This past weekend we decided to get out of the house and head down to the Naval Air Station to witness the Naval Air Expo, celebrating 100 years of Naval Aviation! The Blue Angels were the headliners along with several other flight performances. Though we didn't stay to see the Angels in flight (too HOT, too LOUD -not the best combo with a 9 day old and a post partum mama!), we did stroll around quite a bit, taking in all the planes, helicopters, and -yes!- bounce houses!
I fantasized for a moment that this was our own private airplane that we were going to board equipped with champagne, sushi and a play area fit for a 3 year old for a nice flight to the Caribbean. Or the South Pacific. Either one really.
Milo was IN LOVE with the airplanes! Future Navy pilot?
Not one toddler can resist a moon bouce! And there were several to bounce in!
oooh, fancy...!
It was alot easier getting him in the helicopter than it was asking him to come out.
"No, I stay right here."
Milo and dad were a tad disappointed they didn't close the door and take flight.
How did Ari do? He slept the entire time. Apparently he isn't impressed with aviation. Maybe next year...
This particular piece, done in the medium of crayon on paper plate, forces the viewer to think of the ever growing culture of reality. Where does yours begin? Do endings exist? Recently, Milo has been inspired by performance art. Perhaps this piece identifies his love of the human figure and it's graceful dance.
Let us take a closer look at the series that he has been working on. Tentatavely titled, "Muses from Day Care."
Spoon Painting shows how the artist was influenced by the German Expressionists of the early 20th century. This is a transition piece into post modernism. Brilliant.
In this piece, Painting with Balls, the artist demonstrates the struggle between the balance of the chaos of the teetering strength of Zen.
Painting with Craft Sticks is a love story between the rain and the thunder. Does one work without the other? Can thunder function without the fluidity and the softness of rain? Will the rain change it's direction if there is no thunder clap? The artist brings so many unanswered questions with this piece.
Painting with Tractors is one of my favorite pieces. As the curater of the Milo show, I have struggled with which pieces to showcase. This particular painting, I've displayed prominately. The pull of the crossroads. Do we venture east? Have I already been north? What/Whose side are you on?
Milo kept this piece as "Untitled." The artist gives the viewer permission to free associate without prejudice of the artist. The use of space is paramount. He purposely leaves the left side blank. He is always thinking of the claustophobic. I've heard people refer to this classic as "The Bees Knees following it's path." I tend to agree.
Here Milo taps into the medium of stamping. It's a classic, yet post modern take on the use of pre-made form. You can tell by the use of space and the way he went from firm to loose there was a battle. Perhaps between cowboy and native american. Perhaps between democracy and capitalism. The artist leaves it up to you to decide.
On November 18, 1999 my future husband joined the Navy. He flew to Chicago where he spent 9 weeks in boot camp. Upon completion, his parents drove from Georgia, through a blizzard, to see their middle child graduate. Shortly thereafter, Justin spent a year in Pensacola, FL going to A and C school. After a 2 week reprieve, Justin was sent to Hawaii for 3 years. The next duty station was in Connecticut (where we met). When we got orders to move to D.C., we quickly agreed this would be our last stop.
But, as usual-all-ways, things changed...
June, 2008, Navy Memorial, Washington, D.C.
Because after 9 years, 3 duty stations, 1 wife, 1 baby on the way, and a bad economy...my husband decided to reenlist for 3 more years...
And then suddenly? It's that time again. To this date, my husband has served close to 11 years. Safe to say the odds of staying active duty for the full 20 are in sight...
Here are some shots of the ceremoney...and an added bonus? My in-laws, who drove up from Georgia, got to witness their first, albeit brief, reenlistment ceremony.
Because it's ALL ABOUT ME. I want it bigger, faster, shinier, smaller, smarter, prettier, sleeker...AND IT BETTER SMELL GOOD, TOO.
And, then, there are all the APPS. For everything. I mean, the ieverything.
