The taxes are the death of me

It's that time of year again. The time when I, for all intents and purposes, become a single parent. Tax season is upon us, and with Dave working 65+ hours a week for the next lifetime, aka until April 15, I get (mostly) full-time care of our little monster.

Who are you calling monster?

Last year during tax season was really hard for me, because as you all know, I was blessed with the world's fussiest baby. So I would spent full days either yelling, moping, or crying myself along with my crying baby. I was so lucky to have amazing friends and family that would come over and keep me company, and unbeknownst to them, keep me sane. It helped that we were in Brockport, because it was a little closer to the bulk of my people. Now, being out in Le Roy, we might as well be in a different country, because I don't like to drive to Rochester any more than the people in Rochester like the drive to Le Roy.

Do people not want to see this face?

This time around should be a little bit easier, although I'm sure I just jinxed myself by writing that. For one, Harrison is a much happier, mild-mannered human now. He for sure still gets in his moods, but those are easier to deal with because he now understands "no" and the tempered sound of my voice. And by understands, I mean fears. He also is obsessed with his Baby Einstein DVDs. Something about those movies can literally hypnotize children. And before you jump to conclusions and try to tell me that children his age shouldn't be watching any TV, let me say, quite frankly: I don't give a shit. My pediatrician said he can watch up to two hours a day (which does seem like a lot), so when I pop in one half hour DVD a day, I think he'll make it. Happy mom, happy baby. Actually with this relationship, I think it's more like happy baby, happy mom.

Do this look happy to you?

In other Harrison developments, he has learned a few key life lessons recently. For one, he has learned that he can open cabinets that will reveal fun objects of all shapes and sizes. In his mind, these are toys. In reality, we know those are not toys. Cups, plates, tupperware, etc.. are not toys. They are actually objects I will have to clean after he drags them all over the kitchen floor. But if the mantra of my life is now, "Happy baby, happy mom", then so be it.

He has also learned how to climb up his slide. This will help him to avoid playground bullying in his later years.

So B.A.

Finally, and most importantly, he has learned the workings of an iPhone better than some adults. He can get the phone off of it's lock screen, proceed to find the folder on my phone that has all of his apps in it, and choose said apps to entertain himself. It frightens me.