Why do I even bother?

Cooking, that is.

I haven't cooked dinner for oh, about the past year, or the whole time Steve was travelling during the week. Well, when we all moved up to MA and were actually a family again, I decided that I would go back to my Betty Crocker ways and make up my weekly meal plan, grocery shop accordingly, using coupons when possible, and cook dinner for my family most nights of the week.

Best laid plans, right?

The weekly meal planning, grocery shopping, coupon clipping, and cooking parts all go fine. I encounter problems, however, when it comes time for everyone to eat.

Like recently Ben has been waking up late from his afternoon nap - like around 4 or even later - and asks for a snack when he wakes up. Sometimes he's so hungry that he asks for several snacks, at which time I decide that he won't be able to hold off until it's time to eat whatever yummy meal is in the oven, and end up giving him chicken nuggets or one of those Knorr/Lipton Rice Sides. I'm left with a home-cooked meal that I will eat, Ben will not, Logan will have a few baby-sized bites of, and Steve may or may not eat. All that after I've made the effort to do all my meal planning and start cooking by 4:30 so that dinner's ready by 5:30-ish, when the boys and I eat dinner.

I'm really starting to wonder if going through all the effort is really worth it, when in the end I'm really the only one who eats the dinners I've prepared. Maybe I shouldn't commit to cooking so many meals during the week. Maybe I should cook 2 or 3 times, and order out or make microwave pizza the other days. But home cooking is so much healthier, and cost-effective. Ugh, I don't know. Any opinions on this?

The Other Thing

I remembered a few days ago what "the other thing" I was having issues with about daycare (ahem, school) was. It's the length of time Ben's spending at school. I was fine, in my head, with sending him to a preschool, because they're only held for a few hours each day, a few days a week. I signed Ben up for the minimum length of time at the facility we chose, which is two days a week, up to 9 hours a day. Nine hours is a long time!! I had to sign up for set times to drop him off and pick him up, to reserve his spot, so I chose to drop off at 7:30am and pick up at 4:30pm. Thankfully it's flexible, so I can drop him off and pick him up at anytime in between those times.

Today I dropped him off just after 8, and I'll go to pick him up as soon as Logan wakes up. I really wonder what his reaction will be - will he let out another guilt-inducing cry like the first day, or will greet me with a huge smile like the second day?

Acclimating

So it seems as though we're really acclimating to being in our new home. I mean, we got used to the house almost immediately, but I feel like just this week we're getting settled into our new town, and our new lives.

I've never been the most outgoing person, and that's reflected by my close circle of friends (I'm not the kind of person to have upwards of 200 "friends" on Facebook, for example). I have no problem making small talk upon meeting new people, but, as my friend Jayne put it, I have trouble "closing the deal" and asking for someone's phone number or making arrangements to go for coffee or something after Gymboree. The fact that I don't even drink coffee might have something to do with that.

Steve and I had a long talk about this before we moved. We concluded that it was going to be time for me to step out of my shell, for real. We couldn't live like hermits and have no friends in the area, and as Steve was going to be working 12+ hour days it was up to me to make the connections. I was scared, but it made sense.

When we were up here last February, the realtor we were working with gave me the name of a mom's group called The Mother connection. I joined a few months ago, before we actually moved. It's a network of moms from my town and surrounding towns. There's a message board where moms discuss everything from the best rates on oil and good handymen in the area to preschools and playdates. A few weeks ago there was a posting for a walking group that met right in town, about a mile away from our new house. I decided that I was going to join this walking group. So I did - I went for the first time yesterday, and I really had a good time. I'd made it my goal to exchange information with at least one mom there, and I was able to achieve that goal too. The mom I exchanged with has a son who is just one week younger than Ben. She actually said that she's been looking for other kids their age to have a playdate with, because the kids who live in their neighborhood are all older. Now I just have to get up the balls to actually email her. Maybe tomorrow... :)

I also joined the Newcomers Club, which has a Moms & Tots division. I went to one of their playgroups last week, and had such a good time. It was great to have actual adult conversations (even though we did just talk about our kids). I only managed to stick my foot in my mouth once - I was telling some of the other moms about our decision to put Ben into school/daycare and mentioned that I found one of the other facilities to be really dirty... that's when one of them said, "That's where my kids go!!" I was mortified. I apologized profusely, but really, what can you do in that kind of situation? Other than blush?