IDEA! iIdea! I'll invent the ieverything!! Then I'll be the champion of the universe!! I'll be the richest ibitch EVER because ihave the ieverything!
Mother Nature? Father Sky?
Yeah...there's an app for that too.
Feeling claustrophobic? Download inature and in a nanosecond you'll be at the iocean sitting on your iyacht. Or the imountains, skiing down the islopes.
I'm in a funk. And I hate funk. Milo has been in his daycare situation for 6 months now. When I first enrolled him I couldn't commit to a full time position and the lady who runs the show was not filled up, so she was able to accomodate us. My jobby job "outside the home" isn't a full time position. Some weeks I work 5 days. Other weeks might just be 2. And some days I'm put on-call. Some days I'm working evenings. Other days I'm working day shift. So I needed a place that would fly with my "fly by the seat of my big girl panties" job.
So some weeks Milo is in for the full week. Some weeks I only put him in for 2 days.
And yes, this schedule has driven me batty. But, on the other hand, I like that I don't have a rutty 9-5 weekday job...that will be there later, but for now, I want to spend time with my little darling..
Well, things are changing. FUCK.
Two days ago my day care provider (DCP) lady called. She chatted with me about ways to handle diarrhea, sore balls, how it's better to use a warm wash cloth instead of wipes, get some pedialyte for the dehydration, omit juice and milk...
You know, award winning, hard hitting, edge of your potty seat kind of stuff...
Yeah, I said sore balls.
Then she dropped the bomb: She needed to let Milo go because someone needs his "slot." "Is 2 weeks enough time for you to find a new place for him??"
When I first started this whole "back to work" adventure...boy, was it hard...on so many levels...but then we found our groove. I enjoyed getting out of the sand box for a few hours, playing dress up and omitting the words "mommy" and "we don't hit our friends" from my vocabulary for a full 8 hours and he loved his routine of tearing up someone else's house.
Now I'm back to calling and visiting new child care centers and trying to figure out where to take him..
Now, finding "as needed" or part time child care is a nightmare.
Finding full time childcare is a close 2nd nightmare.
Especially in mid-August when most people have secured their child placement issues for the Fall.
SO. I think he's going from a small in-home daycare to a corporate "this is the toddler room" pre-school like daycare.
BOOOOOOOO!!!
That is further from my house.
That requires me to sign a contract for full time care.
Which means I pay every week for FT -whether he is there or not!!
MONKEY BALLS.
So tomorrow will be his last day of in-home family day care. Then he is off to corporateAmerica daycare. They even have a FB page. And you can follow them on Twitter.
WTF??
This parenting thing really doesn't get any easier...
does it?
Like I told a friend who has a 12 month old (and one on the way!!), "It doesn't get any easier, just different..."
And, damn, if that doesn't proove itself, everyday...
alternate title: I'm a lazy blogger as of late and/or possibly just so damn busy with work and then dinner and then bath and then rockabye storytime and then I just want to eat chocolate marshmellow ice cream and go night-night...
other alternate title: I'm a lazy blogger who is working far too much this week for other people who are on vacation and then I come home and wait for the husb to cook dinner and then entertain, bathe and put Milo to bed while I take a nap and then catch up with The Hills while eatting chocolate marshmellow ice cream.
But we're still keeping things real. And real klassy, as per usual...
Pants? Pants are for people who live in areas where the temperature isn't being called things like record-breaking.
Now I gotta go watch Hell's Kitchen finish folding laundry...
I've had a nose ring for, I believe, about 8 or so years now. It was a random act of best friend adventure. He got an eyebrow ring. I opted for the nose. Very much like the time we got a tattoo together when he came to visit me my senior year of college. I've had my nose peirced for so long that I forget it's there. Even though it's smack in the middle of my face, I don't see it or feel it. It's like a freckle. A tiny silver ball of a freckle.
Pretty harmless I 'd say.
