It's 8:20pm on a lovely Sunday evening and everyone in my house is asleep. Except me, obviously. But I am headed there quite shortly. You see, we have all been stricken with The Seasonal Cold Bug of Exhaustion and Snot.
I'm afraid I am most likely the offender that bought this Bug into our home. I began feeling a little achy and stuffy on Tuesday. By Wednesday evening I was in full-blown Head Full of Snot mode and John was already coughing up one or both of his lungs. He was smart enough to stay home from work on Thursday and rest. Not I. No, not I. I was "feeling better" and didn't want to waste sick time. So, I trudged off and have been paying for it all weekend.
Giuliana began with the Snotty Nose of Doom (trust me, 23 month old with a snotty nose=Doom, everytime) on Friday. Yesterday and today....have not been pleasant. And this afternoon I received a phone call from my mother. Uh oh! The Seasonal Cold Bug of Exhaustion and Snot has invaded their house! (Thanks to my carting my infected daughter over there on Friday. You're welcome, Mom!) I suppose I should have known this was going to happen when I woke up to hear her say "Daddy, tissue p'ees!" on Friday morning. How cute! I thought, till I went into her room to find that snot had completely obliterated her face! G-R-O-S-S! And, umm...still, I did not want to waste sick days. Hey, she was perky and in a great mood! How was I to know what was in store?!
This weekend has been: No sleep to speak of due to sharing my bed with a kicky, squirmy, angry little girl (she was even yelling at me in her sleep!) Loads of tissues. Indignent and whiney cries of "Daddy do dat!!" whenever I come near her with a tissue or try to fill her sippy cup or help her wash her hands or give her some ibuprophen or breathe. A pathetic looking child with red, runny eyes, blotchy skin, constantly flowing nose, and a raspy congested cough. But no fever, Hallalujah!
I snuck out of the house for a brief respite on Saturday to make a run to Target. I absolutely had to get invitations for G's birthday party, you see. To send out in a week or so. Had to. I also really did have to get G some snow boots, even thought it was 60 degrees outside. I needed to pick up a few stocking stuffers. They were good deals. And diapers! Oh, that's right! I needed diapers. See, I had to go. I felt like I was going to die after about an hour, and I'm sure my fellow shoppers were all so very thrilled that I shared my contagions with them (really, I can't still be contagious, right?! I've been sick for 5 days!) But, I did find a very cute pair of dangly black earrings for A BUCK! So, it was totally worth it.
Today, I woke up at 5:30am feeling like someone had poured sand and glass down my throat and filled my head with cotton and walked all over my back with soil areators and then jumped on me a few dozen times. I decided to give in and didn't even shower. And now, I am following suit with the rest of my family and going to bed.
So, it's 8:20pm on a lovely Sunday evening and I have already called in sick to work for Monday. So much for saving those sick days.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
The Cute, the Demanding, and the Terrifying
"Hi-lo? Oh!, Oh-tay! Bye-bye. Here Daddy, Daddy!" She passes her little plastic phone from her ear to Daddy's. Daddy pretends to talk on the phone, too, but by then she's off to something else. She's pushing her little people mini-van around.
"Car! Skooo. Bear, skooo." Pretending all the little figures on off and on their way to school, a concept I'm not even sure how she learned. Then her attention is drawn to a poster high on the wall.
"M'Up, Daddy, up!" Daddy picks her up and she points to each letter on the poster.
"E! M! B! ABCD, Oh yes. All done!" He sets her down.
"No, Daddy. Up, up! ABCD!" He picks her back up. "All done. Down."
And so it goes. All afternoon. Up. Down. Mo' SIT DOWN! P'ay! Me, me, MEEEEEEEEEEE!
She climbs up into my lap, insistant on my attention.
"Hi, Mommy! Hi." She sits herself on top of the laptop. "Mo' p'ay, Mommy. Peeees?" Then she's down, and a sneaky little finger snakes up and punches the power button on the laptop before I can stop her. Well. That's one way to get my attention. Then she's dancing and singing, being unbelievably adorable, making me smile and wonder, for the 40th time today, how I was blessed with this perfect little girl.
The scene changes as suddenly as lightening, though. I notice she has a dirty diaper. "Come, on, Baby Girl, let's go change that icky diaper."
"No, no, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" And she's off and running. She's quick, too. She runs around the circle of the living room, dining room, kitchen. I head her off at the pass and catch her. She yells at me all the way up the stairs. Sometimes she willingly climbs up the stairs, sometimes it's like this.
We get to the changing table. I wrestle her pants off.
"No! Mommy, no diap!" I tell her that little girls who don't want to wear diapers need to learn to use the potty. We haven't actually tried this yet, but we're working up to it. She sings, "Paah-teee, paah-tee!" I try to talk up how exciting and "big-girl" it is to use the potty.
