The truth about School (aka DAYCARE)

Toddlerina was in school at the tender age of 16 weeks.  I was devastated when I enrolled her.  I cried when she started in school and can you believe I cried when I pulled her out to come home with me.  I would miss it.  What.

We went back to school today to visit Toddlerina's friends.  My friends are there too.  I didn't realize just how much those teachers had become a part of my family.

Toddlerina RAN into the school director's arms, shouting her name the whole way.

Marla!

Marla!

Marla!

Of course I cried.  Then they cried, then we all looked at Jay and cried.  It was so much fun for so much crying.

I am deeply grateful to stay home with my family and I cannot imagine myself here without a nod of gratitude to our school.  It shaped Toddlerina and it shaped me for the better.

Momma.  Are you hurting as your baby gets ready for school?  I know this post doesn't diminish the pain, but consider it a flash forward into your future.  S/he will be so very happy and so very loved.

And when the kids are old enough 

We are going to teach them to fly.

(Name that tune.  Players?)

So. You had you a donor egg baby.

Does the issue need a final analysis?  A post game review?  Do I need to size up my results as compared to my expectations?

I wish I had been a more frequent blogger to document the transition.  But I don't know if I could have done it.  How do you witness paint dry?  One day, it is just dry.  You might have noticed the tacky stage where the paint is sticky.  I think that was what most fascinated me.  The transition stage.

It was his nail beds.

I kind of obsessed on his nail beds.

Obsess isn't the right word.  It just got on my radar.  I cannot explain it.  I noticed it and since I did, I would come back to it.  Check it out.  Confirm my observations.  Then I would move on.

I don't notice it anymore, this is written from memory.

Jay's nail beds are lovely.  They are long and narrow.  He looks as though he could be a world renowned pianist one day.  Elegant hands, even for a baby.

My hands are mannish.  Man hands, right out of Seinfeld.  I have wide, short nail beds.  Even with a manicure (Oh!  The Good Old Days!), they still look quite masculine.  It doesn't bother me.  It is just me.  Toddlerina has hands that look like mine.  Jaybird looks different.

And that is the end of the differences I have cataloged.

He is so busy being himself, I can never really see him as anything else aside from Just Jay.  The same goes for Toddlerina.  She is so busy taking up so much space I never look at her as an extension of me.  I never did.

I thought I would feel this way, but how do you know.  I expected donor eggs to slide away into the non issue bin.  I am amazed just how cleanly and quickly it happened.  It was almost as if the nail beds were there to provide a point of reference.  To show the distance from here to there was not that great, if it even existed at all.

Tell me about this thing they call SAHM

Cue: music.

Take this job and shove it.

I ain't working here no more.

Cue: celebration.

Welcome to the Shiny New Me

The one that Gets Shit Done.  On time.  (Forget "under budget" cause I am on maternity leave and frankly don't have the drive to deliver all that.)

The issue of insurance coverage has been resolved.  Floated up to senior management in our HR department and approved.

Baby Jay has been enrolled with full medical coverage, backdated to his birth date.

Let's be honest.  I was messing with FIRE.  We couldn't even roll over to Rocco's coverage if my firm refused me.

You all probably forgot, but I work with a more than a few bags of the finest douche.  I barely presented myself as professional to that bag when I had my final maternity leave planning meeting.

I was so smug.  Why should I be nice to her?  Why play games?  We all know we think very little of the other, so why be fake?  I will tell you why, just in case something like this ever came up!  Lesson learned.

Anyhow.  Out with the old and in with the new.  I am loving and forgiving and tolerant and now a BLISTERINGLY organized woman.

 

Second time around

I think this post likely has a limited audience.  I sort of want to get my thoughts down on First Take Home Baby compared to Second Take Home Baby.  And complain slash freak the fuck out.

I have all the books, the required reading: development, sleep and more development.  I read them cover to cover for Toddlerina.  I recently dug them out and stacked them neatly on the bookshelf.  I hope the easy access will prompt my reading.  I am kind of winging it with my boy Jay and I hope he does not suffer deeply for it.  

Joke.  Kind of.

On the other hand, I have his life documented with precision.  Law, love the iPhone app and the many, many ways to measure your infant.  I know I have some fellow data hogs out there.  May you also be blessed with a useless data set of nursing, urine and poopers.

I need to get my birth announcements out.  Hell, I need to take the photos.  I took some good ones right when we came home, but then I could not control myself and put them up all over FB.  Classic, right?  Sort of takes the thrill away from this artist.  I will blame it on the holidays, but it is mostly me working hard just to stand still.

How is this for a zinger.  I forgot to enroll my only son into my healthcare plan.  Mother fucker I am such a mess.  I don't know yet if they will open the window to allow him in.  I should find out today or tomorrow.  It makes me sick to my stomach when I think about it.  

This is some hard ass work, but I repeat myself.

Now what?

This isn't going to be a post saying I don't know what to do with my blog (I don't).  This isn't going to be a post exploring my current lack of identity (I have none).  Oh, but they are a-brewing.

Jaybird is a champ.  I am starting to surface a little bit.  I need more sleep, but I am not willing to give up the free time I have when both littles are napping, so I must not be that tired.  Yawn.

Toddlerina is now home from school with me full time.  It is a very busy day doing a whole lot of nothing.  I have had two play dates in the last month.  Big successes, but no where near relaxing.  This is some hard ass work.

The play date that just left was a SAHM for the last 2 months as she switched jobs.  Her new job starts up next week.  She was so carefree and had no silver roots like me.  I noticed she was clean, too.  How does she make it look so easy?

Bitch has a nanny come 3 days a week for 5 hours.

Now how is that a SAHM?  Course, I would never let on to her that I think she is CHEATING.  I like her a lot.  I tried to swallow down my personal green eyed monster.

At least I know you need paid help to make it all so easy and I made a hair appointment next Saturday.

Clean will have to wait until Rocco gets home from work.