Kindergarten, Day one.

I'd like to call this post, "why the FUCK am I crying?!"

So here's this kid. That I love more than eyesight. That I love more than love. That I exist more than sleep. That I breathe more than a Merlot needs to after uncorking. 

My first born. My consciously conceived. That I've lost my brain-and-sane more times than I care to care. That I've reevaluated and underestimated and begged for mercy more times than I've had glasses of wine...

 

(today)

Let me get to the point...

...Is starting kindergarten. 

Orientation, the day before day one.
"We Line Up Quiet!"

Is.

Starting. 

Kinder-fucking-Garten. 

And I understand this is the natural progression of things. Of life. I'm not an oblivious idiot who presumed my baby would remain on pause until I screamed "UNCLE!"  

But still. 

 

There's gonna be a bus. There's gonna be 8 pre-sharpened pencils in his backpack. Along with 10 erasable markers, 26 crayons, 3 pocketed folders, a pink erasure, scissors, a lunch box, a change of clothes...

 

Chief Daddy took the morning off to participate in this momentous parent/child milestone.

 

And he's gonna kiss me with a half hearted hug up against my tight, unrelenting embrace, with a "love you too, mom" (if I'm lucky), board that bus and then go be a kindergartener. 

Without me. 

 

And I will gather up my almost 2yo, wave after a bus filled with kids bouncing on seats (without carseats OMG stop thinking about it!!) and wish him well. Wish them ALL well. 

Because.... I have to. 

And then I'll probably go pour a glass of that Merlot that's been breathing for the past hour because...

MILO is starting KINDERGARTEN. 

 

Kindergarten, Day One. 
You got this, Milo-Man...

 

 

 

Snippets



Milo's first trip to a Mall. That is in the throws of pre-Christmas shopping vomit all over everywhere you turn.  Where there are stores.  With lots of shit 3 year olds love to have/destroy/rip/throw.
And, yet, he was good.  Angelic even.  Even when he insisted on going into Spencers and he picked up a fun looking box and says, "What THAT mama?"  "It's a beer bong, honey, put it down, please, that's not a toy for you.  Yet." 


Look at this kid gazing at the water fountain.  I didn't even have to give him Benedryl.  Fuck yeah.




Xmass gifts that come in the mail are immediately opened.  Especially if they're from Grandma E.!  Coincidentally, the UPS man dropped this on our porch JUST BEFORE NAPTIME.  *knock knock*  "LOOK MAMA!  PRESENTS!  OPEN IT!!
So, guess who refused to lay down until *SOMEONE* put this bad boy together -note: i had to actually READ directions.  This is not my FAVE. AND insert batteries.  But it made him happy. It made for a LONG day, but whatevs...




At a birthday party.  Milo sees the ginormous cake, looks up at me (see above) and says, "I eat cake NOW, mommy?!"



A must to eat Nutella and spend some time "outside the kitchen table."

 

Important to run with the balls



An important to just run



Also an important to get thee to a bath on an occasion

31 weeks and then the bathroom mirror shattered at 5am

So I took this picture 7 hours before the mirror crashed out:

the psychotic asshole I'm in a bad mood

I'd love to blame the hormones but seriously, it's not me, IT'S EVERYONE ELSE!

I think, for fun and to keep myself from increasing my stabby atittude, I'm going to start lying.  If I have to answer one more freakin' question about the elephant in the room (MOI) I'm going to start throwing cat feces in faces.

I've got plenty to spare YA'LL!

I'm totally over the whole "if you're pregnant than your body and your life are up for detailed conversations with strangers."

And then, at 5am, this happened:



My 5am alarm clock
HOLY.  SHIT.  That was LOUD!

So, to recap, our tree fell down and now the mirror.  Is someone trying to tell me something?!

And can I just say one thing...for some reason WAY WAY beyond me, my son tends to wake up at about 6am...but only on the weekends. 

This particular morning I HAD to be up early (6:30ish) so I was anticipating Milo being my alarm clock to make sure I was up and about.

And then the mirror happened.  At 5am.  It was some kind of spontaneous, spur-of-the-random-thing that just. happened. 

Yes, the bathroom mirror just FELL OFF THE FUCKING WALL.

Thankfully, the husb was still home to help to clean up the mess.  He was, in fact, 2 floors down shaving when he heard the huge crash and my scream-like-a-girl scream.

And Milo did not wake up.

And then the vacuuming.

And Milo is still sleeping soundly.  In fact, I had to wake him up at 7am to make sure we were getting out the door on time.

Over the weekend I remember thinking, "What does it take to get this kid to sleep IN?!"