This scene would be funny, in a sit-com kinda way, if I weren't scared of a repeat of last night. Last night was no good. John was changing her diaper last night, getting her ready for a bath. She was in one of her "Me, me, me, memememeeeeeeeeeeee!" moods and yanked the diaper off her own tush. A very dirty diaper. Let's just say, it was providential that she was headed into the bath. Otherwise, she would have been anyway. Poop. Everywhere. On her head. Hands, legs, on Daddy. No, we don't want a repeat of last night.
I get a clean diaper on her little body and then. Oh, and then. The moment I have really been dreading. Pulling her pants back on. The last few weeks, there has been a Toddler-Monster lurking under the surface, jumping out at the most inopportune times, especially whenever she's getting dressed. And then it happens.
"Me!!! Mememememememeeeeeee, Mommy! No, me!!!"
"Ok, ok. You can try to put your pants on all by yourself, Chicaboo. Go ahead." I say this in very soothing tones. It doesn't work. For whatever arguement is going on in her little head is still being waged. She doesn't seem to get that I gave in.
"MEMEMEMEME! Gi'a do! No, Mommy. No! MEME, Gi'a self!" She is red in the face, screaming at me, wriggling and throwing her body around the table. Possessed. I try to calm her, let her know she can do it herself.
Eventually, I get a little irritated, I'll admit it. I use the "Stern Mommy Voice." She's crying. Real tears. Still red and screaming.
Eventually, I lift her from the table, legs kicking out at me, at nothing, and we go sit in the hall. Time Out.
We sit as she continues to yell at me. I talk in soothing tones.
"I know you want to do it yourself, Chicaboo. I know it's hard to be almost two. Sometimes you just need a little bit of help. It's ok to let Mommy and Daddy help. We can do it together."
She calms down a little bit. I take her back into her bedroom and lay her down. I hand her the pants and she struggles for a few minutes trying to get them over her feet. Still sobbing, but quietly. Those little jagged breaths that break my heart. She hands the pants to me. "Mommy? He'p, peees?"
Our days are variations on this theme. She wants undivided attention. We are conjoled and commanded to play with her, no matter what we are in the middle of. Most of the time, I happily oblige because I love playing "skooo bus" for the 1376th time. But, eventually, dinner does have to be made, a bath does have to be had, a diaper (shudder!) does need to be changed. And then, that unpredictable Toddler-Monster is upon us.
She's cute and unbelievable smart. She started counting 1-10 in Spanish the other day. Out of the blue. (Thanks, Dora, and Sesame Street!) But that temper! It is unbelievable how much fight she has in that little body!
Her father looked at me the other night, as she came down the stairs, pants in her hand, face red and tear-streaked. "I don't like this at all," he said. "I don't like this 'me, mine' stuff at all."
"She's almost two," I said. That's all I could say. "She's almost two."
"Car! Skooo. Bear, skooo." Pretending all the little figures on off and on their way to school, a concept I'm not even sure how she learned. Then her attention is drawn to a poster high on the wall.
"M'Up, Daddy, up!" Daddy picks her up and she points to each letter on the poster.
"E! M! B! ABCD, Oh yes. All done!" He sets her down.
"No, Daddy. Up, up! ABCD!" He picks her back up. "All done. Down."
And so it goes. All afternoon. Up. Down. Mo' SIT DOWN! P'ay! Me, me, MEEEEEEEEEEE!
She climbs up into my lap, insistant on my attention.
"Hi, Mommy! Hi." She sits herself on top of the laptop. "Mo' p'ay, Mommy. Peeees?" Then she's down, and a sneaky little finger snakes up and punches the power button on the laptop before I can stop her. Well. That's one way to get my attention. Then she's dancing and singing, being unbelievably adorable, making me smile and wonder, for the 40th time today, how I was blessed with this perfect little girl.
The scene changes as suddenly as lightening, though. I notice she has a dirty diaper. "Come, on, Baby Girl, let's go change that icky diaper."
"No, no, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" And she's off and running. She's quick, too. She runs around the circle of the living room, dining room, kitchen. I head her off at the pass and catch her. She yells at me all the way up the stairs. Sometimes she willingly climbs up the stairs, sometimes it's like this.
We get to the changing table. I wrestle her pants off.
"No! Mommy, no diap!" I tell her that little girls who don't want to wear diapers need to learn to use the potty. We haven't actually tried this yet, but we're working up to it. She sings, "Paah-teee, paah-tee!" I try to talk up how exciting and "big-girl" it is to use the potty.
