Sun cream*

The pool opened on Saturday, but--you know--the weather was crap on a stick.  It was also open on Sunday, but the weather was only nice until, oh, about 1:00pm. 

The weather on Monday (which if it had any idea would've slapped me with a restraining order based on how often I checked the forecast) was DELIGHTFUL.  And hotter than a mutha, but I'm okay with that.

I practically lept out of bed and so did Ezra once he heard we were going to the swimming pool.  T was less enthusiastic, but rallied.  Iris had no bloody ideas what was going down other than she was getting shoved into a rather snug fitting swimming suit (one of four!  I must be stopped!).

T and Iris stayed for an hour and then headed home for a snack and a nap.  Ezra and I stayed a bit longer, ate lunch and headed home for his nap. 

We went back after nap ("We go swimming again, Mama?!!!") and I was the only one who came home pink. 

I adore swimming pools.

*Ezra calls it "sun cream" v. "sunscreen."

Crap I'm using and kind of like

Rather randomly it appears that I'm using some new products I've taken a chance on and, in the end, have not been disappointed by their ability to deliver. 

The first is the Arm & Hammer 2-in-1 dryer cloth.  It's used in lieu of fabric softener in the washing machine and is better than a dryer sheet in the dryer.  These still go in the dryer but pack more softening punch.  I dig.

The second is the Monistat Soothing Care Relief Gel.  Initially intended to be for a gal's chafing needs, it rocks steady as a makeup primer.  And it's cheap.  And there's a lot of it for $5.99.  And it isn't making me break-out...just like Britt said it wouldn't.  Shout-out to Britt for bringing it to my attention. 

The last is Garnier's Skin Renewal face wash/scrub.  The gel face wash gets squeezed from the bottle onto the little scrubbers (which are totally not harsh and scratchy) which you then whisk around your face.  The face wash itself has small, fine granules in it and it makes for a face like buttah afterwards.  I'm a lady who needs to exfoliate otherwise my biznass gets clogged and I break-out--so this saves me time and skin unhappiness.

I recommend all.

I want to know if you've tried anything lovely (or heinous) lately.

Playing with the doh

All week Ezra had been telling me, "After sleeping, we can go to the playground?  You and me and Papa and Iris?  We can go to the park?"  I told him "Sure!"  And sure as crap, it rained after naptime on Saturday.

So we cracked out the Play-Doh instead because we hadn't played with it in awhile (it was kind of a wintertime-we're-close-to-the-brink-of-insanity activity) and Iris' OT mentioned that it would be a good tactile, fine motor thing to do.  Plus I wanted to see what she thought of it.  She has had zero issue with texture aversions, but I'm always on the lookout for new textures to throw her way to make sure she doesn't wig out.

Anyway, we busted it out.  I was commanded to make snakes and worms.  T made hoopty looking snowmen.   Iris pulled it apart and threw it.  And we managed to be entertained from 4:15pm to 5:00pm on a Saturday afternoon.  At which I point I shuffled everyone off to the living room to watch "Busytown Mysteries" so that I could make dinner.



Oh my gosh.  This face!



And this face!





Iris would pick it apart and then FLING the little
chunks over the side.  T eventually
tired of picking up the Play-Doh bits
and asked to switch sides of the table.



Whilst mulching

Yesterday T and I put down woodchips and I planted a crapton of annuals. I used to have a hard time keeping the difference straight between annuals and perennials until I realized that I plant flowers EVERY SINGLE YEAR, or annually. Ahem.

Anyway, while I was carefully putting mulch around my new salvias (the only annual that I've had success with in the baking hot, mid-day sun our beds get), I got to thinking that there is lots I want to know about lots of things I know little about; information that might fill up pockets of my gray matter and perhaps make me a little bit better at Jeopardy. Or more of a freak at gatherings. Who knows.

Things like:

1. Who invented the idea to put non-taco stuff in a tortilla and roll it up tight like a sandwich?
2. Do meter maids who empty the change ever get jumped for money?
3. What does God think of thongs?
4. When it comes to babies and kids: why do some people get good sleepers and others are stricken for months, sometimes years with crap sleeping kids?
5. Why must I always get poofs of dirt in my eye when it's windy? ALWAYS.
6. How many people cheat on their spouses and are never found out?

