I am not an app person (except for Doodlejump; goodness, I love it). So when my son started getting into them, I was both perplexed ("how does that...work?") and nervous (what if he spends too much money? what if he fills up my entire phone? what if I look away for a second, and all of a sudden he's being shown NRA ads during commercial breaks?). But it turns out that the apps my son gravitates towards are amazing - so amazing that we literally spend hours (!) every single weekend (and, ok, some mornings, before my daughter wakes up) laying in bed playing them.

Consider this a PSA. Your kids will love these, and so will you.

Super Brain. This app asks you to solve riddles that require abstract thinking and somehow are equally suited to an eight-year-old and...me. I can actually feel myself growing smarter with this thing (and the fact that my son is way better than me at it is both depressing and wonderful).

Selfie

I have always, despite any supporting evidence whatsoever, been wholly convinced that - if put to the task - I'd be fully capable of giving someone a decent haircut. I mean, I've gotten my hair cut! A lot! Doesn't that qualify me to take on the role of a actual trained human whose actual profession is haircutting?!

Yeah, so the first real haircut (apart from the baby years) I gave my son didn't go so well. I thought it was okay, or at least okay-ish, but then he arrived at my house a few days later with markedly different hair. Kendrick, it appeared, had been a little bit horrified by the state of his son's head and had taken matters into his own (or, rather, a professional's) hands.

Maybe shopping will make the feelings go away! 

Here's a sad fact for you: The actual most exciting moment in my day is when I hear the UPS or Amazon Prime delivery dude coming down the street. (Related: Yesterday my daughter whirled around, glared at me, and said "MOM. WHEN WILL THE CORONAVIRUS BE OVER?" ...Same, my love. Same.)

Anyway, here are some extremely affordable and truly wonderful purchases that I've discovered over the past few weeks (hooray for shopping-related dopamine hits! #whateverworks).

My heart.

When we found out we were expecting our first child nearly nine years ago (!) I was unprepared to the point of near-lunacy. I ended my club-girl partying days approximately one second before we decided to try for a baby, lived in a one-bedroom fourth-story walkup with holes in the floor and an oven that wanted to kill us, and had exactly zero friends with children (in addition to having no siblings or immediate, close-by family members with kids).

The second time around, I was better prepared. I knew to advocate for myself. I knew that PPD was a real thing, and that I was likely to have it. I knew what I needed (diapers) and what I did not (10,000 newborn-sized onesies).