kids are funny. and mean.

I went to Charleston for Memorial Day weekend. I ate seafood by the water, drank cold beer, and succeeded at being the laziest person in America, moving only when I needed to get to a pool or the beach.

The first pool I went to was the one in Danielle's neighborhood. She took the kids there after they got out of school on Friday. A few minutes after I arrived to meet them, Danielle's four-year old son Greyson emerged from the pool with one of his friends, wearing a rash guard and a circular raft around his waist. As the two made their way towards us, I heard Greyson yell to his friend, “That’s not my Grandma! That’s my Aunt Steph!”



Ouch.

Admittedly I was not looking my very best (I was at the pool!), but I refuse to believe that I look old enough to be someone's grandma. Right? I don't, do I?

Half an hour later, after I'd recovered from the grandma nonsense, I was standing next to Karson in the pool. She rubbed her hand on my leg under the water and then rubbed her mother's leg. She looked at me, as earnest as ever, and said, “How come your leg is so smooth and my mom’s is all rough?”

Without skipping a beat, I said, "Well, your mother is married. And pregnant. Her priorities are different."

she's funny.

I used my most recent trip to Charleston as an opportunity to surprise my childhood best friend Danielle's daughter Karson at school. Her third grade class' study of South Carolina history concluded with "South Carolina Day" which included a singing performance of some of the state's biggest hits.


Karson is one of the few people I have known for her entire life. I was at the hospital when she was born and have had the privilege of watching her grow up to be a pretty cool kid. I wasn't physically present when she started walking and talking or on her first day of school, but her mom keeps me in the know of her latest milestones and I'm always amazed.

I feel blessed to know her so well.

Cliche though it may be, watching Karson and her classmates performing, "Nothing Could be Finer Than to Be in Carolina," was just a reminder of how old she's getting. Not that I needed reminding. The baby that I once knew is now a little person and it completely freaks me out. I can't imagine how her mother feels.

After her performance was over, we decided to go for ice cream. Karson requested to ride in my car - a request that evoked equal parts delight and fear - I love that she thinks I'm as cool as Lady Gaga, but since no one ever rides in my car, I was worried about what she might find in my backseat.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, Karson took a look around at all of the other students leaving and said, "Looks like everybody's busting out of here early. I don't blame them! Let's move."

I laughed at her remarks. She laughed at me.

Karson promised to give me directions to the ice cream parlor and when I arrived at a stop sign I said, "Ok, which way?"

"Left," she said, and I started to lift my foot off the brake.

"No. Right!," she shouted, giggling.

"I mean, straight!"

I pressed the brake and turned around, to find Karson in the back seat, hands over mouth trying to contain her laughter.

"Kidding . . .kidding," she said sarcastically, lifting her hand and waving like an old lady denying a compliment.

Another milestone. My favorite so far.

The girl is funny. Really funny.

Later that day, Danielle told me she's ready for me to, "Get married, settle down and move back to Charleston." Her demands are nothing new - she has been saying this to me for a while. Never to be outdone, Karson overheard our conversation and said, while hula-hooping, "Stay single! Enjoy your life!"

Did I mention she's NINE years old?

I suppose Karson's ability to make me laugh shouldn't come as a surprise - her mother has been making me laugh for years.

But for some reason, her affinity for sarcasm and practical jokes has surprised me more than any of her other milestones. I knew she'd walk and talk - but funny? Funny wasn't guaranteed. But she is. My heart is full.

Thanks to our strawberry blonde hair and freckled skin, when people see us together they assume that she's mine. I couldn't be prouder if she was.

Day 325: Guilty by Association

On Day 325, I went to Northside Hospital to visit new mom Trish, new dad Mark and Baby Will (aka Willie J). I planned on juggling for him, but since that didn’t really work out on Day 324, I brought flowers and magazines for his mommy instead and showed him my new blue toenails.

Despite having a lot of friends with kids, this was the first time I'd ever been to the hospital to visit a newborn. I was at the hospital when my friend Danielle’s first child, Karson, was born, but I had to leave immediately following her birth to drive back to school. I never got to hold Karson at the hospital, or bring flowers and be a part of the baby celebration and fanfare.

So Day 325’s thing I’ve never done before was to meet Baby Will, and visit his new family in the hospital. Unfortunately for Will, though, the day presented another first that neither of us was too thrilled about.

Seeing Trish as a new mom wasn't at all as shocking as I thought it might be. Trish is happily married and she's a natural caretaker; of course having a baby is an expected next step. Motherhood had instantly come very easy to her. What did surprise me was how laid back she was about it all; she handed Will over, offering to let me hold him right away.

