sueeeus

This little love is breaking my heart.  He knows when I’m leaving him at daycare.  Now his lower lip protrudes and the tears well up when we walk through the door of our care giver’s home.  At first I distracted him with peek-a-boo, and ran out when he was under the blanket.  That worked one time.  I keep trying to find ways to distract him.  Yesterday I sat him down with his back to the door, put some toys in front of him and sat down with him to play for a moment.  That worked great.  I tried it again this morning, and out came the lip the moment I brought the toys over.  The tears, the sobs.   I’m fresh out of distractions.   Oh, how it wrenches my heart!

Such is the plight of the working mom.

Lifted from Sooz’ FB…

Copy this note, ask your child the questions and write them down exactly how they respond.

BB- 4 years

1. What is something mum always says to you?

Clean my room

2. What makes mum happy?

Be nice

3. What makes mum sad?

Whining

4. How does your mum make you laugh?

Being silly

5. What was your mum like as a child?

I don’t know

6. How old is your mum?

16

7. How tall is your mum?

This tall (shows L-shape with finger and thumb) and says, “you can’t run with your big boobies.”

8. What is your mum’s favourite thing to do?

Clean up

9. What does your mum do when you’re not around?

Go to work

10. If your mum becomes famous, what will it be for?

Work

11. What is your mum really good at?

Cleaning up

12. What is your mum not very good at?

Not pumping

13. What does your mum do for her job?

Computer

14. What is your mum’s favourite food?

Salad

15. What makes you proud of your mum?

Not whining be happy

16. If your mum was a cartoon character, who would she be?

Sponge Bob

17. What do you and your mum do together?

Teach me

18. How are you and your mum the same?

We’re both cute and nice and wook at dis, we match (holding up his leg against my arm) — we’re dark

19. How are you and your mum different?

She likes blue and I like purple

20. How do you know when your mum loves you?

She gives me kisses and hugs

21. Where is your mum’s favourite place to go?

Work

A coworker of mine died in his sleep the other day.  He was only 41.  He had two engineering masters degrees, was working on a law degree, and was an accomplished cellist and violinist.   So young.  I found myself pondering, as I walked up and down the halls of my office, whether I am where I want to be.

These halls, these walls.  I’ve spent the better part of 23 years behind these walls, earning my keep.  I was restless in the early years, thinking this was but a stepping stone on my life path, and I was anxious to find the other path.  The one I really wanted to follow.  But somewhere down this very road I realized that it’s a very good road to travel.  I am happy here.  There is a comfortable rapport, standing shoulder to shoulder among these people with whom I share my life.

I’ve written a bit on mortality recently, the main point being that I dearly hope to live long enough (at the very least!) to see my children to adulthood.  But if today were my last day, could I say that I have lived well, that I am living well?

I could say that.

Yes.

The answer is yes.

I am surrounded by fine people.  I have stimulating and important work.  I have a husband.  I have children.  I have a comfortable home and reliable transportation.  A closet filled with clothes.  A pantry stocked with food.  I have a blessed and beautiful life.  Certainly there were rocky passages, but here, now, the way is smooth.

And with cheeks like these to nibble on?  Could life be any better?

Six months of slobbery perfection!

What can I say?  Every day his personality shines a bit more.  He’s been the best baby.  He’s very good at rolling over and back, and is starting to commando-crawl, and he’ll get up on his knees and face, but that extra push up on his arms isn’t quite mastered.  He’s so close, though.  It’s comical to see him using his head, literally.

He’s examining toys more, and playing more interactively.  And he loves to eat!  He loves spoon feeding, and he’s getting very good at it.  He gets so excited when he’s in his high chair and I have a bright bowl of food for him.  We’re sticking with the rice cereal mixed with milk for now, and I will very gradually start introducing other things.

So far, so many of his mannerisms are exactly the same as his brother’s.  He laughs and laughs when his brother teases him.  It’s delightful to see.

I’ve made it the first six months on the breast pump, and am in a reasonable routine now, so I’m patting myself on the back for a job well done.  The next goal is to make it to eight months on this schedule.  By then I should have nearly enough frozen stash to get him to the one year mark.  So at eight months I’m going to begin a very very slow weaning process, cutting down to three pumps a day for a little while, and then down to two.  It needs to be slow because I don’t want any problems with clogs or infections.  I’m not quite sure how I’m going to get there, because as it stands, I’ve not been very successful at stretching the time between pumps past eight hours, so to go to twelve is a bit lofty at this point.  I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.  For now, I’ve got a gorgeous, delicious, snuggly, slobbery little boy to dote on.