This scene would be funny, in a sit-com kinda way, if I weren't scared of a repeat of last night. Last night was no good. John was changing her diaper last night, getting her ready for a bath. She was in one of her "Me, me, me, memememeeeeeeeeeeee!" moods and yanked the diaper off her own tush. A very dirty diaper. Let's just say, it was providential that she was headed into the bath. Otherwise, she would have been anyway. Poop. Everywhere. On her head. Hands, legs, on Daddy. No, we don't want a repeat of last night.
I get a clean diaper on her little body and then. Oh, and then. The moment I have really been dreading. Pulling her pants back on. The last few weeks, there has been a Toddler-Monster lurking under the surface, jumping out at the most inopportune times, especially whenever she's getting dressed. And then it happens.
"Me!!! Mememememememeeeeeee, Mommy! No, me!!!"
"Ok, ok. You can try to put your pants on all by yourself, Chicaboo. Go ahead." I say this in very soothing tones. It doesn't work. For whatever arguement is going on in her little head is still being waged. She doesn't seem to get that I gave in.
"MEMEMEMEME! Gi'a do! No, Mommy. No! MEME, Gi'a self!" She is red in the face, screaming at me, wriggling and throwing her body around the table. Possessed. I try to calm her, let her know she can do it herself.
Eventually, I get a little irritated, I'll admit it. I use the "Stern Mommy Voice." She's crying. Real tears. Still red and screaming.
Eventually, I lift her from the table, legs kicking out at me, at nothing, and we go sit in the hall. Time Out.
We sit as she continues to yell at me. I talk in soothing tones.
"I know you want to do it yourself, Chicaboo. I know it's hard to be almost two. Sometimes you just need a little bit of help. It's ok to let Mommy and Daddy help. We can do it together."
She calms down a little bit. I take her back into her bedroom and lay her down. I hand her the pants and she struggles for a few minutes trying to get them over her feet. Still sobbing, but quietly. Those little jagged breaths that break my heart. She hands the pants to me. "Mommy? He'p, peees?"
Our days are variations on this theme. She wants undivided attention. We are conjoled and commanded to play with her, no matter what we are in the middle of. Most of the time, I happily oblige because I love playing "skooo bus" for the 1376th time. But, eventually, dinner does have to be made, a bath does have to be had, a diaper (shudder!) does need to be changed. And then, that unpredictable Toddler-Monster is upon us.
She's cute and unbelievable smart. She started counting 1-10 in Spanish the other day. Out of the blue. (Thanks, Dora, and Sesame Street!) But that temper! It is unbelievable how much fight she has in that little body!
Her father looked at me the other night, as she came down the stairs, pants in her hand, face red and tear-streaked. "I don't like this at all," he said. "I don't like this 'me, mine' stuff at all."
"She's almost two," I said. That's all I could say. "She's almost two."
Friday, November 6, 2009
Another Frightening Look Into My Brain
I’m not saying that I’m OCD or anything. But I love me a good, ol’ fashioned obsession now and then. Don’t you?
Past obsessions have ranged from major life altering events: “Here Comes The Bride,” “Let’s Buy A House,” “BABY! Baby, baby, baby…” To smaller time-suckers: “This Old Blog,” “Our Gross Yard,” “What Color Should I Paint The Living Room?”
My current, post-Halloween, obsession has become “Planning Giuliana’s Second Birthday Party.” I am a planner, you see. And I’m a little disconcerted that I only have 4 weeks to plan. But I have been living in denial of the fact that, yes, indeed, this kid is going to keep having birthdays. So, it snuck up on me. There are invitations to pick-out (obsess, obsess, obsess…) buy, fill-out, send. A birthday party dress splurge on (check! Did that last night.) A cake to agonize over decorating (I am not a baker, I just play one in my kitchen.) Decorations to make (I am, however, crafty.) So much to do! At least, there is if you live in my head. I think my husband is wishing that he didn’t. Live in my head, that is. I like to torture him by sharing all my obsessive thoughts, at all hours of the day and night. For example, this morning, as he was getting out of the shower and toweling off, I walked in and described, in detail, my ideas for using paper plates as hanging decorations. Lucky guy, my husband.
A “theme” has also been checked off the To Do List. We decided on that a couple of days ago. It was actually John’s idea. I asked him to think about Giuliana’s favorite things and list them off to me. There were the usual Elmo, Abby Cadabby, Dora ideas. But I don’t like the idea of using doing a character theme. Then, he hit upon the perfect one. I’m not going to share it just yet. But, for those of you who know my little girl, when you see it, you’ll understand.
Geesh! Look at the time. I should be googling cake decorating tips! Oh, and working. Gotta go!
Past obsessions have ranged from major life altering events: “Here Comes The Bride,” “Let’s Buy A House,” “BABY! Baby, baby, baby…” To smaller time-suckers: “This Old Blog,” “Our Gross Yard,” “What Color Should I Paint The Living Room?”
