Today I picked Em up from daycare at lunch, skivving off work for most of the afternoon for an early dive into fun. Which means she took a three hour nap, while I puttered around fretting about various work and life-related things, getting it out of my system like I do every Friday. When she woke up we went to early dinner, then to Rita’s for Italian Ice where we ran into some old friends, then came back home just in time for a bath and bed.

As I look ahead to the weekend, most of it is centered around eating and sleeping, which is totally how it should be. I’m debating taking a boot camp class on Sunday morning, debating partly because I’m a little scared of the guy that teaches it but also because I’m a lot scared of the diseased hellions running around the gym daycare. We’ll have to see about that one. Maybe we could go for pancakes instead.

In other great news, the child at daycare that was the cause of so many angst-y posts in the past year has been given the boot. Hooray! Next week is his last week. There are some mornings when I drop off the kids that this other child is yelling and behaving so badly that I can’t stand to be around him for 10 minutes, so I don’t know how this has lasted as long as it did. I’m just thankful that he’ll soon be somewhere else.

Time for me to go watch my new obsession…Cake Boss.  Happy weekend!

emmy’s happy feet from Heather on Vimeo.

Anyway, it occurred to me Thursday afternoon that I should buy a few things just in case we got a few inches and I couldn’t do the regular Saturday shopping.  As is my way, I kind of meandered around Trader Joe’s throwing things I thought were necessary into my cart.

Things I bought:

• milk (a nice addition to the unopened gallon already in the fridge)
• eggs (ditto for the dozen already there)
• a pork tenderloin (no I don’t know why either)

Things I DID NOT buy that I totally should have if I were seriously planning to not go anywhere for the next 3 days:

• COFFEE ( We are out OUT of everything but decaf and may not survive another day in the house without)
• butter (necessary for everything from pancakes to cookie baking to mashed potatoes)
• salt and pepper (again, necessary for everything)
• mandarin oranges (one of the only guaranteed kids will eat it foods)

So that said, for once we actually got the worst case scenario. In fact, our street is now a solid sheet of 3 inch thick ice.  Total we got about 8 inches of snow topped with ice topped with more snow.

Day 1…waking up to white

You know it’s a good time when your pants are totally snow covered…

The snowman may not have a head but he does have a hat…

Shoveling…

Helping build the snowman…

You are officially not a baby anymore.  (Really, you haven’t been for a while.)  As of last week, you are 18 months old.  For the past year I’ve been too busy drinking you in to write blog posts about how amazing you are, sometimes just watching you,  humbled at how you are so full of life.

I remember every detail of the day you arrived, right up until we went home from the hospital.  Last summer is a blur of trying to manage and figure out this parenting more than one kid thing, mostly focusing on your brother while you slept.  Somewhere along the way, you forced us to take notice:  you stopped being tiny and sleepy and unknown and started to become yourself – shining, laughing, spirited.

I knew then why you were given to us to nurture and parent.  You are so different from your brother, and you arrived at exactly the right time for our family.  I love to watch your delighted laughter when your brother tickles you, and even when he pushes you down or out of the way you don’t hold a grudge.  You’re big enough now to push back, although you don’t realize it yet.  You adore him, and he (mostly) adores you.  You bring him out of his shell, and give him ideas and the courage to do them.

You are headstrong and throw yourself at everything that comes your way.  Anxious to do whatever the bigger kids do, you walked at 9 months.   You want to sit on the potty, even after you’ve fallen in you try again.  You want to use real silverware, and would rather poke yourself than use a plastic baby spoon.  The alternative is a hunger strike, executed with pouty lip and a icy glare.

You talk non-stop, and always with emotion – I didn’t know it was possible to so thoroughly express displeasure, joy, and anger without a single word.

You’ll peruse any book with an intensity that makes me think you are actually reading it, and ask for your favorites by name.  It’s the first thing you do when you wake up, and the last thing you want before bed.

All the stuffed animals that never got much use before you came along have become real and loved by you.  You dance with them, name them, and talk to them.  When something interests you, it will hold your attention until you figure it out.