My boys.  They fill me up.  LB will be 6 months old on Friday!  He had his first solid food yesterday, and he LOVED it!  He was so excited to put the spoon in his mouth and swirl his tongue around the rice cereal.  He hasn’t figured out the swallowing bit yet.  So far he’s a bit tongue tangled and the food comes right back out, but he’s very much IN to it!  He’ll have it down in no time, and may turn into a chubby baby yet.  BB is all boy and then some.  A bull in  a china shop is the best metaphor for him these days.

When I leave them at daycare, LB now breaks my heart by going into a woeful, the most woeful, of cries.  It rips me to shreds and what can I do?  I hug him and snuggle him and try to distract him, and feel awful as I make my way back to my car.  It affects me so much because it’s a special cry reserved just for moments like those.  It’s the hurt feelings cry.  He only uses it when I walk out of a room and he thinks I’m leaving him.  It’s different from every other cry he has.  I don’t like to hurt his feelings.

BB, on the other hand, has a full production he goes through when we say goodbye.  He gives me one or two kisses on the cheek, and then he blows a raspberry on my face somewhere.  He tries for the nose, but I usually can avert and just give him the cheek.  We hug and say ‘have a happy day’.  I leave through the sliding glass door, then he opens it for his parting words.  G’bye…  ‘Ak sure to whook and get some whest (so you won’t be a cwabby apple) and ‘ak sure to pummmmmmmp.  I wuvvvv you…..

Every. Single. Time.  It’s endearing.  I’ve worked with him and showed him how to make the ‘l’ sound, and he can do it, but he always switches back to the ‘w’ when speaking.  Habit.  I’ll have to work with him more.  He’s also become quite good at drawing.  All on his own.  I’m so pleased. So much so that I decided it was time to give him the special drawing books I’d gotten for him earlier, and set aside until I thought he was ready.  I opened one, the tracing book, and flipped through the pages, and every single activity had been completed already.  And then I vaguely remembered the stepkids going in and out of my office, before I asked them not to.  So…  One or both of them (TEENAGERS, for crying out loud) took the preschool activity books and did all the activities.  Grrrrrrrrr.  At least BB is a bright and cheerful 4 year old, and he was happy and excited to get a new book to draw in, even if someone else had already drawn in it.  Those stepkids though…

BB made it through his 2 weeks of movie restrictions with almost no whining or begging, so I’m quite pleased with that as well.  I let him watch a kid movie on the portable dvd player in the same room where the rest of us were watching TV.  My new rule – no watching movies alone.  Mean mama.  He’s a very independent and head strong child with the misfortune of having couch potato parents.  How I wish Gadget had some interest in being active.  He doesn’t like to go for walks.  Nearly the only outdoor play he likes is when there are motors involved, or gear and expenses like skiing and golfing.  He does like to ride bikes, so I’m going to start pressuring him to work with BB to learn to ride so that we can all go bike riding.  I don’t want my boys growing up thinking the only fun things to do are things that cost money and require gadgets, gear, or gizmos.  Thank God BB likes sticks and stones…   …now THAT’s my boy!  I’m going to enroll him in T-ball and soccer, when the seasons begin.  Soccer is in the fall, and T-ball is in the spring or summer.

As for me?  I’ve lost some of my oomph for blogging and facebook.  I spend hours at the computer each day, and I could be posting, but I just haven’t felt like it.  Instead, I play mind drifting games like spider solitaire, and listen to the whoosh whoosh whoosh of my pump.  I’m trying to come to terms with the life that I lead.  So often I find myself feeling like things need to change, and wonder why I can never seem to reach that place called content.  My home, my body, my marriage, my mothering.   All fall short of my expectations.  The only aspect of my life in which I feel content is my work.  I wonder why that is.

I watched a video yesterday that really shook me up.  It had to do with Salma Hayek visiting Sierra Leone, where “one in five children die before reaching their fifth birthday and tetanus is a big contributor.”  A baby happened to take its last breath, just as Salma was stroking her beautiful little face.