Do you ever wonder about random nonsense?

Thwarted

The entire day has felt like an experiment in futility. 

Many appointments and toting of small people before 10:00am and douchebags on the road that I was forced to honk at and slow moving cashiers and weed-whacking my ankle and running out of gas while mowing the lawn and testy phone conversations with T wherein I might have lovingly slammed down the down in frustration and getting to work an hour and a half (!!!) late and onions making my breath manky at dinner and work going really slowly and pretty sure not getting Raptured tomorrow so I should prep for the class I have to teach.

All of it.  Blergh.

And can I mention the absolutely effed weather?  Nice tomorrow!  Yay!  Rainy and 60s all next week!  Boo!  I swear, the weather makes me a potty-mouthed woman obsessed.  I check the weather three times a day (morning for clothes picking-out, mid-day contemplation of the next day's weather, evening swearing at cold predicted for the next 24 hours) and each time I end up swearing and rolling my eyes. 

Oh!  OH!  But it's been warm enough that I need to experiment finding a new deodorant and warm enough that my skin is "WTF? It's not 29 degrees outside!  We should be unsightly up in here!" 

Sigh.

I'm also bummed that while the new swimsuit I bought last night is flattering and retro looking, it is SO VERY MUCH A LOT OF FABRIC.  T pulled it out of the drawer to get a look at it and I hung my head shame (if I'd been upright, but really I was lying in bed). I'm not a big girl, but I'm a squishy girl.  A metric load of goodness it does to be spared from getting stretch marks while pregnant if you still don't want to show your body afterwards. Burt's Bees sure as hell didn't tell me that when I rubbed their smelly paste into my tummy and can.  Pfft.

Anyway, the weekend should still be delightful if I can manage to shake the goodtime PMS Parade that's been following me around.  Otherwise, T might be shooting a tranq dart into my neck just to make me stop moaning.

It's a crap shoot.

Love/hate Wednesday

Love: On the way to school this morning, Ezra asked me, "Why am I brown?"  I gave him a very thoughtful response explaining that I am lighter pink (it was the best I could come up with at the time) and that his Papa is darker brown and our two colors mixed together made him and Iris a lighter brown.

Not really a Hate: His response?  "Okay.  But I really want to be a red car.  Like Lightening McQueen."  Sigh.

Love: I ran across a busy street this morning in wedge heels and didn't fall on my face.

Hate: Not feeling motivated at work

Love: Iris had an ears, nose and throat appointment yesterday morning to check out her vocal cords, one of which is paralyzed/immobile.  This was a side effect of her PDA ligation.  I'll spare you the mumbo-jumbo, but for Iris it means nothing more than a scratchier-sounding voice a la Kathleen Turner and perhaps not being on stage singing at the Met.  The ENT explained some of the other things it could have meant (I appreciate a worse case scenario when it doesn't apply to us) and I gave him...oh, yes I did...a thumbs up that Iris doesn't have to sweat all that.

Hate:  Seriously, who gives a thumbs-up to a medical professional? 

Love: This morning I dumped the following in the crockpot: chicken breasts, swiss cheese, stuffing mix, cream of celery soup, water.  We shall see what happens come 5:30pm.

Hate: Fears that the crock pot is going to burn my house down

Love: Having a day to just work in my office

Hate: When someone at work says, "Well, I was going to ask you to do this really crap project but it looks as if So-and-So is going to handle it."  Then why are you even TELLING ME?  I don't want to know!

Love: Erasers

Hate: Blue ink pens.  They're the ugly cousin to black ink pens.

Love: Cardigans

Hate: That I feel like they make me look like Dowdy Librarian Gal

Love: "The Voice" on NBC

Hate: The outdoor swimming pool at our gym opens next week and I don't yet have a swimming suit.  Last year's is v. sad plus I am a tidgy bit smaller. 

Love: Finding new-to-me and hilarious people on Twitter

Hate: Green peppers.  Always. 

Love: Iris was interested (kinda) in slices of red pepper and a cucumber last night.  Mostly just gumming it and licking it.  But it's food!  And not Sophie or her hands or anything else non-food related.

