The Lesson

I woke up Friday morning. I knew I had a big day-long meeting, so the night before I had washed a load of nice work clothes (all black) and hung them up. I had my choice of items to wear that were (somewhat) flattering, made me feel (somewhat) attractive and comfortable at the same time, and would be professional enough for said day-long meeting.


Upon arising, however, something dawned on me. All of the colleges in my statewide system would be represented at said day-long meeting. All of them. Including the one I where I used to be employed.

Immediately I was excited and panicked at the same time. I might be seeing people that I used to work with! I could catch up with some old frenemies! But … I weigh 50 pounds more (at least) than I did the last time they saw me (and I was 8 months pregnant then). And you know that thing about when someone leaves everything that is wrong gets blamed on them? I totally know that has happened.

So … I start getting ready. I shave my legs, I get dressed, I put straightening solution in my hair and start drying it. I straighten my hair, I pick out jewelry and shoes, all the time thinking about my old job. The job I loved, until I didn’t. I job I wasn’t planning to leave, until I did. The job that I very abruptly made a transition from, that included 3 weeks in the hospital and a newborn. “Mixed emotions” doesn’t even begin to cover it.

I was paying zero attention to my kid. She was watching “Jane and the Dragon” and playing with the cat. I could hear her, I knew she was fine. So I could be absorbed in my “will they think I’m fat” obsession, and my “what if they don’t even talk to me” anxiety.


Until I heard a plaintive voice from the other room: “momma, I need help”.


I walked into the hallway with makeup half applied and my mascara in my hand. Her door was closed all the way, which is unusual because that usually makes her cry. I don’t see the cat.


I try the doorknob. It is locked. I block my first instinct to panic, and head to the linen closet. I pull out the un-bent metal coat hanger, and insert it into the hole in the knob. I’ve done this before. In my old apartment, the door would bang against the wall in the wind and then slam shut, and I was constantly opening it this way.

Only … nothing. It’s not working.

Panic rises another notch, but I’m clear headed. This is not a big deal. I check my bedroom door and sure enough, the lock is a thumbscrew lock, not a push-button lock. So I try talking to my kid.

Honey, do you see the line in the middle of the knob?” “Yes”. “Can you try to turn it so it points sideways?”. (She turns the whole knob.) “Just the middle part” (More turning of the whole knob.) She starts to cry, so I abandon that plan.

I run to the garage to retrieve a small screwdriver, and begin removing the doorknob. I take out both screws and take off the knob. I have her pull off the knob on the other side (since she had the one attached to the shaft thing.) Then I try sliding the thing in the middle.

Doesn’t budge.

Try again. Nothing.

Great. I have now disassembled the doorknob, half of which is inside the room, and I still can’t get the damn door open.

Thankfully, my kid is playing and doesn’t seem terribly concerned about it. But the cat is starting to reach out under the door with his paw as if to say “HelLOOOO, we are STUCK IN HERE, get us OOOUUUT”.

So, I grab my phone. Which has been erratically losing signal, and this seems to be one of those times, so I have to turn it off and back on again. Awesome.

Meanwhile I go back out to the garage and get the largest screwdriver I can find. I try all kinds of little tricks on the “middle thing” while I turn my phone back on and finally get my dad on the phone.

His suggestion? Find the biggest screwdriver you can find. Sorry Dad, that’s not working.

His next suggestion? Butter knife.

Fucking genius. I managed to turn the “middle thing” and pop the door open like it was nothing with the butter knife.

I pushed the door open and my kid looked up and smiled. “Hi Mommie!”.

I went back into the bathroom to finish getting ready. And then I realized the lesson in the event. (OTHER than “remember to not have a thumbscrew lock on the door to your two-year-old’s room”.)

I had been so preoccupied with the thought of the people where I used to work. What they would think of me now, how they would act toward me, what I would say. When in reality, my life has changed. My priorities have shifted. “This is my life now” floated through my head, and I was grateful for the reminder of what in my life is important NOW. My kid, and my cat, both of whom were safely rescued from the kid’s bedroom.

I went to the meeting, merely a few minutes late.  There was only one person from my previous college, and they were probably a new hire because it was someone I completely didn't recognize.  I hung out with some people I've met at my new college and I had as much fun as I could have at this day-long meeting.

And this morning I bought a new doorknob. One that doesn’t have a lock on it.

Wherein I Just Write Everything And Hope To Feel Better

I had started a post about my cat.  I had to put him to sleep when I was 5 months pregnant, Thanksgiving weekend 2008.  I miss him terribly.  I miss my dog too - she had to be put to sleep when my wee one was about 9 weeks old, the week after her baptism.  I can't talk about that one yet. 

See, I really miss having an animal in the house.  A cat will be easier than a dog.  I want a cat who is friendly and social and cuddly and lovey and smart and cute and striped and spotted and ... just like Darwin.

My parents have a cat.  His name is Clyde.  He is not at all friendly, and will hit you with his clawless paws and when that doesn't work he will bite you.  He has attacked my daughter twice now (once I truly think he was trying to "play") and so she has become afraid of him.

So I thought I'd get a cat.  Or start thinking about getting a cat.  I found one, and I fell in love.  Then I felt guilty.  Then I fell in love again.  So I wrote a little bit and then I went to bed.

I think most of that was denial about the anxiety I was experiencing about my daughter's allergy testing this afternoon.  You see, my daughter has been chronically sick for a while now.  She is sick all the time.  When she's not actually sick, she's still snotty and congested and ....  I, like most people I have talked to, including her doctor, chalked that up to being in daycare.  (None of that will be new to regular readers.)

Mostly it was just colds and sinus infections and the occasional pinkeye.  This fall, however, it began to be chronic ear infections.  To the point that her doctor starting talking "tubes" and I just wanted to pass out.  At some point I asked about allergy testing.  His first response was that they don't normally do allergy testing until they are 2 or 3.  But then I asked again.

Because, you see, I made a huge mistake during Open Enrollment last year.  I have a health care flex spending account and a daycare spending account.  Both administered by the same company.  So last year, on the last possible day of open enrollment, while my daughter napped and I attempted to get on my laptop using my parents wireless router, with two hours until the deadline, I switched the two amounts in the two accounts.  So I have very little money in the daycare spending account, and WAYTOOFREAKINGMUCH in the medical spending account.  I have more sets of disposable contacts than I will wear before the prescription changes, and I still need to spend lots of money or lose it.

So I told the doc that I had medical money to spend, and asked again about the allergy testing, and they set up an appointment for us.  For today.

I won't dwell on the part where I was anxious and scared.  I read some stuff last night that helped me to feel better - supposedly it feels like a hairbrush being pushed on your back.

Um, bewlsheet?

The nurse showed me on my hand what she would be doing.  She poked me with an incredibly sharp piece of hard plastic.  Over and over again.  And then reminded me that my daughter's back is more sensitive than my hand, and that she still has baby skin.  I got it, lady, this is going to be hell, can we get on with it?  She cleaned C's back with alcohol, drew letters and dots on her back to mark what was going on, and then she started. 

She said I did good.  She said C did good.  I thought the heavens would fall from the screaming.

Then we waited 15 minutes to be told ... she is allergic to cats.  And eggs.  And that dry skin that I try to fight every day with oatmeal lotion?  Is probably excema.  I should learn how to spell that, since my kid seems to have it.