Everyone who meets you is charmed by your smile, from the teenager at the grocery store checkout, to the mailman and our neighbors.  Those who barely know you want to know you better and spend time in your happy presence.

You have grown so fast and taught us so much about embracing life, moving on, getting over it.  You’ll always be my baby, my girl.

Happy 1.5 Emmy.

This year was the first year that Alex was old enough to really GET the whole trick or treating thing.  We’ve spent the past few weeks reading him Halloween books and talking about going trick or treating. 

Me:  Alex, when you go trick or treating you get to ring the doorbell (I lived to rue this little bit of wisdom…)
Alex:  ?
Me:  And then when the person answers, what do you say?
Alex (singsongs):  HEEEEYYLLooooo!
Me: Yes, you say hello and then you say trick or treat!
Alex: ?
Me: And then you’ll get a piece of candy, and then say thank you.
Alex: WOOOWW!
Me:  But you have to wear your costume.
Alex:  NNNOOOO! No wanna wear a costume!

(Lessons learned for future discussions about Halloween - do not say anything about ringing the doorbell, stress that you have to OPEN your treat bag and let the person drop the candy in, you cannot pet people’s dogs that are inside the house, and you must say thank you then LEAVE.)

It was just like I remembered trick or treating, except it was 70 degrees and I was sweating trying to wrangle the kids and keep them from straying onto lawns and into the street.  I shouldn’t complain – poor Alex was melting inside of his 100% polyester beaver that I got on clearance last year. 

This is the only picture of him wearing the hood.  The hood was up for approximately 10.5 cumulative seconds.

From Halloween 2009

Emily Kate…

From Halloween 2009

Too late I remembered that I was going to try and get her to wear glasses, like the little Blind Melon girl. 

Ah well.  Probably for the best.

From Halloween 2009

We went trick or treating with a friend and her son who is 4, and also loves to ring doorbells.  Her and I spent the evening laughing as we choked out instructions from the sidewalk.

From Halloween 2009

“Only ring once!  NO ONCE!  THAT’S ENOUGH STOP RINGING THE DOORBELL!”

“OK, now say thank you!  NO TAKE YOUR HAND OUT OF THE BOWL! SAY THANK YOU!  NO MORE!  SAY GOODBYE!!”

Alex refused to put candy in his bag and instead clutched it in his fist until he couldn’t hold anymore.  At some point during the night, we lost the bumblebee headband with the deelyboppers and I was so devastated you would have thought I lost my wallet.  Yes, I did make Brett go look for them, and no he didn’t find them.

From Halloween 2009

And….we’re spent.

Given that when you’re at the water park everyone is literally letting it all hang out, it’s better than TV.  Tattoos, piercings, scars, branding (you know where you burn yourself and make a disgusting scar shaped like your favorite frat or something equally stupid), ridiculously painful looking sunburns - you name it, it’s somewhere walking around the Water Park. 

I did not know that they made string bikinis to fit woman that top 300 lbs, did you? 

I had an little brush with skin cancer earlier this year, so I spent most of the time not actually in the water outfitted in hat, rash guard, towel around my legs, hiding in the shade.  For the record, when dry, rash guards are the best thing ever to happen to post partum, semi-soft bellies. 

When wet, they suck.  Drippy and heavy, they are hot and will plaster themselves to you so that anything other than a six pack looks like a sackful of puppies under your shirt. 

I have always been a water baby and a sun worshipper.  It kills me to have to cover up, instead of soak it up but I do, mainly because I don’t get tan anymore I just get freckles.  Ugh. 

Last week when we were there, I spent a good 5 minutes laughing at Emily Kate practicing her squats in the water.  Until she fell down, and a cloud of brown poofed up around her out her swim diaper.  She wasn’t actually practicing squats.  That right there is reason number one why you leave as soon as the chlorinated water isn’t sparkling anymore.  It happens around 2pm on hot summer days.

Alex’s favorite thing to do is stand directly underneath a waterfall and let the water pound down on his head.  Ironic, seeing as how he flips out at the mere mention of a shower at home.  He’s big enough to go on many of the adult rides and always laughs his head off during the ride, but then when it’s over informs me, “I no liked that!” 