My current, post-Halloween, obsession has become “Planning Giuliana’s Second Birthday Party.” I am a planner, you see. And I’m a little disconcerted that I only have 4 weeks to plan. But I have been living in denial of the fact that, yes, indeed, this kid is going to keep having birthdays. So, it snuck up on me. There are invitations to pick-out (obsess, obsess, obsess…) buy, fill-out, send. A birthday party dress splurge on (check! Did that last night.) A cake to agonize over decorating (I am not a baker, I just play one in my kitchen.) Decorations to make (I am, however, crafty.) So much to do! At least, there is if you live in my head. I think my husband is wishing that he didn’t. Live in my head, that is. I like to torture him by sharing all my obsessive thoughts, at all hours of the day and night. For example, this morning, as he was getting out of the shower and toweling off, I walked in and described, in detail, my ideas for using paper plates as hanging decorations. Lucky guy, my husband.
A “theme” has also been checked off the To Do List. We decided on that a couple of days ago. It was actually John’s idea. I asked him to think about Giuliana’s favorite things and list them off to me. There were the usual Elmo, Abby Cadabby, Dora ideas. But I don’t like the idea of using doing a character theme. Then, he hit upon the perfect one. I’m not going to share it just yet. But, for those of you who know my little girl, when you see it, you’ll understand.
Geesh! Look at the time. I should be googling cake decorating tips! Oh, and working. Gotta go!
Sunday, November 1, 2009
The Luckiest Ballerina
We had an enchanted Halloween! I hope you did, too.
In case there was ever any doubt about what a lucky little girl Giuliana is, I think yesterday cleared them all away. She was surrounded and adored by her very favorite people all day. Giuliana has some fantastic people in her life, and she is blessed for it.
The rain threatened, but ultimately held off until after our neighborhood Halloween parade. Our friends Kate and Nick (G's Godfather) and Giuliana's Nana joined us for the trek around the neighborhood. G was determined to walk the whole way...when she wasn't persuading "Uncle Nick" to "fly" her in the air (she's got mile-long eyelashes and knows how to use them!) The parade is sponsored by the West Endicott Volunteer Fire Department and the Ladies Auxillary. The firetrucks are out in all their bright red splendor and we gather at the station house at the end for cider, doughnuts, and, of course, candy. It's one of my very favorite things about the neighborhood.
After the parade and an irresistable romp in a pile of leaves, our exhausted ballerina took a break for some lunch and a rest.
We bundled up and braved the rain to Trick or Treat. We stopped over at Nick and Kate's house for a special Halloween treat then off to Nanni and Papa's for more holiday fun.
Finally, the "main event" of the evening. Nana's house for real Trick or Treating with her older cousins.
We got a little wet, but for the most part the rain held at bay. After the "short" circuit around the block the Luckiest Ballerina was pooped, her pumpkin was overflowing, and her ballet slippers were drenched. We walked back to Nana's while the other kids forged on, collecting massive amounts of candy at every stop. We dried off, changed into jammies, ate candy, and played with Nana and Grandpa until every one got back. The night dissolved into a chaos of scaring each other with ghost and goblins, tickling and running wild. A perfect end to a perfect Halloween.
Giuliana is a lucky girl. She is loved and adored. She is smart and funny and well-behaved and beautiful. As we were walking back to Nana's after Trick or Treating I reflected on how lucky, and blessed, that makes me. I could not ask for a better daughter. She is the joy of my life. She's got the world in her hands, can go anywhere and be anything she wants. She is joy and potential personified. She is love. And for a short time, she is mine. I suppose she'll always be mine. But not in the way she is now. And for right now, that makes me the luckiest mommy. I don't want to miss a second of this, this perfect moment.
In case there was ever any doubt about what a lucky little girl Giuliana is, I think yesterday cleared them all away. She was surrounded and adored by her very favorite people all day. Giuliana has some fantastic people in her life, and she is blessed for it.
The rain threatened, but ultimately held off until after our neighborhood Halloween parade. Our friends Kate and Nick (G's Godfather) and Giuliana's Nana joined us for the trek around the neighborhood. G was determined to walk the whole way...when she wasn't persuading "Uncle Nick" to "fly" her in the air (she's got mile-long eyelashes and knows how to use them!) The parade is sponsored by the West Endicott Volunteer Fire Department and the Ladies Auxillary. The firetrucks are out in all their bright red splendor and we gather at the station house at the end for cider, doughnuts, and, of course, candy. It's one of my very favorite things about the neighborhood.
After the parade and an irresistable romp in a pile of leaves, our exhausted ballerina took a break for some lunch and a rest.