Then the REALLY fun part.  On her arms.  This time ... needles.  23 of them.  More alcohol and marking with the pen.  C is screaming because she thinks she is being poked again.  Then the needles start.

God love the nurse.  She had a little red bucket that the needles were supposed to go in.  But she was trying so hard to go really fast and get it over with, that she just started throwing the used syringes in the general direction of the bucket.  They were bouncing off the wall and everything.  I was almost amused.  If I hadn't been, you know, holding a screaming child that was getting 23 shots up and down her arms.

There was blood.  Tiny little pinpricks of blood up and down her arms.  And all over my shirt.  But I had brought Dora books and snacks and they gave her some new toys so through her sobbing and snotting, she was trying to tell me that ducks say "quack quack".

15 more minutes, and they write up our results.   She is pretty allergic for her age, he said.  (At least it explains the chronic running nose, watery/crusty eyes, allergic shiners, etc.)

Moderate allergies to indoor and outdoor mold spores, Johnson grass, dust mites, cockroaches, and cats.  Also she was positive to the eggs, so they want me to eliminate eggs from her diet and see if that helps the dry-skin-stuff.  Then he started talking really fast and telling me all kinds of stuff like how allergy shots work and the hours they are open but they don't do first shots on saturday and you have to stay for 30 minutes in case there is an anaphylactic reaction which only has a 1 in 10,000 chance and if she comes twice a week they will take six months and if she comes three times a week they will take three months and then we go on maintenance and that's two years and if she's symptom free then we stop the shots but by then she will be 4 and maybe allergic to new/different stuff but at least she won't have ear infections in the meantime and we can retest her then and check with insurance to see what they will pay for and it takes two weeks to make the shots and follow up in three months.  And the nurse will be in to show you how to use the Epi Pen.  Any questions?

The nurse has a handout (thank god because she talked as fast as him and I was done when they said "cats and eggs"),  Mite blocking covers for pillows and mattresses, HEPA filtered vacuums, MERV something furnace filters, wash bedding every 10 days, keep her out of the house for 2 hours after cleaning, and here's the Epi Pen.  If her throat closes up and she starts wheezing for air (okay, at this point MY throat is closing up) then you jam it in to her leg.  If it doesn't work, then 5 minutes later you have to do it again (okay, if my daughter's throat closes up and she wheezes for 5 minutes after I've jammed a needle in her leg, you will have to come see me in heaven because I will be DONE.)

Any questions?

(Please can I go now, because I need to go sit in my car and cry.)

1.  Delayed vaxing doesn't prevent allergies.  We are now the poster child for this.
2.  If someone else adopts Waddles, can I come and visit him?
3.  I'm calling insurance tomorrow to see what they say, then I'll probably call and tell them that we want to start allergy shots.  Because hell, after today, what's the big deal about two or three shots a week?  If it reduces the snotty nose/watery eyes/allergic shiners, and especially if it prevents ear infections/tubes, shouldn't I go ahead with it?
4.  I can't get the purple marker off her back.

She just looks like she feels great, doesn't she?

My Days

Nighttime is the only time that I have for myself.  In the morning, I'm up by 6.  Me ready, her ready, do we have everything?  Out the door at 7:15.  Quiet her fussing while we sit on the bridge in traffic (daily I wonder what the steps would be if the bridge collapsed.  Is everyone that fatalistic?)

I try to drop her off around 7:45, and that puts me on campus around 8:00.  Any earlier, and she has to go into a room with a teacher that's not her normal teacher, and I try to keep her dropoff as standard as possible.  Any later, and I don't feel prepared for 9:00 class.

Check email, deal with student stuff, what am I doing in class and the lab that is right after?  Do I have copies?  Is the quiz written?  Do I have enough Scantron forms?

Time enough for a tweet, then down the hall to the classroom.  Start the computer and the projector, while being mobbed with random questions - do they not understand this is not an appropriate time?  Open the file, start the slide show, is it 9:10?  Good, we can start.

Hour and 15 minutes of them trying to be engaged with detailed, difficult content.  Me: waving my arms trying to demonstrate molecules diffusing down their concentration gradient.  Them: trying not to look bored because they've tuned me out.

10:25.  End lecture, lab in 10 minutes down the hall.  Hit ESC to get out of the slide show, close powerpoint, eject the thumb drive, turn off the projector, log off the computer, erase the board, gather my notes.  If only it were really that simple, but I am again mobbed with people that don't understand that I have told them I don't have time for questions between lecture and lab.  It's usually the ones with an excuse why they have to miss lab, or can they turn something else in late, etc.  So I'm having to explain and enforce class policy while getting my shit together to get out of the room.

Dump the stuff from lecture on my desk to sort out later, because I grab the folder for lab just before my 10 minutes is up.  Lab sheets, model keys, a quiz.  Here's what you're doing today, I'll be around to help while you work on it.  I pace around the room, answering mundane (and occasionally inane) questions for two hours.  I now amuse myself, and try to teach them how to find the answers to their own questions, by doing the following.  Student: so how do I know what slides to look at today?  Me:  what does your lab handout say?  Student:  I don't know, I haven't read it yet.  (Looks at the lab sheet).  Oh, ok, that makes sense.  Another Student: Can you tell me what this part is?  And this part?  And this part?  And this part?  Me: Do you have a copy of the model key?  Student: Oh, is that what that is for?

12:35.  Lab is over, and the last students have filtered out.  Do I put models and slides away now, or run and get a bite to eat now and clean later?

Drive to get fast food lunch, because I'm definitely not the queen of brown bagging (I'm hoping that Project Vegetarian changes this).  Back to campus to clean off my desk, clean the lab, what's next?  Look at the to-do list.  Make calls, prepare for the next day, post stuff to Blackboard.  2:00 is Open Lab.  Usually there's just one or two students.  So, I have to be out there in the lab to help them.  When I was in the middle of getting something accomplished in my office that I'd like to finish.  I feel like this particular hour and a half is definitely a waste of time.  The students that are attending open lab so far this semester have been the upper level students anyway.  They don't need the extra time, they're doing fine in the class anyway.  The students that screw around during lab time, and probably need the extra open lab time?  Nowhere to be found.

3:30 Open Lab is over.  I have an hour to finish whatever I was working on, be sure to be prepared for the next day's class, and then I can go get the Wee One.

Listen to her cry back across the bridge because the late-day sun is in her eyes, she's asking for juice, and she'd rather NOT be strapped into her carseat for another 20 minutes.

Home - snack of juice and cheese while I fix dinner.  After dinner, she plays with her plastic stuff while I clean up (sort of).  Read a book, take a bath, bedtime routine.

She's asleep.  Now time to write whatever it is that I need to write for the class I'm TAKING.  Or do my mommy internet stuff.

I should go to bed.  But given that this is the only time in my entire life when there aren't huge demands hanging over my head, I think I'll sit at the computer and tweet and blog and read and write and facebook and attempt to relax a little.

So when does the tenure notebook get written, the college's safety manual get reviewed, and/or the local chapter of the Association of Women in Science (that I am supposed to be starting) get organized?  Not during these days, at any rate.

I Need A Friend ...

... (with benefits).  (If you know what I mean).

Um, mom, I'm about to talk about s-e-x so if that makes you uncomfortable, perhaps you should come back tomorrow.  And mention to my dad to skip this part, please?  kthxbye

I haven't been in a long-term relationship in a while.  I was married for a (short) (very short) period of time.  Then I did some internet dating (back when internet dating was more for the computer geek population and less for the general population.)  I met a guy that I dated for a couple of years, and afterward we remained good friends. 