Apparently a shattering mirror and a good old fashioned vacuum cleaning does the trick...

go figure...



and goodbye mirror



so does this means I can now tear down that tacky-ass wallpaper, get a cool new mirror from Home Goods AND repaint?!

Woo-HOO! Let the nesting begin NEVER END!



Me: 31 weeks and wondering what next week will bring...



Stats:

Still to go before I'm a rational human being again:
8 weeks 6 days

Which is:
62 days

Time passed since I've lost all contact with reason:
31 weeks and 1 day

Milo's brother is as big as a:
head of lettuce (estimated at 18 in, 3.2 lbs)

Song in my head:
ring around the rosey, pocket full of posey, ashes, ashes, WE ALL FALL DOWN!

On second thought I probably shouldn't be riding roller coasters

This is the look of someone who is 6 months pregnant and probably shouldn't be riding a roller coaster.  Even a kid roller coaster.  You know that metal bar that sits down on your lap?  Yeah.  It's tight.

And that is the look of a 2.5 year old thinking, "Oh Fuck Yeah."

An artist is at work here, people.

God DAMN FUCKING cookies from scratch.
GOD damn  1994 stove that doesn't heat evenly or clean itself.
STupid Fucking smoke detector who is like a crack whore on constant PMS wailing at any sign of innocent cooking or baking!
Forgetful SPACE CADET MOI who assumes I have enough butter AND FUCKING SUGAR in the house to make these FUCKING COOKIES FROM scratch!!
You know who sells "crystalized ginger"?  NOBODY. Or all the stores are sold out because of chipper cheerFULL free-for-all Betty Homemakers of the world STOCK PILED THEM IN THEIR FUCKING CUSTOM BUILT 500 SQUARE FOOT PANTRY.

Are cookies supposed to be burnt on the bottom and RARE on the inside?

I EVEN BOUGHT CREAM OF TARTAR.

I don't even know what that is!!  But it was on sale and apparently people buy this during the month of December!!

There's flour on my CEILING.  On my POPCORN FUCKING CEILING that my husband and I just painted!!

PAINTED! You know how much fun painting a popcorn ceiling is!??!!  OH, IT'S LOTS.

And THEN...I don't have the right PAN, the thermometer thingy, or fucking PAM spray. 

WHAT DO YOU MEAN I NEED 4.5 INCH FLUTED INDIVIDUAL TART PANS WITH REMOVEABLE BOTTOMS??

I got me a removeable bottom.

It's called "go to fucking aisle 3 at the grocery store, buy a bag of oreos and bring THOSE to the fucking cookie swap!!"

I'll layer those bitches on wax paper in an airtight container and tie a goddamn red ribbon around it.  And THAT will be THAT.

the fun around here never stops. or it never starts. Depends on who you ask

So the other day my son took a rather large shit.

He looks over at me and says, "Oh no...what happened?"

Then he grabs his bum and says, "Butt.  Butt."

This is the stuff proud moms are made of.

turn and face the strain...

 

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 corporate America 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...

How many beds does it take...

Wondering what's a-happenin' with the whole "big boy" bed thang?  Well, it's been a few weeks, so let's recap:

Milo got a job as a ninja and decided to master his skills at home before prowling the streets protecting the innocent.

And by *practicing at home* I mean he would leap out of the crib with not so much as a thump or an "umph."

So, being the conscientious parents that we are, we took apart the front end of his crib.  Which was great because we bought this overpriced convertible crib that is supposed to last a lifetime -through all the stages of development. LIARS.

So we were jazzed to move to the next "level" of toddlerhood:  the toddlerbed.

Only one small problem:

1.  the crib had been recalled.

2.  One year ago

3. I had not sent in the hardware and paperwork to get a "voucher" for a new crib

4.  The crib sat too high for it to be a bed-bed

Okay, four problems.  I'm bad with math.  I was an Art Major in College.

OH!  And another thing,  Milo found this situation to be very, very awesome.  So much so, that winding down was a joke...

It was pure playtime

"I will own you mother f*ck*r!!!  Take THIS"

So we broke the entire bed down...

AND THEN, well...this little toddler mattress was also, a joke, because he kept rolling off, waking up, and well...we relived the good 'ol days of having a newborn...up. every. 2. hours = not.fun.

So THEN, we pulled in a full sized mattress and he slept on that for a couple of weeks...but still, the boy didn't sleep all that well...

He would cry-cry-cry at the gate (placed in his doorway) until he finally passed out...

So, the "big boy" bed?  Doing well...actually.  Nice to be able to put a *check* next to that.

This, my friends, is a little bit of nighttime heaven.  Also? It's supposed to *grow* with him. HA...we'll see...

It took about a week for Milo to completely fall in love, but we. are. sleeping.

IN THE BED!!! 

