Fruit in my dessert

Letting go

Today, Henry and I went to the playground - a newer one for us, a bit quieter and smaller than our usual hangouts. Lucy came too, but she isn't quite ready to "play." We started out doing bubbles, just the two of us, an activity that can make me anxious because I get nervous the whole playground will swarm us and I'll wind up in charge of navigating a whole bunch of kids trying to get at my kid's bubbles and madness will inevitably ensue (even though we always bring extra bubble makers). But, the kids on this playground were way too involved in a seemingly complicated game of tag involving children ages 2-8 who were quite impressively, if not a bit aggressively, playing with each other. One little girl came over to play with us - she was about 5 - and I had no trouble navigating the sharing that went on there. She was quite kind to Henry for the most part. I only once had to remind her that they were his bubbles so she might not want to grab the whole thing away from him like that. At one point she told me, "this is stressful," because she couldn't get a bubble to form in her bubble maker. I'm pretty sure I didn't know the word stressful at five. But that's a post for another day.

Anyways, part of my concern when other kids come to "share" Henry's stuff is that it will stress him out or he won't enjoy himself as much as he would on his own, that it will be scary to navigate the situation - projecting, anyone? When the sharing of the bubble tray was getting too much for him (I think) and his bubbles weren't working as well as hers (I mean, she's 5 after all), he decided to chase around after the bubbles she was making instead. Nice. After a while, the little girl got bored with the bubbles and ran off to rejoin the game on the playground. And, Henry went too.

My first inclination was to follow him, as we are usually pretty close by, if not directly underneath him, when he's climbing up things that are taller than he is. But I noticed none of the other caregivers were at the play structure, and there were kids seemingly his age running around unattended. It was a "little kid" play structure, and they all seemed to be playing well, big kids minding where the little kids were, etc. so I stayed back - a whole 15-20 feet. Lucy started crying so I picked her up out of the stroller and walked with her and kept an eye on Henry as he jumped and climbed and watched the kids play. He followed the little girl a bit - who was a big girl to him. He was sort of trying to insert himself in their play - the first time I think he's ever done that with big kids that he didn't know at all. At one point, as he jumped from thing to thing on the play structure, I asked him if he wanted me to help him (last time we were here, he had asked for my help) and he yelled back to me, "I no need help." The child development person in me was so proud of what she was seeing, while the mommy - or "momma" as he's retaken to calling me lately, was verklempt - and is a bit teary as she writes this, too.

We stayed for a while longer, he came to me to get a head rub briefly after the girl he was following kicked him in the head. I think it was an accident, but she didn't seem too concerned. (Side note: her caregiver mentioned something to the effect of "get in line" when I mentioned my son was following her...yikes.) He even asked me to ask her and his "friends" to play with him at one point toward the end. I know I have a new baby, but where has my baby gone?!!? He must have known I was getting misty though, because right before we left, he asked for my help to hop one more time from thing to thing. Thanks, H.

By the way, while I have your attention, tonight's episode of Friday Night Lights was called, "Stay," and it's all about letting go. Watch it - tonight, and every week. It's the best show ever.

high school graduation

Maybe it's because I'm attempting to plan a 15-year high school reunion that this is the analogy that comes to mind, but what I'm really talking about is the moments that are left for our family of three to be a family of three. I could not be more excited to become a family of four, about the unknowns, the adventures ahead, the relationships that will blossom within our family, between our children, the bonds that will form. Heck, I'm even excited for the fights and the chaos that will ensue at times. But, it's bittersweet too. It's been a hell of a two point four years as a family of three. We've had such a blast and could not be more in love with each other. I look back with so much joy at all of it: the good, the bad, and the ugly, though most of it, like 99.9%, has just been amazing.

I feel like it's the end of August before everyone left for their different post-high school destinations. Every night in a parking lot we'd gather to wish someone else well on their journey, give hugs, contact information, last notes and letters reminding each other of all the memories we shared. For the last couple of weeks, and even more in the last couple of days, I think as we squeeze into the bathroom for bath time, or sit at the table eating dinner, or play ball for the seventh hour in a row in the living room or at the playground, that this could be the last time, the last time we do it as a family of three, in this way, and well, I know it's going to get even better, but it also makes me a bit verklempt. I'm going to miss this, just like, sometimes, I still miss high school.

not to brag

I don't want to make anyone jealous or jinx myself, but tonight was the second night in a row that H allowed me to participate in story time before bed. He almost cuddled up next to me on the couch this morning while we "read" his Playmobil catalog together too.