I met another guy that turned out to be a womanizing drunk - this I find out after I fall madly in love and become convinced he's my soulmate.  Whatever.

That was all several years ago.

I used to live about a hundred miles away from where I do now.  I had dated, but for whatever reason it didn't work out.  However ... we sometimes would continue the physical aspect of the relationship after we determined that in other areas it wasn't working out - or wasn't going to.

I.e. ... Friends With Benefits

I don't have that here.

I moved back to the area where I grew up, went to high school, and then moved away.  Since I wasn't sexually active in high school, there really aren't any guys around here that I have "that kind" of history with.  Besides, most of them are married.

And really, can you facebook someone you haven't talked to for almost 20 years and be like "can we hook up?  Quietly, as to not wake a sleeping toddler in the next room?"

(No, I wouldn't do it with her in the house.  Well, maybe.  I am a little desperate here.)

I don't have the time or energy for any kind of serious relationship.  I have no life outside my wee one, and I wouldn't bring a relationship into my life with her until I was certain (like, beyond a doubt) about it. 

Besides, I'm not talking about a relationship.  I'm talking about ... benefits.

A guy that I used to date looked me up on facebook.  "Wow, you look great," he wrote.  "Are you still in the Cincinnati area?"

Nope.

I lightheartedly mentioned that I had moved closer to my parents because I had a baby.  I ended with "so what's new with you?"

Silence.

So much for that.

Craigslist had to take down their adult ads because of child sex trafficking.  So that's not even an option.

I mean, seriously, how hard is it to find a decent-looking 30-ish guy who would let me jump his bones for no-strings-attached fun?  I mean, I know I am a plus-size mama but seriously, is it that hard?

Yes, 30-ish.  I have enough issues without being a cougar too.

What Do You Say ...

...when your mouth is hanging open and all your brain is screaming at you is "what the FUCK old lady?"

The Wee One and I were cruising (okay, trying  to make an olympic sprint) through the grocery store this evening, right about 4:45.  I have on knit yoga pants with oatmeal from three days ago and my hair is fried.  She keeps trying to stand up in the moving cart, since she thinks that's a fun game to play.

My daughter, sitting in the cart while I am looking at items on the shelf, is approached by a complete stranger, holding out a sucker.  The stranger, completely focused on my little one, begins saying "I went to the doctor today and I got a shot and I was good so he gave me this sucker.  Would you like to have it ... if your mommy says its okay."

OHMYGODAREYOUSERIOUS?

A, I try not to give my daughter sugar.  So I'm totaly shocked/pissed that she is offered sugar by A COMPLETE STRANGER.

B, if I ever WAS going to give my daughter sugar, it sure as HELL wouldn't be at 4:45 when I am obviously trying to buy items to prepare to feed her DINNER.

C, if I ever was going to give my daughter sugar RIGHT BEFORE DINNERTIME, it sure as HELL wouldn't be a Dum Dum tiny-candy-on-a-stick since she's only 18 months old and COULD CHOKE AND DIE.

D, if I ever was going to give my daughter a sugary choking hazard right before dinnertime, it sure as HELL wouldn't have come FROM A COMPLETE STRANGER IN THE GROCERY STORE.

There are 50 things wrong with that scenario.

In an instant, I have to make a decision.  The Wee One is already grasping for the extended sucker (hint, Complete Stranger, if you're actually going to let the mommy have a say-so, ask permission before dangling the sucker right in her face.)  Do I:

Say No?  And cause a huge toddler meltdown at grocery store rush hour?

Say "no, we don't take candy from strangers" and walk away?  Obviously, she's a dense Stranger, so she totally would not have gotten the message that her action was in appropriate.

Say "no, we don't eat sugar, especially not before dinnertime"?  Again, see first option.  Any form of no would lead to screaming.

So, I took the sucker into my hand just before my daughter grasped it, said a curt "thank you", and moved on.  I couldn't even process the ways our boundaries had been violated, and anything that I said would have reflected poorly on me.  I would hate for some old grandmother in the grocery store to think I'm a bitch.

She probably thinks I'm a bitch anyway for not showing more gratitude. 

So, I'll open it up for discussion.  A complete stranger walks past you to your kid and holds out a sucker.  What do you do?

Losing It

I'm struggling these days.

With everything.  It's always stressful at the beginning of a new semester.  But this year it's more than that.

It's also her.

Noone tells you about this phase.  I was prepared for the newborn stage.  I knew I would get no sleep and have sore b00bs and get thrown up and pooped on. 

I was prepared for the walking stage.  I figured I'd be following her around supervising to prevent her from killing herself in my not-really-baby-proofed house.

I just wasn't prepared for the needy stage.  Where her world is getting bigger and she's not yet able to cope and so I have to help her.

I wasn't prepared for the stage where she understands - and is starting to repeat - every single word out of my mouth other than "NO".  I can tell her - scream at her - no, No, NO, NO, but she laughs like she thinks its funny.  If she rips my glasses off my face one more time I just might lose it for good.
 
I wasn't prepared for the fact that I cannot get anything done when I'm home alone with her.  I'm not exaggerating with that statement. I don't know if I just haven't figured out the tricks that other mommies use, or if they just don't work on her.  In the laundry I have a pile of work clothes that is ... I kid you not ... three feet high.  When I have time/energy/opportunity for laundry, it's either diapers or her clothes or towels.  My laptop is missing 5 keys because she thinks it's fun to pry them off.  So I can't get work stuff (or, you know, important stuff like blogging and twittering) done because if I have the laptop out, she's banging on or prying up keys.

She isn't sleeping, she wasn't eating much today, she napped for an hour and then cried for 45 minutes until I let her rub pureed sweet potatoes in her hair because that's the 15th thing I tried to feed her that she refused.

She's happiest when we are outside, so I let her help me set the garbage out.  She then started randomly walking down the street, so I left the front door and the garage wide open to follow her as she started out into the road to follow the older kids playing and riding bikes.

My head is throbbing, so that means my blood pressure must be up.  At one point this afternoon we were sitting on the floor watching football on the muted tv and singing songs from music class.  I was enjoying just sitting with her.   It's just that it's impossible to do anything else.  So my house looks like crap, I have nothing to wear to work tomorrow that doesn't make me look like a frumpy fat cow, I just did a class assignment that I should have posted two days ago, I have a lab exam to give tomorrow that isn't ready, and a HUGE stack of exams from last week that I brought home to grade but couldn't.

Because I think giving them back with huge crayon swaths across them is a little unprofessional.  And unless I hog tied her, that's what was going to happen.

She was awake for 3 hours in the middle of the night, because it seemed like she just couldn't go back to sleep.  Then the nap today for less than an hour.  When you're a single mama, you have to be there for all of that.  You can't nudge someone else and say "your turn".  You can't make bargains like "you chase the kid out into the street and I'll make dinner."  You have to chase the kid and also make dinner, because it's all on you.

I don't mean to complain, she really is the most precious thing in the world to me.  But in addition to the adorable photos and videos and stories about our sweet little life ... is reality to talk about too.

So, how long does this phase last?  And what's next?  Because I'm about to lose it.  And tomorrow is Monday.

--

Added Monday 9/13:

To be fair, my mom does help.  She hired someone to clean my house (except that I had to pay her.)  I just don't deal well with other people cleaning my house, so it actually added to my stress.