I declined at first. Not because I didn't want to, but because I always feel so terribly awkward holding newborns. They seem so fragile to me in my inexperience, and it makes me feel stupid that I'm not better at it. Aren't women naturally supposed to know how to hold babies?

Trish, Mark, and I instead chatted about the birth, and about how the woman across the hall from her had refused an epidural and screamed bloody murder the entire time, scaring everyone in the vicinity. Trish showed me a video of Will peeing on his daddy for the first time and pictures of all who had been to visit so far. She sang the praises of the hospital for their warm hospitality and helpful nurses.

When I finally relaxed enough to take Trish up on her offer to hold Will, I fell in love. He was so small and perfect and rolled up into a little ball. And for the first time I can remember, I didn't feel awkward at all holding a newborn.

That is, of course, until a female nurse rolled a crib on wheels until a female nurse wheeled in with a crib and sweetly said, to Trish and Mark, "If you're ready, we can go ahead and take Will for his circumcision."

I looked up when I heard the word, "circumcision."

Trish looked at the nurse, and then she looked at Mark and then she looked at me.

"Like now?," she asked the nurse.

"Yes. Now. If you're ready?"

Is anyone ever ready to bring such trauma to their child? I don't know, I don't have kids; I can't imagine leading them to suffer, even if it's for their own good, is a pleasant experience.

But seeing Will's circumcision as a necessary evil that he'd never remember, Trish's concern was for me, since I would miss out on spending quality hospital time with the baby.

Mark was understandably concerned for his son for very different, very "dad-like" reasons. "Sorry buddy," he said kindly, "I'm so, so sorry."

I was concerned, of course, for myself. I looked at the nurse, who had motioned for me to put him in the crib she'd brought.

"So you mean you're going to do this now? And I'm the one who has to hand him over? So now he's going to associate this experience me?"

She ignored my antics and asked Trish to sign some form saying she approved the surgery.

I suddenly felt awkward again holding Will, reluctantly trying to lower him into the crib on wheels.

"I'm so sorry, Will. This was not my idea," I told him quietly.

I sought consolation in what Trish told me. She said that just like shots and other unpleasant injuries he may suffer as a baby and toddler, he will, forget any pain suffered during the circumcision. He's only a day old, after all.

I believe her, but what about subconscious association? What if when Will is a teenager he hates me for reasons he can't even explain that all stem from this day?

In that case, I hoped that the big blonde nurse was the last person he saw before the snip.

Day 295: Warm Fruit, Not Bad

I spent my last day in Charleston on the beach with Danielle, Karson, and Greyson before heading back to Atlanta.

Day 295's thing I'd never done before was to meet a friend in Augusta for dinner and eat a feta and pineapple pizza. I'm normally not a fan of warm fruit, but this was actually pretty good. The sweetness of the pineapple paired well with the savory flavor of the feta. Delicious.

Is it just me, or are a lot of these posts recently all about food? I'm going to try and get that under control.

No promises, though. I really like to eat.

Day 293: Training Day

When I told her I was in town on Day 293 and wanted to see her, my best childhood friend Danielle said, "Well come on over. [Husband] George and [daughter] Karson are both out of town. I'm potty-training [2-year old son] Greyson this weekend, so I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere."

I probably don't need to tell you that I don't know anything about potty-training, despite successfully making a diaper cake and changing my first newborn diaper this year. But I've heard enough horror stories from my own mother and seen other friends begging for advice on Facebook to understand that teaching a toddler how to use the bathroom is not always the easiest thing to do.

But still, not leaving the house? For an entire weekend? That seemed a little extreme.

I went over to Danielle’s to find her and Greyson in the front yard playing. The three of us stood out there for a while, until it got too hot, and then we went indoors. Danielle and I didn't waste any time catching up on each other's lives while also trying to entertain Greyson.

While standing in her kitchen, I noticed a stash of salty, unhealthy foods on Danielle's table. I looked the bags of cheese puffs and Little Debbie cakes and was confused.

“What’s with all of this?” I asked. Owning this much junk food was out of character for Danielle. Food of any kind strewn across her kitchen table was very out of character for her.

"The junk food makes him thirsty . . . which makes him drink water . . . ,” her voice trailed off as if these two pieces of information should all make sense to me, but I was confused. I shook my head slowly, a vacant look on my face.

“Then he has to use the bathroom . . . it helps him to understand the difference between being wet and dry,” she kept explaining.

