But I just HAD her!!!

I'm going back to work monday.

SIGH.

I've actually already been dealing with a lot of work-related stress that I can't get into here, for obvious reasons (although I always feel kind of douchey saying it that way, like I'm Heather B. Armstrong or something. But really, it doesn't matter that I only have, like, ten readers, I know, the internets are wide open and I need to be careful and blah blah blah, it still makes me feel like I have delusions of grandeur), so in some ways, it will be good to be on site, so to speak, and able to address a few things.

...but that doesn't mean I like it.

I keep saying, if/when we go for the Trifecta/aka our Caboose, I want to move to Canada or Sweden or some other civilized nation that gives a full year of maternity leave, because I just really, really hate leaving them this early. I hate leaving them, period, but I felt like the one year mark was when it stopped ripping my still-beating heart out of my chest. Obviously I'm not ACTUALLY going to do that, any more than anyone else who claims they're going to move to Canada if THAT PERSON becomes the president, but if all of those people can be all hyperbolic about it, then so can I.

Going back to work means working on sleep. We handled Katie's sleep toootally differently than Gracie's, which means that she actually has no real structure at all and I am woefully unprepared for the transition. And, look. I get it. Half the people around me think it's totally asinine that I've had her in my bed for the last three months, that she just sleeps in the carrier or on my chest whenever she sleeps (to my credit, she DOES have a morning nap in the pack n play...), and the other half will be happy to inform me that it's NOT NATURAL for babies to sleep away from their parents and I should continue to have her in my bed. Both groups can go pound sand. Maybe we DID form some awful habit, but? We also really, really enjoyed the last three months. Katie's introduction to our family was so pleasant and I have so many good memories of curling up with her each night. We've been fully functional, and oh hell, I already covered all the reasons why I think co-sleeping was just fine for us. I just don't make babies that sleep independently, and so we did what we had to do. And to the latter group, the ones who would tell me it's not natural, I say that it's also not "natural" for me to be going to work when my baby is three months old, but this is the reality we have, and we need to make it work. So enjoy your sand-pounding, I'll be over here teaching my baby to sleep in her crib.

So far, it is going...not well. I'm just starting to give her a bedtime (for the last three months, she either slept on my chest, or next to me on the Boppy in the evening), and that part is actually fine. Her best stretches in the crib typically come in the early evening. It's around 11pm when all bets are off. One night, we got three hours out of her, but most nights, it's just the jack-in-the-box routine, falling asleep in my arms, waking up as soon as I get back to bed. My cut-off point is midnight, when we get there, I just can't take it anymore, and she comes back in the bed.

We'll get there. And eventually, going to work won't feel like an occlusion of my left anterior descending artery. It'll all happen. In the meantime, UCH.

How Old Is Your Little Guy??

The man asked, when she was wearing the outfit pictured here.

Three months, I told him, without correcting him.

He called his wife over and they started telling me about their grandchildren. I was cornered, between the pears and the grapefruit,so even though Grace was getting antsy, I listened to him tell me how he got ripped off at the Brookfield Zoo. His wife eventually asked, "what's his name?"

"Katie," I smiled and said.

And the best part wasn't saying it, it was watching the woman smack her husband and say, "She's wearing pink!!!" As if she hadn't been standing there talking to me and staring at Katie's pink outfit the whole time. And he just took it and laughed.

THAT is a strong marriage.

These Are The Good Old Days

There is absolutely nothing in this world that will make you feel more lame than hearing a cheesy Carly Simon song on the radio and thinking, awww, yes! Totally!

But whatever, because it's true. It is really hard right now- I constantly question my decisions and I'm pulled in ten different directions every day and I cannot remember the last time I went to the bathroom by myself with the door closed, but I also know, as surely as I know Taco Bell bean burritos are sent to us from heaven, that I will look back on these as some of the happiest days of my life.

Oil Change FAIL

I had big plans for today. Grace is with her Grammy, it's just me and Katie, and I have a few things to take care of before I go back to work in two weeks (SOOOB). Namely, an oil change and a stock-up trip to Costco.

We got a late start, but I figured, eh, no worries, it's just me and Katie! Cheap Oil Change Place (name of business changed to protect not the HORRIBLY GUILTY, but myself because even though everything here is utterly true, I just...yeah.) was remarkably fast, didn't try to sell me a new air filter I didn't need (FORESHADOWING!!), and I was on my way to Costco.

