My wish for my girls: find a partner.

As I type this, here is what my surrounds are like: 

• I'm in the living room watching TV that is inappropriate for children. CSI something or another. Blood, violence: not your Saturday morning cartoons. 
• The kids are screaming, crying and whining in the kitchen. 
• Their dad is taking care of it. Making breakfast, dealing with the aforementioned screaming, crying and whining. 
• I'm drinking coffee. Tuning it out, typing this. 

It's the weekend, and so starts our routine. We take turns waking up with the kids. I got up with the kids, this morning. We watched a movie & snuggled on the couch. As goes with our sleep patterns, since the ball & chain fell asleep a little after 9 - when he slept in to 9:30, he got more than an allotted and suggested 8 hours. Refreshed, he came down stairs and started making breakfast for the kids.

• He just came in and asked if I wanted a homemade pancake. 

We take turns in most areas. Though we have our roles and what we are good at - and we take the lead in those areas. He loves to cook, so dinner? He owns. I help clean up, but to be honest he is crazy about keeping the kitchen clean so he takes the lead. We typically take turns dealing with bath time. In the ways of balance, I make out in the dinner & bath routine. We use our powers (and obsessions) for good.

When it times to do a massive house clean, we take our areas. I'm the living room & dining room girl. He's the kitchen, bathroom & bedroom. He's obsessed. I don't fight it. Plus if I'm being honest, he doesn't clean the living room like his OCD kitchen cleaning self.

• He just came in, and delivered my pancake. Time out. 
• Time in. That was delicious. 

We are in the process of planning a vacation. He booked the main details (where, when, flights, hotels). I take care of the day to day plans. I worry about any organization to the lead up: packing, planning. I go over board: there are spreadsheets, outfit planning for the kids, supplies to acquire. I'm on it. Holidays? With the exception of a gift or two - I take the lead. I have lists, I shop sales, I work out shipping (when I don't forget), I get the deals - keep us under budget - which we don't actually have. But I keep us reasonable.

When the kids wake up at night, whoever wakes up first usually takes them in. It's typically him, mostly because he's a light sleeper. When we have babies, if I'm on maternity leave - I get them. With the exception of the weekend. Then, we take turns. Most times he insists on going for it. And never, not once, does he keep score.

Never, not once, will he bring up that he's washing dishes right now. He's likely going to take one or both of the kids to the gym with him at some point, this morning. To leave me in silence. I might clean up. I might not, I might continue to watch TV. It's hard to say.

I will end up brushing L's hair 9 times out of 10 over him. Because while no matter who does it - it's painful- it doesn't get me as frustrated as it does him.  Never, not once, will I care the snarl mayhem falls on me.

I deal with doctors appointments, school stuff, activities - in terms of sign up. The games or practices? He's in.  Something breaks, falls, needs to be hung - all me.

We need to move, and this happens often. I'm the details girl: coordinating, planning, tracking, planning (yea I meant to put that twice), new schools / classes / camps, new doctors, new everything? Me. Unpacking? Both of us.  Making the house a home? We both bring that... but I take credit for the design of said home. 

I'll never understand how single parents do it. Bottom line, but (almost) more than that? When it comes to parents who are together and one isn't involved? It's a major unsolved mystery. I quite honestly don't know how it's done. To have another able body in the house who doesn't participate?  I know I'm one of the lucky(iest) ones. I know that men like my ball&chain aren't the norm. I know that most every day, at least once a day, I am grateful to be the exception to the rule.

I want for my children to be happy & healthy. Forever. Beyond that? I want them to find a partner. I want them to be the exception to the rule. Whoever their partner may be, I wish for them to find a true partner.  One who they balance out with, because any other life would be unimaginable to me.  I may be one of the lucky(iest) ones, but I need them to have this. I need them to know it's possible.

I hope what "they" say is true, by growing up - seeing this reality - that they will know it's out there for them. I just hope they find it.

To do: steal this from the hospital

As I think about what to get a loved one for her baby shower, all I can think about is the most important gift no one ever gave me. A list of things to lift from the hospital.

Forget onesies, or "layette sets" as they are called. The endless newborn or 0-6 month old outfits. Spoiler alert: these only fit for up to 6 months if you are lucky. And if you have an 11 lb baby, guess what? Doesn't.Fit. Who needs another wash cloth (seriously, why did I get so many wash cloths)? Or a baby blanket (irony, to come). What I needed, what every mom needs, is a list of things that likely are the root of the jack up of medical bills. Listen, you are going to pay the price of a car (albeit used), you might as well get something out of it. Yes, I know you are getting a baby - but last I checked it's not for making the baby. It's for taking the baby out. What kind of racket is this?

Here is my list of must haves. Get yo sticky fingers on.

• Binkies.
  Grab as many of those blue baby binkies as your pockets can hold. With our first, we walked out with one - maybe two. There are too many close calls to count. You need to have more than one blue hospital nuks. End.of.story. With our second? I could open an Etsy shop to peddle my extras.
•  A hospital blanket.
  See irony. The thing is, my babies are going to have "their" hospital blanket. Sure for our first we only grabbed one, and that may or may not have been the "one" that the dog got to sleep with and smell to get her used to the baby's smell. I love that when they get older I'll hopefully forget that part of the story and they'll have a blanket with the hospital they were born in stamped on it.
• Hats.
  With my first, I took none - and those bastards fit on any size head. With my second - I stocked up. SUPER convenient. Yea, I prefer a hat that has ears - but these were her everyday wear - when needed. You seriously never know when you'll need a hat. You bring these out, and if you lose one - no big whoop (if you lifted enough). 
• As.many.breast.milk.storage.bottles.as.you.can.carry.
  If you are going to pump, think you might, maybe  you will - hospital grade milk bottles are the way to go. End of story.
• Peri pads.
  I had to google their real name. They are the pads on steroids. It's gross, but you are gonna need them. Trust. 
• Squirt bottle.
  See above, even grosser - even more grateful I took it with me. Listen, birthing ain't pretty.
• Gold: diapers & formula.
  Most hospitals stock the baby's bassinet with formula & diapers. I thought of it as a hotel. If you take away the extras, they give you more. If you don't take away any, they don't give you any more. Use math here - and take away as much as you feel comfortable with. They restock. You stock up your bag.