So when I come across someone who judges me for the 3rd hole in my nose or the tat on my back (which is a tiny little butterfly on my left shoulder blade. I know, SATANIC.) I get that stabby feeling...Y'know, the whole -I really want to be accepting and cool and mature about this but you're saying to my face that face peircings and tattoos especially on women are trashy -that they come across as unprofessional -that people only get these things because they want to be thought of as "different" or "antisocial." It couldn't possibly be in the ballpark of when people wear rings/bracelets/necklaces/earrings. GASP! Hoops in the ears are offensive!!
(Oh, yeah, btw, this was coming from a psychiatric nurse. Nice)
It's called cultural competence. And as a person who works with not only a diverse population, but with a population who are mentally ill, I expect you to have the ability to accept, communicate with, and effectively interact with people across cultures. Who have different world views. Not bad, not wrong, just different.
Please to check your bias at the door. Mmkthx.
Please to become interested in others world views. It's part of being an effective worker in the mental health field. It's part of winning friends and influencing people.
And then there was some words regarding peircing baby girl ears and how just awful that is and how could you...blahblahblah...
And at the time I was so dumbfounded that someone I liked and respected was telling me all this. And all I could say was,
"Wow...okay."
And they were all, "Well, at least I'm telling you to your face."
Yeah, at least you're being rude and ignorant RIGHT OUT LOUD.
That's great.
I went home that night feeling so in a funk. I was actually questioning my decision to maintain my nose ring. The tat I can easily cover up. But, damn, I'm 32. A mother. Should I be wearing this? What image am I sending? Is this good for my son? Will people still take me seriously in the work place and socially?! As a mother??
Yeah, self doubt SUCKS. Especially when you are overtired and it's one in the morning.
So I came home, kicked off my shoes, grabbed a slice of leftover pizza and turned on the tv.
And saw this commercial:
And, BAM. I got my mojo back.
Yup, from a 36 second Holiday Inn commercial.
And I didn't even have to cut a bitch...
ps. On a side note, the UK version of this commercial (seen above) has the chick with the pink hair. The US version does not...interesting, huh?
So this was kind of like the time when Milo wandered around and then got very serious and still and my mind went all "toddler tiara psycho mama-like" and I thought, "let's capture this moment 'cause we're totally going to look back at this and say 'see here, this picture? This is where it all started...'"
I had a training regarding nonviolent crisis intervention (super fun!) that ended early. Like 4 hours early. I then headed over to Panera Bread and ate at a leisurely pace (the. best. thing. EVER) And then I thought about getting my oil changed. Then thought: Nah.
Thought about going to the gym. Then thought: Nah.
Thought about going to the grocery store. Then thought: Nah.
Thought about Milo and wondered if he was napping right about now, like he usually does. Thought maybe I should call the daycare to see if he was napping and, if not, maybe go ahead and pick him up and try to get him to nap in his own crib. READ: a full 2 hours that he can only successfully do in his own crib at this time.
Then thought: Nah.
Thought about going home and taking a nap and then going to pick him up.
Best idea I had all day!!
I love today!
update: So after I had an amazing 2 hour nap, I went to get Mr. Milo...guess who didn't nap?! Again!? DAY 2 OF NO NAPPING!
You could say I had a smidge of guilt...
and then I thought: maybe he'll sleep through the entire night LIKE HE DID LAST NIGHT HOW AWESOME WAS THAT PEOPLE!! WOOT!
and then I thought:
I love today! Again!
ps: Tomorrow is Milo's pediatric podiatrist appointment. Wish us luck!
FACT: my (it's all) "about me" section still points to me as a SAHM. And even though the young one is now in daycare and I work OUTSIDE THE HOME...I'm NOT READY to change my ABOUT ME section.
and I may be "trained" or "educated" as a mental health "professional"...but I. DON'T. KNOW. WHY i'm not ready to change it...
but I'm leaning towards lazy. pinky swear.
and Dear Day Care Providers,
When I drop off my child in the morning looking FRAZZLED and IN A HURRY and my little darling is STILL IN HIS PAJAMAS and I also bring along a pair of pants and a shirt that look very DAY TIME WEARABLE....please change him into said clothes.
