Daycare WTF, or Why Other Parents Are Crazy

Luke's class at daycare exchanged Valentines today which, whatever. They're all under age 2--like they have any clue what a holiday is in the first place, much less one like Valentine's Day. I still went out and bought some cute Pooh and Tigger valentines, filled them out, and sent them in with him this morning. Imagine my surprise when he came home with a bag FULL of cards that fell into one of the following three categories:

-fancy schmancy homemade cards complete with google eyes (hello, choking hazard) and glitter.

-cards attached to candies a toddler shouldn't be eating (like suckers and conversation hearts) even if you're the type to give your toddler candy in the first place.

-store bought cards from parents like me who clearly don't feel the need to be an overachiever for a toddler Valentine's Day party.

I'm sorry, but WTF is with two-thirds of these parents? I can see making homemade cards if you're into scrapbooking and have some free time on your hands, but who doesn't realize that the crap you're gluing on said card could choke one of the recipients? The hard candies I just don't get. We don't let Luke eat candy at all, but it really worries me that some of these parents apparently think that a Blow Pop is an appropriate treat for an 18 month old.

Thankfully his teachers gave out nice age-appropriate cards that included every toddler's favorite thing in the whole wide world, stickers. Still, I can't quite wrap my brain around these other parents. WTF, moms and dads?

A Hefty Dose of Reality

This afternoon I hosted a baby shower for a dear friend who's about to have her second child. Most of the invitees (including the mom-to-be) have kids around Luke's age, so the shower morphed into a playdate involving 9 adults and 6 kids under 3.

Rather than get into all the messy details, let's just say that my house is covered in stickers, there are mysterious stains on the living room rug, my TV has sticky fingerprints all over it, and Luke went to bed half an hour early because he was so exhausted from all the activity. If this is what it's like to have a big family, I am officially ruling out more than one kid after Luke.

Things that are new

I keep meaning to update my blog, if only so I'll be able to look back at it years from now and remember what Luke did a X years and months old. Then I get distracted by grading, eating, or (more often) trashy TV and blogging just gets pushed to the back of my "To Do" list for yet another day.

Not tonight, though. Tonight, I blog because there are just too many cute new things Luke is doing right now for me to put this entry off any longer.

Cute Thing the First:
Luke is learning new words and phrases every day (really, today's was--"yellow ball, blue ball" complete with pointing at balls that were, in fact, yellow and blue) but the cutest by far lately has been "um". I've tried getting him to say it on camera and he gets too interested in the camcorder to focus on anything else, so you'll just need to take my word for it that, in between half-real words and half-nonsensical babble, he now punctuates almost every sentence with "um". The other night he was getting impatient with how slowly I was turning the pages on his bedtime book and started saying, "Um, um, um" while pointing at the next page as if to say, "Um, not to be rude Mom, but can we speed this up?" CUTE!

Cute Thing the Second:
Along with "um" Luke has picked up shrugging. I'm sure another kid at daycare does it and Luke is just succumbing to toddler peer pressure, but OMG the cute! The best part is that while he does plenty of just-because shrugging, he's also frequently using it in the correct context. This morning we asked him if he wanted to eat another bite of waffles, he shrugged, said "Um" and babbled for a minute before shoving a piece in his mouth. CUTE!

Cute Thing the Third:
Luke loves to talk on the phone. Absolutely loves it. It started last month when Juan was working long hours and wouldn't see Luke at all Monday-Friday. It was hard on all of us to have him gone so much, and our nightly phone call with Daddy became something Luke really looked forward to. He wouldn't just listen to Juan talk, either. Oh no, my son monopolized the conversation with his own very elaborate (nonsensical) stories. We now talk to Grandma and Grandpa on the phone, Mama on the phone (when I'm the one working late), and of course, Elmo on the phone. Or at least that's who Luke says he's talking to when he picks up one of his toy phones (or toys that kind of look like phones) and starts talking. He even says, "Hello?" when he puts it up to his ear. CUTE!