We bundled up and braved the rain to Trick or Treat. We stopped over at Nick and Kate's house for a special Halloween treat then off to Nanni and Papa's for more holiday fun.
Finally, the "main event" of the evening. Nana's house for real Trick or Treating with her older cousins.
We got a little wet, but for the most part the rain held at bay. After the "short" circuit around the block the Luckiest Ballerina was pooped, her pumpkin was overflowing, and her ballet slippers were drenched. We walked back to Nana's while the other kids forged on, collecting massive amounts of candy at every stop. We dried off, changed into jammies, ate candy, and played with Nana and Grandpa until every one got back. The night dissolved into a chaos of scaring each other with ghost and goblins, tickling and running wild. A perfect end to a perfect Halloween.
Giuliana is a lucky girl. She is loved and adored. She is smart and funny and well-behaved and beautiful. As we were walking back to Nana's after Trick or Treating I reflected on how lucky, and blessed, that makes me. I could not ask for a better daughter. She is the joy of my life. She's got the world in her hands, can go anywhere and be anything she wants. She is joy and potential personified. She is love. And for a short time, she is mine. I suppose she'll always be mine. But not in the way she is now. And for right now, that makes me the luckiest mommy. I don't want to miss a second of this, this perfect moment.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
I'm Going Crazy
I’d forgotten (repressed?) just how truly horrible, no fun, insanity-inducing and nerve-wracking the “two week wait” is. Living under a magnifying glass and examining every real or completely imagined “symptom” 100 different ways. Googling random twinges and cravings to see if they may give you a hint. Working yourself up into a total state of hysteria convinced it finally happened and then ridiculing yourself for being a twit…way too soon to know, duh!
Or is it just me?
Or is it just me?
Monday, October 26, 2009
Birthdays and Mansions and Nana, Oh My!
We had a great weekend.
Saturday morning I got up early and played with G. A little later I went for coffee and had a lovely time with a very cute (and pregnant, yippee!) friend…just the two of us, over coffee, on a Saturday morning! So Adult and stuff! Obviously, I don’t get enough of that in my life. Later Saturday afternoon my little family went shopping for birthday gifts for my 5 and 6 year old nieces (toy shopping! more fun!) and then decided to go out to eat (because even after that rant the other day, I didn’t feel like cooking…it’s a woman’s prerogative, shut up!) On Sunday we went to see my sister-in-law’s new house. Ummm, “Enchanted Fairytale Mansion” is not hyperbole in this case. The place is freaking HUGE and manse-like. From there it was over to Nana’s house for Sunday dinner and the birthday bash for the two little girls. Then home again for some football, baseball, crazy sugar-hyped toddler play (and a migraine, but we shall not discuss that) and bed.
The cutest part was the absolute transformation in Giuliana when she was around her cousins and her Nana. She was sorely missing her Nana on Saturday. G’s Nana is a World-Traveler. She goes on these exotic trips 2 or 3 times a year. This time it was Nimibia. For real, I’m not making this up. So G hasn’t seen her weeks (well, she saw her at the Pirate Dance Party last week, but with all the craziness there it wasn’t what she needed, I guess.) She kept wishing and hoping we were going to see Nana all day on Saturday. She actually started crying just before we went out to dinner and when I asked her what was wrong she just said, “Naaaaaaanaaaaa!” Clearly, even if it hadn’t been planned, a visit to Nana’s was in order.
And it was exactly what she needed. As I mentioned, before we headed over to Nana’s house we stopped by John’s sister’s new house. They were completing their final walk-through to close on Tuesday. You may remember that Gina was married this summer and she and her husband created this beautiful (and giant) blended family. But this (giant) family) has had to squeeze into Gina’s small house for the last several months as the mortgage process on the new house has been dragging along. Finally! Finally they are going to close on their new, big, Great Gatsby-style house. So we went to see it. Giuliana went a little nuts running around this ginormous empty house with her cousins. They raced around all four floors, in and out of rooms, up and down both the grand staircase and the “secret stairs” and all around the yard (or “The Grounds” as I insist on calling it.) She ran room to room shouting “Daaaaaaaaaaaaantttteeeeeeee, are you?????” as she and her cousin Dante played a toddler version of hide and seek. They danced and twirled on the dance floor in the basement. She ran circles around the fairy-tale “talking trees” outside, crunching through the beautiful fallen leaves (these trees have ceramic faces hung on them, in a slightly creepy but cool enchanted forest kind of way.) It was awesome. When Nana arrived a little later, G was so geared up she squealed and ran to hug Nana’s legs in her delight.