The good news is ... C slept until 6 am this morning!  Not a peep!  I had to get up three times to pee since I drank water to try to get rid of my headache.  Other than that, it was a good night's sleep.

I have no idea what's going on.  But I'm in a better place than I was last night, so that's what matters.

Just in time for Monday.

Ok, so I'm OCD about diapers. Whatever.

I've been making a list of the rest of the Cloth Diapering 101 posts that I want to do.  I'd already done a post on how to wash cloth diapers, but I thought I'd do a fun post about folding diapers.  Some mamas stuff all their pockets so they're ready when they need one, some mamas don't, and it's always a fun conversation.

Then today on Twitter I see that the Knickernappies blog has asked the question - do you fold your diaper laundry.  And they want photos of your folded diaper stash.

I had just taken a load of diaper laundry out of the dryer, so it was the perfect time to snap some photos of folding diaper laundry.  Then I could get a post ready for Monday, and ...

Oh, but wait.  The pictures would be in her room, and her room isn't very clean.  So first I'd have to get the diapers out of the dryer.  Then I'd have to sort them all (and take a photo to show) and then I'd have to stuff them all (and take a photo to show) and then I'd have to clean her room, and then I have to put all the diapers away, and then I have to take photos of how they're all put away...

Damn you Knickernappies blog, this is NOT how I was going to spend my Saturday afternoon!!!

But Monday you'll see lots of photos!

Tired

Today is my least favorite day of the entire semester.  It is the day that I calculate and post grades.  Invariably there will be students who are disappointed.  I try to remind them throughout the semester that I don't "give" grades, I just add up the points and do the math.  I try to remind them that a grade is a reflection of their work throughout the semester.  But someone will call or email or show up and try to finagle more points, and I hate having to deal with that.  I have had students threaten violence in the past, but that's rare.  More often it's just begging and pleading that becomes annoying. 

This semester has been rough.  I took over teaching the classes of another professor when she needed to take a medical leave of absence.  While the students seemed grateful that their semester could be salvaged - rather than being set back in their timeline for applying to the selective admissions programs - they also began to wheedle me to see how much they could get.  I had been "encouraged" by the Dean to "make any necessary accommodations" to help the students "adjust to the transition".

The previous instructor had already assigned quite a bit of work for the students, some of which she was planning to count in their grade, and some of which would be extra credit.  The first day I walked into the class - with the Dean - to meet a barrage of questions, I was asked if they would be given credit for that work.  I had been unaware of the work that had been assigned and not yet graded, so I simply said "I will make sure that you get credit for the work you have done."  When pressed, my answer was "I had not factored that material into my grading scheme, but since you were assigned it previously, I will make sure that you get credit for it.  It will probably count as extra credit."

Ugh.

She had told them they could have extra credit for giving blood.  She had told them to "make up data" and write a "pretend" lab report analyzing the made up data and she would give them extra credit.

?!?!?!?!?!?!

I am not really an "extra credit" kind of person.  At the academic level of these courses, we're a little past the "extra credit" stage.  If you have the time to work on extra credit, you have the time to study the course material.  This is a content-heavy class, and the students need to know the content to be able to be successful in their academic program and career.  I sure don't want to have a nurse come in who doesn't know her anatomy, but managed to give enough blood to get through her anatomy class.

But I said it.  So I have to do it.  And since I didn't give them a due date, I guess I'll still accept the ones I found slipped under my door when I got here this morning.... This is SO not how I normally do things!

On top of this being my least favorite day of the semester, I am so VERY tired.  The Wee One didn't sleep well.  I believe we may have some teeth coming in.  On top of the allergies or cold or whatever is making her congested and coughing.  The last few nights I haven't been nursing her to sleep.  I nurse her in her room and then we go to bed in my bed.  She moves around and sings and talks, but eventually she lays her head on the pillow next to mine and the next thing I know, she's breathing deeply (or snoring).  Yay!  Last night that happened at 8:30.  Then she was up at 9:30, 10:30, midnight, 2:00, 4:00, 5:30.

Ugh.

At 4:30, when she wasn't able to nurse because she was so congested, I gave her 1 mL of Benadryl.  She finally nursed at 5:30 and went back to sleep.  And stayed asleep through my alarm so I could shower.  But then she didn't want to wake up, and was groggy in the car on the way to daycare.  So she's tired this morning too.

We'll get it worked out.  So far the "not nursing to sleep" thing is working.  I'm glad that I'm taking it in little steps.  It feels very gentle that way.  Even if we are still tired.

The Self Portrait

I got an email from another Single Mama commenting on the self-portrait photos I take of myself and the Wee One. I had never given it much thought until her kind praise of all the photos I have of us together. As a single mother, it is probably more difficult to make sure that you have photos of yourself and your little one together, especially if many outings are just the two of you.

I say probably, because I started out as a single mother. I've never been a part of a couple during my Mothering phase, and so, like many things, that is an assumption that I have made about Life as part of a Couple of Parents versus Life as a Single Mother. Like most assumptions ....

I started out taking self-portraits with my best friend in high school. It was a fun thing that we did that ended up turning into a tradition. She was the maid of honor at my wedding (yes, I was married once, so I know what THAT is like) and late in the evening she reminded me we still needed to take our self-portrait. It is one of the most fun photos from that night.

 (I should scan it and show you what I looked like 12 years before the Wee One came along.)

Now that I have my wee one, I take self-photos pf us constantly. I want her to have photos of her and her mommy together to look at when she grows up.

I highly recommend having professional portraits taken of you and your little one. I treasure some of the family photos we have had taken by our photographer. I also recommend stopping passers-by and asking them to take photos of you and your crew. You're relying on someone else's photography skills with a strange camera, but at least you can get everyone in. But there is nothing like a self-taken photo of the two of you.

Self-photos have a close perspective. They have to - your arms are only so long. The image frames only you and your little one and creates an intimate image (or something like that).

Self-photos reflect fun and humor - to balance a wee one and your camera takes some doing. It also makes it easy for you to forget to smile. Do something funny to make your little one laugh, and you will be smiling for the photo too.

Self-photos aren't formal - on purpose.  The next time you're on a walk around the block with your little one, pull out your cell phone and snap a self-pic.  It's a great way to capture just daily little moments (like me in a nursing bra).

Self-photos take practice. In the digital camera age, its easy to take several and keep the best one. The more you do them, the more you learn if its easier to do with your right or left hand (I obviously prefer my right, since most of these photos have her on my left), you learn to remember to keep the front of the camera flat and facing you so you're not just photographing the tops of your heads, you learn how to hold the camera without covering the flash, etc.

Self-photos help you record. Sometimes when you are asking a stranger to stop and take a photo of you, you are recording a big moment. Life, though, is little moments. Stick out your camera and try to capture one.

I didn't realize how many self-photos I have of me and the Wee One.  Thanks, Lara, for the email.  It motivated me to pull all these together.  I am so glad that I've done this, even without thinking about it.  Some are better than others.  I hope she treasures them all when she is older.

(Like I said, some are better than others!)

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!!!  To all who are thinking, trying, becoming, or are, I wish you a beautiful, love-filled day.

At least they gave me the option to "ignore"

I just ordered my daughter's birth certificate online.  I thought that they'd at least give you one complimentary copy on the event of her birth.  Nope.  So I've been meaning to do it for ... a year now.