Cute Thing the Fourth:
You wouldn't think that Luke's picky eating would be cute, but it is. Don't get me wrong, it drives me nuts, but some of his finickiness is just hysterical. Take pizza. If you call it pizza, he won't touch it. Call it "bread with sauce" and he'll eat as much as you'll give him. That's when he's not insisting that it's really "pa-tah" (pasta). CUTE!

I could go on and on, but I have to save something for my next entry, don't I? So I'll leave you with a picture of the (do I need to say it?) cute boy from Christmas.

Just to be very clear about this

1993--C babysits by herself for the first time, the microwave explodes.

1997--C is left home alone over the weekend for the first time, gets in her one and only car accident.

1998--C is left home alone over the weekend for the second time, the car survives but she is evacuated by a SWAT team because the crazy neighbors started threatening one another with guns.

2005--C is left home (albeit only for the day--I debate lumping this story in with the others because Juan was just at the library studying) and the building across the street from the condo catches fire and burns almost to the ground.

2008--C is left home alone with Luke over two consecutive weekends and manages to not only have her car battery unexpectedly die in a Wal-Mart parking lot, BUT, almost loses three years worth of pictures, music, lessons, and OH YEAH THAT NANO THING when the baby dumps an entire cup of coffee all over her laptop.

Needless to say, I don't have a good track record when it comes to staying home by myself. Thankfully (for today, at least) the laptop started working again when it had been dried out and cleaned up a bit, and all the data I needed on it has now been backed up several different places just in case it's waiting until the next time I'm alone to off itself in a more permanent way.

Mother's Day: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

My first Mother's Day was wonderful. The three of us celebrated yesterday since Juan was working today, and Luke and I spent the "official" day together shopping, playing, and enjoying each other. It was a great day, but a rather eventful one for a number of reasons.

The Good: Luke was sitting on my lap playing with a stuffed toy and he kept pushing it at my mouth. After three or four nosefulls of Lamaze firefly, I finally realized that he wanted me to kiss the toy. I always make a game of having his toys kiss him (complete with big "MWAH!" sound effects) and he was mimicking me. He's never done that before, and he started cracking up as soon as I started giving the toy kisses. He'd put it near my mouth, I'd give it a big "MWAH!" kiss, and he'd laugh. Then I'd laugh, which would make him laugh harder, and so on and so forth. I think it was the first time we've shared a laugh like that, and it was wonderful.

The Bad: My grandmother isn't doing too well, and I'm really worried about her.

The Ugly: We got the green light from the pediatrician to start Luke on table foods, but I'm not sure he's ready. We tried two different Stage 3 (meaning small chunks of soft foods mixed in with purees) foods today and he gagged and vomited on both of them. He clearly has major issues with texture, and part of me wonders if he's just not ready yet. The other part, of course, thinks that it's very likely that he needs to continue to try new textures (he did okay with just one or two small pieces mixed in with a more runny puree) or else he'll never get used to them.

So, that was Mother's Day.

The only thing keeping me from crying today makes me want to cry

I'm having a rough week. My students have been acting out for substitutes lately and (of course) I have a mandatory training off-campus all day tomorrow so there's going to be yet another sub coming in. Combine that with a grant application deadline that's looming, a lingering cold, and some very wakeful nights with Luke and I'm just miserable. It's a miracle I haven't fallen asleep or burst into tears in class, that's how tired and miserable I feel right now. All that's keeping me going right now is the knowledge that Juan doesn't have to work this weekend so he can take over parenting duties while I take some much needed naps, and that makes me feel even worse.

After all we went through to have Luke I feel guilty for whining about how tired or stressed I am even though I know these thoughts don't mean I'm not incredibly thankful to have him. I've seen some discussion about this guilt on parenting-after-infertility message boards, so I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. It's a "how dare I wish for a baby-free day when there are still so many couples out there who would kill for what I have" feeling that doesn't go away even though I know, intellectually, that being happy all the time just isn't realistic. I'm a new mom who hasn't had a decent night's sleep in over 6 months and has a full time job outside the home--it's not unreasonable for me to want a break from my life once in awhile. Try telling that to the little nagging voice in the back of my head, though.