We all trooped back to Nana’s house and Giulana continued to run wild with her cousins. She had a fantastic time. She played “scary ghost” with 6 year old Sophia, running up to her and yelling “Boo!” to Sophia’s shrieks of mock terror. She climbed behind an armchair and giggled until someone walked by at which time she would jump up and shout at them. We got to sing “Happy Birthday” and blow out real candles on a real cake, just like we have been practicing at home. (G has a new favorite game. There is a picture of me from my 30th birthday blowing out the candles on my cake. G loves to dig through the photo album and find this picture. Then we sing “Happy Birthday” to whoever she chooses and then pretend to blow out the candles and cheer. Repeat, repeat, repeat.) And, of course, then we ate the cake…hence the sugar-hyped toddler previously mentioned.
It was a grand weekend. I absolutely adore seeing Giuliana so excited to see her family. She just has the best time with all of them. These are the moments I cherish.
Saturday morning I got up early and played with G. A little later I went for coffee and had a lovely time with a very cute (and pregnant, yippee!) friend…just the two of us, over coffee, on a Saturday morning! So Adult and stuff! Obviously, I don’t get enough of that in my life. Later Saturday afternoon my little family went shopping for birthday gifts for my 5 and 6 year old nieces (toy shopping! more fun!) and then decided to go out to eat (because even after that rant the other day, I didn’t feel like cooking…it’s a woman’s prerogative, shut up!) On Sunday we went to see my sister-in-law’s new house. Ummm, “Enchanted Fairytale Mansion” is not hyperbole in this case. The place is freaking HUGE and manse-like. From there it was over to Nana’s house for Sunday dinner and the birthday bash for the two little girls. Then home again for some football, baseball, crazy sugar-hyped toddler play (and a migraine, but we shall not discuss that) and bed.
The cutest part was the absolute transformation in Giuliana when she was around her cousins and her Nana. She was sorely missing her Nana on Saturday. G’s Nana is a World-Traveler. She goes on these exotic trips 2 or 3 times a year. This time it was Nimibia. For real, I’m not making this up. So G hasn’t seen her weeks (well, she saw her at the Pirate Dance Party last week, but with all the craziness there it wasn’t what she needed, I guess.) She kept wishing and hoping we were going to see Nana all day on Saturday. She actually started crying just before we went out to dinner and when I asked her what was wrong she just said, “Naaaaaaanaaaaa!” Clearly, even if it hadn’t been planned, a visit to Nana’s was in order.
And it was exactly what she needed. As I mentioned, before we headed over to Nana’s house we stopped by John’s sister’s new house. They were completing their final walk-through to close on Tuesday. You may remember that Gina was married this summer and she and her husband created this beautiful (and giant) blended family. But this (giant) family) has had to squeeze into Gina’s small house for the last several months as the mortgage process on the new house has been dragging along. Finally! Finally they are going to close on their new, big, Great Gatsby-style house. So we went to see it. Giuliana went a little nuts running around this ginormous empty house with her cousins. They raced around all four floors, in and out of rooms, up and down both the grand staircase and the “secret stairs” and all around the yard (or “The Grounds” as I insist on calling it.) She ran room to room shouting “Daaaaaaaaaaaaantttteeeeeeee, are you?????” as she and her cousin Dante played a toddler version of hide and seek. They danced and twirled on the dance floor in the basement. She ran circles around the fairy-tale “talking trees” outside, crunching through the beautiful fallen leaves (these trees have ceramic faces hung on them, in a slightly creepy but cool enchanted forest kind of way.) It was awesome. When Nana arrived a little later, G was so geared up she squealed and ran to hug Nana’s legs in her delight.
We all trooped back to Nana’s house and Giulana continued to run wild with her cousins. She had a fantastic time. She played “scary ghost” with 6 year old Sophia, running up to her and yelling “Boo!” to Sophia’s shrieks of mock terror. She climbed behind an armchair and giggled until someone walked by at which time she would jump up and shout at them. We got to sing “Happy Birthday” and blow out real candles on a real cake, just like we have been practicing at home. (G has a new favorite game. There is a picture of me from my 30th birthday blowing out the candles on my cake. G loves to dig through the photo album and find this picture. Then we sing “Happy Birthday” to whoever she chooses and then pretend to blow out the candles and cheer. Repeat, repeat, repeat.) And, of course, then we ate the cake…hence the sugar-hyped toddler previously mentioned.
It was a grand weekend. I absolutely adore seeing Giuliana so excited to see her family. She just has the best time with all of them. These are the moments I cherish.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Masquerade
I’ve been pretending lately. Pretending to be a Stay At Home Mom (SAHM). And I like it.
Last week, I didn’t have to go to work on Monday because we were closed for Columbus Day (I know, hate me if you want.) I had to go out of town overnight on Tuesday and Wednesday, so by Friday I only needed to work a half-day and was able to go home at lunch. Yesterday my parents needed the afternoon off, so I took a half-day of vacation time and again left work at lunch.