The WHOLE NIGHT!!

To all you parents out there whose babes are still crib bound? 

Best of luck to you in the transition!!

April 2, 2008. Wednesday

As a follow up to my last post, and for prosperity, I thought I'd share the moment I found out we were having a Milo.

When I was preggo with de Milo, I had a Myspace account.  I had blogged on it a few times in regards to the pregnancy...It's funny to go back to my pregnancy journal and read how easily angered and annoyed I would get..at most everything... 

At least I hope that was just a pregnancy thing...

Anyhoos, here's a little story on my 20 week sonagram -It's a BOY!!

                                                                20 weeks pregnant.

So Receptionist Lady at La Sonagrame de Navy Medicale was everything and more as my baby daddy (BD) and I approached for our long anticipated 20 week sonagram.  This appointment took FOREVER to schedule due to the fact that I had to talk to one SPECIFIC person. 

Everytime I called I spoke to the one nice and responsive receptionist in the hospital (Not to mention a specific hospital, but it's the one known as "The Presidents Hospital."  I'm sure you can figure it out from there.  And if they sent me a satisfaction survey, I'd be more than happy to fill it out.)  who politely informed me the girl (who incidentally sits right next to her, using the same computer terminal -nice use of man power) is gone.  Possibly up to an hour.  And, no, she herself, could not schedule the appointment for me.  She does medical something or other sonagram appointments.  The other does the OB sonagram appointments. Awesome.

This is an example of Radical Acceptance.

Let's just say she wasn't at her desk very often.  Like the 3 times I called to schedule the damn thing.

So we finally scheduled the appointment.  It's April 2 and we are finally checking in with the infamous "fresh out of bootcamp I hate my job because there are no windows and I'm surrounded by crazy pregnant bitches all day -lady." It's not so much that she looked at me as if I had the audacity to approach her with a smile because she is stuck in a dreary basement setting for hours on end (oh, but let's not mention the 3 hour lunches I know the witch is taking) it was more how friendly she was to the other 2 couples who came in after me to check in.  BD was noticing this as well, as we sat for 45 minutes in the waiting room.  She would smile at the lovely preggers and committed BDs as they approached her prestigious post.  She even informed one BD how he will have to stay in the waiting room for the 1st part of the sonogram and then will be called in when appropriate.  How nice...I would've liked to have been oriented regarding protocol when I checked in instead of reading the 1972 memo on the wall...

My BD turns to me and asks if I would like for him to speak to her about her condescending attitude towards me and her lack of customer service skills.  I say no, because we are civilized and sober and do not need to make a scene unless otherwise indicated.  Instead I take notes and silently judge her from a safe distance.

Finally my name is called and BD stays seated, albeit patiently, because, we are future parents and are working on our maturity and trying real hard not to question authority...too much.  We are picking our battles.  But, seriously, after all was said and done -why couldn't he have been there for the entire show?

As I enter the closet that will reveal my Rockstar as a boy or a girl, hermaphrodite or stub, I let the tech know I am in a good mood, please don't be a bitch and ruin this moment, in so many words:

Me: "We are very excited about today's results..."

She immediately turns to me asks, "First baby?"

I'd like to think I would be a bit excited anytime I'm sashaying into a room (closet) for the 20 week sonagram...but I suppose she has seen her share of Navy folk coming through that are more nonchalant about these things after the 2nd, 3rd, or 4th pregnancy...

A nice surprise was how warm the gel was -all those other times you're jumping out of your skin from the freezer burn inducing gel that is oozing from this seemingly harmless tube.

Me: "Wow! That's really warm!"
Her: "It's nice isn't it?"

Is she hitting on me?  Awesome.

So she goes through clicking away and measuring all the parts that make up Little E.  I start guessing at the different body parts she is measuring.  She is impressed that I could identify the spine.  I'm feeling good.  She asks me if I'm "local" and I give her the short version of the story.  She asks me how I met my BD and I tell her though trial and error.  She asked me "How did you know he was the One?"  I respond that I thought he was cute and I liked that he had a steady job.  He introduced me to sushi and lamb chops.  I introduced him to wine and gay men.  We were obvs meant for each other...

She then tells me about her 4 children, her divorce, and how one of her daughters set her up on a date recently.  She liked him but wanted to dip her foot in other ponds before shaving her legs, or whatever...

She is now my new BFF.

Then she tells me, "I've got to tell you, you've got one cute baby here."
Me: "I'm sure you say that to all the girls."
Her: "No, you really do."

She is totally my new BFF.

Me: "uhmm...how can you tell that it's cute?"
BFF:  "Look at its face and profile." (narrows in on the face)

I think he looks like Abe Lincoln here.

