It's not getting any easier for me to leave the Boy at his sitter's house. He cries when I leave, and even though I know it will end about a minute later, it still breaks my heart, each and every morning. Is there going to be a morning when he doesn't cry when I leave?
And dear God, is it going to come soon?
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Getting Better All the Time
This morning, I cried on my way to work.
I took the Boy to his sitter and had a bag with a gallon of organic milk in it to leave at her house for the week. I took the Boy in and he was a little clingy, but I would expect that on only his second Monday at the sitter's. Then I went back outside to get the milk.
And he cried. Screamed. Wailed. Pushed his little face up against the glass door, scrunched his eyes shut, and cried for me. His Mommy. Who is supposed to always be there. And who had just turned around and left him. My heart broke in a million pieces. I went back in and held him, kissed him over and over again, and told him it was going to be okay, that he would have fun with the sitter and her little girl, and Daddy would come to get him at the end of the afternoon. Then I committed a cardinal sin of parenting, that which the books and websites tell you you shouldn't do ever ever ever. I snuck out while he was distracted by a toy.
And proceeded to sob in the car through most of my ten minute drive to work.
And the Boy proceeded to have his best day yet with the sitter.
I took the Boy to his sitter and had a bag with a gallon of organic milk in it to leave at her house for the week. I took the Boy in and he was a little clingy, but I would expect that on only his second Monday at the sitter's. Then I went back outside to get the milk.
And he cried. Screamed. Wailed. Pushed his little face up against the glass door, scrunched his eyes shut, and cried for me. His Mommy. Who is supposed to always be there. And who had just turned around and left him. My heart broke in a million pieces. I went back in and held him, kissed him over and over again, and told him it was going to be okay, that he would have fun with the sitter and her little girl, and Daddy would come to get him at the end of the afternoon. Then I committed a cardinal sin of parenting, that which the books and websites tell you you shouldn't do ever ever ever. I snuck out while he was distracted by a toy.
And proceeded to sob in the car through most of my ten minute drive to work.
And the Boy proceeded to have his best day yet with the sitter.
Friday, June 19, 2009
New Life
Thus ends my first week back at work. It's been hectic, it's been fun, it's been a learning experience. I've been fortunate enough that, for the first year of Alex's life, I was either home with him during the day before going to work, or home with him in general. But all good things must come to an end (especially when you have student loans and also want to buy your Boy all the books in the Target's childrens' book aisle) and I went back to work (albeit at a new job, with normal hours and an actual supportive environment).
Monday was rough. Every day is rough, really. I want to be with my little Boy, caring for him and playing with him. Originally we had arranged that my Husband would drop off the Boy and I would pick him up, but logisitics led us to change that. Monday went fine, as Husband took a half day from work and picked up our Boy around 1:00 pm. I worried about our Boy until I knew he was back at home, but his day went well and he had fun playing. The rest of the week was not so good. Our Boy periodically remembers that he misses us, and cries.
I know it was only the first week, and there will be adjustment issues for all involved. But the thought of my Boy wanting me or his Daddy, and us not being there, is enough to shatter my heart into tiny pieces. I always want to be there for him, and I know I can't. Somewhere deep down in my rational mind, I know this is good for him. He will learn and grow and have fun. I also did enjoy being out of the house, learning new things and meeting new people- having conversations that don't include poop or Cheerios! I can't even begin to describe how horribly guilty I feel for actually liking my new job, but I know very well that all the working Mommies out there probably feel the same way.
It does help that our sitter only watches our Boy, in addition to her own two-year-old. She has lots of age-appropriate toys, as well as a small dog and a cat, which the Boy adores. She is a nice person who I can tell takes good care of our guy. But she isn't us. And we're not there.
The time in between when I get home from work and when the Boy goes to bed is so small. Too brief. I feel cheated. I'm no longer the one giving him his lunch, putting him down from his naps, and giving him his bottles- at least on weekdays. I hate it. Hate it, hate it, hate it. And yet I like the job. People tell me it gets better- but does it?