Oh my, how I have enjoyed spending all that time with my daughter! It almost feels illicit. I’m totally getting away with something here. I keep looking over my shoulder for the spoiler who is going to come and squash my fun. “Don’t you know, Young Lady, that you are a WORKING MOTHER, not a SAHM. You do not get the privilege of playing in the park in the middle of a Thursday afternoon! You gave up that pleasure for the sake of a paycheck. Get thee back to work!” Or something like that.
I ran into some SAHMs at the park yesterday. I felt like a total imposter. Giuliana happily shared the slide and swings with the few children around at 2pm in the afternoon. And I was absorbed into a conversation about seasonal and H1N1 flu shots and local pediatricians. The other moms were very friendly and open and shared all sorts of concerns about thimerisol and autism fears related to the vaccinations. I share these concerns. I still haven’t made up my mind about which shots, if any, Giuliana will get this season. I voiced my opinions and issues into the conversation. I have a slightly different perspective from these moms because I work with several children with autism. Some of their parents are convinced that vaccinations played a role in the development of the syndrome. And because of my work with medically and developmentally compromised kids, I know a lot about most of the local pediatricians, who’s good, who doesn’t really care about disabled kids and their quality of life, things like that. But I didn’t voice this side of my perspective. I didn’t want to call myself out and mention that I am a working mom who just had the afternoon off. I somehow felt a little guilty about it.
The conversation wrapped up, the kids were winding down and the other moms bundled them up to go home for their afternoon naps. We exchanged names and shared hopes that we run into each other again at the park. But I probably won’t run into them. I can’t take my daughter to the park in the middle of the day very often.
I drove home and wrestled with the issue of getting my daughter down for a nap. Of course she fell asleep in the car the minute we pulled into the driveway. She was exhausted, but woke up as I was gently trying to pry her loose from the car seat. And for this girl, there is no going back. She was up for good. I gave her some milk, rocked her, put on soft lullabies, placed her in her crib for some “quiet time,” but there was no sleeping to be had. As I rocked her, conflict roiled inside my head. “If I was able to really mother her, spend more of my time with her, I’d have this nap issue resolved. My mom doesn’t have trouble getting her to sleep. I’d be able to do that if I was with her more. Like those park moms.”
After I put her down for her “quiet time” I went downstairs and began making the time-consuming risotto I had planned for dinner. I thought I was going to make it Wednesday night. But Wednesday turned into a rush after work. We played outside, and decided since it was so beautiful to take a family walk with the dog. We didn’t get back home until 6pm. No time to make fancy, work-intensive risotto. We ordered take-out. Giuliana had a pb&j and yogurt. So, Thursday, I had a little more time to spend on dinner. And again, as I was stirring the bubbling risotto, the quiet resentment crept in. “If I didn’t have to work I’d be able to feed my family home cooked meals more often. We wouldn’t have to rely on take-out.”
I thoroughly enjoyed my afternoon with my girl, and I hate it when these dark thoughts and doubts creep in. I do the best I can for her. She’s healthy. She’s quite happy. She’s loved and cared for. She’s intelligent and learning new things everyday. But when she cries for me in the night and I know it’s only because she needs a few more cuddles, it breaks my heart. It makes me fear that she’s missing me during her days and the little time we spend in the evenings, even though I try like crazy to not let myself get wrapped up in dinner-prep and chores and to spend “quality time” on the floor playing with her, coloring and drawing endless circles, running around the yard, snuggling on the couch and watching Dora together, that that time isn’t enough.
The rub in all of it, the slap in the face, is that the “choice” for me to work is one of necessity. I’m not one of those mothers who feel like they’d go insane if they stayed home with their kids, who craves being able to go to the office and have some relevant adult interaction and then return home to be a better, more focused parent. I have nothing against these parents and wish I was one of them. Then maybe I wouldn’t feel so guilty about all the time I am missing from my daughter’s life. If I felt like working made me a better parent. But I don’t feel that way. I feel working makes me a more unbalanced parent. There are so many things I would do with her if I had more time. I can only cram so many things into a weekend. And some weekends, we feel like we all need to just stay home and relax and enjoy each other.
Sigh. I could go on and on. I’ll stop here because I’m making myself upset. I know it’s useless to dwell on “if only.” I have to work and that’s the way it is and the way it’s going to be. And I just have to suck up the rest of it and be the best mom I can be on nights and weekends. And the guilt and the self-incrimination doesn’t help me do that. It just makes me depressed.
But I think I know what I’m going to pretend to be for Halloween. Anyone have any tips for a good SAHM costume?