Overanalyzer that I am, I'm trying to figure out why and to what I can attribute this behavior. Was it the extra work hours I put in this week that kept me away from him for more time than usuaul? The pre-preschool switch in the routine? I might attribute tonight to the fact that - for the first time ever - I bought him a book in the store just because he asked for it...for no reason or occasion, and even though I knew it was way more money there than online or in the library. Someone left a children's book on top of the adult paperbacks near the front of the store and it happened to have H's name in the title, so I picked it up and read it to myself and thought it was lovely. H then asked that I read it to him and he sat rapt with attention, not forcing me to turn the pages more quickly or grabbing the book for himself or even moving at all. And, then when I finished, he asked me to read it again. It was time to go, I said (we were on our way out when the book caught my eye in the first place). And, then, I don't know what came over me, but I said, "do you want to buy this book?" At first, he looked at me with a very confused expression, and a moment later, "I want to buy it." After asking B if that was a dumb idea and him saying probably (because he knows how I feel about these things, not because of his own opinion on the matter), and H saying again, "I want to buy it," this time with a bit more insistence, I walked us over to the cashier and bought the book and handed it to H. After saying "please," to mean thank you and then saying, "thank you," he said, "I hold the book," very proudly, and it was all worth it. And I've almost convinced myself that it was okay to buy a 2-year-old a book that is essentially about a boy liking a girl in his class. At least, for now, H likes me enough to let me read it to him.

Bandaid ripping

So H and B survived H's first day of preschool. They encouraged B to stay in the room (along with parents and caregivers of the other new kids in the class) and I think it may have had the opposite of the intended effect. H knew B was there and obviously wanted to play with his BFF, so B wound up staying in there the whole time, engaging, not engaging, explaining, and trying to get H to engage with the rest of the class.

There was also a sock incident. In this facility, it's no shoes allowed (super plush carpet in the gym and nice padded wood flooring in the classroom), which I love, but it is also a no sock facility (which I don't) to prevent kids from slipping. During the early part of class when B was in the room but on the side, one of the teachers attempted to take H's socks off and it was the straw that broke H for the remainder of the session. And it nearly killed B to watch the sadness that ensued, as short lived as it may have been. My poor boys. They were both definitely exhausted by the end of the two hours, perhaps B more so than H. Other parents had been able to leave, while some were in and out (potentially even more confusing for the children), but it was a mixed bag of a day. Lucky for them both, B took them to a diner for grilled cheeses to recover before nap time.

When H and I talked about it later, he said "I go to school today. My daddy stay in there." He knew that was not the goal, but seemed to be perfectly okay with it.

Having the benefit of B's experience behind me, when I took H on Thursday, in addition to all the talk in the morning about how it was going to go and how mommy was going to wait outside in case he needed me, I decided that if they would let me, we would do the rip-the-Bandaid-off version of separation instead. And lucky for me, this was actually the plan for day 2. All the caregivers that were in the room at the start of class were asked to leave about 10 minutes in. H had started playing at a table with me about 3 feet away and reached out to me as if his feet (in facility-approved/suggested slippers) were glued to the floor but he needed to touch me. Minutes later he was between my legs. I alternated between telling him the plan and giving him encouragement to play with comforting him by just sitting there with him.

At 10 minutes, someone came over, I said my brief goodbyes and they peeled him out of my arms crying. There were a good four or five kids doing the same. We went out in the waiting area and, well, we waited. A few minutes later, another mom came out (she had arrived late) and said no one was crying anymore. About 5 or 6 times during the two hours, either a mom who had gone in to check or one of the teachers would come out and give an update and by all accounts, H was engaged, playing, even "doing perfect" by one mom's account. I got the thumbs up later from another teacher during a transition. I was relieved and proud (which felt weird to be, but I was).