I may have a nervous breakdown, but at least I have a stapler

I've spent a good 10 hours putting my classroom back together this week (suffice it to say that I am less than thrilled about how my sub took care of it) as a way of focusing my anxiety about going back to work on something other than actual work. Fretting about the decided lack of a stapler in my room was a lot more appealing than thinking too hard about the fact that I would be away from Luke for at least 9 hours a day starting on Monday. We put the finishing touches on things this afternoon, and now all that's left is for me to walk in there tomorrow morning prepared to lecture my heart out about the English Renaissance and Elizabethan sonnets. Either that, or I'll break down in tears before the first bell rings. Who knows.

One Week Left

One week from today I'll be back at work. I'll leave Luke with my parents (who generously offered to come down to help ease me back into the workplace by providing childcare for my first work week) pull out of the garage, and head back to the classroom. I'll be perfectly honest here and say that part of me is really looking forward to it. I've missed teaching, missed my colleagues, and missed having adult (well, semi-adult--I do teach teenagers, after all) conversations during the day. But... I won't be with my boy all day anymore. I won't get to see his smile a dozen times before breakfast, won't be able to spend endless hours playing with him, and won't be the one to provide everything he needs 24/7. That last one is hitting me particularly hard today. One of the most overwhelming things about new motherhood is how much you're needed all the time, and while it can be a shock to the system in the beginning, I really do love how much Luke needs me.

My favorite part of staying at home has been that I've been able to be there for everything. Aside from the handful of times that I've left Luke with someone else for a couple of hours, he's gotten just about everything he could possibly need from me. Now I'm going to have to not only hand him off to a caregiver every morning, but I'm also going to have to come to terms with the fact that that caregiver will do the things I used to do between the hours of 8:00 and 4:00. She'll feed him, cuddle him, get him to take naps, love him, play with him, and be everything he needs her to be. There's a big part of me that really doesn't want anyone else to provide those things for him even though I know that he'll be fine, he'll still need me, and that it's good for him to learn how to trust people outside of our immediate family.

So if I'm not very talkative for the next week, it's because I'm soaking up every last minute of these few days Luke and I have left together. They're precious to me, and even though I'm looking forward to returning to work, I'll probably always second guess my decision to go back because it means letting him need someone else.

Wow. Mommy guilt really sucks.

We're not having a good week. Luke started a bottle strike over the weekend (he'll reluctantly take one from me, but not from anyone else) and I found out yesterday that our daycare center won't be able to take him in December after all. Add this to the stress I was already feeling about going back to work, and I'm kind of a wreck at the moment. The guilt I'm feeling about this--about knowing that he won't eat if I'm not around and that we're now having to make some tough decisions about who will care for him in just a month--is tremendous. I've never felt like this before, and there's a rising sense of panic thrown in with the bone-crushing guilt because at least the bottle issue has to be resolved quickly. Quickly, as in tonight or tomorrow because I'm going to parent/teacher conferences Thursday night and Luke will be staying with a sitter and Juan. I don't know how I'm going to sit there and make small talk with parents and kids I've never met before if I know that my baby is probably hungry and crying at home because he doesn't realize that people who aren't Mama can give him the food he needs.

Aaaaand now I'm crying.

Motherhood is hard in ways I never imagined, and these issues are just two examples of the problems I couldn't have dreamed of only 11 short weeks ago. I honestly don't know what to do.

Grandma is wise

Back when my parents were here (a whopping 4 weeks ago--good grief, having a baby has totally distorted my perception of time since 4 weeks feels like 4 months right now) my mom told us an hilarious story about how when I was a newborn she and my dad made all of these little charts and graphs to try to figure out if there was any rhyme or reason to my behavior.