I mean, it's not really stealing. The nuks I did totally swipe packaged ones that weren't used. But it's not like they can pass around supplies. With L, I didn't think about it - I just wanted OUT.   What am I missing from this list?

A mother's lot in life.

The kid got cotton candy at a basketball game, she wanted what she had left over (yeah, she likes cotton candy - even if it is stale) for dessert. And then, the story of a mother's life happened:

She would try to give JJ some of her cotton candy. JJ would refuse. JJ would scream and/or grunt in protest.

I would tell her to give it a rest. "Don't give her any, she doesn't want any."


She would try to give JJ some of her cotton candy. JJ would refuse. JJ would scream and/or grunt in protest.

I would tell her to give it a rest. "Don't give her any, she doesn't want any."


Rinse & repeat. 

Until.

"Maaaaammmmmooooooommmm! JJ keeps eating my cotton candy!" 

The kid had pushed her stale sugar on the baby long enough that she was into it and wanted more. Keep in mind that she never wanted the damn sweet treat to begin with.

Is it always going to end with I told you so? 

The day I was on time for school...

Disclaimer: If you follow me on the twitter or the 'book - my apologies. This is a rerun for you. I debated, do I tell this story again? The answer is yes. 

Wednesday was the first day back to work. I didn't take a lot of time off this holiday season, but enough. I was excited to get back into the routine, finish out this week with a strong start to the 2013. That was the plan.

The best laid plans. ALWAYS with the plans.

To start, I had a super busy day, a ton to do. Whenever I take time off, there is always catch up but particularly around holidays. I never finish it all before I sign off, and I always have a long list to do when jumping back in. Imagine my joy {sarcastic font} when I get a phone call from our au pair saying she missed her bus back to the Cleve. She went away for NYE. She was going to be home super late Tuesday night or super early Wednesday morning - however you want to break it down. The moral of the story is: she was going to be home by the time my work day started. With this curve ball, she'd be late - coming in around 11:30 - 12pm. I could work around that. But the morning; the morning is tough. It's one thing to get the kid ready, but add to that bringing JJ along it just requires more. More organization, more rushing, more scrambling, more chaos. I know, moms & dads all across America get their kids out the door everyday - but it's a pain in the ass. It's even worse when you are out of practice for a school day. School days add to it a whole other level of things to remember.

Is it gym day? She has to wear sneakers. Is it library day? Don't forget the book. Don't forget the lunch. And the drink. And the backpack. And the school folder she has to bring in everyday. Gloves. Mittens. Hat. FREAKING SO MUCH.

We are almost always late. Running to catch the bell & line up, or worst case scenario running in before they start their first class. So this fine day, with the amount of work I had to do, I also had to race the clock with two kids and get L to school. And it was gym & library day, so double the preparation.

We get on the road (for the 10 minute walk, 3 minute car ride... it's almost always the car ride - see previous comment about almost always being late) and we are going to be on time! I am Mother of the Year! 2013... I'm coming for you!

We get a wee bit closer to school and I suddenly am acutely aware that there is no one walking to school. There are no cars parked. The parking lots are free and clear of cars.

School.is.closed.

I immediately pull over and check out the school's website. Yup. Winter Break... through this week.

Follow up to this/ cause this wasn't the end... our au pair's flight got further delayed. I lost track of how many times. She took a train home, got off the wrong stop, had to walk who knows how long, and when she tried to call me her phone died. 2 hours later (14 hours after originally expected) a frozen Colombian who walked into the house after a who knows how long walk, in the snow & cold, with luggage. I'd say it was a pretty bag up day for us all. 

Unimaginable.

There is no question when a life is taken, at any age, it is sad.  That's not even the word.  Something like that, but worse. And harder.

But these children?

I was entrenched into a workday when news hit of this tragedy, this unimaginable horror in Sandy Hook, Connecticut. Blissfully, unaware. I came downstairs a little after lunch to learn about a school shooting. Terrible. Awful. Another. Why?

But then, but then I learned it's a class of kindergarten children, a first grade class? Babies. Babies like my baby.

I almost can't process this. I almost wish I couldn't. I want to be angrier, but I'm just too sad. Heavy hearted, in a way that I would describe as unimaginable, but how can I? My babies are here with me. To be a parent, to lose your baby at anytime, it's unimaginable.  That's not even the word.  Something like that, but worse. And harder.  But like this? Senseless. That's not even the word. Something like that, but worse. And harder.

I don't want to watch the news. But I need to watch. I need to know why. Not that why will make sense. Not that there is a reason or explanation. What was the catalyst? Not that it would even matter, but that's where my head is at.  My youngest is napping as I type this and my oldest is at the gym with her daddy. And during this time of quiet there are lists of things I should be doing, and of all the things in the background I choose this horrifying coverage. I'm almost unable but to take in anything else, because I need to know the how and why.  Which is ridiculous. That's not even the word. Something like that, but worse. And harder.

And do we talk to L about this? Of course not, my gut, heart & head scream to me. But what if she asks me about it. What if someone else in her class has a parent that didn't shield her from this. What then?

Side note, as I looked for the answer: I found Cool Mom Picks collected some online resources on talking to your kids (or not).

I don't know how this doesn't change a person, however far, far on the outside I sit. Every moment right now, seems like a reminder. When my baby comes home she's a reminder. I'm reminded to keep this community, and all those parents beyond this moment who have lost a child, in my heart. And as heavy as my heart truly is, there is this massive conflict I feel. Because I am bursting with overwhelming joy.  I'm reminded to be thankful. She's a blessing, she can come home. And I will continue to hold on to that, everyday - forever more.  She'll be coming home.  The alternative is unimaginable. That's not even the word. Something like that, but worse. And harder.

Kitchen renovations

Do you remember those catalogs of toys you would go through? I believe it was Toys"R"Us and Sears or something? The paper was thin and with each category of toys there were be a new color bar at the top. It was glorious. I wish my kids would be able to experience this. Oh, the JOY of getting my grips on that mammoth catalog. It's sad. Now, there is an app for that. And frankly, let me be so bold as to say, Toys"R"us... it ain't great. You've saved all that paper - the least you can do is include the same amount of toys. It's all ads, not everything. I've been in a Toys"R"Us, I know.