The bonus to the day was meeting a new potential mommy friend, whose son was also having some anxiety, as was she. She's expecting her second as well and we even share an OB. Did I mention she works in early childhood so we got to talk about all of our strong opinions about what these programs should and should not look like and she told me of another quite reputable program from which she and another mother there had pulled their kids a few weeks earlier.

At the end of the two hours, we went in to the little pick-up/transition area and the kids came out to see us. H was happy to see me, but I wouldn't say he was over the top about it. He told me how he went on the bars (in the gym) and then after about 30 seconds, got down and went over to play with some trucks. I spoke with two of the teachers (they initiated - how nice) who told me some specifics of the day's activities and how well H did in terms of being engaged with the class the whole time - even more engaged than he had been during the semester where the parents were there the whole time. Rock on, H!

I actually had to coax him into getting ready to leave, and as we were putting coats on, he suggested that "Mommy go out there" as he pointed out the window, and I think he intended to stay. I left feeling good about the program, good about H being ready for it, excited to meet a potential friend, and thinking that maybe I could get things done during those two hours every week - even if that meant successfully eating a pain au chocolat and hot chocolate while reading...hmmm.

We "tour" (with H) the one preschool we have applied to for the fall, on Monday. Stay tuned.

Big day tomorrow

Tomorrow is H's first day of pre-preschool. This is my name for it since it's not technically preschool, but rather a preschool alternative (read: cheaper, noncompetitive admission, not accredited by anyone). It's also "pre" because he's only 2, but we thought it might be a good idea to get him in a routine like this BEFORE #2 shows up. It's at a place where he has been taking a class with B for a couple of months with all of the same "coaches" (although 2 of 6 are leaving to pursue their "real" passions - one to play the leading role in the traveling Broadway production of Footloose) and much of the same curriculum/routine. This will be 2 hours instead of 90 minutes, and oh yeah, neither of us will be there with him. We're DROPPING HIM OFF.

I've only been to the class here with him once and while I did like it, I had my bones to pick (really? you ask). B really enjoys it with him and H asks to go to "gym class" often (it's half gym and half art/snack/story/open play/singing). It's what they call a gradual separation program which means the parent/caregiver sticks around on the first day to whatever extent necessary - either in the classroom sitting in a chair on the edge not engaging or in the building (per the not-a-preschool's request), and then it goes how it goes from there. Some children separate very quickly, others not as quickly, and some not at all. There are also good days, bad days, etc.

Since tomorrow is B's day with H and the class is at the same time as his non-drop-off class has been, we decided B is going to take him and I'm just going to go to work as I normally would. We also think that he'll have an easier time separating from one of us vs. two. I'm mostly okay with not being there on the first day and actually think the lack of my presence (and my best friend, Anxiety) will make the transition go more smoothly. I'm excited for H, but nervous for him too. B thinks it's going to be cake, bye, bye, see ya later. I'm not so convinced. I hope H is. He's had chunks of time away from us with sitters and family, but we've never dropped him off anywhere that wasn't someone else's home. I get to go on Thursday and I'm kind of excited for that, and given how depressingly easily he's been separating from me lately (even when I don't want to be), maybe that will go even more smoothly...or not. I can picture me with tears because he refuses to hug or kiss me goodbye.

I'm a little emotional about it all (and I'll try not to blame the pregnancy for that) and what it means in terms of how old he is and how fast it's all going, but I feel good about it, if only a tiny bit scared the "coaches" won't pay enough attention to him, or worse, if they're mean to him. If that happens, well, then someone's going to need to "separate" me from them. I don't understand why people think I'm always ready for a fight!??!

Here's hoping it's the best it can be! Now, for the important question, what's he going to wear?

Yoga thoughts

So, when I wasn't just "being" during Savasana at the end of yoga class tonight - my first class in months and my first during this pregnancy, I had some time to be alone with my thoughts and here's some of what came to mind:

1. Oh my goodness, there is a baby in there. There is just so much less time as the mom of a toddler to spend thinking about the baby inside. I mean I think about it, as in, I shouldn't eat a tuna sandwich - again, or I wish I could have some coffee, or be careful H, you're kicking me in the belly and there's a baby in there, or my aching back, there's a baby...you get the point. But there's been no being "one" with the baby. Not to say I spent much time meditating or bonding with H in utero, but I think I'd be willing to pay for the yoga classes this time just to spend some time alone with the baby.