Anyway, I really liked two of the moms, but was too shy to ask for their numbers or give out mine. I was really hoping that they would make the first move.

(Just a quick aside - I just put on Dr. Phil and today's episode is about bullying. The first clip of the show had all these people standing up saying, "I was bullied." It really brought tears to my eyes, because I was bullied too. More on that in a future post.)

As one of the moms I thought I could connect with was leaving, she asked if I was going to the Halloween party that Moms & Tots was throwing. I took that as a good sign that she'd want to hang out. Well, the party is tomorrow, and Ben, Logan and I will be there... looking for some future mom friends.

I'm an Aunt!

Congratulations to my sister-in-law Ana and Brent!! Their healthy baby boy was born about 30 minutes ago. We still don't know the "official" name, but we've heard that everyone is healthy, which is really all that matters.

It is such a special time when a new baby is born. I'm getting emotional just thinking about it. The labor and delivery experience is one that only a woman who has been through it herself can really understand. The feelings surrounding it are indescribable - a combination of fear, joy, anxiety, love... and many more. Whenever I hear that someone is pregnant or in labor or has just given birth I can't help but think back to my pregnancies, labors, and deliveries and re-experience my own emotions during those times. I do wear my heart on my sleeve and I am overemotional, but I love thinking back to those experiences. They are truly defining moments of my life.

Wow, way to totally steal Ana's thunder with my ramblings. Oops!

Congratulations Ana and Brent (and big sister Chloe!) We can't wait to meet your new baby boy at Thanksgiving!!

Breakthrough?

So this morning, after breakfast, the boys and I were hanging out in the playroom while Steve was upstairs taking a shower. Out of nowhere, Ben said to me, "Back school?" I think I honestly sat there in stunned silence for a few seconds. He was asking me if he could go back to school! Wowee! I hope he's still so happy about it when he goes for a longer period of time on Tuesday, for his first real day.

On a lighter note...

Logan has come a long way in the past few weeks. First he was crawling, now he's pulling up to standing on just about any raised surface he can find. He did it for the first time on Monday (the day after my mom left - she was so disappointed to have missed it!) and was a bit wobbly and tentative at first, but now he's a real pro. He's still getting the hang of the sitting himself back down part, however, and he's gotten stuck a number of times.

Love him so much!

Daycare - Day 2

Today was Ben's second day of daycare. I still refer to it as school everywhere but here, because it's just easier for me. I feel less guilt when I call it school.

I told Ben this morning that he was going to school today. I really expected him to burst into tears and say something along the lines of "No school!" but he simply smiled and said, "School," and then, "Face paint." That face painting experience really made an impression on him!

I continued to expect a meltdown when we got into the parking lot, when we walked into the lobby, and especially when we walked into the classroom, but there were no tears and no protests at all. He did ask me once if I was going in with him, and of course I said yes. I'd decided ahead of time that I wasn't going to spend so much time in the classroom with him today as I did on Thursday. I wanted it to be brief. So we went in, and I sat on the floor and he sat on my lap. I tried to get his jacket off, but he didn't want to take it off. I guess that was my first sign that he didn't feel quite comfortable. After a few minutes, though, he said, "Jacket off?" I was happy! It was like he was feeling more comfortable. "I'll stay a while," I took that to mean.

After we took his jacket off, he sat back on my lap. We watched some kids at one of the tables play with these round wooden beads - they were putting them on a long string, forming colorful necklaces. I asked him a few times if he wanted to join in, but he said no. At one point, a bead fell on the floor but no one noticed. I asked Ben if he would pick it up and put it back in the box. he got up, picked it up off the floor... and put it on the string that the teacher was holding. Then he put on another one... and another one... and another one. He was completely engaged in this task. He didn't even look back at me once, which I was very pleased by. He was being so independent! I thought that would be a good time to leave, but wanted to make sure, so I caught the teacher's eye and whispered, "Should I leave?" She nodded, so I got up and went to the door. Ben looked at me, but didn't cry. I said, "Love you sweetie pie. I'll see you soon," and walked out the door. I heard him start to cry as I walked out, but was pretty sure he'd be okay within a few minutes, just like Tuesday.