I don’t have words to express the depths of how this makes me feel.  To see life just disappear like that.  It’s not like all the flashy mayhem we see on TV.  All that Hollywood stuff.  It’s serious.  It’s real.   It’s heart wrenching.  It’s heart numbing.

There is bloodshed the world over.  People fighting wars.  People caught up in wars, whether they want it or not.  Again, serious, real, heart wrenching, heart numbing.

But children dying.  Children.  I didn’t want to see a child die.

I don’t know how to think or what to think.  I hold my own children close and breathe deeply their warm, living scent.  My comfortable home seems criminal in comparison to the standards in which those struggling people live.

It’s all relative, though, isn’t it?  A rich man might shake his head and think, poor miserable soul, to see the conditions in which I live.  Even so.  It makes me think about what can be done for the greater good.  Obviously there’s too much for any one person to tackle.  I could donate all the money I have, and it would hardly be a drop in the bucket.  I could donate some of the money I have, and it will still be only a drop.  How much can I do?  How much should I do?  What difference can I make?  Since our immediate needs are met, should we then turn any excess over to those more in need?  Or use some to work toward our own hopes and dreams, and set some aside in case of our own rainy days?  I don’t have a complete answer to this, but prudence tells me that I should have a safety net, because that will prevent me and mine from becoming a burden to the public system, especially in these trying times.  That much I should do.  And what of the rest, of those less fortunate than me?

I like the pay it forward concept.  If everyone did something, any thing, to help someone, any one, then good happens.  We can all change lives for the better, one thing at a time.

I’ve been thinking of sponsoring some children in an under-developed nation.  There are always infomercials on about that sort of opportunity.  I would like for my children to give of their bounty to others less fortunate.  I think it will be good for them to learn to share and help others in need.  Now, to find an agency that’s legit.

Parenting a four year old continues to offer challenging opportunities.  Why, just last night, a certain young man was relieved of not one, but several of his most beloved soft friends.  Yes, Dragon, Cody the coyote, and Squawker were all sent on holiday.  It was a tearful departure, but before the tears had even stopped, yet another grievance was discovered.  This one, of far greater proportion than those that prompted the swift away of beloved furry friends.  No, this transgression warranted much more.  No movie privileges for a month two weeks.  We simply do not write on the television screen with ball point pens.  The thing is, where were the parents when this took place?  Clearly we are not as vigilant as we ought to be.  A month is an eternity to a four year old, so we reduced the sentence to two weeks.  Still, an eternity.  We will probably reduce it further, to one week.  And pay more attention.

Amidst the tears, when the first sentence was being delivered, he responded with a terrific scream, the likes of which could prompt passersby to consider calling the authorities.  No, we didn’t touch him.  We just told him that he couldn’t have his stuffies to sleep with (and implied that they’d be gone longer than one night, horrible, bad mother).  During the tears and the sobs and the wails and the pleas, the second transgression was discovered, and I had to tell him he’s in big BIG trouble now.

“Am I going to jail?”

I don’t even know where he came up with that.  We do watch cop and crime shows (Life, Life on Mars, CSI…) and I guess he knows that when people are bad, they sometimes go to jail.  Even so…

He’s a heartbreaker, that one. I gave his friends back as soon as he woke up.  He hugged them so tight, and welcomed them all like long lost friends.  Which is what they were, in his four year old mind.

My beautiful, strong-willed boy.  What am I going to do with him?  How will I be able to stay a step ahead and give him the boundaries and the lessons and the love and the guidance that he needs, in order to become a fine and decent adult?  In reality, I am so much less of a mother than I ever dreamed or imagined I’d be.

Without the rosy glasses, it’s a completely different ballgame.

Hello there, my Beautiful Boy!  You are such a fine young boy.  I love how you say, “I don’t know ever-fing, cos I’m just a booooooyyyyyyy.”  You look so grown up!  You sound so grown up!  You are quite the conversationalist, and I’m often astounded at the things you say, although we all could have done without you matter of factly calling your dad an SOB last night, because he wouldn’t let you have your way.   We knew it was a matter of time when you’d try that one out.  Sometimes your antics drive me batty, and I have to remind myself that you’re only four.  You are as sharp as a tac, and because of that, you keep me on my toes, always!  You are very very good at behaving badly, and how can I fault you when you explain that “it’s fun for me-eeeeee….”   I’m so challenged, finding ways to explain to you how to behave.