Over Thanksgiving, the kid used the app to look through toys. It is neat to be able to just click a toy and put it on your wish list, or Santa's list as it were. I miss folding paper, and circling toys - but whatever. In going through her 98 selections, as she felt the need to speak for her sister, I noticed a few things.

• Two, count them, TWO motorized cars. Both for JJ, of course. 
• Countless princesses, some I'm fairly sure she has. 
• Games, many games, including but not limited to a gems like: Doggie Doo Game. True. Doggie.Doo. 
• A new play kitchen.

Some of these things I can easily talk her down from.

Me, "Babe, we are not getting cars for kids. That's not happening. I will let Santa know that. I override your list, true story."
Her, "Yea, maybe it's a bad idea. But it's what JJ wanted...."
Me, "No."
Her, "Ok."
Me, "Sweetie, we have that princess. We don't need duplicates of princesses, you know? Why don't you choose ONE princess to ask Santa for?"
Her, "Ok, Mommy."
Me, "Um. No. This game, no. This can't be for kids. It's for kids. Well, no."
Her, "Is it inappropriate? Does it say bad words?"
Me, "No. It's gross... sorry."
Her, "Ok, Mama."

The kitchen, she held onto.

Me, "Hon, we have a kitchen. Let's try to stick to things we don't have, just like the princesses, ok?"
Her, "Well, I don't have that kitchen."
Me, "No, but you have A kitchen."
Her, "Yea, but... my kitchen? Doesn't have a microwave. I NEED a microwave."
Touche, my dear. Touche. So guess what? Would you believe they sell TOY microwave? They do. And home girl is getting an add on, not a full on renovation.

I win. Santa wins.

Time travel, in real(ish) time

Ok. I'm ready to start talking about how my BABY is in Kindergarten. See also: holy.shit.

How did we go from that to this?

Here's what happened: we lived in the Northeast and because of the kid's birthday (end of September), she was in this weird purgatory where we could choose go to enroll her into Kindergarten for 2012 or 2013. The truth is: when we talked about it, we were always planning on a 2012 enrollment. Why? She's ready.  She's been ready.  More than being smart (and she's smart) she's (just about) the tallest kid it any circle she is in, she gravitates to the older kids, and always thrives with the oldest cats.Why would we hold her back? {insert argument for "redshirting" here. And then my favorite, nobody eeevvver regrets holding a child back.}

We moved to St. Louis and due to her birthday, the only choice was a 2013 enrollment.  We talked about sending her to private Kindergarten (spending money for cutting & the alphabet = crazy.town) because we knew we'd (eventually) be going back to the Northeast. Ultimately, all the reasons "nobody eeeever regrets holding a child back" are valid. She'd be the oldest, hopefully a bit more mature, and with more time - a bit ahead of the game when it comes to academics.

Who am I kidding? Forget the report card. I was thinking with more year, maybe she'd be less susceptible to peer pressures (pipe dream). I'm sure all the reasons that have to do with keeping a kid back, academically, have merit - but I wanted to hold her back to give her a year to grow (some confidence. Chutzpah. Balls. whatever).  She tends to be a people pleaser, more of a follower than a leader.  I know she's only four years old, but I believe her personality will have a red thread in it now - that will carry on throughout her life. Why not hold her back to give her more time? 

The bottom line: she's ready. I'm not ready. I can't hold her back because I'm nervous her 14 year old self will get sucked into an after school special with mean older girls and peer pressures that if only she was 1 year older she would have been able to handle {insert spiral of convoluted story that only I follow anyway}.

I was talking a friend about the move, before we left. She asked how I was doing, I said "fine, but freaking out..." and then explained the whole birthday cut off situation and how in addition to dealing with moving in 5 weeks, a few days after we arrive - the kid starts Kindergarten. I told her how I was freaking out, but I was getting better.  I laid out the whole birthday cut offs, St. Louis vs. Cleveland, etc, etc. I explained how I envisioned her preteen years and how I was being unreasonable and needed to relax. Her response?

"Oh.my.God. You're telling me her WHOLE life has changed, by this move? She's lost an entire year of her life! It's as if she had a personal day light savings time. Her life has been forever altered!"

To which I promptly had a silent panic attack. 

:: fast forward ::

A few days after we moved, I registered her for Kindergarten. The Friday before school began (Monday). Nothing says prepared like the day before school starts, signing your kid up for school. The thing of it was, while we were in Cleveland a few days prior to the day I registered, you have to make an appointment and needed specific paperwork to register. Friday was the soonest I could get in.

While I think the final count was 8 pieces of documentation, that ranged from proof of birth to proof of residency - I made sure I didn't waste any time. I brought every single piece of identifying paperwork I have. Passports, insurance, school loan paperwork, Baptism records, marriage certificate, car titles, warranties, etc - if I have it, it was with me.  Kindergarten registration was not going to get the best of me.

I walked in, fighting back tears (as you do), and got the job done.  Before the tears began though, as I walked in with my accordion folder, I was made.

"First child to go to Kindergarten, huh?"

I don't know what gave it away. The foot-wide folder of documentation, the fear in my heart, or the near tear eyes.

My first child is in Kindergarten. And not only is she ready, she's thriving. My little girl is blowing cutting and the alphabet out of the water. Me? I'm taking it one day at a time.

A "Who am I?" Moment

L was on the diving board line with a bunch of dirt bags (not really. young boys - maybe 8th grade?). They were horsing around (God. I'm old.) And that was fine. They were making lude gestures. Whatever, fine. But THEN they started spitting on each other. SO that's when mama got her sneakers on.

Me, "HEY. HEY! EXCUSE ME. If you are going to (long pause so I could talk myself out of using an F bomb) spit near my daughter, you (pause so I could talk myself out of using an F bomb) better have good aim! Cut it out!"

L, "Oh my god, this is happening. This can't be happening." - Not really, it's just what I think she was saying in her head.

Me, (to the lifeguard) "Are you going to DO anything about this?"

I then I explain that these punks are  horsing around (good lord, could I be older?), spitting on each other, and this isn't the place... and that's when I experienced an out of body experience.