My insurance company is forcing everyone to prove their dependents are legit.  So I buckled down like the responsible mommie I am, and spent $8 extra ordering it online rather than spending however-much-a-stamp-costs-these-days to mail a check.

My daughter was born in Kentucky.  When I first submitted the birth record form to the hospital during my pre-admission appointment, the "Father" information was left blank.  I then had to sit through a lecture about how my child has rights, and this is a chance for me to name the father because my child has rights.  Rights to social security benefits, rights to child support money.  Rights.  Because I then still refused to fill in any information, I was given a brochure that said the same, and asked to sign a form acknowledging that I had indeed sat through the lecture, and I had indeed been given the brochure, and I did indeed know that my daughter has rights.

I, apparently, do not have the right to not be BADGERED by the Commonwealth of Kentucky regarding my choices, but ok.  I understand there are alot of women who might not have made the same choices, and they might really want/need to be told their child has RIGHTS.  It's a great system.

Except for the badgering part.

So I'm online putting in all kinds of information to prove that I am who I say I am, that I am this person's mother, that I have a right to get a copy of her birth certificate.  What's her name, where was she born, name of the city, name of the hospital, date, mother's name, father's name.

It wouldn't let me leave it blank.  I tried.  I put in my name and clicked "continue" and got a big box that said I'd left something blank.  I tabbed through those fields in the hopes that would do it, and I still got the big box.  On a whim, I put in "none" for the first name and "none" for the last name.  It took that.

So my daughter's father's name is None None.

Then I got the following message:

The last name of the Person the certificate is for and the Mother's Maiden name are the same. Typically these names are different. Please correct or check the Ignore box below.

Typically these names are different.  Typically a baby is not given her mother's name.  Typically a woman is stripped of her identity when a man possesses her and stamps his brand on her, and that brand is stamped on all the children she bears for him, and her name disappears into the ether because she and her children are now His.

I have tons of philosophical thoughts on the matter that are too jumbled in my brain to flow as prose.  I guess I will simply share this as an example of the events in the life of a Single Mother.

And now for photos, since you sat through that whole rant. 

Prettiest porch monkey in the world.

The only hint that she has a fever is her flushed cheeks.

How'd We Get Here?

Or, the post in which I blame authors of books for the fact that my baby can't sleep.

I have talked previously about my decisions about co-sleeping with my infant daughter. We came to that solution as the result of several converging factors. The first contributing issue was that she preferred to sleep touching me. She slept better on someone's chest than she did flat in her bed. We were pretty good about not just letting her sleep endlessly on us. But since she slept better at night in bed with me, in the wee (sleepless) morning hours, that was just easiest.

I went back to work when she was four months old. Prior to going back to work, I read a number of books about working and nursing. The Milk Memos is an awesome book, and I want to buy a copy for every mother I know going to work and pumping. Actually I don't know any IRL, but if I did, I'd give them this book. The second was Working Mother, Nursing Mother. Kathleen is a HUGE proponent of co-sleeping and nursing all night long. She wrote at length about it in this book. I was in love with the idea. It would keep my milk supply up, it would keep us bonded, we could spend time together we didn't have during the day. Who doesn't want to cuddle with a snuggly baby all night long? Besides, we were living with my parents and her "bed" was the cosleeper wedged between the bed and the wall. Being in my bed wasn't that much of a difference, right? So for several months, every time she made a noise in the night, I stuck a b00b in her mouth. It kept her from waking up the whole house, it kept me in sortof a doze, it got her back to sleep, it kept my milk supply up, it kept us curled up in some idyllic vision of mother-and-infant life.

And it taught her to nurse to sleep, and nurse every 3 hours all night long.

I blame Kathleen. It's her fault my baby won't sleep through the night. Long after I need to keep my milk supply up, long after she needs any milk at night, long after we are well bonded, long after WE NEED SOME SLEEP, she still wakes up, and most of the time needs the b00b to go back to sleep.

Oh, sure, I could have helped her learn to sleep, even while co-sleeping and nursing in the night. I could have put her to sleep for naps in her own bed. I could have put her to sleep "drowsy but awake". We moved out of my parents house last October, so I only have that as an excuse until then.

But its easier to blame some faceless author, right?

I jest, because it is easier for me to joke about blame than it is to take responsibility. But I am in the process of doing just that. I'm reading everything I can get my hands on about helping toddlers sleep (in a GENTLE way - no CIO here). I am preparing myself mentally for no longer wrapping my body around my baby in the middle of the night (or, you know, clinging to the edge of the bed because she's rolled sideways and kicked me in the throat). I am hoping against hope that it works and I can maybe get an uninterrupted nights sleep. I have quite a backlog to make up for!

I am going to teach my daughter to sleep.

God help me.

My Morning - So Far

We didn't sleep all that great last night. We slept in about 2-hour stretches, which is enough for me to not go crazy, but I feel VERY tired this morning. Her last wake-up to nurse was at 4:20. I nursed her really good, then I couldn't go back to sleep, so I got up. I then proceeded to ... make the guest bed, put the laundry in the dryer, put away clean clothes in her bedroom and put the huge pile of winter clothes I had pulled out a week ago into a tote for the basement, put away books and toys in her bedroom, organize her hair elastics into baggies, do some dishes, put away toys and books in the living room, sweep the kitchen and dining room, mop the kitchen and dining room, pack the diaper bag and a food and milk bag, pick up all the dirty laundry and throw it downstairs, clean the food (and ants!!!!) off her highchair, drink a coke, shower and get dressed, and schlepp all the bags to the car.

By then I was exhaused, and it was 6:30. Time to get her up and dressed and pull her hair off her face and get her to her Nan's because I still had two exams to write before my 8:00 class.

I finished editing one, printed it out, and students are currently taking it as I write this. I just finished editing the other, I will print it out in a bit, and then set up the lab exam for this afternoon.

So, while I am utterly exhausted, I seem to be functioning rather well on adrenaline and a bit of caffiene, and I seem to be chugging along through my Stress (Finals) Week.

This was her on Saturday, on our way to a Derby Party.



This is what makes it all worth it.

Sleep Studies

Yesterday I did a post citing some primary research on the effect of tv on infants. In doing the research for that post, I came across some articles on the effect of tv and infant sleep.

Sleep is an issue for us. I have been mentally preparing myself for "when I'm off" because that means the start of sleep training.

I have been instilling very bad habits in her, in order to cope and be functional for work. That excuse goes out the window in about two weeks, and I no longer have any reason to continue the actions that keep her (and I) from sleeping well.

In preparation for our "sleep training", I have been reading. I have three books coming that I ordered from Amazon, all guaranteed to have my baby sleeping through the night in no time.

I happened to notice, when my research on tv and my research on sleep converged, that the author of one study is also the author of one of the books I ordered, a book that came highly raved and recommended by a good friend.

So today, with just a few minutes between classes, I look further into the studies published by her.

The first one I look at is a recent publication (last year) on the benefits of a bedtime routine on the sleep duration and night wakings of infants and toddlers. The abstract sounds great.

RESULTS: The bedtime routine resulted in significant reductions in problematic sleep behaviors for infants and toddlers. Significant improvements were seen in latency to sleep onset and in number/duration of night wakings, P < 0.001. Sleep continuity increased and there was a significant decrease in the number of mothers who rated their child's sleep as problematic.