Hate: Our camera at home is turning sad sack and T thinks we need a new one.  I would rather make do and not spend money on one.

Love: My skirt is very bright.

Hate: As are my white legs. 


****


What are you loving/hating?

Birfday

Ezra doesn't turn three until Memorial Day weekend, but we had his friend-party this weekend.  It was at Gymboree and praise Jesus all we had to do was show up with pants on.  I did nothing other than invite people and hope they RSVPed.  And then we left our house at 2:30pm on Saturday and showed up at 2:45pm.  There was hardcore partying and running around and Ezra was a complete sweatball.  Gamey Town, folks.  We left at 4:45pm and were home to eat nonsense I'd thrown in the crockpot by 5:00pm.

It was the thing of dreams, really.  So easy.  All of the kids seemed to have such an amazing time and I left feeling happy that Ezra is friends/classmates with children who have parents that aren't douches.  They're all so pleasant and kind and fun to be around. 

As easy as the planning was, the day still completely cleaned my clock.  I was a mouthbreather by 8:00pm and totally in bed. 

Overall, though, a good times.

Q/A: T and I

Erica asked: Have you ever told the story of how you and T met and fell hopelessly in love and decided to make adorable babies?

I think I told the story here once a long time ago, but basically T and I totally met in a club/bar.  *Insert club beat here.*

The Reader's Digest version is that he danced over, asked my friend M and me if we wanted a drink, we said "no," he stayed near us, we danced away.  I remember thinking he looks nice and is cute in his glasses, but HO HO HO have I been taken in by that before.  Well, no more, Friend.

Later, as M and I were getting our coats on, he came over and gave me his business card.  (Feel free to snicker here.  I usually do.  Homeboy was handing out business cards at the club.  Heh.)  He asked for my number and I didn't know if he was Crazytown or not and Listen-up, I-don't-you-so-you-don't-need my-home-number, so I told him--didn't write it down--my work number, complete with four-digit extension.

That was Saturday.  I threw his card away on Sunday morning.  Tuesday rolled around and he called me at work.  Impressive! 

He called and asked me out to dinner for that Saturday night and I said "yes" but that I would meet him there since I had a shower to go to right before.  Really it was the Again, I-don't-know-you-and-I-don't-want-to-get-in-the-car with-you-lest-you-chop-me-up-and-put-me-in-a-baggie.

Stranger Danger.  My mother would be so proud.  ("Make good choices, K!"  I crap you not.)

As the week went on, I thought about cancelling but a gal needed to eat and he let me choose the place.  I bought a new skirt, but I had a coupon. 

I met him there, arriving almost 15 minutes early because I didn't remember what he looked like.  Brown, with glasses, perhaps an accent but the club had been loud?  Anyway, that was all I had and it wasn't much.  I needed to arrive early so that T could come up to me. 

We sat down and ate and he was jolly and funny and laughed easily and had shiny white chompers and the date was sealed as Great when we both encouraged/enabled the other person to order dessert. 

We went and listened to jazz afterwards and he kissed me on the cheek when we said "goodbye."  I hoped he'd call again and he did.  For three and a half years.

We later had our wedding rehearsal dinner at the restaurant where we first met and that was eight years ago this month.

It's been a good eleven years.

Friday purge

It's been a wackadoodle week, it feels.  I worked two evening Reference shifts in the middle of the week rather than on my usual Friday.  Iris' appointments were all over the place which made for crazy ass mornings.  T traveled a lot.  It was hot (this makes me feel flustered, although, I am LOVE with the warmth).  Ezra's birthday party is this Saturday.  I work and have to teach on Sunday.  Blogger and Twitter have been a hot mess.  I woke up with a sore throat this morning.  T is now bringing me a milk shake.  I want to sing Kelis as a result.

Other things going on...the few summer clothes I bought for Iris in 12 months size kind of don't fit very well.  T got frustrated the nights that he was manning the fort because some of the dresses required the jaws of life to get her out of.  One perfectly new pair of jammies he couldn't even get on her--that is if she wanted to bend her arms.  This means she is in 18 months clothes.  She turned 18 months yesterday.