Later that night, when replaying the event for a friend, L tells the story.

"These boys were spitting. One almost got me. Then Mommy was like, 'HEY EXCUSE ME DON'T YOU SPIT ON ME DAUGHTER!' Then she called the life guard over and said, 'These boys are spitting! These boys are spitting!!! These boys are spitting!"

There it is.  I yelled at someone else's kid. And alerted the lifeguard. My adolescent self had no idea.

Survival

So. We're moving. And this time seems to be exponentially more difficult than the first (million) time(s).  We love it here. I'm not sure when I'll post this, because right now the moving news isn't social media friendly - but we've known for 48 hours (ish) that we are moving for sure. 72 hours if you count the call giving the ball & chain the unofficial official news. (Edited to note: I wrote this two weeks ago).

We've started a Farewell Tour of the STL. Much different than our first farewell tour. The night we told L that we were moving we made a list of all the places we wanted to visit one last time or see for the first time, before moving. We got started, right away. We told her Friday night, only hours after receiving the news. If I know one thing about my kid is she needs to know what's going on and have a plan. I don't know where she gets that from (sarcastic font). Saturday afternoon we were off to the races. Well, not so much the races, but the farm, Grant's Farm.  It's one of our favorite places.

1. It's free (well parking is 15, but for the lot of us, it's free). 
2. It's fun. There are all kinds of random animals, a train ride to get to the farm, for 5 bucks you get to feed goats with two bottles, a carousel ride and a snow cone. It's like a mini-zoo with all kinds of animals. It's just good ol'fashion fun. 
3. It's owned by Anheuser-Busch- so you get two free samplings of beer. And it's on the honor system which I get a kick out of each and every time I think about it. We've never tested that honor, but I love that there are always the same two old men slinging beer behind a beautiful bar. 
4. You get to see Clydesdale horses. They are friggin huge. They are the horses from the Budweiser commercial. 
   
   

We had our fun. The train ride, the walking around (side note: I am going to miss a lot about the STL, the heat? Not one of them. Not by a long shot), we got attacked by goats, rode the carousel, saw the horses. Good times had by all. Oh, and of course, partook in some sampling. Lord knows I needed to "sample" the Bud Light. It was glorious.

When it was time to leave, I wanted to stop at the gift shop. We love Christmas ornaments and I thought perhaps there would be one that we could take with us. We have thought about it a few times, this is likely the very last time we'll be here. Most likely the last time in St. Louis, absolutely (likely) the last time we'll be at Grant's Farm.

We found the perfect ornament (good thing, cause there were only two choices) and as I walked to the cashier I noticed a pile of stuffed animals. You know how they place them right by the cashier so the whining kids throwing a fit get their way - spoiled to the hills getting to take home a stuffed animal they don't need?

Well my kid is well trained. Sometimes she'll ask, but it's always with the idea of testing the waters. She'll say, "I can't get a X, right?" So when we say she is right and the activity itself is the treat she doesn't throw a fit and knows that she gave it a shot. Nothing gained, nothing lost.

This time? She didn't even ask.

But me? A Clydesdale of her very own. I don't know if I'm going to survive this move. I'm sad. And to fill the hole in my heart, I'm buying stuffed animals. Apparently.

The best 9.99 I've ever spent, Jessie (the horse's name) came home with us and I get it now, why parents buy their kids crap while they are on location. It's adorable. It's a habit I'm sure we don't want to continue, but I'm not quite sure if I'll be able to help myself.

The Moment

The night we told L we were moving was a major moment for me. I didn't know it would be, until it was happening.

The ball&chain got the official word Friday night (Edited to note: a week or so before posting this). The kid likes to plan, and we like to have her be apart of the plan, so we told her hours after finding out. Knowing this was a possibility for the last few weeks, even if only a small possibility, we'd begun to talk about the inevitable move. If not for this situation we'd be moving on in a year or so. While I consider her the smartest damn 4 year old I know, she is 4. If she were older, she probably would have picked up on my (not so) subtle hints that something was brewing. Every once in awhile I would weave into conversation the topic of moving. The topic and conversation would be benign and would normally go a little like this.

Me: "L, what do you think? We will move someday - this isn't our forever home. It might be in a few months, maybe 6, maybe a year, maybe more. What do you think?"
Her: "I hope we move to San Diego."

Alas kid, San Diego is not in the cards, but at least I got her thinking about it.

The night we told her was this weird moment in time I don't know that I expected. As we told her about the exciting news, we were all smiles. We told her about Daddy's new job, that there would be less traveling, that we'd be moving like we did last time.  We told her about Cleveland and all the fun things to do. We told her that she'd help us look for a new house, that this time she would come with us to find our next home. She took it all in, all smiles. Then there was this moment, where I may or may not have been near tears. It all flashed in front of me. I realized that this is it. For real. And it was going to happen fast. Even though I have been mentally preparing that it was likely to happen, it now very was real. I started to think more about the first time we did this. And how hard it was for her. This was going to be worse. My little girl would obviously survive, but this wasn't going to be all smiles for her.

I am near tears, and it's at this moment, this weird moment in time I realize I've stopped looking so excited and she is staring me down. Trying to figure me out. Trying to figure out how she is supposed to feel; how is she supposed to react.

I identify being a mother probably more so than I identify with any role I have in life - but how weird is this: at that very moment in time I felt like a mother so clearly it was as if I never felt like a mom, parent, protector - ever. This little person, looking to me. Depending on me, on us.

Have I mentioned, I'm not going to survive these kids?

I'm going to do my best to smile my way through this hott mess of a situation, because she's watching. She's looking to us on what steps to take and I'd like them to be the easiest steps.

In related news: this parenting thing is freaking hard.

Walking Lessons

Mark the date. June 23, 2012, JJ walked. Here's how the events went down:

1. It looked like she was going to take a step. I took out my phone to get video. I didn't want to shout for an audience, because it would have startled her. I thought I got it on video, she walked back (or maybe fell) a few steps. Then I called for the crew. Unfortunately, I didn't get it on tape, but I did get a GREAT example of why it was a good idea to not scream across the house. I sound like a crazy man.
   