On the kiddie rides, he somehow always manages to get the lifeguard to laugh which is amazing considering how many kids pass by them every day.  Like the time when he tried to climb into the raft and was so excited he tumbled in head first and exclaimed, “Whoops!”  Finally righting himself, he settled in and proclaimed, “Ready!”

Sodas and sunburns, the smell of chlorine, splashing, floating, yanking the kids up by the trunks when they fall face first into the water.

The last weekend of the summer is here.  How did that happen?

You have friends that you will drop because of the way they parent.

At first it’s sub-concious, maybe you aren’t even sure why you turn down invites to get together.  Or why you dread spending time with them, with or without thier kids.  Then you slowly start to realize it’s because you do one thing, and they do another.  It makes no sense whatsoever to me to observe someone yell at a child for hitting, then spank them as punishment.  I cannot comprehend a parent who has a child that continues misbehaving but will not remove them from the situation, thus making everyone else miserable.  Nor can I understand someone who is off work for the summer leaving a child in daycare all day every day.  Those people are the ones you slowly lose touch with because it becomes more of an effort than a joy to spend time with them and understand their motives.

Back before I knew this, a couple we knew asked us for a daycare recommendation.  We weren’t good friends but didn’t have any issues with them per se, and we were thrilled to share what a great person we had found.

If there is one thing in the past three years I could take back, it would be sharing the name of our daycare provider.  Because for the last 15 months, that couple’s baby (who is now two) has bullied, smacked, bit, disrupted, and generally harrassed and hassled my kids and the other kids in daycare.  He tackles them, pinches, does things specifically to make other kids cry.  Which should be no surprise because he’s exactly like his dad, who reminds me of a 30-year old frat boy.

This morning that kid smacked Emily Kate, who was just sitting there smiling at him like she smiles at everyone and I have not stopped crying since.  The look on her face has haunted me all day, her innocent belief that everyone she meets will smile at her and love her was destroyed.  Something we all need to learn eventually, but not before our first goddamn birthday.

I knew it was coming.  Why should she be any different?  Every kid there has been bitten or hit at least once and now I have a choice.  Do I provide an ultimatum – my kids or this one?  Do I let it go and trust that the situation will right itself despite all evidence to the contrary?   Should I be more direct in my displeasure at the situation?  Because despite the fact that it’s a business – this woman has cared for my children for nearly three years.  I’ve asked her to love them and care for them while I work and she has and I know she wants to do the right thing.  She feels sorry for this little boy because he isn’t getting the discipline and loving attention he should be at home.  I constantly wonder if Alex acting out is a direct result of what he’s seeing – that the way to get attention is to misbehave.

Everything I wanted in a daycare – a family home, educational curriculum, loving provider, small group – all those things are still there.  Just less so, because so much time and energy is spent on corralling ONE CHILD.  And the fact that his mother is home for the summer yet still leaves him every day for longer than my kids are there makes me sick. 

I wonder what his mom would say if I confronted her and asked her what the hell she is doing.  Because it’s easy to tell yourself that you want your child to keep to a routine, and that it’s better for them to be around other kids.  You can say it out loud and people will nod and agree, but what if just once, someone didn’t nod and agree with you?  What if someone called bullshit and made you face the fact that you just don’t want to deal with the monster you’ve created? 

Judgemental?  Hell yes.  Do I know the entire story?  Probably not.  You never really can, and you have to call what you see and what I see is my kids being exposed to things that I don’t want them to be exposed to yet and an eviction process that is taking entirely TOO LONG.  For pete’s sake telling a parent they need to find another method of care for their child doesn’t need to be like firing a government employee.

Just when I thought I’d gotten past my working mother guilt, I’m reminded that the choices I’ve made in one area take things out of my hands in another.  And for the millionth time I question and revisit and beat myself up over those choices.  All because I gave a referral.

From 10 months

In a lot of ways, Emily Kate is the girl I try to be – hardly ever cries, mostly self-sufficient, let’s things roll off, eats what she wants and as much as she wants without apology, joyful and sweet.