For months and months she swam in Preemie sized clothes; her diapers, I crap you not, the size of a maxi pad.  She wore Newborn sized clothes for most of the summer.  As the fall and winter passed, she porked up.  She's on the growth chart for her actual age of 18 months and on the high end of it for her adjusted/corrected age of 14 months.  She has rolls and chub where she used to be brown and small and lanky.  

This chub apparently covers muscle (I wish mine did) because she is pulling to stand and taking drunken baby steps while only holding onto one of our hands and is moving like a straight up Crazy Woman since starting school.  Her therapists are attributing it to a little good ol' peer pressure.  Whatever works.  As long as it isn't street drugs.  Or talking back.  Or going to second base.  Or...(the list is long...)

Other bits...for the lovely Jess, my thankfulness for the dwindling poopy superheros and Batman is because my son still struggles with not crapping in his 4T undies.  Potty training: it's a process apparently.  I had no idea so I take any and all steps to flushing the business as opposed to wiping the business.

What else?

I took some pictures of the small fries playing after we got home.  I can tell them to go/park them in the play room while I change clothes and wash my face.  They both had rosy brown cheeks, so the clothes came off instead of turning on the air (which T is pitching...if you remember this post, buddy has it rough with the heat).  Ezra lounged in his undies.  I threw a t-shirt over Iris because she has gotten All Kinds of Grabby with her g-button if she is nudie, and we are now forcefully saying "no" when she touches it.  She smiles in response. 

Sigh.

No Larry King

I debated over sharing this since it's not about my child and I know not everyone and their brother is keen on sharing their child's whatnot with the interwebs...but.  But this is biznass is funny and I've used the requisite initials.

Anyway, Ezra's classroom gives us a monthly newsletter reminding parents to bring weather appropriate gear, field trips they're going on based on the new month's theme, new friends or friends that have transitioned to another classroom, etc.

There is also a "Child of the Month" and a short interview is conducted with said child.  The short interview is as awesome as can be given that the kids are between two and a half and three and a half years old and, well, they're wild cards.

This month's child is a total fireball named, J, who Ezra has known since he was 4 months old.  J is blonde and tiny and everything and all things Boy.  Crewcuts and Spiderman and sports and running and karate chops--J is IT.  He's awesome.


The Interview

J, you're child of the month, how does that make you feel?

-"I feel happy!"

What is your favorite thing to play at school?

-"SWORDS!"

Are you supposed to play swords at school?

-"NO!"

What is your favorite thing to eat?

-"Chocolate milk and FOOTBALL!!!!!  I like to eat football!!!!"

Is there anything you would like to tell your friends?

-"Hey, friends! I eat FOOOTBALL!!!"



And there you have it what an interview looks like with an almost three year old.  BWAHAHAHA!

Random useless tidbits

As a follow-up to yesterday's totally fun post about my mental health status, T and I talked it through last night and I read all of your kind comments and insightful bits of advice and I received an email from my Awesome Soul Mate Friend, M, that started the wheels turning and I had a few deep thoughts by Jack Handey on the way home from work.  My conclusion is that I am not so much sad as I am anxious and worried and, as a result, feeling very high- strung. 

November 2009?  I was sad.  I never wanted to get out of bed.  I could not concentrate at work to save my life.  Had a hard time wanting to smile or be joyful about anything.  I was a Sad Ass Sack of Bones.

Today, I am not sad but I am worried.  When talking it through with T, I quickly rattled off a list of things I feel worried and anxious about on a daily, if not hourly, basis and T's eyes kind of bugged.  "That's not good," he said.  "I know!  Why do you think I take sleeping pills at night?!" I replied.

So there you have it.  An at work/driving home/thanks to you diagnosis.  I'm going to call the doctor to have a sit down and see if perhaps there is a lovely pharmaceutical to help mellow me the eff out.

****

Iris' drop off at school this morning rocked hardcore.  She didn't start to whimper or turn clingy or unsure as we neared the classroom.  She didn't cry when I put her down to play with a friend while I put her things away.  She did work up a few sad tears when I walked away to fill out her daily sheet, but it was super short lived.  Folks, she didn't even cry when I left the room.