Because when I come back 8 or so hours later to pick up my little darling, I'd rather NOT see him in his PAJAMAS. THAT I PUT HIM INTO NEARLY 24 HOURS BEFORE!
AND THEN,
when my husband says to me, "It's not her job to dress him in the morning." This does not (to quote Lilu) MAKE ME HAPPY IN THE PANTS.
And though it is not your job to make me HAPPY IN THE PANTS, this still doesn't make me HAPPY IN THE PANTS.
MY BAD for having a RUSH RUSH morning with just enough time to put his socks on and a jacket to get him in the car and out the door!!!
and another,
When my darling young child comes home after NO NAP AT FREAKIN' ALL WHAT THE FREAK FREAK FREAKITY FREAK...and then I'm dealing with an all out APOCOLYPTIC LUNAR ECLIPSE-TASTIC ZOMBIE HYSTERIA BITING MANIAC...
I'm gonna need an explanation.
The only way I'm going to "GET THIS" and then "forgive and forget" is if he sleeps tonight. LIKE THE WHOLE 12 HOURS THROUGH THE NIGHT HALLELUJAH BABY JESUS THAT WAS THE BEST SLEEP I'VE EVER HAD SINCE...
I WAS HAPPY IN THE PANTS.
And then?
you can do whatever the FREAKITY FREAK and we can just forget about all this, yeah?
Bonjour Mes Amis!
So WOW, it's been a week and I haven't posted one. damn. thing. Not even a Wordless Wednesday! Turns out having a jobby job and a baby who CONTINUES TO BE INCONSISTENT WITH SLEEPING THROUGH THE HOLY NOT SO SILENT NIGHT, a husband who needed an ER visit to figure out why he's walking like he needs a V8 and feeling seasick to be diagnosed asVertigo, then 2 days later (Saturday) when all we wanted to do was move slow and enjoy "family time" over cartoons and pancakes instead we go get xrays for said baby who's walking with his right foot toed-in like MAJAH...can ALL be exhausting...and my brain goes "Hey! Let's write a post and update your faithfuls! And my then my body goes, "How about watching TMZ?"
(btw, the appt with a pediatric foot doc is next week. Here's hoping that he doesn't need Forrest Gump leg braces for the next 5 years!!)
So short story kept short, daycare is going exceptionally well! I only cried once. Or maybe every morning. Though Milo-man is still getting to know how to sleep his full 2 hour nap without climbing out of the pack and play and all the reports of how he is "so cuddly!" (read: clingy) he has been doing really well! His sign language as well as his speech have been improving, which correlates to a decline of the whine. He is offered NO BOTTLES at day care! (I know, I know, what the HELL am I doing offering a 19 month old a BOTTLE!). He easily takes the sippy cup with milk while he's there. At home? Not-a-so-much! Surprisingly she hasn't had to be put him in Time Out (yet). And, honestly, I really don't worry about him during the day. It feels so good knowing that he is doing absolutely fine! I pick up my smiling little man who appears well-fed, (semi) well rested, and appropriately stimulated by his new friends and caretaker.
Now the state of my bathroom? and laundry? and litter box?
whole other story...
we survived our first week of daycare! and the jobby job!
For those of you just joining us, Welcome! Every month during Milo's first year, I took a pic of him with his monkey. Documenting this little guys growth has been such a pleasure/adventure/bittersweet/ridiculous labor of pure LOVE! Still amazes me how much he has grown in 18 (relatively) short months. I say "relatively" because anyone who is a parent knows there are some LONG ASS DAYS and LONG ASS NIGHTS.