Monday was rough. Every day is rough, really. I want to be with my little Boy, caring for him and playing with him. Originally we had arranged that my Husband would drop off the Boy and I would pick him up, but logisitics led us to change that. Monday went fine, as Husband took a half day from work and picked up our Boy around 1:00 pm. I worried about our Boy until I knew he was back at home, but his day went well and he had fun playing. The rest of the week was not so good. Our Boy periodically remembers that he misses us, and cries.
I know it was only the first week, and there will be adjustment issues for all involved. But the thought of my Boy wanting me or his Daddy, and us not being there, is enough to shatter my heart into tiny pieces. I always want to be there for him, and I know I can't. Somewhere deep down in my rational mind, I know this is good for him. He will learn and grow and have fun. I also did enjoy being out of the house, learning new things and meeting new people- having conversations that don't include poop or Cheerios! I can't even begin to describe how horribly guilty I feel for actually liking my new job, but I know very well that all the working Mommies out there probably feel the same way.
It does help that our sitter only watches our Boy, in addition to her own two-year-old. She has lots of age-appropriate toys, as well as a small dog and a cat, which the Boy adores. She is a nice person who I can tell takes good care of our guy. But she isn't us. And we're not there.
The time in between when I get home from work and when the Boy goes to bed is so small. Too brief. I feel cheated. I'm no longer the one giving him his lunch, putting him down from his naps, and giving him his bottles- at least on weekdays. I hate it. Hate it, hate it, hate it. And yet I like the job. People tell me it gets better- but does it?
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
And Then He Was One
My boy is one year old.
He turned one yesterday. We gave him his presents, since he will be so inundated at his party that we didn't want to overwhelm him any more than we had to. A bubble mower, a couple small trucks, a Fisher Price Push-and-Go alligator, and a book called Things That Go. Despite his father and I being mildly disappointed by the mower (the Boy can't push it fast enough yet to get the bubbles going on his own), he LOVES it and quite happily pushed it all over the back yard for a long time. Walking. On his own two feet, feet on which there are little niblet toes that I still love to nom. Thank goodness he still lets me nom his toes.
I sit with him, smelling the top of his head, which has been the most intoxicating scent in the world to me for the past 365 days. I would know my Boy anywhere just by the smell of his strawberry blond hair. I admire his chubby hands and reminisce over the teeny hands that wrapped around my finger so long ago- and yet five minutes ago, wasn't it? Of course, now the Boy has ME totally wrapped around his finger, but that's besides the point.
He's a year old.
I gave myself a moment to look back on the last year of my life. His birth, his milestones, his smiles and silliness, his illnesses and accomplishments. How every single day he has touched my heart. How every stage, every age, was my favorite. How he is my favorite age right now. How I wanted to slow down his growing up. How I am so excited to see our future.
And that's where we are now. Looking forward to the future.
He turned one yesterday. We gave him his presents, since he will be so inundated at his party that we didn't want to overwhelm him any more than we had to. A bubble mower, a couple small trucks, a Fisher Price Push-and-Go alligator, and a book called Things That Go. Despite his father and I being mildly disappointed by the mower (the Boy can't push it fast enough yet to get the bubbles going on his own), he LOVES it and quite happily pushed it all over the back yard for a long time. Walking. On his own two feet, feet on which there are little niblet toes that I still love to nom. Thank goodness he still lets me nom his toes.
I sit with him, smelling the top of his head, which has been the most intoxicating scent in the world to me for the past 365 days. I would know my Boy anywhere just by the smell of his strawberry blond hair. I admire his chubby hands and reminisce over the teeny hands that wrapped around my finger so long ago- and yet five minutes ago, wasn't it? Of course, now the Boy has ME totally wrapped around his finger, but that's besides the point.
He's a year old.
I gave myself a moment to look back on the last year of my life. His birth, his milestones, his smiles and silliness, his illnesses and accomplishments. How every single day he has touched my heart. How every stage, every age, was my favorite. How he is my favorite age right now. How I wanted to slow down his growing up. How I am so excited to see our future.
