This week has just been the worst. One day (if you decide to have children), you will drop your kid off at daycare or school for the first time and you will discover what real solid pain feels like.
Today was your fourth day. The first two days I let you go just for a few hours to get used to it. Yesterday, I left you for ten hours. TEN. For ten hours I left you with total strangers. A little boy pushed you down and scratched your beautiful face and stole your toy. Your teacher handed me a piece of paper explaining your injuries. She said you did nothing. You just cried. I purposely did not ask which little tot caused harm to my perfect child because I knew that you might one day become friends with him, and that one day you might want him to come over and play, and you might even grow up to be best friends-and I would hate his little toddler guts for the rest of my life. Continue reading
Dear Darling Little Munchkin Nugget,
I’ve been writing these blogs for over a year now and hoping that one day, you’ll read them. I figure you won’t care about them much at all until you either have a family, or I’m gone. I realized today that I’ve yet to really acknowledge my reason for writing. It’s you. I don’t want to forget these moments with you. I’ve already forgotten about thirty percent of my high school class, my friend’s house phone numbers, and how much it cost to fill my gas tank up in 2002. I don’t want to forget the person you are right now. At two years old, we have a very different relationship than we might when you are thirty, so I want to remember each relationship perfectly. Continue reading
My whole life, I knew I wanted a little girl. She would have blonde hair and blue eyes just like me. She’d be funny and sarcastic and she would LOVE The Little Mermaid. (Narcissistic much?) I think part of my girl-wanting was due to wishing I had a sister. Obviously, I grew up and realized that children weren’t around specifically to entertain their parents, but still, I wanted a girl. Even as a teenager, I’d see those adorable little dresses at Target and think, “One day.” Continue reading
I feel lame that so many of my stories start with “Today, at Barnes and Noble”. What an exciting life I lead. Other than the park, it’s the only free place to hang out with my kid who constantly reminds me that he wants to go somewhere by walking to the door and demanding, “bye bye!” There are always interactions there. A grown up to talk to is my favorite part, but I also like observing everyone’s parenting styles.
A few days ago, Jack and I had to leave early because he wouldn’t stop trying to take another little boy’s juice. It got to the point where I had no choice, but to leave. The woman said politely, “He must be thirsty,” which I self-consciously took as “Do you not give your baby beverages?” I swore to the woman that my child had plenty of fluids that day, and went into obnoxious details about how her son’s cup looked like Jack’s old cup and yada yada yada please-don’t-think-I-severely-dehydrate-my-kid jargon. The annoying part of all of this is that she was just trying to keep things light-hearted while my little beast was violently trying to rob her. Still, I couldn’t help but take her comment way too personally. Of course this woman doesn’t think my child is dying of thirst. Of course he’s just in a “I want that cup or I will cut you” kind of mood. All two year olds go through that horrendous phase where they don’t understand that every object on earth is not their personal property. Why then, do I feel the need to explain myself or the behavior of my toddler? All anyone has to do is look at him and know that he’s doing what he’s doing because he’s a tiny human-and tiny humans are selfish. Continue reading
As I sit at Barnes and Noble, and watch my child and his new friend play together (and thank the book gods for the train table’s return), I realize that I’ve nearly forgotten my melancholy attitude some twenty minutes ago. Having a moment to breathe, I can step outside of myself and examine the cause of this acute depression. It’s shoes. Continue reading
First of all, I’d like to apologize for being MIA the past month. We have been moving and are still in the process of…you know…moving. Also, if you haven’t noticed, we are right slam in the middle of the holiday season, so….back off! Seriously though, I’m sorry. Lucky for you, my husband wouldn’t get off my back about blogging so here we are. While much has happened in the past month, I am currently in the mood to enjoy a good therapy post about my baby’s newest milestone. THROWING AN EMBARRASSINGLY, LOUD, OBNOXIOUS, PHYSICALLY HARMFUL FIT IN A PUBLIC PLACE. Continue reading
As I am writing this, my little angel dumplin’ is chillin’ in his crib, singing happy songs about how much he loves his mother because of my undying affection for him. He is holding his Momo blankie and thinking of all the fun times he had with me today. Like when he threw that soup can at my head. Or when he picked up a baseball bat and hit me as hard as he could. Or, here is the best part, when he grabbed a glass bowl that I was eating from and hit me directly in the nose and I seriously thought it was broken. His favorite part of the day, I’m sure, is laughing at me as I tried to get him to stay in “the time out corner”. This escape from baby prison game is THE BEST! You know how psychopaths on TV like to smile as they’re about to torture their victims? Well, I think my baby might be a psychopath. This brings me to a quick flashback story. It’s the reason I’m here-in this amazing situation. It’s the reason for my punishment. Continue reading