AWESOMENESS!

Meanwhile, Ezra ran right to his classroom and sat down for breakfast while Iris and I went into the Infant Room, and when I stopped by to give him a "goodbye" hug--he ran over, gave the hug and shoved me on my way.

I texted T later (who, by the way, had a 6am conference call.  Who schedules things like that?  Europeans, that's who.  With their accents and whatnot.  Pfft.) that I had the most dreamy drop-off evar. 

****

The frequency of poopy superheros is dwindling fast which is awesome for both me and the Batman.

****

Ezra's friend birthday party is this Saturday and I've done not one thing about it.  Oh, that's BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE TO.  Holla atchya, Gymboree. 

I do, however, need to get crack a lackin' on his family birthday party on the 28th. 

****

I am wearing jeans today.  Technically, I don't think we're supposed to but where I work, librarians do not have faculty status.  This is both good and bad, but whatever. 

As a result, those characters get tenure, have more contributed to their 403(b) and have to wear suits and ties.  Librarians are as equally degreed but get to wear jeans.

Works for me.

****

Iris is wearing this today and oh the cuteness folks.

****

Lately, I have been having a hard time deciding what to eat for lunch.  Everything just sounds a little bit good, not great.  This is so unlike me as I usually live for mealtimes.

****

We have four car seat bases for Iris' (was Ezra's) car seat.  One for my car, one for T's, one for my parent's car (my mom used to pick Ezra up from school one day a week) and one we bought for J the Fabulous Nanny's car.

J's was sitting in our office dumping ground, so I decided to sell it on CL.  I didn't know if it would sell given the number of other bases and car seats being sold in our area, but I received over half a dozen emails within hours and someone is coming to pick it up tomorrow.

I think it's because I used an exclamation point in the Subject line.

****

Iris has therapy appointments first thing on Tuesday mornings so that I can still get into work by 9am.  Because this ship runs tight on those days, I didn't have time to stop at Starbucks and instead got an iced mocha from Burger King.

While almost $2.00 cheaper, it was so very manky.  I am no coffee connoisseur, but holy grossness.

****

What are your random tidbits?

Lowly Worm breaks it down

I have been feeling lowly lately. 

Kinda sad, out of sorts, not motivated at work even though I need to be crackin' can, sad panda with T and our relationship, being disappointed in Mother's Day, wishing I had more time with the kids and at home and in the garden, sometimes wanting to cry.

I think the hardest toll is on The Marriage.  I think sometimes T and I are still trying to sort out who we are and what our relationship is after the Sneak Attack Birth of 2009 and the year that followed.  I think, at least for me, the emotional stress of it rears its ugly head from time to time leaving me floundering and sorting through emotional rubble which then carries over to how I act as a partner-person.

Then there is having two kids under the age of three. I miss what our relationship was pre-kids and I in no way expect it to be the same, but I sometimes struggle with how to realize the changes and roll them into our now-life. Less time and less energy for one another slowly adds up day after day after day and this makes me wistful and sad. 

T suggested that maybe I revisit the lovely therapist who helped me after Noah died.  While I'm all for that as a helping hand, I'm not sure that that's the answer as there doesn't feel like there is anything in the front of my brain that I Need To Unload.  It feels like something else.  It feels kind of chemical, if that makes sense--like I can't quite shake or discuss myself into being happy. 

My family has a solid history of needing the anti-depressants, whether they take them or not is another thing.  So maybe I've finally reached the need for this?  That's cool if that's the case--but how long do I wait until I pursue this as a fix?  Anti-depressant takers, feel free weigh in.

In the meantime, T and I have broken it down old school on what we need to do for us, and since I am a lover of task-driven accomplishments--this sense of purpose will most definitely help.

Too bad Swedish Fish aren't made of jellied Zoloft and Red Dye No. 3.  If that were the case, I'd be happy as a clam.

Q/A: Random miscellaneous

JHRME asked...wait, let me do a plug for Jessica.  She made a ridiculously awesome dinosaur hat for Ezra and owl hat for Iris AND she has an Etsy shop AND she makes little person sweaters.  Really, click on all of those hyperlinks and see how talented she is with some yarn.