She has now restored my faith in Navy Medical.  These people are real professionals.  But I'm getting antsy because BD really needs to see all this.  She finishes up her clicking and measuring and off she goes to get BD.  The first thing he says is "Don't tell me!" 

Don't worry babe, we're finding out together what lies ahead, or beneath rather...

My BFF comes back in and gives my BD a glimpse of how far the sperm/egg fusion has come.  Zooming in on the feet, legs, arms, and that cute baby face.  She squirts more lub, er gel, on my stomach and we search for the tell tale signs.

Here I am, gel/lube on my belly, moments before my BFF tells me what the sex is...

BFF: "Before I tell you the sex, why do you think it's a boy or a girl?"
Me: "Well, my parents think it's a girl...but I just think it's a boy...maybe it's because I haven't gained much weight, y'know, those old wives takes..."

BFF:  "See here...there's a boy part!"

Tears, joy, happiness among men, women and children ensue.  (Except no tears from BD, he doesn't cry.  Then again, the room was dark and I bet he was really red-eyed)  We wrap up and BD is asked to leave due to needing to do one more little "procedure" to ensure all is well -I'll spare the details...but all is well...

I step back into the waiting room, I am a beam of sunshine in that Grey Dank Basement Ultrasound Section of the President's Hospital...I all but shout "IT'S A BOY!!" to the crowd of parents to be and stink eye girl at the receptionist desk.  I cling to my pictures, grab my BD's arm and skip off to revel in knowing we are going to have one fine looking baby boy in 20 some-odd more weeks...

and p.s.? She was totally right...

potty time?

So for the past week or so there's been a new phenomenon during Milo's (pronouced My-low, not Me-low)  bathtime. During our nightly bath ritual, when Milo is ready to get out, he'll unplug the drain and then start splashing around, bidding adieu to the sudsy goodness.  And then, quite suddenly, he'll start peeing.  The first time this happened he looked down and was intrigued/shocked by what was happening. Then he looked at me confused and in desperate need for validation and explanation.

(cue happy squealing mama)

"Yayyyyyyy! You're peeing!  Out of your pee-pee!  Yeah, peeing! (clap clap clap!!) Keep going! Get it all out!! Peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!! Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyy!" 

And then he gets a big 'ol cheese grin on his face, looks down, and starts stomping/dancing around and laughing and saying "ohhhhhhhhh" like he's invoking and giving thanks to the Peeeeeeeeee gods.

So this has been going on all week.  Now, tonight, he drains the tub as usual.  He stands up to get out of the tub.  I say "Do you need to peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?" Milo looked down, sqeezed in his stomach muscles several times and fully emptied his bladder.  Then he looked up at me and give me the "all done" sign.  Paired, of course, with the cheese grin and then he almost said, "Thanks for the reminder mom, I almost forgot!"

Hmmm...like I said....Potty time?

a series of notes too big for a post-it

Dear Milo,
I know I shouldn't pee in front of you, but it's going to happen. Mostly because you can't handle a shut door. Unless you, yourself, are shutting it. It's a fantastic game you play with yourself. Open, shut, turn knob, swing door between hands, oh so freakin' fun, shut, open, and again.

oh yeah, peeing...

so I flush the toilet, stand up and who comes rushing in with a toy in hand? oh I don't know...

and who decides to drop the toy into the toilet while it's flushing? oh I don't know....

and who -despite a plunger and a wire coat hanger (I SAID NO WIRE HANGERS!!) cannot dislodge said toy?

For future reference rising water in a toilet is not cool.

love,
mama

Dear Milo,
tonight I decided to invite a couple of friends over for dinner and girl convo/playdate for you and your friend Parker. At one point during the evening you find it funny to yell in your friend Parkers face and then promptly snatch his sippy cup out of his mouth.

you then happily suck away on the sippy cup as if it belongs to you. As if you don't have plenty of sippy cups of your own. As if you don't prefer the bottle. As if it's going to take many more months to wean you from that damn bottle. As if I'm not sure if it's me or you who is having a hard time bottle weaning. wait...what??

Milo, this is how syphilis is spread. Knock it off.

love,
mama


Dear Milo,
speaking of syphilis, you had your first kiss today. Let me clarify. Your first man kiss.

So during said playdate/ladies night in, you and your friend Parker were playing quite nicely on the floor. Parker was taking a moment, laying down on his back. You then, very quickly, bent down and put your forehead to his and then sweetly mashed lips.

Nobody in the room missed this moment. Oh I wish my camera had caught this sight!! But, because I'm a parent, and I have to parent you on what is appropriate (please hold your laughter) I have to inform you on the concept of personal space.

Next time, please ask your intended if they have syphilis.

love,
mama