“Oh.”

That technique seemed a little strange to me, but Danielle is an excellent mother, so I trusted she knew what she was doing (at least better than I did).

But I noticed, after she interrupted the conversation with her third or fourth, "Greyson, are you wet? Do you need to sit on the potty?," that he didn't seem to be "getting" what she was saying.

"So what's the deal?," I had to ask her, "He's not into it?"

"Um, no," she said, "He doesn't care if he’s wet or dry. He'd cruise around with poop in his pants for days if I let him."

I looked down at Greyson's sweet little face as he ran through Danielle's kitchen without any shorts on. He squealed and laughed while doing a little dance.

"See?," Danielle asked me.

She was right. Greyson didn't seem at all concerned with using the potty.

Even when we'd run him into the bathroom multiple times during one hour and force him to sit on it, he did so willingly, but seemed completely uninterested. We'd clap wildly and make a big deal about throwing the pee-pee from the little potty into the big potty, and he looked at us like we were nuts.

This went on for several hours; ample time for Danielle and I to catch up, but not much time to do anything else. Day 293’s thing I’ve never done before was to help potty-train a two-year old.

Frequent trips to the bathroom are the reason why going out into public is simply not feasible while potty-training. Potty-training takes commitment, stamina, and as Danielle and I were realizing, a child that wants to learn how.

Greyson, at least not at that time, was not.

There were several moments when I was borderline harassing Greyson to tell me if he needed to go to the bathroom, chasing him from room to room to ensure that he hadn't already gone, and sitting with him in the bathroom for long periods of time both of us staring at each other.

As far as all of my friends’ children are concerned, I am interested in one thing: being the absolute coolest aunt I can possibly be, gaining their adoration and unconditional love. I felt myself quickly moving from “Cool Aunt,” to “Mommy’s Sidekick.”

I was only a few hours invested into the project, and I cared more than he did. Selfishly, I wanted to make it happen (as if potty-training can happen in one afternoon), so that I could leave Danielle’s house confident that I would be able to say to Greyson later in life, “I was there when you were potty-trained.”

Weird? Maybe.

But considering I’ve been with Danielle for so many of these milestones in her life, in my life, and in her kids’ lives, it really wasn’t. In fact, I had to laugh, when at one point during the day, I took over for Danielle and took Greyson to the bathroom by myself. He sat on his little potty and I sat across from him, and we both looked at each other. It was like staring into Danielle’s elementary school face when we used to “play house,” on the playground at Harbison West. Only now we’re playing house for real! With her kids!

This version of “house” we were playing out in real life was far less glamorous, and not nearly like the one we had concocted all those years ago. But somehow the real thing felt a lot better, and I smiled to think about how far we’ve come.

After a stressful day of semi-parenting, I left Danielle at her house and went to the beach to meet my friend Adam. When his friends asked me where I'd been most of the day, I told them I'd been with my best friend, helping potty-train her son.

"That sounds terrible," one of them said.

But it wasn't terrible at all. It was pretty hilarious. And awesome.

***I'm happy to report that Greyson has, since Day 293, been potty-trained, without junk food, which Danielle tossed the next day. And no surprise, I had nothing to do with it.***

Day 182: Happy Half-Birthday to Me!

We're half-way there, blog readers. Actually, I am way past half-way there, just behind on writing about it.

Day 182 was my half-birthday.

Facing the downside of my 29th year freaked me out a little bit. I can't believe this project is half-over. I can't believe my twenties are almost over. I can't believe I'm almost 30.

I had to keep myself busy, and find a way to acknowledge this day in a positive way.

Day 182's thing I've never done before was to celebrate my half-birthday.

I started the day having lunch with my best friend from high school, Danielle, and her family.

The meal was good, the company was better and I laughed out loud when Danielle's daughter Karson dropped her fork while eating, turned to me and said, "Aunt Steph, have you ever had lice?"

Though that was a question I've never been asked before, this conversation really had nothing to do with my half-birthday celebration. With only six months left of my twenties, though, I loved that in her ever-hilarious way, Karson was able to take me back to my childhood by bringing up a word I hadn't heard in probably 20 years.

I laughed as I responded, "Lice? Yes, I had lice a looooooong time ago. Have you?"

"No," she replied, going back to eating her meal.

I looked at Danielle as if to say, "Why is she asking me about lice?"

Danielle said, matter of factly, "Big lice outbreak at school."