And

CONCLUSION: These results suggest that instituting a consistent nightly bedtime routine, in and of itself, is beneficial in improving multiple aspects of infant and toddler sleep, especially wakefulness after sleep onset and sleep continuity, as well as maternal mood.

The article is one of the few that are free, so I pull up the full article and look for this magic bedtime procedure that works so well in the study.

The procedure:

the mothers were instructed to institute a nightly 3-step bedtime routine for a 2-week period that included a bath (using a provided wash product), a massage (using a provided massage product), and quiet activities (e.g., cuddling, singing lullaby), with lights out within 30 minutes of the end of the bath. All mothers were provided with the same products in unmarked containers. Mothers continued to put their child to bed as they normally did, whether they put their child to bed awake or stayed with their child until asleep (e.g., rocked to sleep).

Hmmm ... unmarked containers? No consistency in the *how* of putting them to sleep? Only that they all use the same product? In unmarked containers.

Scroll down to find ...

This study was supported by Johnson & Johnson Consumer Companies, Inc. Dr. Mindell has consulted for and participated in speaking engagements for Johnson & Johnson. The other authors are employees of Johnson & Johnson Consumer Companies, Inc.

Disclosure is a good thing. You know those purple bottles of J&J Nighttime Bath stuff that says "clinically proven" to help your child sleep? This study is the clinical proof.

But I have been giving Wee One a bath with this magic stuff since she was about 9 weeks old. Every night she gets a bath with the stuff. Most nights she gets a massage with the other stuff. Then she gets put to sleep the random way we do it, which is nursing. So this study didn't help me much.

Another study that isn't free on the web (and probably wasn't sponsored by J&J either) studied "behavioral interventions" and found:

The findings indicate that behavioral therapies produce reliable and durable changes. Across all studies, 94% report that behavioral interventions were efficacious, with over 80% of children treated demonstrating clinically significant improvement that was maintained for 3 to 6 months.

The study

provides strong support for unmodified extinction and preventive parent education. In addition, support is provided for graduated extinction, bedtime fading/positive routines, and scheduled awakenings.

Hmmm. I wish I knew what all that stuff meant that works so good to make your baby sleep. Wish I had access to the full-length journal. Guess I'm field tripping to the university library this weekend.

All in my quest for a full night's sleep.
--

On Television and Infants

When I was very newly pregnant, I surfed the website for the American Academy of Pediatrics. While there, I learned that their policy is that infants under the age of two should not be exposed to television. I liked the idea of no tv for my little one. I thought about instituting such a rule to everyone who may come in contact with her. The No TV Rule.

Then I thought about Real Life.

I did decide to try to minimize the amount of TV she would be exposed to, but I was realistic about eliminating it altogether. Especially since we moved in with my parents for a period of time, and they are very used to having the tv on, even if noone is in the room to watch it. My dad turns on the tv and then starts reading the newspaper. It very much is the background noise at their house.

But something has stuck with me about TV and my little one. I sometimes wish I had instituted The Rule, wish that it had somehow been easier to eliminate TV from her life. We watch very little TV when she and I are home alone. I don't ever try to do reading or playtime with the TV on in the background. My DVR is full of the shows that I never watch anymore since I tend to go to sleep when she does now. So it's not like she gets THAT much.

But maybe its still TOO much?

I toured a daycare center Monday that has scheduled TV time written into their schedule for their one-year-old room. I was shocked. Pediatricians across the country recommend no tv, and yet you have it scheduled for the little ones in your care?

Oh, but they were watching Baby Einstein. I don't think that helps. There is a huge controversy among parents that led Disney to refunding money and recalling the videos. Apparently some of these parents were under the false impression their child would receive some benefit from being parked in front of a video. Yes, I want my child exposed to classical music. I don't have to have the video on when that happens.

I started doing some research, and it makes me feel even worse. Here is a summary.

A study was released last month in Pediatrics, that found that television watching in infancy does not help develop language or visual motor skills. (Link is to abstract in PubMed). This is the study that has been in the news recently, as it is the most recent to be published. A similar study found that children watching baby videos actually have fewer words and poorer language development. (Link is to abstract at Center on Media and Child Health.) The authors of the most recent study have another article that examines the effect of background tv, and finds that attention to toy play is shorter even when the children don't seem to pay much attention to the background tv.

A good article from a developmental psychologist, written in response to the Baby Einstein controversy, about ways to interact with your baby that DOES help them learn language is here. The findings of all of this research is that interaction with adults that have developed language skills is the way to teach language to a child.

The issue dear to my heart, sleep. Findings show that increased exposure to tv can disrupt sleep patterns. (Here is the link in PubMed). You have to be careful with the associative studies though. They just show an association, not a cause-and-effect relationship. This one is kindof dumb. It just says that family tv viewing time may affect nap time and bed time. That makes sense - parents are watching a show and waiting until its over to put the kinds to bed. If you are aware of this, you can still watch tons of tv, just put your kid to bed at the right time. While having an inconsistent bedrime is a problem, I'm more concerned about our night waking, which would be a separate issue. This is a study that does show an association with time spent viewing tv and time spent asleep.

And to help with minimizing tv time? This study shows that rules regarding time limits are more effective than rules regarding "shows" at actually limiting the amount of time spent watching tv.

We don't really watch all that much tv at our house anyway. All of this just confirms that I think it's ... outrageous ... that a daycare has scheduled tv time, and helps me to make that decision.

Now I'm heading back to PubMed to see if there is anything else about sleep. We start sleep training in two weeks!

--

If you are interested in more of what the AAP has to say about children and media, they have a blog written by their Council on Communications and Media. It includes an area with additional links. You could spend some time there!
--

Daycare Decisions

When I was pregnant, the biggest question I got asked by women with whom I worked was "what daycare have you picked?". Apparently finding quality daycare for infants in that area was a challenge. The timing of my pregnancy coincided with my academic schedule somewhat - I was originally due the end of April, and would be off until faculty were expected to return the first Monday in August. I was told that I should have daycare lined up well before she was born, since I would probably end up on a waiting list for whatever center I chose.

I asked some fellow faculty what daycare their little ones attended. I got lots of good information. But I never really got around to the point of visiting any centers. Somehow the task of choosing a good daycare seemed very daunting to me. I put it off thinking I could visit some centers during my maternity leave.

I ended up spending my maternity leave on bedrest in the hospital, and Wee One came 3 weeks early, so that plan went out the window. I spent the time after she was born with my parents (100 miles away from my apartment) letting them help take care of her (us). Finally in June my father broached the subject, asking what I planned to do when it was time for me to go back to work.

My solution? I quit my job and moved in with my parents. There were lots of reasons for that decision, but the benefit was that I didn't have to think about the daycare thing anymore.

I found a full-time faculty job and started in August on the same day I'd originally planned to come back from maternity leave, just at a different college. My mom watched the Wee One and she and I lived in their guest room.

Mid-semester, my dad broached the topic again. Apparently my mom watching her full-time wasn't a viable option, and the expectation was that I would find another solution starting the next semester. Meaning - I had to face the daycare decision all over again.

I had two main candidates. The first was a childcare center in the town where I live. My mother had visited there a couple of times to pick up a friend's children, and she really liked the place. It was religiously affiliated, which is a concern for me being liberal and all, but I was ok with it. The only issue was that they weren't answering their phone. First it said the phone was out of service. Then another time I tried to call, it just rang and rang.

