Our 'Hood is Diverse, Yo

When we first moved to this neighborhood, it was very lacking in the diversity department. Everyone pretty much fell into one of two groups: there were the retirees who had grown weary of their over-sized homes and decided to move into smaller quarters, and there were the young couples/singles who were just starting out. Over the last six years, we've watched as our neighborhood has slowly become a little more diverse.

Early on, there wasn't a single kid anywhere. Now, for the first time, we have our very own gang of no-good punks. As they are constantly playing in the street unsupervised, and have not developed a healthy fear of oncoming traffic, I don't expect them to be a problem for long. I'm pretty sure one of the remaining retirees will manage to take out the whole lot of them in one clean swoop. If one of the snots manages to escape crazy Granny and her Buick, he will probably fall victim to drowning in our pond. Along with their lack of respect for cars, the hooligans also don't understand the words, "Get out of my yard, you stupid brat!" or "If I catch you stepping on my flowers again, I'm calling the police!" (I'm looking for a new line if anyone has any ideas. I'd prefer something that doesn't make me sound 80.)

While people with kids were moving in, they brought with them a wider range of ethnicities. We live in a very white part of town and are lacking a lot of the diversity that you will find in most of Pittsburgh. However, I'm pretty sure you could (finally) put together an entire rainbow of people with various belief systems if your were to go door-to-door selling Girl Scout cookies. In fact, there's probably more diversity in our little 'hood than in all the rest of our township combined.

But now we seem to have achieved a whole new level of diversity in our little corner of the world. The photos are a little fuzzy, but I pinky swear that they are what I say they are.

First up, we have the trash that the garbage guys decided they weren't picking up this morning. This isn't the first time we've seen this sort of pile, and it's probably not the last. Just for the record, two people live in the house and there was no party this past weekend. I'm positive.

In and of itself, that is quite an amazing feat. Now couple it with the pile of incoming packages that were no more than 50 feet from the proof that we have some serious white trash alcoholics in our midst:

I feel really bad for the lady that lives in between those two.

I'll Take Sleepless Nights for $800, Alex

Fact: If you kind of whine about sleep issues, you will kind of have a decent night.

Fact: My life is a game show.

Behind Door #1 is a custom-fitted Toddler Helmet. It comes complete with a blissful night of peace and quiet, but for some reason, the manufacturer forgot to include any actual sleep in there.

Door #2 is hiding a fancy-schmancy Toddler containing gate guaranteed to make her howl and whine and cry and throw things at you. It's much more ergonomically correct than the Toddler Helmet, but it too is missing that vital sleep component.

Door #3 is a wicked rash that itches like crazy all day long.

OK, so maybe Door #3 isn't really one of my choices, but I'm kind of thinking I would like that as an option because Doors #1 and #2 ARE NOT MY FRIENDS.

Two nights ago I played Fighter Jet all night and escorted the Toddler to the approved airspace in her room four times. The fifth time she managed to somehow get past my Momdar and snuck around to Daddy's side of the bed. Guess who let her in the bed? Yes, the man who later complained when he wore a Toddler Helmet for an hour. An hour. I wore it long enough for Elmo to mock Mr. Noodle four times, Baby Bear's lisp to get on my nerves twelve times, and The Count to play his stupid organ sixteen times. If I could get to wear it for only one round of Monsters on Happy Pills? I would be a happy little monster, no pills required.

Last night I went for Door #2. You know what happens when you cage in a toddler? I don't know about the toddler population at large, but my toddler acts like a caged animal. A rabid, starved, caged animal. After a battle royale at bedtime, she turned on the sirens at around midnight. I let her scream for a while, but then I was afraid that I would end up with two humans making me feel crappy, so I went to her doorway. I didn't say a word. I just stood there.

She stopped screaming.

She just stood there.

The standoff went on for at least five minutes with each of us standing silently on our prospective sides of the war zone. She was the first to break the silence with a "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" that I'm pretty sure woke up every person in our zip code. I replied with a "WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" then a, "Alexis, go to bed."

She did.

Silently.

She got back in her bed.