   
   
   
2. JJ took 2 or 3 steps, depending on how you count them - but the amazing-ness of capturing such a moment was ruined because I am whispering in the background to get the ball & chain's attention. And it's weird. Apparently he saw the whole thing but didn't want to "say anything." So he just let me repeat my creepy whispering the whole time, great. Good news? Youtube let's me put music over the whole damn thing so at least you can see the moment.
   
   
   
   
3. Directly after those video fails, I kept my finger on the trigger. And just as they say, third time's a charm. L talks through this whole walking situation with her baby sister. Best.Lesson.(and reaction)Ever. 
   
   

My favorite moment, 100%, is how excited L gets when it's happening. The belly laugh. The amazement. The every thing. I also love how she 'models' walking. I tear up at her giggles every.time.  In other news, it has been reported that she is working on a British accent. Do you hear it? It's all I can hear, now.

In related news, even more startling than having a daughter with Madonna syndrome? OMFG. JJ IS WALKING. 

Proud Mama

I know my girl is the bee's knees. When others know and tell me so, it warms my heart in a way I can't put into words. It's a pride that fills more than my heart; my whole body. In a crazy ass, mushy mush, tears well up (literally), sort of way. 

The other day L's camp counselor, who she was with last year and has been for a few weeks this summer, commented on her. She "had to mention" how great it is to have her back in camp.

"It's amazing how much she has changed. She's such a leader, this year. She's grown up, a lot, this past year."

People see and remark on her growth. It's not just me that sees it. 

Recently our neighbor stopped me, with the sole purpose to tell me what a good kid she is. That if JJ grows up to be anything like her big sister, she's off to a great start. She wanted me to know, L is "not only beautiful on the outside but on the inside. She is thoughtful, smart, confident and delightful. For her age? It is a wonder. She's mature and a joy."

She doesn't have a lot of interaction with L, but they say their 'hellos' - and she mentioned watching her play with her little sister and hearing her talk the way she does. I was taken aback. Tears started to well up and if not for my sunglasses on, I would have rushed into my house (even faster).  Who cries over kind words about their baby girl. This girl, right here. 

She ended with saying something about how we were doing a great job. I thanked her, for her kind words. Adding that we were "trying." 

"You're doing something right." 

We are. We are trying. And it's working. Maybe she isn't as doomed as sometimes I worry she is with us (me) at the wheel.

I learned it by watching you!

Me: "L, can you please help and pick up JJ's toys?"
L: "Damn it!"
Me: "What'd you say?"
L: {slowly} "Damn.It."
Me: "Where did you hear that?"
L: {confused look, perhaps} "I don't know."

I let it go for a few minutes. I didn't want to yell right away. I wanted to check in, figure out where she is learning this. It isn't us. I mean, an occasional shitake - I would believe. We usually scream some random word (like SPAGHETTI! or MATZO BALL) directly after to take attention away from the under the breath "shhhhiiittt" that sometimes escapes our lips. Nana Lu heard that on Oprah or Dr. Phil or maybe it was the Wendy Williams show. So you know, that's what we do now.  Sometimes we'll put in a totally innocent word in the right place with the right emphasis - missing the ability to freely curse. Some of my favorites:

• "That's some spaghetti!"
• "Mother FATHER." 
• "Oh my goose eggs."
• "Freakity Frack."

It does the trick in a pinch, but it's nothing like having the freedom to drop an F bomb with passion as it is intended. I imagine this is what it must be like for people who use those electric cigarettes. You probably feel foolish, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

But damn it? I checked in with her a few minutes later.

Me: "No, seriously, L. Who says 'damn it?'"
L: "Um. You, mama. I didn't know it was a bad word. I didn't know. You say it, mama. I didn't know. I won't say it again."

I mean, she might as well have screamed, "You, alright? I learned it from watching YOU!"



Spaghetti, this is some Mother FATHER matzo ballz.

The beginning. The spiral.

My baby is four years old. She's not a baby, but she's my baby and I don't know how I will survive her.  She's a caring little lady. She's funny. She's smart. She's mine. She's ours.  She's loving. She is the best big sister, I think that was ever made. She lights up whenever she plays with her little buddies. She loves to make new friends and is thrilled every time she meets a new little playmate. She is, as you can imagine, the best.

She is sensitive. She feels things so deeply. She's a people pleaser. She wants everyone to like her. It's scares the shit out of me. Do I want her to be a bull? No. But with some balance, I want her to be herself. I find, that she goes with what other kids do. She's really fixated on friends now a days. It started a few weeks ago. "Mama, is Jez your best friend? Is Liza? Who was your best friend when you were a little girl? What do you mean you have many best friends? What do you mean, Daddy is your best friend? He's your HUSBAND, he isn't your best friend."

Sigh. 

She comes home from the park and will say, "Mama, I met a new best friend!" She doesn't remember her name.  Or we'll go for a bike ride and she'll pass a little girl she once played with at a totally different park and say, "Oh look - she could be my best friend!"

I try to explain, best friends will come in time. It's good to be a good friend to people, and they good friends to you. That not everyone will like you and you may not like everyone - but we're always respectful and kind. I try to explain that through out my life I have had many different groups of friends and some of my very best friends I haven't spoken to in weeks, some even months - but we love each other and we've been there for each other and we'll be there for each other. I might have gone over her head on that one. But we try to be honest, even if it's awkward and it usually is.

It's starting to spiral.  

The kid used to play at least once a week with some kids on our corner over the summer. Our au pair was friends with their nanny.  I remember before our au pair left she said, "Please make sure they still play!" And I said of course; I meant it. I tried to keep the connection. I really did. I waved when we saw them. I texted a few times. Just the other week we texted and she said we'd get the kids together, she'd look at the calendar and I never heard back. And every day my little girl would ask, "Are we going to play with them today?" And everyday I would explain I hadn't heard back yet and we couldn't really just show up. We saw them the other day, with their parents. There was a block party and we stayed for as long as we could but it was awkward. Do the kids not love our little girl the way they should? WHY NOT? I don't understand it. How can her little heart get it? The parents have their friends. The kids have theirs. And our little girl just wants a god damn best friend. Awk.WARD. We left that day and on the way home she realized she didn't really say goodbye. She.lost.her.mind. How do you tell your hurting little, tantrum throwing, girl that they just aren't that into her. 