And that's where we are now. Looking forward to the future.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Things I Cannot Live Without
Things I Cannot Live Without:
- Coffee
- Coffeemate Cinnamon Vanilla Creme (fancy way of spelling CREAM)
- Burt's Bees Beeswax Lip Balm
- Cover Girl CG Smoothers
- Old Navy or J. Crew flip flops
- Coca-Cola (was going to just write Coke, but didn't want to come off as drug addict)
- Oreo Double Stuff Mint
- Pizza
- Alex's penguin finger puppet
- Cell phone
- Digital camera
- Birth control pills (prefer not to have another baby til this one can use the potty, KTHX)
- Spray bottle for to spray MEOWING COMPLAINING cats with water
- Miche Bag (www.michebags.com)
- My friends and family
- Hershey bars with almonds
- Hand lotion (Suave or Avon)
- Owning every season of ER on DVD
- Consignment sales
- Properly aligned blankets on the bed (Yes!)
- Naptime
Monday, June 1, 2009
Things I Hate, Volume 1
When shirts or other random pieces-of-easily-wrinkled-clothing get all wound up in the sheets and therefore are all wrinkled when they come out of the dryer and since I do not own an ironing board and accidentally murdered the surface of my $200 Boscov's kitchen table while ironing on it, I have to run things under the kitchen faucet and throw them back in the dryer, and no I don't separate my sheets from the rest of the clothes, because that whole separating thing is for sissies.
Sissies!
Sissies!
Oh Dear With the Doctor's Appointment and Everything
Today was a great, happy, baby day. And I felt horribly guilty all day because I knew I had to take the boy to the doctor in the afternoon for his twelve month checkup. Husband came home to help, because it requires four hands to wrangle the boy at any given moment ANYWAY, and I knew the shot-giving was going to be a barrel of fun. Yeah.
We gave the boy Tylenol an hour before the appointment, which confused him, because he was fine, and so he carried the bottle around and shook it a lot. When we got to the doctor and were called in, he was all happy because Nurses! To flirt with! And show off for! With the walking! Then the kind nurse, who the boy had been flirting with nonstop, got out the Shot Tray. The boy recognized the Shot Tray. I don't know how he did it, since he hadn't had any shots in six months, but he did. And as I wrangled him onto my lap and held his hands in front of him, I tensed because I knew what was coming. And the boy tensed, because so did he.
The! Injustice! He screamed and cried, and this was only made worse by the finger stick, which was Horrible! And the Pain! Mommy! I had to keep repeating to myself that this was a good thing, and modern medicine, and blah blah blah YOU HURT MY BABY AND NOW YOU MUST DIE, BITCH. And then I felt sorry for the poor nurse because it must really suck to give babies shots all day long.
The boy survived, and fell asleep in the car on the way home, doing the little hitching-breath-sobby thing in his sleep which totally broke my heart. Then he took an hour and a half long nap, woke up, and started chasing the cats around the house again like nothing bad had ever happened to him ever. A teeny fever is the only lingering sign. I am so grateful for the short memory span of a toddler.
Also, my boy weighs almost 25 pounds. :)
We gave the boy Tylenol an hour before the appointment, which confused him, because he was fine, and so he carried the bottle around and shook it a lot. When we got to the doctor and were called in, he was all happy because Nurses! To flirt with! And show off for! With the walking! Then the kind nurse, who the boy had been flirting with nonstop, got out the Shot Tray. The boy recognized the Shot Tray. I don't know how he did it, since he hadn't had any shots in six months, but he did. And as I wrangled him onto my lap and held his hands in front of him, I tensed because I knew what was coming. And the boy tensed, because so did he.
The! Injustice! He screamed and cried, and this was only made worse by the finger stick, which was Horrible! And the Pain! Mommy! I had to keep repeating to myself that this was a good thing, and modern medicine, and blah blah blah YOU HURT MY BABY AND NOW YOU MUST DIE, BITCH. And then I felt sorry for the poor nurse because it must really suck to give babies shots all day long.
The boy survived, and fell asleep in the car on the way home, doing the little hitching-breath-sobby thing in his sleep which totally broke my heart. Then he took an hour and a half long nap, woke up, and started chasing the cats around the house again like nothing bad had ever happened to him ever. A teeny fever is the only lingering sign. I am so grateful for the short memory span of a toddler.
Also, my boy weighs almost 25 pounds. :)
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