(I should add here that I was an incredibly difficult and colicky newborn, so I don't blame them for trying to figure out what made me tick and/or scream all the time)

Naturally, there was no method to the infant madness, and they gave up on the charts after realizing that I just did things when I darn well felt like doing them.

Well, guess what brilliant idea I had over the weekend? That's right, a lightbulb went off in my head and I thought "Hey, let's chart Luke's meals, naps, and moods so we can figure out what his schedule is!"

I am such an idiot who needs to listen to my mother more often.

All week I kept Excel spreadsheets detailing Luke's every move. When he ate, when he slept, when he pooped, etc... Guess what I found? That's right, there's ABSOLUTELY NO PATTERN TO HIS BEHAVIOR WHATSOEVER.

Surprise, surprise, my newborn is acting like a newborn.

I did learn a few things, though, mostly about how I need to try to control his day a little less. I'm the queen of managing my own time down to the minute if I need to, and in college my friends used to tease me for being rigid about following my strategically planned day as outlined in my day planner. Life would clearly end if I took longer than 12 minutes to walk from my dorm to the student union back then. Now I need to realize that babies (and older kids) do things on their own time, and it's okay to relax a bit about the "schedule" and follow his lead on what to do and when to do it.

Mama Bear

I think I may be a wee bit overprotective of Luke.

Saturday Juan and I decided to make the looooong trek out to Babies R Us because we had some good coupons and "needed" to buy a few things for the baby. What can I say, we wanted to get out of the house and decided that spending oodles of money on baby toys was as good an excuse as any for a 45 minute drive.

In any case, we packed up the diaper bag, strapped the boy in his carseat, and piled in the car. Juan in the driver's seat, Luke in the back, and me...right next to Luke. "How long are you going to keep riding in the back with him?" Juan asked me. I confess, I thought about answering "Forever" but decided that was probably not what he wanted to hear.

The truth is, I don't especially enjoy riding in back with the bulky carseat, especially since you have to be a contortionist just to get the seatbelt buckled. There's also a lot less elbow room than I prefer, and Juan and I rarely talk much when I'm back there. And yet... I can't shake the feeling that I need to be next to him. Just in case he needs me. Truthfully, Luke would be just fine if I was in the front. After all, no one is sitting next to him when he and I go out on our little adventures during the week and he does just fine. When I have the option of sitting back there, though, I have to do it.

"I don't know, maybe another month" I said after a long pause to consider Juan's original question.

Anyway, the trip was made, baby toys were purchased, and I rode in the backseat with the baby on our way home.

Then yesterday I surprised even myself by reaching a new level of overprotectiveness.

Juan was working all day but it was very slow at the hospital so "working" became "watching TV in his office while twiddling his thumbs." I was going a little stir crazy at home with the baby, so around 4:00 we hopped in the car and went to go visit Daddy at work. We ate potato chips, I watched some of the red carpet show while Juan played with Luke, and fun was generally had by all. Then the time came to drive home. Juan volunteered to take Luke in his car since I wanted to stop by the grocery store to pick up a few things we needed. I agreed, and as I pulled out of the parking lot I realized that this was the first time Luke had been in a car without me. It felt weird and, well, wrong even though he was with Juan. Juan's a careful driver, and in fact he's probably a better driver than I am if you wanted to compare, but it still didn't feel good to be in a different car than my baby.

Still, I wasn't going to be the mom who couldn't be separated from her kid for even 30 minutes. I was, however, the mom who insisted on staying just ahead of the car her baby was riding in for 20+ miles. I couldn't help myself. Juan didn't know what I was doing (though he does now since he reads my blog) but it somehow felt safer that I keep my car ahead of his during that drive. My gut told me to protect my baby, and that was the only way I could think to do it.

So yes, I'm in full-on Mama Bear mode. My dad has joked many times that there's a part of my mom's brain that is always focused on me and my sister, and now that I'm a mother myself I can finally understand exactly what that feels like. I just hope I can manage to loosen up a bit since I'll drive us all crazy if I don't.