Meanwhile, I perused the website of the other option. Pretty colors and glossy photos of children, a nice explanation of their infant programming. Programming? Their philosophy is to create a learning environment for all the children, even the infants. The infants are exposed to storytellers and reading, sensory play, and other educational experiences. I was hooked. I loved the idea that my daughter would be intellectually stimulated even in an infant room.

I loved the place instantly. The infant rooms were clean, the children all seemed happy. The assistant director took me through the rooms for all the different groups. It hit me how completely unprepared I was for this step - I know nothing about daycare. But I thought I asked all the questions I needed to, and I thought that I had all the information.

Finally I asked for the price. A little sticker shock, but I had expected this place to by pricey. With their "infant programming" and all. I went ahead and signed on the dotted line to put Wee One on a waiting list and we were set.

I was still trying to get my head around the idea of daycare, so I went to visit on one other occasion. This time I took the Wee One to see what she thought. An incredibly lovely woman named Jennifer who worked in the second infant room spent about two hours talking to me and assuaging some of my anxieties. She said it was fine that Wee One didn't take a bottle, they would try to give her a sippy cup. If she cried and wouldn't stop they would call me. I was welcome to come nurse at lunch or anytime I wanted to. Jennifer was wonderful. I was hoping Wee One would be in her room.

Then it all started getting ... and I don't even know how to say it ... wierd? Uncomfortable? Not quite what I was expecting?

A week before time to start, and I go to drop off some things (cloth diapers, change of clothes, etc.) When I had originally toured, there were two infant rooms, and two toddler rooms. Now they are turning one of the Toddler rooms into a "Creeper" room for infants in the 8-10 month range. Wee One is going to be in this "Creeper" room. It is less than half the size of the infant room I was hoping she'd be in. It is staffed by a single caregiver who wasn't there that day, and I hadn't yet met. It would have five children (in the state of Kentucky infants can have a one-to-five ratio) in the care of a woman who previously had staffed one of the Toddler rooms.

Hmm. Well, she is bigger than most of the other infants there. She was sitting up and crawling, not laying on Boppy pillows like the babies in the infant room. It made sense that they would have this room to "transition" some of the older infants before actually sending them to the Toddler room. I convinced myself to be okay with the idea of the Creeper Room.

I went back again and met the caregiver. She seemed nice and sweet, even if she did mention it had been years since she worked with infants and it was obvious that she was much more used to working with Toddlers. When asked how she thought she would handle five children she didn't have much to say to convince me that it was a good idea. She seemed to think they would just "play it by ear" and "see how it goes".

I convinced myself to be okay with it, because I loved the place.

The first week went okay. I got feedback on the care sheets the caregiver carefully filled out each day. The caregiver loved the cloth diapers and got the hang of things very quickly. Wee One cried every morning at drop off, wasn't sleeping or eating or taking milk, and was really clingy at home, but most of that was normal transition stuff. The first week I wasn't back into classes yet, so I minimized my schedule - drop off sometime after 8 and I picked her up by 1 or 2 every day. She was part-time, going Monday through Wednesday. We both survived the first week.

The second week, my classes began. My classes start at 8 every day, so I needed to drop her off as early as possible, which is 7:00. The first morning we bound in bright and early, and I realize the drop-off routine is different. Her caregiver is not there, and noone is in her room. Instead, she is supposed to be dropped off in the room next door, the Toddler Room. To a strange person whose name I don't know.

I had no idea to ask about such things. They say they open at 7, that you can drop off as early as 7. I guess I just assumed what happened at 8 happened at 7. No, wrong assumption.

So I'm handing her off to not only a stranger, but a different stranger than the one she spends the day with. And at this point there's not a damn thing I can do about it, because my class schedule is set. And I am Running Late.

I did adjust her schedule to be Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, since her caregiver's day off is Tuesday. That was another thing I forgot to ask about, and found out the first week. So she had someone totally different in the room every Tuesday. Her caregiver is now in early on Wednesday and Thursday, so it has become an issue only on Monday mornings.

So I've convinced myself to still love the place.

They started doing some of the "programming". Each week there is a theme, and they have books and activites around the theme. Most weeks the caregiver writes lesson plans for the week and I get a pdf in email with planned activities, some of which they actually do. There are fingerpainted hearts and red and blue fish (for Dr. Seuss week) hanging on the wall, and I have her first handprint in finger paint on my fridge from Valentine's Day. Another caregiver was added to the room after she came back from maternity leave, and she gets Wee One to eat really well when she feeds her, so she won a place in my heart. They go outside twice a day on nice days, so she is being introduced to outside activity, which is important to me.

Paying for it was a struggle for a while. During Open Enrollment for my benefits last year, I decided to put some money into a Dependent Care account. I couldn't afford to put much in from each paycheck, so it wouldn't be nearly enough to cover a year's worth of daycare. But it was somsething. I thought the account would work like my FSA - all of the money you plan to deposit for the year is available immediately from my FSA at the start of the year. I thought I could spend all of what I was putting into Dependent Care on the cost for Spring semester, then maybe teach a summer class online and save that money to pay for the cost for Fall Semester. I thought I'd pay for half of January and then apply immediately for reimbursement, and maybe I would get it in time to pay for the rest of January. Then I'd be in this great cycle where I'd pay the next two weeks with the reimbursed amount from the previous two weeks .... Only ... only the amount you have paid in is available to you for reimbursement. So I paid $367.50, and got $50 back because that's all that was deducted from that paycheck. Two weeks later I paid $367.50 and got $50 back.

Money was TIGHT for the first couple of months, until I got my taxes. That's not their fault at all, except for the steep price tag that caused the stress on my budget to begin with.

So after a rocky start with the scheduling, and the money, I feel like we're on an even keel. She's stopped crying when I drop her off, even to the woman she only sees for an hour on Monday morning. She's started napping really great, and they've been feeding her the center's prepared lunch since she's started on table food. And they've only thrown away one cloth diaper :)

Two weeks ago, on a Monday night, Wee One and I come home from work and go to Nan's. Mom asks me if its possible for me to take Wee One to daycare the next day, even though it isn't a normal daycare day, because she has something she wants to do and she doesn't want to take Wee One. The daycare does have "drop in" care for registered families. Wee One went one other Friday when I had a faculty meeting, so I didn't think it would be a problem. It was right at 6 pm when we were having this discussion, so I just called and left a message at the Center asking them to call me if it would be a problem. On the way the next morning, I got a call that said that I couldn't bring her, that they didn't have room. It was Spring Break for the local school system, so a number of caregivers were off that week. And apparently the director and/or assistant director didn't feel like filling in. That was the day Wee One went to college, and it didn't work out all that well.

There's pros and cons to the whole thing. I love that she's close to where I work. She's 4 blocks away from campus. It was wonderful when I was nursing her every day at lunchtime. Now, the benefit is that the majority of my commute I spend with her, singing songs from music class and talking about the new arena they are building. If she went to the church daycare in our town, the majority of my commute would be after I drop her off. Much less fun. Last Friday I needed drop-in care and they said "sure, that will be fine", so apparently it was only an issue the week that they were low on staff.

I will say, they have worked with her extensively, to get her adjusted, to get her to eat, to get her to sleep. Thursday morning when I walked in and she saw her caregiver, she held her arms out and went right to her, and I was dismissed. Both of the caregivers in her room have commented on how far she's come in a couple of months and how well she is doing.