I love the way you talk to me in the morning, after you’re refreshed yourself with a good night’s sleep.  Often you lift your sweet face to me, and say, “Mommy, I’m sorry I acted up last day.”  We talk about you working on your attitude and your temper, and you promise to try harder.  It’s so hard to be four, isn’t it?!

You are a light in my life, my Beautiful Boy.  You have a big, beautiful, loving heart.  I love the way you hug and kiss your little brother.  I love that you still like to snuggle with me.  I love the way you spontaneously wrap your arms around me and bury your face in me.  I love the way you kiss me goodbye every morning when I leave you at daycare, and the way you always turn the last kiss into a big raspberry.  I love your sense of humor.  I love your sense of compassion.  I hope and pray that I can always be for you the mother you need me to be, to nurture you, guide you, teach you, and raise you to be the best  you can be.

I love YOU, my Beautiful Boy!  My beautiful, four year old boy.  Happy Birthday.

Of course I’m biased, but I think he IS the best baby in the universe!  His hair is finally growing long enough to fall over, rather than stand straight up in all directions like a fuzzy little monkey.  Except he’s bald in back from rubbing his head back and forth, which makes for a very funny profile.  He’s learning to use his legs more now.  He puts his weight on them and practices standing.  When he’s on his tummy, he scoots his butt up and sort of kicks his legs.  He may crawl soon, at this rate!

I’m feeling a bit anxious about next week.  LB begins daycare on Monday.  While I’m very thankful for the help, there is a large part of me that is sad to leave my baby in the care of someone else for the better part of each day.  He will have excellent care and attention, and I will have a little more unencumbered time in which I can do things like make mad dashes to grocery stores without wrangling car seats and unruly nearly four year olds.

I figure it will take me three hours from the time I wake until I make it to the office, on the office days, and that is also somewhat stressful.  Three. Hours. For. Goodness’. Sake.  I need time to pump, wash the parts, pack them up along with the pump to tote to the office, pack the laptop, get myself dressed and ready, get the kids dressed and ready, load up the car, drop the boys off at daycare, then head in to the office.  Work.  Arrive home in time to pump again.  Wash up, make dinner, get as much ready as I can for the next day.

Office days will be very long for me, and I’m sure I will value my telecommuting days all that much more.  It’s important for me to go back to the office though.  I need the adult interaction.  I need to sumberge myself in the variety of personalities.

Until it all becomes part of my day to day, I think I’ll find myself anxious more often than not.  Change tends to be stressful, but I know I’ll settle in to a routine eventually.

Meanwhile, LB is expressing himself more and more!  His hungry cry is NNN-GHEEEEE, NNN-GHEEEEE, NNN-GHEEEEE.  See?  It even sounds like ‘hungry’!  My kid is a genius.  Genius!  He’s showing more emotions and slobbering like a fiend, chewing on his fingers until he practically gags himself (not such a genius in that regard).

I think he may be going through a growth spurt, because he’s taking quite a lot more milk it seems.  Yesterday he had 31 ounces (waking every 2-3 hours, which is NO picnic for me), when I think he’s been averaging closer to 22-26 before that.  That’s another thing I need to figure out – how many bottles to send with him to daycare, and how much fresh I’ll have ready for him, and how much refrigerated, and with all that, the instructions for which milk is which and the order in which to use it.  So complicated!  Maybe I’ll number the bottles.  I haven’t paid all that much attention to how much he has each day.  I feed him on demand, and I’m making enough to meet his needs, with some extra to freeze.  So this weekend I’m carefully noting how much he has each day, to help me figure out how much to send with him on Monday.

So many things to think about and prepare, when one sends one’s kid off to daycare!  I think I should try not to worry about next week, and just take each day as it comes, and do my best to keep up and stay afloat.  And somewhere in the midst of all that I will need to get some sleep.

Two Thousand and Eight has been oh, so great!
A little bit of lovin’ put a bun in the oven
I took a trip to Oz, just me, just because
I got a promotion without much commotion
Later that year the baby appeared
My beautiful boy has brought infinite joy
Then there’s his brother, a boy like no other
He’s nearly four so I shouldn’t expect more
Our family is complete; this sweet life can’t be beat
As for Two Thousand and Nine, it’s looking just fine!

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!