Enjoys
(short) car rides, chasing cats, walking up and down stairs, shutting/opening/slamming doors, playing peek a boo, dancing, running away from diapers/wipes, taking off his shirt, eatting mum-mums, apples, bananas, oatmeal, curry chicken, lamb, peanut butter, 40 spice hummus, wheat thins, cereal bars, chips, french fries...
juice out of sippy cups or straight from the bottle/jug, empty plastic bottles/jugs, bath time, laughing at most anything, pointing at random objects and having you label them, pointing to his nose and bellybutton is super fun, anything he can pull from cabinets/drawars, dumping over boxes, cups, throwing any object, grabbing your hand and guiding you around, cuddles, climbing on EVERYTHING including tables, couches, beds...
dislikes
big, wet, soggy diapers between the hours of 1am and 6am; vegetables, mac and cheese, anything with cheese really, or noodles, milk in sippy cups is a big NO THANK YOU, being told no or otherwise being denied access to desired object/place...
Today's appt revealed Milo at a lean 28lbs (I think it was the 75th percentile?) and 34 inches (95th)
The boy is 2 inches from being 3 feet tall.
Oh, all the wonders of the wonderful...sheesh...
In other news...after nearly 19 months of being a SAHM....I'll be rejoining the workforce! I threw several "balls" in the air, and down came my mental health roots -and I've decided to give it a go! In the interest of privacy, that's all you get! Unless, of course, I know know you and I like like you, then you can get more scoop...
What is this thing they call age-appropriate? The other morning we went to the local community center and participated in an obstacle course with about 15 or so other toddlers. This is as much fun as you would expect. 15 kids. One room. Bless you kindergarten teachers! Milo buys into this chaos for about 15 or so minutes...
"Why are you making me walk on this...piece. of. wood. NOT. FUN."
"Am I entertaining? Why are you taking a PICTURE? NOT SMILING =NOT FUN."
But he gets restless and overwhelmed so Milo discovers the door and he's outta there! Of course, I initially wanted to pull him back in -force him to stay in the room -jumping, crawling, balancing, tumbling with the other kids: "THIS IS SO FUN, LOOK MILO...HEY BACK HERE, STAY WITH MAMA!"...but I decided to let him go explore with daddy....because, really, I couldn't blame the kid...
And my little Marco Polo wanders down the hall and discovers...
a room SO BIG SO QUIET with one lone man playing basketball (not pictured)...
WoW! The Wonderment! He just stood there (which is novel in and of itself) and watched a man play basketball. His eyes followed the ball, dribbling up and down, swoosh through the basket and bouncing around the court -the sound echoing clearly. His eyes scanned the bleachers, looked up to the skylights and scoreboard. I felt like I was witnessing a moment in my little boy...
"Wait a minute daddy, just one more minute..."
Funny when given a room full of age-appropriate (more or less) playthings and friends, Milo wanders into the Gym and seems to be more calm, happy and, dare I say, inspired...Moments like these always make me wonder about foreshadowing...and what we consider "age-appropriate."
I know that just because he dances to adult-alternative music doesn't mean he's going to become a pro modern dancer or an indie musician. Or when he "fist pumps" in the car to Lady Gaga, it doesn't mean he's going to be a conductor of a symphony orchestra. Or a gay club DJ.
I know just because he prefers an "adult" spoon to a plastic spoon while eatting his cereal doesn't mean he's going to be a Food Network Star.
And just because he was awe-struck by the basketball court doesn't mean he's going to sign a 25 million dollar contract with the NBA and buy mama a waterfront, Mediterranean style home in Tahiti.
But, as a mother, it sure is fun to muse on all the roads my little one can take. Soon enough I'll be looking into his eyes, saying what so many other parents have said to their young ones who are exploring their interests, their lives...finding a talent, a passion...
"You can do whatever you set your mind to."
and truely mean it.
-even if it isn't recognized in a room considered to be full of age appropriate-ness...As many parents have discovered...it's the toys outside the box that are way more fun...
Doesn't this pic say 25 million dollar contract ALL OVER IT?
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