banged up around here, but they are so damn RANDOM. 

from news.bbc.co.uk
Our sidewalks are like the staircases at Hogwarts, which change in case you’re unfamiliar with the training school for witchcraft and wizardry.

Across the street and down a few houses, there is seriously a sidewalk for ONE fucking HOUSE. ONE HOUSE. Not either of the ones next to it. 

None of the neighbors are sure what the dilly. It’s like that ONE house tried to get everyone to pay for their own sidewalks and it never caught on. Tangent. Back to the strollers.

Our double stroller history goes:
$7 resale shop special: Horrible wheel bent to shit, pulled hard to the right.
Ugly hand-me down: Old, rusty and didn’t like to go forward;
2nd hand-me-down: HEAVIER than a Sherman tank, corners very dicey;
The last one wasn't bad, $5 sister found at a garage sale. Side-by-side umbrella stroller dealie, but the middle bar is awkward, unless you're really tall.
I don't know any tall people well enough to push my children every day on a walk, so my feet always kick it and I'm not tall enough to maneuver around it.

We’ve taken the newest one out one time, got about 3 blocks away before we noticed ALL the wheels need air. Hopefully air will make it better to maneuver. 

- At this point I got interrupted and have NO idea where I was going to go from there. I mean, even my tangents are off on tangents. I'm pretty sure if I showed this to my doctor, she would immediately prescribe Ritalin. Now you know why I didn’t want to post it. 

Years from now when I look back, I want to know what I was thinking EVEN IF I didn’t finish my thought, and my thoughts scattered like roaches when the lights come on. 
Plus I might get a kick out of knowing how much the Morning After pill was.

If you made it through all of this, I’m sorry. Below is your reward. IF you like poetry it’s a reward, if not, I will try harder next time. All I can do.

This blog is full of years of poetry and photography. It was written by my recently deceased cousin, Carolyn (Ray) Baskall:

She lost her mother at a young age, and then her father, (my father’s brother,) apparently turned into an even bigger bastard. My father told me that their father was very mean, apparently my uncle inherited that. 

Hearing stories about her life – a life that could have easily been my life given how similar our fathers were – that got me thinking about every little thing affects our lives, especially how our parents affect our lives.

My father was a lot of things, but he was not abusive to his own family. Never physically. He said a lot of words. We all do. I’ll leave it at that. He brought a lot of laughter and corny jokes, and “DFILY” into our lives, which means Don’t Forget I Love You

These little letters are very important to me and to my family. We say this, write this, and tattoo this all over our lives. Literally. That’s important through the tough times of life.

I hope my children take things like this through their lives.  I will try my best to remind them. 


  1. Oh, the things I look forward to when I have kids. And here I thought their personalities just changed drastically when they become teenagers (and, you know, hate you).

    Also, that cake is really freaking good for being homemade. It far exceeds my baking skills (which, currently, are zero).

    1. They change. When it comes to little things, their moods (and preferences for food and entertainment, and ANYTHING) can change within a DAY. They get pissed if you don't keep up, which is adorable b/c why would you even try to remember what kind of potatoes they like?!

      I just hope that as far as the change from being tolerable to hide-from-that-jerk, the baby does eventually go through a less annoying stage. She is cute, and we love her, but she is a dick. It kind of runs in our family, not her fault, but still. A dick is a dick.

    2. Oh, and thank you re: the cake. I did not participate in the decorating ONE iota, other than purchasing the materials. If I did it? It would look like a drunk baby did it. Guaranteed.

  2. Found your blog today... Wow, just wow! :)