Anyway, Jessica asks: What's the attraction to Swedish Fish? Do you like them fresh or stale?  Do you like their siblings the Sour Patch Kids?

I LOVE ME some Swedish Fish and I think the attraction is that I can buy them in all cherry (the Lord of candy flavors), large or mini size, that they are chewy but don't rip out my fillings like caramel or stale Jolly Ranchers do and are available pretty much damn everywhere. 

Sour Patch Kids also rock steady all night long, but the tricky thing with them--at least in the dark at the movies--is that it's hard to tell the candy colors apart and I'll be damned if I put green candy in this temple of mine.  Lime flavor is for the dogs.

****

Red Door had a crapton of questions (hey there, Machine Gun Mary): Do you floss? Worst fashion mishap? Have you ever run a naked mile? Are you so glad we didn't know each in college?

I never floss and a certain co-worker of mine is convinced all of my chompers are going to fall out.  I tell her that flossing is boring.  I do floss for about three weeks prior to my six month appointment and that seems to do the job of keeping the dentist off my back. 

I consider the days of my being between the ages of 9-17 a culmination of fashion mishaps as the 80s and early 90s were hard on a sister.  Things turned around a bit in college, but it was a close call. 

Erica shared some winning photos of herself at a young age, but she's ballsy like that.  You best look elsewhere for that nonsense as I won't be posting those types of photos here.

And no naked miles here, Miss Nudie Pants, as I didn't attend rowdy State University. Ahem.

Lastly, I am v. glad I didn't know you in college as it would have most certainly been dangerous for the general population and eliminate any hope that we stay out of legal custody.  As it is, I had a fake ID in order to get into bars and when my dad found out, he made it very clear that I was free to use it but to not call them when I needed to get out.  I was all, "Of course I won't be calling you!  You're two states and three hours away!  That doesn't even make any sense."

****

Sam asked: If ham didn't exist, what would you do?

Sam, I don't want to know a world without ham in it, but if forced against my will to continue living--I would make do with its awesome cousin, Bacon.  Or its second cousin who lives across the border, Canadian Bacon.

****

~she~ asked: What television character do you most relate to? Do you even have time to watch television?

I don't have a lot of time to watch tv--maybe one show a night as I peter out pretty quickly and T gives me the solicitous heave-ho so that he can watch all of his beloved SyFy whatnot.  Thankfully, we have a DVR so I can cut-out the b.s. and get right down to the nitty gritty once the small fries are in bed. 

A lot of what I watch is a product of Bravo, and while I would cut someone for  more time to watch any part of any season of the "Real Housewives" franchise, I'm not too much like those women as a whole. Perhaps in bits and pieces as I like to be tan (but am not tanorexic), love shiny jewels (but am not gaudy), wish I had bigger boobs (but won't buy them from a doctor) and will occasionally talk smack about someone.

****

So there you have it.  Miscellaneous.

Q/A: Joy

JohnJennifer (Hi, J!) asked me to name seven things that bring me joy.  Although, there is much that I like to grouse about in 140 characters on Twitter, naming things that bring me joy is pretty easy.

1. Clean sheets and crawling into them for the first time.
2. Spending alone, not-exhausted-mouth-breather time with T
3. What our garden beds look like with new woodchips
4. When Ezra laughs so hard he can barely talk.  This happened the other night and it set off a chain of laughing with T and I that took many minutes to recover from.
5. My relationship with my parents
6. Thinking how far Iris has come since her day of birth
7. Not having any skin breakouts

So some fickle and some deep, but all heartfelt.

Now you tell me what brings you joy.

A lull into Q/A

I'm tired of talking about daycare and Iris in it.  This is not to say that I'm all cavalier about it now only four days in, rather, I'm growing weary of writing and rehashing the painstaking blow-by-blow (I save it for T at night) as I'm sure you are even more weary of reading about it.

Assuming you've stuck it out thus far.

At any rate, the sad thing is that I haven't got much else going on.  Life is quiet aside from this transition. 

Due to the quiet nature of things right now (of course, now that I've typed that the biznass is sure to hit the fan...great...), is there anything I can answer for you?  Personal tidbits?  Random trivia whatnot?  Let me know.

