girlfiend

There’s a 25 things meme going around Facebook. It’s funny to see how people who don’t have or read blogs are so impressed by the novelty, while the bloggers all roll their eyes and dig up shit from their 100 things list. Anyway, I posted a list and in retrospect I posted several things I’d like to replace with more important things. Because I’m a dork.

So here are a few more things.

26. I’ve been nursing and/or pregnant for 42 months

27. My almost 3 year old, who spent most of the last year and a half sleeping by himself, has spent the last several months sleeping in my bed, sneaking in sometime after midnight. Some nights I don’t even know he’s there until morning.

28. My 8 month old never sleeps in our bed. He doesn’t even sleep well in our room.

29. I think that my preschool decsion will simply be the place that costs the least amount of money. I feel sort of guilty about it, but in the long run it makes the most sense. $12,650 is just an insane amount of money to spend on a year of nursery school. Half that is an insane amount of money to spend on preschool.

30. The preschool decision is actually the first time I’ve really been plagued by mommy guilt. Aside from this I’ve been surprising comfortable with all of the decisions that I’ve made.

31. I am a good mother. Better than I ever expected.

1. First preschool tour and of course I fell in love. Unfortunately, the idea of spending more than a tenth of our fucking income on part time preschool doesn’t quite agree with me. The odds are that I’ll end up giving them their $55 application fee (unless I also fall in love with the not nearly as expensive school I’m touring tomorrow) and hoping for the best. There is financial aid available which I’m sure we’ll more than qualify for.

2. I baked five loaves of bread. Four were shaped from the same dough so really it was more like baking two loaves of bread but I still feel rather impressed with myself.

3. I roasted a chicken and potatoes for dinner because the Fiendling said he wanted chicken not in soup. Of course he then did not want the chicken because, “I don’t like chicken, but sometimes I do.” Luckily the baby more than made up for the Fiendling’s lack of appetite. He is a very good eater.

4. Then I cleaned up the kitchen. Bread and chicken make a big mess. I had to run and empty the dishwasher too. Emptying the dishwasher may be my least favorite task.

5. I also did a few loads of laundry. But I do that just about every day. I don’t even notice anymore.

And not today, but in general:

I have read six books so far this month. I think I’m overcompensating for having read only 48 books last year. I feel like a failure for missing two.

Even though it’s been on the calendar for months I somehow screwed up and told Boyfiend he needed to be home early for my dentist appointment on the wrong day. Now I need to find a babysitter.

Did I mention that I finished the sweater I started knitting two years ago? I promptly ripped out a sleeve and the button and buttonhole bands and started to reknit them. I was considering ripping out the second sleeve, since I’ve learned that it’s best to decrease under the arm instead of on top, but I think if I actually want a child of mine to wear the damn thing I should just finish the fucker.

First there’s the CSA. I wrote at Farm to Philly about trying to decide between two CSAs. After much discussion, deliberation and gnashing of teeth I made my decision two nights ago and made my (hefty) payment. Then of course I regretted it immediately. I spent all day yesterday agonizing over my poor choice.

The problem is that the CSA is not guaranteed to deliver in my neighborhood. According the the folks who respond to emails it looks good on their end, but there won’t be confirmation until closer to the start of the season in May. If they don’t have enough people signed up for my local pickup site they’ll either refund my money or ask me to pick up at the next closest location. It’s not a huge deal to pick up at the other location, but it’s not as convenient as the other CSA. It is a hassle. And if I’m late because i have to wait for the baby to wake up to get in the car to drive out to the other spot I may get shorted items since they’re not already boxed for you, and maybe they will have wilted being out on someone’s porch in the sun. And what if I have entire shares of lettuce, radishes and mushrooms? Will the 6-10 items every other week be enough for us?

The other CSA’s share, the one I didn’t choose, is definitely enough for us. And they will give me an 8% discount. And they’re  in my neighborhood. I have had no complaints about them the  last two years. If I don’t register soon, which I can’t because I paid for the other one, I will lose my discount and most likely I will lose my spot. I don’t want to lose my spot. I like my CSA and I can’t imagine why I wanted to cheat on them with another.

I am panicked about my decision. I want to take it back. I asked for a refund and have not received a response.