As humorous as this little exchange was to me, and as joyful as all of my visits with Karson are, I couldn't help but be reminded of how fast time is flying. She's seven-years old. She starting to lose teeth. She knows words like, "lice."

I'm almost 30. Ugh.

I find that the best thing to do when I'm feeling down about my age is to hang out with someone older than me. The obvious choice was my friend Adam, who is exactly two years older than I am. Exactly.

Adam and I met in college and I remember when I found out that we were born on the same day, I was floored. At that time he was the only person I'd ever met that had the same birthday as me. Like it was inconceivable to me that someone else could've also been born on September 27th.

I was even more shocked when I went to Adam's house and noticed that he, like me, set his clock 14 minutes fast.

Freaky, right?

I called him when I was done with lunch.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said.

I told him I was coming over to his house and that he was making his blog debut on Day 182 and we were celebrating our half birthdays.

I walked to Cupcake in Mt. Pleasant and bought four cupcakes, all different flavors.

"Happy Half-Birthday!" I shouted when Adam answered the door. It's a good thing we're such good friends, because he probably would've thought I was insane otherwise.

He happily supports my crazy ideas and though he's never said so, I know he would do anything to support the blog, even if it meant celebrating a non-holiday and eating cupcakes on Sunday afternoon.

We blew out the candles and made a wish. I wished that the next six months would go slowly and that when they were finally over that I would be level-headed about it. And that I would become more interesting and more beautiful when my real birthday did arrive.

I'm a greedy wisher, what can I say?

We ate our cupcakes, which were amazing, and then I had to return to Atlanta to get started on the second half of this challenge.

Happy Half-Birthday to me! And to Adam! And to Project 29 to 30!

Day 127: Lucky Star

Day 127 had arrived and like many Mondays, I had no idea what the blog activity was going to be. I cut it close. Truthfully, I was in full-on planning mode for Day 128’s thing I’ve never done before, that I forgot about Day 127.

Just before 7pm, Justin came through with the winning suggestion. “Why don’t you name a star?”

I like the idea of owning a piece of the constellations, but I can’t really name a star after myself.

The only star that I want named after me will be the one on the Hollywood Walk of Fame after I star in the Lifetime original movie, Project 29 to 30, (co-starring Meredith Baxter Birney, who will dye her hair brown and play my mother).

So, I decided to buy this star for someone else. But who was worthy of such an "out-of-this-world" gift?

My friends would appreciate it, but likely just for five minutes and only as a joke. My parents would chastise me spending my money on something so ridiculous.

And then it became clear. My 7-year old "niece," Karson. Karson is my childhood best friend Danielle's daughter. She's not really my niece, but I love her as if she was and she's the only person I can think of that would appreciate it this as much as I did.

Karson will always be special to me because I was in and out of the hospital room when she was born and she's a redhead despite her parents both being brunettes (like me). And she's hilarious. And she adores me. Because I'm her aunt and not her mom, I let her do whatever she wants, but since she has the same hair color as me, when the three of us are together, people assume she's mine and that I'm a bad mother.

I logged on to the site http://www.nameastarlive.com/, where I quickly realized there are several levels to star naming. For $19.95, you can name the star, register the star’s name, and launch the star’s name and message into orbit. For $39.95 you can do all of that and get a cuddly teddy bear. What? Karson has plenty of teddy bears and I found these two things to be completely unrelated and just another way to charge me more money. I think $19.95 is plenty.

The fact that I was even on this site was a big step, because I really hate everything that has to do with space. I realize this is completely un-American of me, but I feel better just getting it out in the open. I know that there is value to NASA, I just don't know what it is and when anything involving shuttle launches, landings, the International Space Station comes on the news, my eyes glaze over and I check out.

I named the star Karson, and said, "I'm so proud of the sweet, funny, smart girl you are. You're a star!"

And she is.

I texted her mom, and said, "You're never going to believe what I just did. I bought Karson a star!"

Danielle loved it and thought it was sweet. I hope she doesn't think it's less sweet because now I'm writing about it on the blog. She called me when Karson opened it and said she's not sure if she really gets it. But she said Karson collapsed on her bed in surprise when Danielle told her what it was. I'll take that as a success. A success that was captured on video, but for reasons far beyond our comprehension (like space), unfortunately cannot be sent from Danielle's phone.

If I had an unlimited amount of money and didn't have to go to work, I would make this blog about doing nice things and buying unexpected gifts for people, because there is truly no better feeling than surprising others with random acts of kindness. It's somewhat selfish, actually, because I'm sure that $20 star probably gave me more joy than it gave Karson. And I hate space!