I sat in the lobby for almost 3 uninterrupted hours. It was actually quite pleasant - albeit a little cold - to just sit and relax for no obligations for such a long period of time. I'd planned on this alone time and brought along the book "Eat, Pray, Love," by Elizabeth Gilbert. Have you read it?

At one point a delicious aroma started wafting out into the lobby - the front desk workers and I wondered aloud what it could be... meatloaf, sloppy joe's, spaghetti? It turned out to be meatballs. I wondered if Ben would eat the meatballs. He likes them when I make them at home, and I really hoped he would eat the facility's meatballs.

Again, before I knew it it was 12:00 and time to collect him. As I walked down the hall I remembered yesterday's outburst when I picked him up and already felt guilty again. I really thought that I'd cry when I saw him cry. Boy, was I wrong!

When I opened the door and he saw me, his little face lit up and he ran toward me and said, "Mommy!!" with a huge smile. I couldn't believe it! He was as happy as could be. The teachers said he'd had a great day. He'd cried for about 5 minutes, just like yesterday, but rebounded very well. He had fun on the playground, and even started engaging with some of the other kids (I was thrilled by that, as that's one of the main reasons I'm enrolling him). And they said he ate a big lunch - two cups of milk, and two plates of the meatballs! Woo hoo! He was absolutely giddy as we left the classroom and the building, and it continued when we got home. He was just so happy.

He starts for real on Tuesday. My fingers are crossed that it continues to go well. It'll be a little different because I'm planning on dropping him off a little earlier, for breakfast, and he'll be napping there as well. I'm still going back and forth as to whether I should continue to go slow with the transition. Like should I drop him off at the same time he's used to, and have him stay for nap, instead of dropping him off early as well? Ugh, I don't know. I guess I still have a few days to decide.

Wish me (and Ben) luck!

Daycare - Day 1

We did our first visiting day at daycare on Tuesday. The facility had an open house and fall festival the Saturday before, so we went to that both so Steve could see it and meet the teachers and so Ben would become familiar with it. I'm so glad we went! They had several activity stations set up in the classrooms - one was painting blow-up paper bags to resemble pumpkins and adhering fall-themed foam shapes to them, another was painting/stamping with halved apples, and another (Ben's favorite) was face painting, which Ben couldn't get enough of. First he had a pumpkin painted on his right cheek. He went to the mirror to check himself out, then promptly marched right back to the chair he'd been sitting in and asked for "more paint?" This went on about 5 more times, until he finished up with the pumpkin, a heart on his left cheek, a star on his forehead, "BEN" written down his left cheek, and a red polka dot on the tip of his nose. He had such a good time and was talking about face painting the rest of the day. We kept mentioning to him that this was going to be his new school, and did he like his new school, etc.

This was actually a great help when, on Tuesday morning, I told him we'd be going to school. Immediately his face lit up and he said, "Paint face?" I was so happy that he remembered! I told him that I wasn't sure if they'd be doing face-painting today. We went in, and he seemed a little cautious (understandably) so I sat with him for the first 45 minutes. They were just starting snack when we got there - apple juice and yogurt - but Ben wanted nothing to do with it. He sat on my lap and we watched the other kids. Then, out of nowhere, he said, "Ben juice," so we got him a cup of apple juice. He still sat on my lap to drink it. Then, a few minutes later, he said, "Ben yogurt," and left my lap to sit in his chair at the table so he could eat his yogurt. He saw all the other kids washing their hands, so he got up, put his stuff in the garbage can, and washed his hands. It was amazing to watch! Next was music time, out in the hallway. He sat on my lap the entire time - which I honestly wasn't too shocked by as he sat in my lap during our 6 week Music Together class. We went back into the classroom and he started playing with the fake food in the fake kitchen (the kid loves fake kitchens. He always gravitates towards them. If there's a room with a fake kitchen in it, I'd put money on him going to it within 5 minutes). When he seemed engaged, I told him that I was going to sit in the front lobby. He cried, said, "Mommy stay" and blocked my access to the door. I got sucked in, so I stayed. He rebounded pretty quickly, so I decided to make an exit, for real this time. His poor little face got such a bright yet deep shade of red, and he was crying and calling for me. One of the teachers picked him up and tried to settle him as I closed the door behind me and went to sit in the lobby.