BUT, before I could pick my jaw up off the floor, her siren went off again. "WAAAAAH! WAAAAAAH! WAAAAAAAH! Mother-effin' WAAAAAAH!" (I might be paraphrasing there.) Just in case I couldn't hear her all the way from her bed two feet away, she returned to her station on the other side of the gate and continued on and on and on and on.

I laid down on the floor. Sure, that carpet has been peed on, puked on, pooped on, and that's just last week. I still laid down on it. It was the middle of the night; my germophobia ranks lower than my sleeplove-obia.

Twenty minutes. That's how long I laid there, how long Alexis expressed her dissatisfaction with my customer service skills, how long I tried to prove that I am more stubborn than her. Then I told her if she didn't want to sleep in her bed, I sure as heck would. I stumbled over the gate and poured myself into her itty-bitty toddler head, simultaneously getting my knees stuck in the foot board and banging my noggin on the head board.

No more than a millisecond later, she joined me, cuddled up next to me, and fell asleep. Two seconds after I felt absolutely positive she was asleep, I slammed my head up against a wall. (Not really, I like my head too much to abuse it like that. The thought did, however, cross my mind.)

Fact: It is better to be up once for over half an hour than it is to be up four times for about five minutes.

Fact: It doesn't matter which door I pick. There's only one winner in this game show, and it ain't me.

Mr. Husband's Photos on Display

Every time I complain about our sleep issues here, the following night is the epitome of Toddler sleep perfection. I should be exploiting that realization and whining endlessly about the nightly wandering and about how a certain someone is STILL ending up in my bed (I do not accept the blame for this issue HINT HINT HINT), but I got distracted. I finally had a chance to wine and dine Mr. Canon. Last night he made it all the way to first base with me. There's a chance that he may just score if he goes out with me again. During our deep conversations and special bonding, he asked me to download the photos that Mr. Husband had taken over the past few weeks. He said I would not regret it, and he was SO right.

Man -oh- man were there some interesting finds on that memory card. Some of those photos just plain screamed at me to share them as they are absolutely proof positive of superior camera abilities. Clearly, I have been wasting my time with that cheap jerk Mr. Sony. Mr. Canon may be snooty, but he is so right in thinking he's better than everybody else. So, here is the world through the eyes of Mr. Canon and Mr. Husband.

Tomorrow I'll probably resume my endless whining about sleep. Perhaps I'll even tell the tale of how last night I had to slide backwards on my butt to escape the Toddler's room in the middle of the night, while doing my best to avoid a stellar puddle of cat puke right outside her door. That wasn't even the most notable adventure of the night. Good times, good times.

(Can you tell I'm just trying to do that reverse jinx thing to our sleeping habits again?)

This one deserves to be shared because it's just such an Alexis moment. Curling up on the couch with a favorite book while sporting Dora pajamas? That's Alexis in a nutshell.

When Alexis isn't reading, she's very likely playing with one of her babies.

The diaper on the head phenomenon is a daily occurrence these days. We have a few hundred photos to prove it.

There were, by far, more photos of dogs and cats than there were of the Toddler. I love this one, and Mr. Canon obviously rocks because Jasmine is about as photogenic as a dirty mop. (Note to self: Consider suspending the habit of using her to scrub the kitchen floor. We do own a mop.)

Of course, there are a few dozen pictures of Meg. This was my favorite since she is clearly rolling her eyes at the never-ending flashes.

And then we hit gold. I cannot explain this. I cannot pretend to understand it. I just know that I found it and I SWEAR I didn't take it. Apparently? Mr. Husband thought this was a photo that needed to be taken.

As a bonus to anyone that actually made it this far, I have a little contest for you. I have TWO codes for 3 months of free Piknic.com premium access. If you are a fan of photo editing, or just want to give it a try because you can, leave a comment letting me know that you are interested. I'll randomly select two of you and bestow you with a little premium fun over in simple photo editing heaven. I'll pick the winners Friday night. BTW, you don't have to have a blog to win. Just don't leave an anonymous comment because, prior to popular belief, I am not psychic.