Heart.Wrenching.

Yesterday, she got home from school. We asked the normal questions, "How was your day? What did you do?" The ball & chain mentioned to me she seemed near tears. She was sad. I tried to talk to her, but she said she didn't want to talk about it. 

A little while later, quietly, she started to tell a story. Timid. Scared to tell me. 

"Will* said he wasn't my friend, anymore. And then I asked Timmy* and he told me that maybe he was still my friend."

And.I.Die.

Not in a cute, isn't that adorable kind of way. 

Today she came home. I asked the normal questions "How was your day? What did you do?" I had to ask. "How were things with Will?"

She started to tell me. Timid. Scared to tell me. 

"I told him I was sorry... cause I asked him a million times. Why won't you be my friend? Cause I don't understand." 

How in the hell do I help her? How can I protect her from this disappointment? At the very least, help her deal with this sadness. I certainly can't handle it, how can her little heart? 

*Names have been changed to protect the stupid bastards from MY best friends. Even if they may or may not be 5 years old.

Clear Thinking

A girls day out at the zoo - don't let the photo fool you -
JJ WAS having a really good time before I broke for a photo op.

The end is near. No, I'm not talking about The Rapture.  As I write this, the countdown is ON. 1 (very short) week from yesterday is the last night of my maternity leave. Depending on timezones, one might say even less by the time I press publish.

First, let's get the disclaimers out of the way:

• We are a blessed family in all kinds of ways - including having two happily working parents. We love our jobs, the companies we work for, the things we do and who we work with.
• I'm happy to be able to have a job to go back to. 
• My maternity leave + vacation time brought us most of the way through the 4 months I am able to take advantage of. The remainder, while unpaid, we made it work.  Planning ahead as best we could and changing our plans made it work. Missing a visit home, that sucked. Not falling down the Target hole of spending, yeah that was easy (enough).  That said, I have a sneaking suspicion after the holidays? Target is going to get hit hard by yours truly. Bam.

Are we clear? Good.


I am excited to go back to work, to get started on some projects that I know are going to be on my plate and the possibility of the projects in the future.  My job is something I have been trying to work on for years. I'm lucky. And if I may be so bold, more than luck? I worked hard. I work hard.

Are we clear? Good.

Let me also make it clear the last few months have been special. Beyond special.  With L, the experience was tainted. For a month, we went through the hardest in our life (thus far, and if I may be so bold - I'm all set with levels of hard times).  When we got home things moved so quickly - family and friends came and went, our au pair arrived sooner than it turned out we needed help and the next thing I knew the adult to baby ratio was 3:1 and life was different. It was important to me this time that things were different than the first time around.  The last few weeks it's just been me & my girls. Of course we had the family come and go and some serious help for the first few weeks but this time was different. Success.  For the last few weeks it's been me & my girls.  Some days were more tiring than others and without my baby daddy I may have gone mental.... but when I look back at our blessings - the last few weeks shine. Even though as I type this I'm fairly certain I have some dried puke on my shoulder. It's been a refocusing time - spotlighting what really matters.

Next week, I'm back to work but I'll do all it takes to stay focused so that when it's time to shut down I can do so.  And make sure I still get to spend times with my family, because they are what is important. And while I won't be with my girls during the day - like I can be now - I'll be able to focus on them with a different kind of energy.

Are we clear? Good.

Disclaimer: I reserve the right to review this here post when or if things get foggy. No one is perfect, least of all me.

And then I said to myself, "Self - if history repeats itself - you are doomed."

I have this memory of a girl scout trip, when I was younger. I'm going to guess 4th grade. I could call my mom on this one and get the details, but I'll tell you what I've pieced together. {Warning: this story is likely going to zig zag. But if you stay with me (read it slowly and not scoff at the possibility you may need to re-read) and follow me - it's going somewhere.}

Anyway, I was young - a little kid.  We were going out on boats - it might have been a school trip maybe not girl scouts? There were canoes.  I was friends with sisters, they were twins  (well they still are- that's how that works) and I wanted to sit next them or be in their boat (if you can't tell it's a little foggy).  Innocently enough, the boat was full or perhaps they were like, "Hell no we won't sit next to you." Either way, my feelings were horribly hurt and I'm fairly certain I cried about it. Like wailed and freaked out about it.  I was always a pretty sensitive kid. This story is just one freak out moment I had (of many).  Things upset me. Big or small - it was always a lot to me.

As the stories (still) go, I'd often find myself running to the bathroom at my grandparent's house, locking myself in the bathroom - you guessed it, crying. "She's so sensitive."  they would say.  Yeah, I'm sure it had nothing to do with the tension you could cut with a rusty knife, parents that clearly no longer liked each other or a grandmother that gave body issues & self esteem neurosis out instead of kisses.

Yeah, so I guess I'm sensitive and a wee bit sharp on the defensive.

The point is this: I felt things deeply and some might say out of proportion with the reality of the situation.

I remember having friends, but I also remember in middle school trying WAY too hard.  I remember being nervous (as I am now) when trying to make friends, or being awkward in social settings.  I never liked to feel left out, but often did.  I may not remember specific details, but I remember feeling sad beyond sad and gutted. All of these memories; why am I reliving them now?

L has started being more sensitive.  I see her putting important stock in the friendships she makes and how relationships go. I see how much she feels and how deeply she feels those feelings. She is sensitive to how we say things, what words mean and how they make her feel.  I see myself.* 

I barely survived adolescence - now I have to go through it again with not one but two daughters.

Somewhere in-between middle school and high school things started to shift.  Though it's around this time hormones kicked in so my sensitive woes turned into sharp tongued attitude.  I also remember my mom spouting something, I suspect I will (beyond my control) repeat: "I hope you have a daughter just like you - that gives you just the same crap you give me." Consider the curse underway, Mom. While things got (slightly) better, it wasn't until college that things leveled off for me.  In college I think I eventually found my way. As young adults do, they begin to find some sense of prospective. If history repeats itself? She isn't going to be off to find her way for another 15 years.*

I remain a sensitive person, but depending on the setting I (would like to think I) have better control over it.  In some sick twist of the universe (or curse, thanks again, Mom) ever since I had L I cry like the "good ol'days" at a drop of a hat.  At first it was the go to statement to say, "baby hormones." But years later? It isn't that, anymore. Now, when do I get hit the hardest? When my baby girl hurts. It's like that sad beyond sad and gutted feeling magnified beyond comprehension. She's (only) 4 people. I do not honestly know if I will make this.* 

*Read: I'm screwed.