I was sure they'd come out to get me in 10 minutes because they couldn't settle him. That's what happened when I tried to put him in the gym daycare - they had to get me out of my step & sculpt class after 10 minutes because he wouldn't stop crying. I kept checking the clock. 10 minutes went by... 20 minutes... 45... an hour... Before I knew it, it had been over 2 hours and I hadn't heard anything from the classroom. Phew! At one point I peeked in on him (Steve called on my cell phone and told me to) and he was sitting at the table eating his lunch. At around 12:15 one of the teachers came out to get me, because she wasn't sure if he was staying for nap time (he wasn't). We talked about his day - he'd cried for about 5 minutes, then calmed down. He was a little stand-offish at first, but then seemed to get more comfortable. He was laughing and smiling during their activities. He ran around on the playground. He put Little People onto a bus, and a little girl named Catherine put them back on. He ate 3 apple wedges and all of his turkey hot dog, and even asked for me. I was thrilled.

When I went into his room to get him, he burst back into tears as soon as he saw me. This hurt more than the tears when I was leaving him. I interpreted these tears to mean, "How could you have left me here? How could you have done this to me? You're my mom, and you left me." Ugh, I felt more guilt than I think I've ever felt. It was horrible. Fortunately he was able to pull himself together after a minutes of comforting from me (I still needed someone to comfort me).

When I asked him later if he'd had a good time at school, he said, "Mm-hm," which translates to "Yes mommy!" I was again thrilled by this. I'd really thought that the day would be a disaster, but it really exceeded my expectations. Hooray!

The Daycare Dilemma

In the New York/New Jersey area, where we've lived for the past 4 and a half years and where we've seen countless friends have babies and then seen those babies off to school, almost everyone sends their kids (babies, really) to preschool as soon as they turn 2. I suppose part of the reasoning behind this is the rigorous school curriculums that are now in practice, starting as early as kindergarten, from what I've heard. So last summer all the moms who have kids around Ben's age - he was about to turn 2 - were having the preschool discussion. "What have you heard about Preschool A?" "What about the Montessori?" "What's the JCC's curriculum like?" "The YMCA has a great teacher to student ratio." Everyone asked what preschool I was going to put Ben into, and luckily my answer was easy - we were moving, so I'd look into schools when we got to Massachusetts.

I ran into a funny number on all the Massachusetts preschool websites - 2.9. As in, it's the law here that preschools are only available to kids aged 2.9 or older. I spent the vast majority of my spare time trying to figure out what .9 of a year was. It wasn't until about a week ago that someone told me that it wasn't really .9 as in nine-tenths - it really meant 9 months. So a kid has to be 2 years 9 months to enter preschool. So my plans for having Ben enter preschool when we moved and having two "free" mornings a week (I use the term "free" loosely, because honestly, I'd still be caring for a 9+ month old!), and having Ben learn invaluable social skills were all of a sudden caput. I had done some research, however, on 3 of the facilities up here before the whole 2.9 thing came to light. I even visited them. The first one was okay - I could see Ben there but it didn't wow me; the second was amazing, fantastic, wow-inducing; and the third was a disgusting basement cave that I wanted to leave as soon as I walked in.

Steve and I talked a lot about enrolling Ben into the second facility. Steve was definitely for it 100%... I, on the other hand, was a classic flip-flopper. On one hand, of course I wanted Ben to have more exposure to kids his own age, and I think the time away from me would do him (and probably me) some good. And I know the facility's teachers are way more creative than I could ever dream of being and would find all sorts of ways to stimulate Ben's little mind and keep him engaged, which is better than playing with the same toys we have in the playroom again and again.