Eager, determined, musically inclined…

From 10 months

I want to hold onto her babyhood, and yet I can’t wait to see the person she’ll become.

From 10 months

A little embarrassed that my moderately pathetic, but every-4-minutes contractions had stopped nearly as soon as I walked through those automatic double doors, I was lying sheepishly in the OB triage waiting to be sent home after the monitor failed to even register a blip.

What I didn’t know was that I was 7.5 centimeters dilated and there would be no going home that night.  For fear I’d deliver in the bathtub if they sent me home, but being impatient by nature we collectively decided that it would be best to break my water and barely an hour later Emily Kate made her appearance.

In some ways it seems like a lifetime ago.  So much has changed - particularly this year there’s been a lot of sadness and stress and the kind of things that make you think about what’s important.  She’s forced me to focus, and not fall down, and pay attention.

She rarely cries and has a sunny, toothless smile for everyone she sees.  Two weekends ago, she tentatively started to crawl.  Since then, I’ve taken rocks, magnets, and crusty food from the floor out of her mouth.  Today she pulled herself to standing in the tub, legs wide, and then let go throwing her arms to the side looking like a chubby starfish before plopping back into the water, pleased as punch that she did it.

A girly girl, she is attracted to all things shiny and has already perfected my patented look of disdain.  When Alex is melting down, which is approximately three times an hour now that he’s two and a half, she seems to catch my gaze and roll her eyes as if to say, “These boys…”

Every single day, I look at her or cuddle her or smell her hair and think how lucky I am, and how many other things are just not that important at all.

YAY! – Emily Kate is officially crawling.  And pulling up, grabbing things, chattering, and cruising.  Most of the time I set her down and the next thing I see is her round little backside rapidly moving toward whatever inappropriate object has been inadvertenly left on the floor.  She got lots of practice this weekend due to my inability to move a single finger to chase her when…

BOO! – Saturday I woke up a little queasy but still functioning.  We did normal Saturday things, then Alex woke up from his nap a little cranky and listless.  A short 30 minutes after Brett left for what was sure to be a late night playing poker and roughly THREE long hours until bedtime, Alex wailed then barfed chunks of cheese, Craisins, and free samples from Costco all over the playroom rug.  Cheese-puke is the smelliest, worst puke to clean up – exacerbated by the fact that my stomach was queasy in the first place and that Emily Kate’s new found crawling skills found her scooting toward it and I came back from getting the steam cleaner out to find her mere INCHES away.  And also to find Alex giggling hilariously running around the playroom spraying Resolve into the air, what would prove a short lived intermission between clinging to me and puking over and over until beyond bedtime at which point the queasiness I’d been feeling caught up with me and…

Finding-the-Silver-Lining-YAY! – I haven’t been able to keep food down since Saturday evening and I got to spend the whole day Sunday in bed.  And I felt not a twinge of guilt, due to above mentioned poker tournament.  To use my favorite line from “The Devil Wears Prada” I’m ‘one stomach flu away from my goal weight’ and I better lose at least five SEVEN pounds from this misery. 

More BOO! – To make it worse, as of Monday my stupid job relocated to a different FARTHER AWAY city making my commute unfriendly traffic wise, and unpredictable which I do not handle well (I see Zoloft in my future).  So as not to incur comments about being too much of a princess to move boxes and load trucks on Monday I couldn’t even call in sick.  So I dragged myself into work, probably spreading disease along with my discontent.  I felt better by Monday night so I…

Just-Plain-Effing-DUMB - ate some chili.  It was very mild, but also a VERY BAD IDEA.  Like, THE WORST IDEA EVER.  After 2 hours sleep and taking some two-years-past-expiration-Immodium I dragged my ass into work today because a) any germs I was going to spread would have been spread yesterday and b) I was so not wasting a precious vacation day with SPRING! coming on being sick.

RECAP – Alex is better, I’m still sick but skinnier, playroom rug is sticky/stinky, EK is mobile, and I would be making fun of Brett for the cold he has that is so getting trumped by all of this, except he has been very understanding about my combination sick/traffic induced crankiness.