Need your baby to sleep? Put them in a dirty bag.

Pre-sleep smiles

September 27th: We put JJ to sleep as we normally did. Some cuddles, I nursed her, topped her off with a little formula and a cozy PJ. Just a normal bedtime routine, though the PJs were a new addition.

Another hand me down from her big sister - maybe that's why L's sleep good juju took over. That night, JJ slept 7 hours. SEVEN STRAIGHT HOURS. Glorious. Do you know what 7 hours feels like after months of not have 3-4 hours of sleep? It's amazing. I was a new woman.

September 28th: Listen, if it isn't broke don't fix it. We Groundhog's Day that baby. Same routine. Same amount of formula. Same PJs. What? She didn't run a marathon? She didn't leak through her diaper- why not just throw on the sleep sack again?  That night, she slept 6 straight hours. 

September 29th: See September 28th.

(rinse & repeat)

October 8th: It's been over a week and it's been working. JJ is sleeping anywhere from 6-7 hours straight at night and it's glorious. Not so glorious? The PJs. There remained unwashed. Listen - would you tell a winning football player to wash his jersey before the series play offs? (I know, different sports - I did that for effect.) The ball & chain had a harder time putting her in the crusty PJs night after night. Me? Not so much. Of course, I would have washed it if she had an accident in them - but beyond that? What's a little drool, spit up and wear between friends? When the top started to get cardboard stiff - he started talking about washing our lucky PJ. I put it off for as long as possible. Finally, reason (and the husband) won - and we put her in a 'similar' pair of PJs.  The warmest ones we had because we are convinced it's the fact that she is toasty and warm that lets her sleep. 

A substitution that work

October 9th: I'm pissed. I was up all damn night with the kid - every 2-3 hours. It isn't being warm. It's the magic of the sleep bag. It's warm, like a blanket but there needs to be more. Maybe but the fact that it's a bag bottom - she has the freedom to kick around. I don't know if it's the 8 day old drool on the damn thing that lets her sleep - but what I do know is we need another sleep bag because we need her to wear these PJs everyday.

We spent our day driving around looking for a complimenting PJ.  Keeping in mind the original is circa 4 years ago it wasn't easy. We found a Babies R Us and Target that carried the sleep bag - but at two different levels of thickness. We kept the thicker one and now have her wearing that one or the original.

True story: the more worn (some might say dirtier) the PJ is, the sounder she sleeps.

True story: If it were up to me, we'd wash the sleep twins less.

What is in a name?

I realize there are questions both from friends & family and those reading what in the what does JJ stand for and how'd we get there. Like I did for L, I'll explain. 

Truth: we accidentally made life a wee bit harder on our girls - right out of the gate.

Good news: It will (hopefully) build character.

My girls will likely never be able to be out and about and buy a souvenir with their name on it.  Whoops. Sorry. But really, who needs a key chain with their name on it? More good news? There is always etsy.com; they can get their personalization on in other ways.

L's name is common, but spelled in a different way. Is it on purpose that it is spelled in an uncommon way? No. It just sort of happened. I feel for her, really I do - but it is what it is. And to be fair, her name was a name in my head before it was cool again. I'm ahead of the trend, who knew? She will forever have to spell her name out, first AND last. And the last? It's a doozy. JJ is no different. Sorry, kid. But we couldn't leave it just for your sister.

True story: we had 2-3 names for a boy or a girl that we were talking about for months. NONE of which were what we ended up naming JJ. For the first two weeks JJ joined the family, I had to say her name out-loud, a lot, because I wasn't used to it yet.

The girls names we talked about, we still love.  I feel pretty strongly that one of the names, in particular, is coming; she just isn't here yet. {Spoiler alert: we hope to have three - and while I would love a little boy - I feel like we'll have another little girl} We spent months talking about these names but there was something that told us we hadn't said "THE" name just yet.  The Wednesday before JJ was born (who was born on a Monday) we threw all the names out and decided to consider other names.

The ball & chain threw out the name Jocelyn ...which gave way to J0ss as a nickname.

Facts:

1. J0ss really spoke to me,  I LOVED it. 
2. Jocelyn, not so much.  I actually have pretty strong feelings against Jocelyn (not as a general rule on the name - just for our kid).
3. The nickname I had intended for L didn't go the way I thought it would last time so I'm hesitant.
4. I have pretty strong thoughts about names.

I couldn't get "J0ss" out of my head though, so I did some reconnaissance on the name. Knowing my obsessions thoughts with names I wanted it to be right. Turns out? We found the name.

Pretty sure this is the moment we decided
and agreed on her name - in the delivery room.

J0ss is a variant of Joseph, which is my father-in-law's middle name. I am obsessed with having some kind of tie to family in a name.  I feel strongly our children's names should be either directly inspired or connected to family names or through some crazy ass 6 degrees of separation - connection; otherwise known as a humor me Hail Mary stretch.  Since I can't just have a nickname as the full name - we went with J0sslyn. It's a pretty name, it's slightly different, it's totally nicknameable - and I thought with her sister's name it went perfectly. L's full name is two names in one as well and they go nicely together.  We went with Jane as her middle name as Jane is the female version of John, my father-in-law's first name and not only do I dig JJ as another nickname possibility but her initials are my father in law's initials and L's initials are my moms. It's perfection.  As much as we loved some of the other names we were thinking of when we met JJ we knew she fit with J0ss.  J0ss was thrown in the game - and then when we met her? We just knew.

Now that you know her name - let's talk about confusion with the issues that come with the name (besides the inevitable spelling issues).

Issue 1: No, I did not name my child after...