On top of my CSA angst I’ve got preschool to panic about. You’d think that since it’s 9 months away I’d be okay but some of these places aren’t even taking applications any more. And the money is fucking ridiculous.  $50 application fees for a 3 year old. My college application fees were $50. One program told me that at this point I’d just be on the waiting list but if I want a tour I have to submit the application fee. A non-refundable application fee for a spot they don’t have just to look at the goddamn school. And it’s a coop! I have to volunteer AND pay to send my kid there.

I have three tours scheduled, one application fee I have to pay BEFORE I take the fucking tour, and another tour to schedule after I do the math and see what $115 a week for 10 months ends up costing. It’s preschool. It’s not even necessary. I could just wait another year and enroll him when he’s 4 1/2, not 3 1/2 but I think he’d like school, and frankly I could use the break.

And what if he’s not potty trained in the fall? Most of the schools on my list won’t even take him. But how can I see the future? I can’t guarantee that he’ll be trained. I’d lose my application fee, my registration fee and my deposit. Robbery.

So I am full of anxiety. I would like to start drinking now and it’s only noon.

I am unfortunately hating the Fiendling right now. I know it’s not his fault that he’s almost three and can’t stop himself from screaming and jumping and slamming doors (all in happy ways, of course) while the baby is sleeping, but I still want to grab him and shake him and tell him to cut it the hell out because I am tired and cranky and want the baby to stay asleep.

Really, I just want to go to bed. The baby was up repeatedly in the night and the Fiendling was down in our bed at 11, while I was still brushing my teeth, and insisted on sleeping with his feet pressed up against my back. So every time I got up to get the baby back to sleep he’d move deeper into my territory and I was practically hanging off of the bed by morning. Clearly a king-sized bed is not big enough when your kid won’t sleep by himself. Because I hate him right now I must remind myself of how wonderful and amazing he is because I really do love him.

He’s very close to reading. There are a few words he recognizes. He looks at letters and says things like “E starts with elephant,” or “C starts with camel.” He can spell his name and Mom and Dad and spells the baby’s name wrong on purpose.

He knows we live in Philly-elphia and where his grandparents live. In the car he’ll ask, “We are in Philly-elphia? We are almost home?” and when we get within a few blocks of our house he’ll say, “Oh, yes, we are almost home.”

He’s in this stage where after he says something he’ll add, “I said,” or “I think,” or both to the end. For example, “Thomas is the number one,  I think. I said.” It reminds me a bit of that cartoon character. Which one is it? Yosemite Sam or Foghorn Leghorn. I can’t remember.

He’s also funny about how things must be said. We play a little game where we say, “If it’s hot…” and the other person has to respond, “don’t touch it.” If I ask the wrong person he’ll tell me who to ask instead, “No. Say, Dada if it’s hot.”

He’s also pretty interested in numbers. I’ve got about 4 sets of Rummikub and gave him one to play with. He loves to take out the numbers and arrange them in order from 1 to 13 in the different colors. He’s also taken to comparing them to the numbers on his trains. This morning he said, “This is a yellow number nine like on Donald. Now I need a yellow number six for Percy.”

His vocabulary still astounds me. He uses the word ‘properly’, well, properly, and knows that ducks have webbed feet. I do not know where he picked up that bit of information. It’s not in any of our books and I don’t know that we’ve ever explained it. But when he sees the duck-dog in Dr. Seuss’s ABC he’ll say, “his feet are webbed.”

Speaking of Dr. Seuss’s ABC, he loves it. He can read the entire book and because of it he’s able to recognize lowercase letters in addition to the uppercase letters. He’s still not so sure about b, p and d, but in his defense they are pretty confusing.

Little by little he’s starting to get a sense of time and seasons. When it’s time to go he’ll say, “No, in five minutes,” or “After I play two more times.” He knows that it’s cold in the winter and that in the summer we go to the beach and can list the birthdays in the family in order. It will be Lulu’s birthday, then Grandpop’s birthday than my birthday then mama’s birthday then Baby Doodle’s birthday then the playground will open.” He also knows that he will be three on his next birthday and if I refer to him as almost three he’ll correct me quite emphatically, “No, I am two. On my next birthday I will be three.”

He’s great at puzzles and put together a 24 piece puzzle he’d never seen before in about ten minutes while he was in the babysitting room at the gym. He was quite perplexed because a piece was lost and he threw a fit about leaving because the puzzle wasn’t done yet.