I stopped at Dunkin Donuts for my delicious decaf-skim-2 splenda coffee (seriously, they make the best decaf in the entire universe, and with Katie's extreme reaction to caffeine, it's been an addiction. anyway.) When I left Dunkin Donuts, I was headed towards the expressway rather than the surface road that would take me to Costco, so I figured, eh, probably faster! And I hopped on the Kennedy. I noticed a state trooper right in front of me and was glad I wasn't talking on the phone or anything (MORE FORESHADOWING!!)

Shortly after getting on the expressway, I abruptly lost acceleration. Well SHIT, I thought. Bet they screwed up my car. I stayed in the right lane and hoped to make it to the next exit. As I lost speed, it became increasingly clear I would not. I made it to the shoulder juuuust as I lost steering and all the car's warning lights came on.

I would like to say the nurse in me took over, and I calmly assessed the situation. However, there were mere inches between me and the cars whizzing by on Chicago's busiest expressway, because I wasn't actually on the shoulder, but the little space right before an entrance ramp. It was probably 90 degrees in the car. Katie was screaming. I had NO IDEA what exactly was wrong with my car. I don't have AAA. And did I mention Katie was utterly losing her mind and I could not get to her because cars were whizzing by, mere inches from my door? So the mama in me overtook the nurse in me and I promptly freaked the fuck out. I'm not gonna lie here.

Although the state trooper was several hundred feet behind me, he was busy doing SOMETHING with a truck and I knew he couldn't do anything for me at that moment. So I thought to call 911. The see-you-next-tuesday who answered the phone bitchily asked if I had called my motor club. I had no patience for such dipshitty inquiries and told her that if I HAD a motor club, I would call them. She promptly put me on hold without another word, because apparently being on the expressway in a disabled car with a screaming infant in extreme heat is not a reason to be concerned. She had, in fact, transferred me to 311 (I was going to link to them, but nobody really cares THAT much, so I"ll briefly tell you that it's Chicago's non-emergency service line.) When they finally got to my call (because remember, they're for non-emergency services, there's quite a wait time), the person was at least really helpful and reminded me I needed to call *999. Which, okay, DUH. But the, ahem, woman at 911 couldn't have told me that? I will say a nightly prayer for her that God helps her to not be such an unhelpful, hateful shrew.

So *999 tells me they've called IDOT and they're on the way, and assures me he's told them there's an infant in the car. An infant who is STILL screaming, in a car that is still a billion degrees even though all the windows are down, and I can't get to her without risking life and limb.

And I sit. For approximately fifty years. I honestly have no idea how long we sat there. Eventually, the state trooper finished with the truck and pulled up behind me. It was pretty obvious I wasn't just lounging, since I had my blinkers on and also was just sitting on the side of the expressway. And I will seriously NEVER stop kicking myself for not getting his name, because he was the nicest, most calming and helpful person I encountered in this whole mess. He suggested I try starting the car again, and when it started fine, told me he would escort me off the ramp (which was not far ahead at all) and that I would be okay to make it back to Oil Change Place of Death.

And he was right. I did make it back there alive, jumped out of the car, and furiously told Oil Change of Death employees what had happened. Pulled a screaming, sweat-soaked Katie out of the back seat and went into the waiting area, where I had to towel her off with a burpy dampened by the drinking fountain. Long story short (too late!): they had re-installed the air filter incorrectly, leaving a huge gap that allowed too much air to be pulled in. He reinstalled it correctly and drove it around the block to make sure the car was okay. I pointed out the car was fine on surface roads anyway, but whatfriggingever.

He was the manager. I did not get my money back. I will not be returning to Oil Change of Death. Their corporate headquarters will, however, be receiving a really awesomely bitchy email from me, which they will promptly delete without reading but I will feel better for having written.

We never made it to Costco. Katie is fast asleep on my chest, stripped down to her diaper, and while I doubt she is as traumatized as I am, the memory of sitting in that car with traffic flying past us, with her screaming and me unable to do a damn thing about it, is enough to keep me off the expressway for today. I'll have to get the 64-pack of toilet paper another day. Today I have bigger things to do. Like signing up for AAA and sending nasty emails.