So that brings us to where I am right now. I'm "off" this summer, except that I'm not. I'm teaching two online classes to try to make money to pay for expensive daycare and other Wee One (and Mommie) expenses. I've told them that I plan to take her out of daycare in the summer, which several of their parents do who are teachers. So her last day will be sometime toward the end of May. I haven't yet asked if they will prorate that month's cost if she isn't there the full month. If they say yes, May 20th will be her last day. If they say no, then by god she's staying through the end of May. More days that I can sleep!

In order to keep a spot for her for fall, I need to go ahead and pay the registration fee to get her back on the waiting list for fall. Do I go ahead and pay it and put her on a waiting list thinking that I might not be sending her back there?

Or I might, because I do kindof really love it. Deep down. Past the part where I'm confused and concerned.

Then I start thinking about summer work. I'm going to have to try to work on my online classes while keeping her tiny hands from pulling any more keys off the laptop keyboard than she already has. What if I take her two days a week? That will keep her "used to" daycare. That will give me one day a week to do school stuff and one day a week to clean the house. But I was looking forward to the whole summer together with her, doesn't the two-day-a-week idea go against that? And I was looking forward to not having to pay for regular daycare during the summer. Even two days a week is still pretty pricey. Maybe just do periodic drop-in care to get a day to work on stuff - and hope its a day they say "sure" and not "no"?

I spoke with them Thursday morning and they are willing to let me do drop-in care once a week. We can pick a consistent day, and if there is an issue, we can plan on another day if needed. It will be $35 a day, which is definitely do-able in my budget with the income from the online classes. I like the idea that she will still be in daycare one day a week, so she will continue to be used to the experience. I like the idea that I'll have one day a week to do work stuff and won't feel stressed out (like I can sometimes get!).

But they will still consider her to be "disenrolled" for the summer, so I still have to pay the registration fee to put her on the waiting list for a spot for the fall. Which I currently feel inclined to do, but ...

The only other option I would really consider is the church daycare that my mom is a fan of. If I had any time in my day I could drop by and visit. Maybe I should try to do that tomorrow (between the faculty meeting and giving two makeup exams and cleaning my house for my mom's Pampered Chef party.)

I need to decide this weekend. I guess I'll pray about it. Like God cares what daycare Wee One goes to.
--

An update: I wrote most of this post Wednesday evening, edited it Thursday and scheduled it to post the following morning. Meanwhile, my mom went to an event Wednesday evening and spoke with the assistant director of the church daycare, who is very interested in talking with me. Its either a sign from god or something to complicate my decision.
--

Its The First Last Beginning of The End

I was going to be super-positive this morning. I posted on Facebook that I am "glad its almost almost the day before the end of the week."

I know this time of the semester gets crazy. And when you're teaching two people's worth of classes, its double crazy. I thought I could keep it all together.

The first chink in the armor occured around 7:10 this morning. Running late, I go out the door with the Wee One, my purse, my pump bag, her diaper bag, and a bottle of breast milk I did manage to remember to grab from the fridge. I plunk my purse and the bottle of milk on the hood of the car, planning to wrangle the diaper bag and the wee one into the backseat, when I hear the sound of plastic hitting concrete. And splitting. I look down to see:


Yes, ladies, that is 5 ounces (FIVE ounces!) of painstakingly pumped breastmilk spreading across the driveway and seeping into the ground. And the remnant of the cap that broke. Apparently Medela caps aren't "shatterproof". Or even shatter resistant. One ounce was saved. One ounce.


I cried, of course. I have quite an emotional bond with my milk. Yes, it borders on unhealthy. NO, I don't care.

The second chink in the armor occurs as I am walking across the parking lot, trying to figure out what I'm doing for my 8 am class since I don't have a powerpoint prepared. I think I have a plan when I realize: I forgot the flanges and connectors for my pump. And I have NO TIME to go home to get them. I can't pump. I'll be fine, I've had days where I didn't have time to pump, and I just nurse her really good when I get home. I think I have one thing of frozen milk left to thaw for daycare tomorrow. I tell myself its ok.

The straw that broke the camel's back came at 7:45, about 15 minutes before my class. I walk into my office and set my purse on my desk, knocking over a coke that I had left from yesterday afternoon. And it goes everywhere. And by everywhere, I really mean ALL OVER ME. So this is what my shirt and pants look like 15 minutes before my class I'm not prepared for:


I cried for 10 minutes. And then I wiped my face and went and taught my class.

And now I'm shutting down everything except for Microsoft so I can make the d--- Powerpoints that I need to, and I can write the d--- exam that I need to, and I can put the d--- scores into Blackboard that I need to, and grade the d--- tests that I need to, and write the d--- study guides that they keep pestering me about, so that I can stop feeling so d--- stressed out.

And I have this to help me relax and focus:

(Which is totally illegal in the building where my office is and I. Don't. Care)


Aaaahhhhh.

More positivity to come, I promise. Soon. As soon as I have time.

*The title comes from a conversation between my mom and I yesterday. I think she was trying to say that this is the beginning of the end of the semester and I should just hang in there for the next couple of weeks. It came out sounding about as crazy as I feel. We had a good laugh. I told her it sounded like the perfect blog post title.

**Sorry about the crappy cell phone pics.
--

UPDATE: The milk gods smiled on me on Wednesday. I got a total of 8 ounces, 2 more than usual. Relieved!

Square One

Tonight for bed, I nursed her to sleep. We nursed until she came off the breast on her own. Then I encouraged her to nurse some more. Normally when she stops is when I try to rock her to sleep. This is also when the crying usually starts. Tonight I knew I couldn't handle much crying. Very tired, feeling stressed, have an awful headache. So I just did what I knew would work, which was nursing. And it did. She's been asleep for almost 3 hours now. I slept too, until the headache got worse. Now I'm setting out the garbage and taking some tylenol and hoping for the best for the rest of the night.

--

Nothing Left

So everybody else's baby has sleep problems too. Apparently letting them cry is the ticket. Everyone who talks about it says its rough but then three days later their baby is so easy to put to sleep.

I was against CIO (cry it out) for a number of reasons that I still believe in. But I'm also against getting so sleep deprived that I want to kill her when she's screaming in my ear. What to do?

If I only had the answer.

Friday, I tried getting her to sleep for 4 and a half hours. We started our bedtime routine at 6:00 when she seemed sleepy, but the bath seemed to give her a second wind. I finally called in the reinforcements (Nan and Grandpa) at 10:00 because I needed to go buy some feminine supplies and the thought of a trip to the store to buy maxi pads just sounded like heaven. Or at least a good break.

She finally went to sleep at 12:30 in the morning after the last basketball game. I mean, I know I said I wanted to teach her about March Madness, but girlfriend ....

Then she was awake every two hours or less. She's not waking to nurse anymore. She's just ... waking. And screaming.

Last night it was the same deal. If you catch her just waking up, you can pat her back to sleep. Otherwise you have to rock and shush and turn the sound up on the heartbeat bear and cross your fingers and toes and say the right prayer while singing in a hoarse voice, apparently.

I have probably spent something like 20 hours in the last three days trying to get this child to sleep.

So it was awesome to read Liz's post about her sleep issues. It was very empowering for a mother I admire to the gills admit that sleep was an issue.

But then when I read that a couple of nights of crying and she got 6 hours of sleep, I wanted to puke. A couple of nights of crying and I get ... more crying.

Which I'm doing now, so I'll end the pity party there. Hope you're all getting more than 6 hours of uninterrupted sleep. Sounds nice.

--