• J0ss Stone - that said, whenever we do the inevitable "Joshlyn? Joceyln? Josh?" dance - I go with, "J0sslyn. J0ss - like J0ss Stone." 
• J0ss & Main - don't know what it is? It's a flash sale site. To be fair it is the ONLY email sign up like this site (think groupon, livinsocial that sort of thing) that I allow come to my inbox straight, verses having it go to a folder in my email that I can check out when I have time or in the mood vs. being hit with daily sale emails. It took a few weeks to realize the connection. Dumb - I know, but the truth. 
• Funny side note: one of the middle names we were thinking of before J0ss came into the picture? Macy. Not after Macy Gray OR Macy's but either way both would have been assumed as well.
• J0sslyn Jacks from General Hospital.  Side note: all the "actors" on the soap call her Jocelyn. They add the E or the A, so frankly I didn't even know her name was J0sslyn until after I got a few questions on the GH connection. Her middle name is John.  Which I love and we considered John as a (girl) middle name for one of our other name choice and then again for J0ss.  Thanks B we didn't because again until I did some research I didn't know that was her name - and no one would ever believe me if I said it wasn't after GH if we had John as a middle name. 

Issue 2: Her actual name. 
It is J0sslyn. I'll give you some leeway with just hearing her name - FINE. Perhaps you'll hear Jocelyn some have even heard Joshlyn.  When it's spelled out and you read it  - use the letters.  Letters in the word make up the sounds you say. That's how words work.  When you spell & read it - J0sslyn. J0SS.LYNNE. It is NOT JocAlynne. There is no A. No E. Not three syllables. Two: J0ss-lyn. You probably read this whole post reading "JocAlynne." Good news though... J0ss, super easy to say & spell - just go with that.  

Issue 3: Parental guilt. 
See issues 1 & 2 - home girl is going to be dealing with this for the rest.of.her.life. Sorry girl.  We love you... and not to place blame... but... you'll notice it was your dad's idea. I'm just saying. 

When Good Ideas Go Bad

Last week was our girl's birthday. It was her first birthday away from family.  We wanted it to be special. More on that, later. One of the things we did was set up some of her current favorite animals having a tea party waiting for her, after school - including a drawing on her chalkboard saying "Happy Birthday, L!" Cute idea, right? So. Cute. 

She loved it.

The next day was her first day without our au pair - she went home and of course that's sad for our girl. More on that, later.  I thought it would be special to make this something we (sometimes) do. Day two I set up the tea set again, different animals, another one sitting on the couch reading a book and changed the picture. We made it look like the troll was up to mischievous good.

The first full day without L's Annie was nothing short of a sht show.  L was sad and acting out. It was awesome (alert: that's sarcasm). There were tears (hers not mine, yet). There were time outs. There was a lot going on. We finally got out of the house (plan: 2 pm, actual departure: 4:30 pm) and before we set sail for our errands I sent C a text.

"Can you do me a favor? If you get home before us - rearrange the tea party - make them play a game or something... and add some kind of message to be a good girl and give me a damn break. Maybe she will listen to her animals."

He responded with, "On my way home - will do that as soon as I get home!"

Fast forward: it turns out a tree came down behind our neighborhood and of course our (side) of the block was affected. After L & I finished our errands, we picked up the ball & chain- went out to dinner - thinking that the electricity would be on by the time we got home (company said 8 pm).  We arrived home at 8:45 pm. Lights out. Total darkness. We spun it as an adventure! We'd all sleep in bed together, hang out - read a book by flashlight. It's just like camping! Everyone loves camping!! (Except us - we left that out) It'll be awesome!

When we came back in my dear husband thought... oh wait - let's be sure to see if the stuffed animals have been up to anything while we were gone. Yeah, nothing like a severe creep factor to add to an already scary situation for our newly but very emotional four year old. I WISH I could have taken a picture of what the scene was... in the dark... being spotlighted by a flashlight - but you can imagine it, can't you? 

(picture this in TOTAL darkness)

Nothing creepier than Rudolph & Paddington Bear going head to head in the dark in an aggressive game of Candy Land while being looked over by a fairly aggressive and threatening note sent by two sociopath trolls. Just when you think we have a great idea? We go and take it too far.

Needless to say she slept with us that night and the trolls have a new creepy factor to them, I'm not sure will wear off.

Good Talk Bad Talk

My baby grew up. When did that happen? Our oldest, turning four in a mere hours by the time this is posted is growing up faster than I might like. It's happening everywhere in every way and when I least expect it. Example: I brought her to a birthday party - her first in the area.  It was another first for her: I was to leave. 

I think there was one other parent there, might have been a neighbor? But all the other parents? Left. Gone. 

I was frantic.  At first the kid was clingy and shy but within seconds she had found a friend from her class and while confused that I would leave (because I had never left her at a friends before let alone a party) she was fine with it.  Me? I was not. I was totally freaked but I left anyway, because I'm not going to that parent hovering over her, when everyone else left.

What's a girl to do? I called my mom.

My fear was this: sometimes L gets upset - for what would seem like 'no reason.'  Example - kids accidentally bonk into each other. She accidentally hurts someone... the other kid- who ACTUALLY got hurt - cries.  L then cries because she feels bad that she hurt the other kid and/or she is so embarrassed and/or overwhelmed and she cries.  I don't know where she gets that from {looks around innocently}...

I was so afraid, she was going to get overwhelmed, cry, and since the other kids so much more mature? I don't know - I thought it would carry over in school or something (mean girls exist and they start at 3. FYI) and she is so jammed right now about making friends - I was nervous for her. Yes I realize these are all messed up sentence structures, ongoing and don't make sense - but I think they paint the picture of my insanity thought process. 

So back to the story at hand:

I call my mom... to just be like, "Can you believe it? She's 4! They have drop off parties already? I had no idea!"  

Her response?
First thing she says?

"Have you had the good touch, bad touch conversation yet??"

Awesome.

Here I am, worried she might cry or just have a weird social moment ... and now that's escalated to possible molestation.

What's a girl to do? I had a beer at 2pm. 

That night, C & I decided to attack the "good touch bad touch" conversation - completely unprepared. I have 2-3 reference books to choose from that likely touch upon this subject (ba-dum-cha) or I don't know the world wide web?  There has to be an about.com page on how to talk to kids about this? Perhaps a youtube.com video? Nah - we go at it - totally unprepared and frankly I'll be surprised if we didn't scar her. In related news: this whole parenting gig is difficult. How the hell are we not required to have some kind of operating license to do it?