2. I should really blog more, maybe about this.

3. I wonder if this is the most comfortable way for me to be laying down.

4. It's probably not sanitary for me to be laying my head down on this blanket.

5. I learned a lot during my last pregnancy (and the first, which ended in an early-ish miscarriage) about the lack of control that comes with parenting and I really think it's helped me be a more calm parent and person. I have no illusions about being in a Zen state as a mother or person (and yes, I know mothers ARE people, but you know what I mean), but I do feel like the roller coaster of my pregnancy with H, with supportive aids from the Hypnobirthing course that I took (but did not fully "use" with my breech-caused-c-section), really put the whole, "you just never know what's going to happen or when or how and you can't do anything about most of it" thing into perspective for me. It's not a new revelation for me, but I've been thinking about it more during this pregnancy. I'm grateful for the early hospital visits, the preterm labor, the hospital stay, the bed rest, and yes, even the c-section. I think in some small way it all helps me be a better mom to H, and hopefully a better person overall. At least some of the time.

6. My back hurts.

He's just not that into you (or rather, me)

I'm sure I've posted about this before...before he had words. Before he could say, "I want mommy go out there," as he steps into the hallway and points toward the living room. It has long been a ritual in our house for B to do the bedtime thing. This started when I was home full-time and counted the minutes until his arrival at the front door, feeling like a 1950s cliche, handing off the baby with more enthusiasm than I thought I could muster. We would take turns of course, and whenever B would travel - which was and is fairly frequently - I would do the whole bedtime thing. And many nights we would share it and use the time to catch up with each other a little as well.

Well, the time has come when post-bath, H tells me to "go out there" so he and daddy can read their story and daddy can put him to bed. We've come close to forcing the issue on a night or two when mommy has needed some H love, but don't get very far before something clicks in my brain telling me that I should be at least partially grateful: for this time to myself and for the relationship H and B have. I have many friends who have the opposite issue where they can't get the child to go with daddy and they feel trapped by that (as would I). When I'm feeling extra insecure I do "blame" it on the fact that B will indulge him more at bedtime than I will in terms of extra moments of interaction before it's time to say goodnight, but I know if that's part of the story, it's likely a small part.

So, here I sit, blogging freely, and I'm grateful, but still a little sad (at least for the moment) that I'm not raising a "momma's boy" as my friend who has the same "issue" said to me the other day. At least for the moment.

Just words

A couple of weeks ago, we finally succumbed to the pressures of this big, bad city and filled out our first (of one, so far) preschool application for H for next fall. We know we're "behind," we know it might be "too late for the good ones," and we know he might be doomed to a life in public school with all those "other" kids, but we know his mom made it through that way - not here, but that's just a detail, right?

I have been toeing the line between trying to understand how involved in the insane process one needs to be to not totally mess up her kid's educational chances for the rest of his (New York) life, and trying to pretend we can do it here like we would do it anywhere else - plus a few K here and there. I have only three requirements in this whole process: (1) we must not be forced to home school him because he doesn't get in anywhere, and (2) no co-ops. Half or more of the reason I believe preschool is a must for our family is the much needed separation and alleviation of responsibility for us, the parents. (3) This may be obvious, but I want ALL of the adults in the room with him at all times to be CARING, LOVING adults.

Okay, let's face it, you know and I know I have WAY more than three requirements, but if I start talking about educational philosophy and what I think H actually needs (and DOESN'T need) from a preschool experience, I'll have nothing to talk about when we see each other for coffee or dinner, or when I write the book about it. Besides, this post is about the application we filled out.

The one question they asked on the application that required real thought was what words we would use to describe our child. It didn't say how many words, but we went with 12, given the line length and assumed need for detail with brevity. I, of course, made B come up with his own list and it turned out that our first word was the same - the rest were not, so we went with a combination. Here's what we came up with:

curious, energetic, loving, social, observant, funny, brave, resourceful, kind, expressive, creative, thoughtful

It was challenging in a number of overthinking-it kind of ways, but it was also kind of fun.