Adjustments and cooking skillz

So yesterday was rough, but ended up being great--quite the reverse of Monday which started off great, but ended up being rough.  Tit for tat, if you will.

After chewing on my shoulder all day and feeling teary due to the many kind and true words and reassurances left by you all, I bolted out early to pick up Iris.  Turns out, her day totally turned around.  She took a ton of bites of baby food and even finished a package of fruit (holy shiznit on this) puree.  She found a super soft musical bunny that she held all afternoon and gave kisses to.  And she also attached herself to one of the part-time teachers and would not let the teacher out of her sight or have anyone else feed her. 

Well, then.

Suspicion is running deep that her attachment is based a bit on the fact that the teacher bares a resemblance to J the Fabulous Nanny.  Not that the other teachers are even remotely cold or unfriendly, but it appears that this brown baby wants Ms. E.

In other good news, Iris is not so traumatized by being left in the dust during the day that she clings to us in the evening.  She is okay being in her highchair and put down to play and to sleep, so I figure the long term ramifications and future therapy bills won't be outside their normal figures due to her starting school. Thumbs up to this.

And in other less daycare related news, Iris loves her mini-kitchen and any and all pretend foods she can shove in her maw or in the little cubbies in the kitchen.

Of course, I offered to cook up some delightful felt corn and green beans in the mini-frying pan but she LAUGHED.  Oh, yes, she did.  It then made me smirk because my cooking abilities are kind of sad-sack, but, geez 17 month old; kinda harsh.

The first 48

So The Muffin started big girl school yesterday, and the morning was fine if not a little twilight zone-y because of J not arriving at 8:00am on the dot.

It was kind of hard to wrangle Ezra's excitement of IRIS IS IN THE BABY ROOM OMG and give last minute tidbits to her teachers, but kisses were given and doors were closed and I patted myself on the back.

Ole!

I went to pick her up and, apparently, she'd had a less smooth afternoon.  Some not sleeping in her crib, a lot of tears when Ezra came for a short visit and then left (apparently, he broke down hardcore too and his teacher, Mr. B., said it was heartbreaking) and just kind of less peppy.  All of the teachers keep saying, "The first week is the hardest!  Once they're more comfortable sleeping here--it's much better."

I anticipated Iris passing out in the car, but no.  She was lively and went on to do her Clenched Fists of Excitement when seeing T at home and then taking lots of bites of baby food. 

T came home early to make the evening transition easier and even started and completed (!!) dinner. 

Double ole!

Muffin went to bed.  Ezra went to bed.  T and I were happy the First Day was behind us.  It'd been pretty smooth.

This morning was harder.  I've moved some of her therapy appointments to first thing Tuesdays so that we can get them out of the way before going to school and, I, to work. T blocked off Tuesdays from now until eternity so that he can take Ezra to school, while she and I head to exercising.  Because of all of this, we have to leave the house at 7:45am.  And she has to be done eating by 7:30am so that her food can settle before being folded into her carseat.  And I have to have pants on and hair did by 7:00am.

Except Iris wanted to sleep.  She slept and slept and slept while Ezra loudly played Batman outside her room and I turned on her light and opened her curtains and picked out her clothes and even talked to her.

She was conked.out.

I hate, hate, hate waking up the kids when they're sleeping.  Because clearly they need it and it seems so selfish to take that away from them. 

We got out the door and onto PT and OT and into daycare and it all was trucking right along, but when I tried to leave and close the door to the Infant Room?  She cried.  Big fat fatty tears.

I called an hour later and she was still kind of Weepy Willie.

Typing that breaks my heart because she is not a cry-y baby. 

I hope it's part separation anxiety and part new places and people and being tired.  I mean, I know it's that.  They are wonderful women who also cared for Ezra, so they're known quantities in my book.  But still.

I am feeling twitchy.

Today is an in-office day, meaning I don't have to be on the Reference Desk and don't have any meetings scheduled.

I'd leave now if I thought it would help, but I don't think it will--at least not long term.

So I'll just continue to chew on my shoulder and perhaps leave at 4:15 or so.