my happy place

Every so often I head back to where we got married.

and I watch our son play.

Where the weather, where the air, where the energy
is all-ways peace-full

I tell him, "this is where mommy and daddy came together with their families and friends and said "'forever.'"

He runs around happily: soaking, sponging.

contemplating risks

A mixture of nostalgia, stories, deep breathing, harbor noise, big sails, grass, flowers, you, me...

perfection.

git yer potty on! or let's git yer potty started!

Please forgive the title.  I'm turning into one of those mom's who rattle off lame parenting jokes (loosens belt one notch from mom jeans)

I've been very successful at staying away from chapter 19: All about toilet training. My philosophy thus far is this:  I never read the chapter regarding Labor and Delivery, and after 7 easy hours of labor and 20 easy minutes of pushing -BAM I had myself a baybay. (I might be exaggerating.  Or forgetful. One of those. Or both)

The body is going to do what it's going to do, man.  Peace, love, and the universe.  And stuff like that.

If you recall, Milo came a month early so I never had the chance to so much as skim the chapter.  When I checked into the hospital, hunching over the nurses station, moaning in THUNDER ON THE MOUNTAIN PAIN, with my pajama bottoms soaked from amniotic fluid ( OH,  I COULD JUST GO ON BUT I WON'T!!) I didn't even have a bag packed.  I literally kicked the car seat (which was still in the box, wrapped in plastic) out the door while clutching a toothbrush.  I had been commuting nearly 3 hours a day and working a full 40 hours a week.  I barely had time to fit in the 13 hours of sleep I required to keep my face from falling off. 

All I knew, is that someway, somehow, someWHERE a baby would be exiting my body.  And, chances are, it would happen whether I read the entire "What to Expect while Expecting" book or not.

If a caveman can do it...

sidebar: I did take a child birthing class.  Very informative. They even provided graham crackers and juice. I even got to watch the movie: The case of the hairy vagina and the woman who refused the epidural. Highly recommended.

So, I'm thinking even if I don't educate myself on the do's and don'ts of toilet 101, he will learn how to make the diaper extinct from his life.  Effortlessly...

Then again, I really don't want to be changing a 4 year old's diaper...

Potty training? Let's get on with it...

short and true story. eventually.

"Milo, I'm gonna need you to mow the lawn this morning."  "Aw, ma, c'mon...it's too hot to be out there today," my son complained. "Well, you promised me last week this would get done, and now, I can feel the grass on my knees..."

"Your knees, mom?  Dramatic much?"

I looked at him, evenly, lips in a thin line.  I didn't like him challenging me.  Though, of course, I reminded myself, it's the age.  The task of the teenager is to individuate.  Sigh.

"Sorry, ma" he replied half apologetically.  "Besides, the mosquitos are addicted to my blood.  I have 26 bites on me!"

"26 bites?  Dramatic much?" I said, happy that I could still volley the ball, so to speak.

"Can't I mow the grass tomorrow? It's supposed to be less humid..."

"Milo, I'm much more interested in the grass being cut today.  I'll have lunch waiting for you upon your return."

"'Lunch waiting for me? Upon my return? Since when did you become Mary Poppins?"

"Mary who?" I teased.

Milo rolled his eyes. "What's for lunch anyways?" Milo's voice raised in solid hope that Italian sausage and peppers would be on the menu.

I smiled, knowingly, then threw him the bottle of bug spray. He caught it easily with his left hand.

"Put those mosquitos in withdrawal, I'll see at noon."

pirate ship comparative: 8/09 vs. 8/10

 

Mother, mother ocean, I have heard you call,

Wanted to sail upon your waters

since I was three feet tall.

You've seen it all, you've seen it all...

-jimmy buffet

pick-up b-ball etiquette

1. Find a game that suits your skill level.

2. "Who's got next?" And reserve your spot.

3.  Learn the courts rules. "Are we playing to 11 points? Each basket worth 1 point?"

4.  Warm up. Practice your dribbing and shooting to avoid injury.  Or embarrassment.

 

5.  Make your own calls during the game.  Be accurate.  Be loud.

and finally?  Be a good sport...shake hands...whether you win or lose...

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...

45 minutes well spent: Carnival

Our town offered up this condensed version of a Carnival.  Which, if I didn't have a kid, I probably would have smirked/scoffed at as I passed by on my way to a wine festival...but, alas, I'm opting for the "family friendly" events these days...

Milo's very first carnival ride: the choo-choo train.  Dad and I hopped in, anticipating all kinds of whining and attempts at bolting off...however, the kid was pretty good!  A little confused, perhaps a bit bored, but he stayed put!!  And quiet!!  Of course, it helped that he was buckled in...

Is just me or does the husb look like he is braced to react any minute to a full-blown tantrum?  OR like Milo is some sort of "you smile, I smile" Rock Star and he's the body gaurd? "Don't even think of asking for an autograph."

Now this ride was where the smiles and laughter ensued!  This was sort of a tea-cup ride.  It made me nauseous as eff, but Milo couldn't get enough of the spinning!!

And all of a sudden...I'm a mom...taking picures from the sidelines shouting, "MILO!  LOOK AT MAMA!  WEEEEE!  SO FUN!! MILO LOOK AT MAMA!!"

click...

Of course, he completely ignored me.  Typical.

Daddy winning me Milo some loot!!

  He really enjoyed the long, steep slide! Twice!

Aww...summertime...