Last week, I didn’t have to go to work on Monday because we were closed for Columbus Day (I know, hate me if you want.) I had to go out of town overnight on Tuesday and Wednesday, so by Friday I only needed to work a half-day and was able to go home at lunch. Yesterday my parents needed the afternoon off, so I took a half-day of vacation time and again left work at lunch.
Oh my, how I have enjoyed spending all that time with my daughter! It almost feels illicit. I’m totally getting away with something here. I keep looking over my shoulder for the spoiler who is going to come and squash my fun. “Don’t you know, Young Lady, that you are a WORKING MOTHER, not a SAHM. You do not get the privilege of playing in the park in the middle of a Thursday afternoon! You gave up that pleasure for the sake of a paycheck. Get thee back to work!” Or something like that.
I ran into some SAHMs at the park yesterday. I felt like a total imposter. Giuliana happily shared the slide and swings with the few children around at 2pm in the afternoon. And I was absorbed into a conversation about seasonal and H1N1 flu shots and local pediatricians. The other moms were very friendly and open and shared all sorts of concerns about thimerisol and autism fears related to the vaccinations. I share these concerns. I still haven’t made up my mind about which shots, if any, Giuliana will get this season. I voiced my opinions and issues into the conversation. I have a slightly different perspective from these moms because I work with several children with autism. Some of their parents are convinced that vaccinations played a role in the development of the syndrome. And because of my work with medically and developmentally compromised kids, I know a lot about most of the local pediatricians, who’s good, who doesn’t really care about disabled kids and their quality of life, things like that. But I didn’t voice this side of my perspective. I didn’t want to call myself out and mention that I am a working mom who just had the afternoon off. I somehow felt a little guilty about it.
The conversation wrapped up, the kids were winding down and the other moms bundled them up to go home for their afternoon naps. We exchanged names and shared hopes that we run into each other again at the park. But I probably won’t run into them. I can’t take my daughter to the park in the middle of the day very often.
I drove home and wrestled with the issue of getting my daughter down for a nap. Of course she fell asleep in the car the minute we pulled into the driveway. She was exhausted, but woke up as I was gently trying to pry her loose from the car seat. And for this girl, there is no going back. She was up for good. I gave her some milk, rocked her, put on soft lullabies, placed her in her crib for some “quiet time,” but there was no sleeping to be had. As I rocked her, conflict roiled inside my head. “If I was able to really mother her, spend more of my time with her, I’d have this nap issue resolved. My mom doesn’t have trouble getting her to sleep. I’d be able to do that if I was with her more. Like those park moms.”
After I put her down for her “quiet time” I went downstairs and began making the time-consuming risotto I had planned for dinner. I thought I was going to make it Wednesday night. But Wednesday turned into a rush after work. We played outside, and decided since it was so beautiful to take a family walk with the dog. We didn’t get back home until 6pm. No time to make fancy, work-intensive risotto. We ordered take-out. Giuliana had a pb&j and yogurt. So, Thursday, I had a little more time to spend on dinner. And again, as I was stirring the bubbling risotto, the quiet resentment crept in. “If I didn’t have to work I’d be able to feed my family home cooked meals more often. We wouldn’t have to rely on take-out.”
I thoroughly enjoyed my afternoon with my girl, and I hate it when these dark thoughts and doubts creep in. I do the best I can for her. She’s healthy. She’s quite happy. She’s loved and cared for. She’s intelligent and learning new things everyday. But when she cries for me in the night and I know it’s only because she needs a few more cuddles, it breaks my heart. It makes me fear that she’s missing me during her days and the little time we spend in the evenings, even though I try like crazy to not let myself get wrapped up in dinner-prep and chores and to spend “quality time” on the floor playing with her, coloring and drawing endless circles, running around the yard, snuggling on the couch and watching Dora together, that that time isn’t enough.
The rub in all of it, the slap in the face, is that the “choice” for me to work is one of necessity. I’m not one of those mothers who feel like they’d go insane if they stayed home with their kids, who craves being able to go to the office and have some relevant adult interaction and then return home to be a better, more focused parent. I have nothing against these parents and wish I was one of them. Then maybe I wouldn’t feel so guilty about all the time I am missing from my daughter’s life. If I felt like working made me a better parent. But I don’t feel that way. I feel working makes me a more unbalanced parent. There are so many things I would do with her if I had more time. I can only cram so many things into a weekend. And some weekends, we feel like we all need to just stay home and relax and enjoy each other.
Sigh. I could go on and on. I’ll stop here because I’m making myself upset. I know it’s useless to dwell on “if only.” I have to work and that’s the way it is and the way it’s going to be. And I just have to suck up the rest of it and be the best mom I can be on nights and weekends. And the guilt and the self-incrimination doesn’t help me do that. It just makes me depressed.
But I think I know what I’m going to pretend to be for Halloween. Anyone have any tips for a good SAHM costume?
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