We did get invited to the open house in January after they received our application, so I guess that means we didn't "fail" the application part, but I'm pretty sure everyone gets invited to the open house.

In the meantime, we're signing up for a "pre-school alternative" (read: not licensed as a preschool, half the cost or so, but still too much) for two mornings a week (2 hours/day) starting in January. And, as with so much of parenting, I'm excited and devastated about this new development.

What's In a Name?

I started a post a couple of months ago about all of Henry's new words and developments and I never finished it and it never got posted, so today, I just post about one word he said right before bed tonight: Henry.

Actually, it was more like Henmy, but it was the first time he said his name. The words are exploding these days, and he can repeat almost anything all of a sudden, including today, when we were buying him pajamas, and I said, "would you like the helicopters or the dinosaur?" expecting him to point at one or the other, and he looked at me and said, "dinosaur." This was surprising on two levels - one, he really likes helicopters and even calls planes "copters" and two, I don't think he's ever seen a dinosaur or heard the word (except for last week at the Natural History Museum). I digress. I've been saying this kid's name to him since birth. He knows his name. He responds to his name - usually, when he's not practicing being a teenager. His friends call him by his name (Henny, Honey, etc.), but he's never said it before. I don't know why I find it so special, but I do. So there it is.

Watching it happen

I snapped at my 17-month-old at four o'clock in the morning, for potentially being in pain. Seriously. I know I'm not the only one who's ever done that but it feels awful, and mostly because it's all my fault. I worked at the office yesterday and with my new hours I am doing ten hours, so I didn't get home until after six, where I met B and H at the playground with a couple of my/our mommy friends and their boys. Then we went out to a fancy restaurant for dinner called Whole Foods. I looked at my watch as we were finishing eating and said, "oh my goodness, it's 10 to seven," but my friend pointed out that it was actually 10 to eight. Oops. By the time we got home we had missed H's bedtime by over an hour and he was feeling it. Also, the whole time at the playground and at the fancy restaurant and even when we were home, he wanted both of us to be there. My analysis is that he wasn't sure which one of us was going to be there when - was one of us going to leave again? And that was making him anxious and me sad.

That's how it's been for the last couple of weeks. A lot of handing off, one of us comes, the other one goes. We added some new fun to the new working arrangement by deciding to move back to New York, which has meant surprise trips to go see open houses, frantically trying to get our house ready to put on the market, and a general heightened level of anxiety. Add to that me going away for a night with my sister (it was divine) and taking on a month long work assignment at about 10 hours a week in addition to the new work arrangement (to be fair I signed up for this other assignment before I decided to go back to work. At any other moment it would be quite enjoyable). B is working hard with less time trying to get clients, get his business set up, and his office arranged, and keeping me from going off the deep end (which takes way more time than it should).

I was feeling guilty about having too much on my non-H plate, which is of course why H was feeling that way and B was feeling bad because he thought it was his fault for not planning their day better to get H to bed sooner, so after a rare unsuccessful attempt to put H in his own bed, we brought him in to ours. We both had planned to do hours of work after putting H to bed but decided against our own wills to go to sleep too. The only problem with that was that we really can't sleep so well with an uncomfortable H in our bed. He was wiggling and spinning and laying on our faces and smacking our ears. And I quickly went from being worried about him to being frustrated that I wasn't getting any sleep. And I snapped. It was brief, just his name, "HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH." And it wasn't the first time and I know it won't be the last, but I feel like I'm watching it happen.

We've made choices, most of them I believe are the right choices for us, but this week, and maybe the next several, we made too many choices to DO things instead of NOT DO things so we once again have to be on top of our individual and collective games in a serious win-the-championship kind of way so that things like that don't happen and ask ourselves, "what are the things that we can NOT do?" "what are the things we can do differently or LESS?" etc. etc.

I apologized to H this morning, but somehow it didn't feel like enough, maybe because he had spent the last fifteen minutes listening to mommy and daddy argue about how crazy mommy was for yelling at everybody because she has too much to do. I missed the, "How to have a happy marriage, brilliant career, not fight, and never take anything out on your kid," chapter in the baby book.

please note: this post was actually written four days ago, but I never got around to posting it. Lots has happened since then, mostly good stuff. And no more snapping.