I had two big issues on the "con" side of enrolling Ben. First was simply an issue of semantics. I had planned on enrolling Ben in a preschool, but as preschools in Mass don't start until age 2.9, this would technically be daycare. And I felt like since I'm a stay at home mom, it's my obligation - my job - to be at home with my kids. Not to pawn them off onto someone else because I need a break. I feel like that is selfish. I chose this life, and I feel like putting him into a daycare isn't fair for me to do. But then I tell myself that I wouldn't feel guilty at all if the title were "Preschool" - I would actually feel like I was doing something good by enrolling him. I think I'm still kind of torn on this. I think part of it is that preschools generally only go for a few hours a few mornings a week. If/when I enroll him in this facility, the minimum number of hours you can sign up for is "up to 9." Meaning that I could pick him up after only a few hours if I wanted to, but most kids stay there for a full day. 9 hours is so long for him to be there. And I know I'd feel guilty sitting at home playing with Logan or eating lunch with Logan and thinking about Ben eating lunch at the facility. But then I think of him playing with other kids and being exposed to brand new activities and I know that's good for him... ugh! I told you I've been flip-flopping!! (I just went back and re-read the first line of this paragraph, and now I can't remember what the second thing on the "con" side was. I think it might have been the whole stay at home mom thing.)

Anyway, after thinking about I did sign the enrollment papers for Ben. We had visiting days on Tuesday and again today. I'll write separate posts for those experiences.

Are there any other stay at home moms out there who have put their kids in daycare? Did you experience guilt? How did you get over it?

Milestone

Logan is officially crawling!! He actually took his first crawling "steps" on Wednesday, the day we moved into the new house. I took it as a sign that things here, in our new life, were going to be good. He didn't really do it at all on Thursday or Friday, but today he just took off! After dinner he crawled about 10 feet to me, and while Ben was having his bath Logan crawled from the middle of Ben's room out into the hallway and into the bathroom where Ben and Steve were.

It's the cutest thing!

(Of course I say that now, but in about a week or so I'll secretly be cursing him.)

Lost and Found

Three things were lost today - 1) me; 2) my phone; and 3) Ben.

We decided to take a family trip to Target to get all the things we forgot while on yesterday's Target outing. It really amazing how this happens - you prepare your detailed list of everything you need at Target, ranging from baby food to things to prune a shrub to decorative plates, you go to the store and get everything on your list plus some things that you didn't know you needed until you saw it, like the wire sponge holder that suction cups to the side of the sink, and within 10 minutes of returning home you've already made a list of 5 more items that you need to go back to Target for. It always happens like this.

Anyway, it was getting close to Logan's afternoon nap time, and Steve was in a browsey mood where he wanted to go down every aisle and look at all the fun stuff. While I usually love when Steve is in this mood, because it means that he's taking a little hiatus from being a robot, I wanted to make this a quick trip so we could get Logan home for a nap. We split up - Steve took Ben in the stroller and I took Logan in the cart - and I made sure I had my cell phone right in front of me so that when Steve called wondering where I was I'd be able to get to the phone without a problem.

My first mistake (and only mistake, of course, because I'm almost perfect) was asking Logan to look after my phone. I balanced it on the fabric of the shopping cart cover and he eagerly picked it up and examined it and chewed it and held it up to his ear. Our first stop was the infant/toddler clothing section to buy new jeans for Ben, because - poor thing - the two pairs of jeans he has are so short on him now. I really think he's had a growth spurt in the past few weeks. While I was perusing the racks of amazingly well-priced Cherokee jeans Logan busied himself with a tag he found on a piece of clothing that was hanging next to him. After I picked up two pairs of jeans for Ben we headed off to the Swiffer aisle. It was then that I remembered that I had asked Logan to mind my phone for me, and then that I realized that he was still playing with the tag that he had in fact ripped off a shirt back in the clothing section. "Uh oh... please tell me you're sitting on the phone or it's just fallen in the cart..."

Nope. The damn phone was gone. I got flustered, embarrassed, amused, angry at myself for expecting my 9 month old to know what "responsibility" meant, and scared in anticipation of Steve's reaction to this. I went back to the infant/toddler section and scoured it for a good 10 minutes before I conceded that the phone wasn't there. I was hoping, hoping that a good samaritan or Target employee had found it and taken it to the customer service desk, but I have to admit that the thought that maybe someone would take it and use it themselves did cross my mind.

When I started walking towards the customer service desk to reveal my idiocy, I saw Steve talking to an employee down one of the aisles. I decided that I had to tell him what I'd done at some point, so might as well do it now.