He’s getting better at coloring. He’s just starting to use different colors to represent different things instead of just scribbling all over the place. He has a Thomas coloring book and very carefully colors all of the engines the proper colors, even using white for Harold the Helicopter. (if your children are not into Thomas consider yourself lucky.)

I feel better now that I’ve written this. He is a great kid. I am just a miserable person who hates their kids when I’m sleep-deprived.

The baby is sick today and even sick, with a runny nose and fever, he’s such a pleasure. He slept for most of the day and when he wasn’t sleeping he was cuddly, fussing only when I changed his diaper or put him down for a minute. Seriously, this kid is the best baby.

I hate to compare and for the most part I try not to, but when the Fiendling was a baby I thought he was a really good baby. But this baby? Is the sweetest, most even tempered darling of a baby I’ve ever met. He is so happy, so good natured. He smiles all the time. Even tonight after we plopped his feverish body in a lukewarm tub with his rowdy older brother he busted out a smile. He’s so good.

He’s been sitting up quite well for a while now and has hit the stage where he WANTS things. He cries when his brother takes a toy away even if the toy is quickly replaced by another. He’s not quite mobile, though he is able to scoot himself around a little bit and occasionally gets up on all fours and rocks, practicing.

He’s still an excellent nurser but he now enjoys solid food too. He loves pears and applesauce and though I haven’t pureed them especially, he really liked the cumin spiced sweet potatoes I fed him from my quesadilla last night. Carrots aren’t his favorite but he’ll eat them if he must. He loves to be spoonfed and has no time for feeding himself. I freeze his food in ice cube trays thinking a cube would be plenty, but he easily eats two and three at a time. I think I’m going to have to suck it up and buy commercial rice cereal for this kid. Even though I think it tastes like cardboard I bet he’d love it.

His thighs are enormous. He’s not a fat baby, but he’s solid and his thighs are the meatiest thighs I’ve ever seen up close on a baby. I really need pictures of those suckers. They are michelin man thighs on an otherwise trim baby. I love them. He’s very handsome. His hair has lightened up considerably but he still has a lot of it. His eyes have somehow managed to stay blue.

He just started clapping and it is delightful. He is delightful.  He waves just a little bit, though not with any regularity. He can pass toys from hand to hand quite competently and is working on his pincer grasp. He can grip a cheerio between his thumb and forefinger and bring it to his mouth but the system breaks down there and he can’t quite get it in.

Motherhood, parenthood, is full of truths and cliches. They grow up so fast. I am so sad that his babyhood is flying by so quickly. I am enjoying him so much and he’ll be big before I know it.

It’s that time of year again. Leave a comment and let me know what you’re reading.

This is a long story that I don’t really feel like telling right now but here are a few key bits of info.

My aunt took my mother went to the emergency room Monday night at 9 pm.

My dad called to tell me that she’d had a stroke  Tuesday morning at 8.30 am. He told me she had just been admitted to a room, she’d have tests all morning and that he’d be over around 1pm.

I called the hospital and they had no record of her. They suggested that perhaps she was at another hospital in the same system and I should try there.

I called the second hospital. She was there. They transferred my call to her room but the woman who answered was not my mother. I called again. Still not my mother. This time she asked the woman in the next bed if she was my mother. Nope, not my mother. I called the desk again. Again I was transferred to the wrong room.

I called family to see who would be able to watch the kids for me.

By this point it had been about an hour since my dad called. I knew where my mother was but couldn’t get a hold of her or get any info. I called my aunt’s cell phone twice and left messages. Then I called her at work. They transferred me to her extension and she answered and told me she’d call me back. Twenty minutes later she did. it was a minor stroke though and my mother was fine. No speech problems or paralysis.

She gave me a bit of information but not much more than my dad. She told me my mother lost her ability to complete sentences and was weak. Tests showed she had had a stroke and possibly one before.

My mother called me and told me not to worry. It wasn’t a big deal. She was find and would be going home that night.

This is already more than I wanted to write. Let me see if I can cut this down.

Only my mother could have a stroke and still piss me off. She refused diagnostic tests (that she later agreed to) so we still didn’t have any more information 24 hours after I’d learned of the stroke.

My mother decided that we shouldn’t use the word stroke, instead we should say episode.

Once the tests were completed today we learned it wasn’t a stroke, it was a seizure. She was sent home from the hospital with prescriptions for anti-seizure meds, cholesterol meds, and blood thinners. She’s fine. But I am a wreck.