Thwarted at every turn!

Grace is a massive mudpuppy. Last summer, she basically lived in these cheap little sundresses made out of bathing suit material, because it was totally pointless to dress the kid before we went outside. Today it was unseasonably hot, but I couldn't find her darn water dresses, so we put on a t shirt and a cloth diaper and headed outside.

I had a stroke of genius as I was setting up her water table- if I add Dawn to the water, it'll be bubbly, which will be FUN, and also keep her clean!



Grace, however, had other plans.



Namely, recreating Woodstock. (the original Woodstock, not the bad one in the 90s where all hell broke loose.)



She was SO proud of herself.



You guys. She BATHED in that little mud pit of hers.



I literally hosed her off before we came inside, and she was STILL so caked in mud, I had to strip her down by the back door, bring her upstairs and put her in the tub, and then mop the kitchen floor because there were globs of mud eeeeverywhere. And the best part is, now that she's done it once, it is ALL she's gonna want to do, all summer long.

She does, however, occasionally act like a girl, too. Look, purple flowers!

Smart Girl

I got double-teamed big time today. Neither girl was really especially difficult, they just managed to time allll their meltdowns simultaneously. Plus it kept threatening to rain, so poor Gabba barely got any outside time today (and the kid NEEDS to have time to roll around in the mud every day in order to be entirely happy.)

Naptime was exceptionally frustrating. Normally, Katie naps while I'm getting Gabba down for her nap, but was wide awake today and refusing to ride in the Babyhawk, so I had to tuck one girl under each arm and truck up the stairs. (If you haven't seen Grace lately: Girlfriend is a TANK. She's gonna play middle linebacker on the powder puff Varsity football team.) We got upstairs, and both girls proceeded to ramp up from vigorous whining to balls-out screaming. Grace wanted sit in the glider for stories instead of the bed, a request I tried to accomodate, but Katie was not exactly down with. I tried to move us all to the bed, at which point everyone melted down and there was just absolutely nothing I could do but walk out of the room and close the door. Katie promptly fell asleep, which was great except that I had too much to do to lie down with her, so I got a bit done with her in my arms, and then tried to put her down so I could finish. Nope. Not havin' that. However, she DID decide the Babyhawk was acceptable, so I got a bit more done like that, gave up on the rest, and sat on the couch. Normally, she will sleep thru G's nap, and then be sleeping so soundly when G wakes up that I can set her on the Boppy and go get Grace.

Not today. Oh no. Today, she woke up ravenously hungry just five minutes before Grace did. I really had no choice but to wrangle Grace out of her bed with Katie hanging off me, gulping furiously, while her sister screamed with rage over the unfairness of having to share mama's attention after naptime. She then screamed because I wouldn't give her the bottle of fake butter-flavored oil we put on post-nap popcorn (nutrition WIN!), and again when I only let her shake half the salt shaker over her popcorn.

SIGH.

So, after about fifty years, it was finally bedtime, and even though she had my full, undivided attention, her mood remained foul and screamy. But after the day we'd had, I just....I couldn't just tuck her in screaming and walk out. Not tonight. So when she started begging for the rocking chair, I knew she was stalling, but I couldn't tell her no. I scooped her up and carried her over to the chair, where she told me that she has brown eyes but I have blue eyes and daddy has green eyes and Tatie has blue eyes and we both have noses and then we rubbed our noses like the bears in her book. Then she wrapped her arms over my shoulders, nuzzled her face into my neck, and whispered--

"No no touch fire. Too hot."

And see, the problem there? Was that I could. not. stop. laughing, and my chest was shaking so hard she woke up, saw me laughing, and kept saying it over and over to make me laugh again. BUT, I did tuck her in with no tears, so the day that was mostly a fail, ended a win.

In honor of Mother's Day, maybe let's not be so hard on ourselves for the days that feel like epic fails.

It never gets old...

and I seriously wish I could get it on video, but you'll just have to use your imagination.

The scene: my car

Katie: waah! WAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM DYING BECAUSE I AM IN MY CAR SEAT AND NOBODY IS HOLDING ME SWEET BABY JESUS SAAAAAAVE MEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

Gracie: BABY!! Stop cwying. STOP STOP STOP STOP!!!

Me: Hee. This is teh awesome.