As it turns out, he thought I was lost and was about to have me paged over the loudspeaker. Something along the lines of "Catherine [rhymes with freckles], please meet your husband by ladies' intimates!" Steve's actual words were, "You were almost about to be embarrassed! I was going to have you paged," to which I replied, "Um, I'm already embarrassed. I lost my phone [sheepish grin]."

As I predicted, Steve was none too happy with this. He was quite disappointed in me. Which I actually don't really understand, as I don't really lose things very often. It's actually one of the qualities I pride myself on. I just don't lose things. We all went back to the infant/toddler clothing section, Target employee in tow, and re-scoured everything I'd just scoured. While we looked, Steve continuously called my phone so we'd hear it ringing. After a few calls someone picked up - the lady at the customer service desk. Phew! What a sigh of relief I let out. I was so happy that it was in fact a good samaritan who'd found my phone and turned it in to the customer service people. Thank you so much, whoever you are!

We thanked the Target employee and got ready to get the rest of the stuff on my list. Steve said, "Do we need anything else?" My reply - "Yes. Ben." I'd just realized that Ben was nowhere to be found. It was truly one of the scariest moments of my life. You know, all the horrible scenarios go through your head when something like this happens - scenarios that are too awful to even type. So I won't.

After a few minutes more of frantic searching through the infant/toddler clothing section, another nice lady called us over and said Ben was over by where she was (probably about 10 feet from where we were). Thank God.

Of course I was furious at Steve. I couldn't believe that he would let something like that happen when he was supposed to be tending to Ben. I couldn't believe that he was so intent on finding the stupid cell phone that he neglected his duties as a parent, which at that time included minding Ben. Of course when I pointed out to Steve that he reamed me out for losing a phone and then proceded to lose our son, he made a joke out of it. Ugh, men.

Breather

I need a breather. I'm not talking like a five minute break to take some deep breaths (although even that would be nice right about now). What I'm talking about is a 3-day weekend at a spa resort. I don't even know if I'd want to go with a few girlfriends - I think I'd like it to be just me.

The past 3 days have been hell. Well, the past few weeks - since September 15th when the boys first got sick - have been hell, but the past 3 days have been something entirely different. Like that book that talks about the circles of hell - who was that by? Dante Alighieri I think? Oh yes - Dante's Inferno. Anyway, I feel like I've slowly been working my way through the circles of hell, and today I've reached the middle.

I dropped two f-bombs on the Verizon lady this morning after being on hold for a total of about 2 hours and then being told that I should walk up and down the street looking for numbers on the telephone poles. Are you effing kidding me? Isn't that the Verizon guy's job? Not the lady who just moved into a new house with a 2 year old and a 9 month old to take care of too? I was livid.

Fast forward to the boys' naptime. Ben went down pretty easily at 2:20. Logan was due to go down at that same time, but continued to cry and sit himself up in his crib. After 5 minutes I put him back down, and came back downstairs. After 5 more minutes of continued crying I went back up and discovered he had a huge load in his diaper. So I changed him, rocked with him, and put him down in the crib again. Usually this is the part where he falls fast asleep (the poop release really seems to relax him). But he kept crying and sitting himself up. So at 3:00 I decided to abort the nap and try again in half an hour - that was me trying to remain calm, cool and collected.

In the past 3 days, I have not touched any of the boxes in our bedroom, and as a result I'm quickly running out of clothes to wear. I had to search and search for clean undies to wear today (necessary since I'm wearing the same jeans I've worn for the past 4 days - ew). So after the aborted nap I brought Logan into my room, explained to him that Mommy couldn't hold him, Mommy had work to do. After a brief protest he was fine with that and busied himself chewing on a Robeez shoe that somehow happened to be in my closet.

At 3:15 Ben woke up screaming. I put Logan down then, and got Ben, who was still screaming (I think he's disoriented when he wakes up because his new room is really dark. We need to get some nightlights for him). Ben wanted to be held, so I held him for a few minutes, then explained to him that Mommy couldn't hold him, Mommy had work to do. Ben kept screaming. Logan kept screaming. I screamed a little.

I aborted Logan's nap time, I aborted unpacking my stuff, I hoisted one boy under each arm, I headed downstairs, I dropped them off in the playroom (stopping briefly to wipe the tears that were forming in my eyes) and I poured myself a large glass of Chardonnay, which I don't even like, but I'm finding very satisfying right now.