Twenty-Five Months

Here it is, the 28th of the month already...

Punky fell asleep early and easily tonight.  I woke her at six this morning so I could get us both ready and out the door by seven.  It was my day to take her to school...more on that later.  It turns out she refused to nap for them today, and was somewhat of a bear.  Tired child equals shitty day for them, easy night for me.

So, I poured a cup of coffee and settled in to write the usual monthly update.  And it suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea what to call it.  Writers' block struck at the title...

When you first bring your precious bundle home from the hospital, her age is defined in days.  Then weeks take over until about the three month point.  Months follow and stick all the way up to a whole twenty-three.  It's an unwritten rule and simply the way it's done.

Suddenly, your child is two.  And a month later?  Well...she's still two.  Sure, we can get away with two-and-a-half a few months from now.  But in this moment, plain old two it is.  Which could make for some boring and repetitive blog post titles.

Then my mind drifted to the content of these monthly updates.  We have surpassed most of the major milestones now.  She walks, she talks, she feeds herself, she stands on her head... I don't foresee earth-shattering changes occurring month to month at this point.

Next I thought about how I would miss these update posts and how nice it is to look back and see where she was a year ago and how far she's come.  And that made me so sad.  

I walked away from the computer for a bit to ponder the issue.  I poured another cup of coffee and stopped in Punky's room to check on my little peanut.  She was all snuggled up with her blankie and sleeping peacefully.  I couldn't help but chuckle as I thought about tonight's bedtime routine, and that landed me right back here at the computer.

As I wrestled flailing arms and legs earlier while trying to put her pajamas on, I was so focused on the task at hand that I almost didn't catch what she said.  It clicked somewhere around P...

"A, B, C, D, E, F, G... H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P..."  Punky was singing the alphabet!  She has recognized all the letters for months, and she's heard the song a million times, but she never attempted to say them in order let alone sing them!

"Q, R, S...T, U, V...W, X...Y and Z..."  My heart was in a puddle around my ankles.

She knows the alphabet.  Only twenty-five months old and she knows the alphabet.  Screw two.  She sang the entire freakin' alphabet.  That's a milestone worthy of notation in a monthly update post.  And I'm sure there will be something worthy for months to come.

Sleepovers

...are evil?  Did I miss something?

Before I had Punky, I knew everything about having kids.  Once I actually made it through a full pregnancy and brought my little bundle home, I quickly discovered that in reality I knew nothing.  There were so many things I never even considered.  I never had any reason to do so.

Soon after the positive pregnancy test, I found a parenting / pregnancy board online and started reading.  I followed the stories of other women who were expecting babies around Punky's due date, but never posted myself...mainly because I was absolutely terrified I would suffer another loss.  I didn't even want to tell my family about my pregnancy, yet alone complete strangers.

The website also has a debate board that I still read whenever I can sneak a few minutes.  While no topic is off-limits, most of the posts revolve around kids, parenting, and family life in one way or another.  Some of the regular posters can be brutal, and some debates get extremely heated, but it certainly makes for interesting reading.  I have remained in the shadows, in the happy world of lurkdom, because I have no time for another obsession.  I know the minute I'd open my mouth and throw my hat in the ring, I'd be fully consumed by debate.  And I simply can't afford the distraction; I barely have time to write as it is.

Over the last few years, the board has covered most of the hot-button issues in the parenting world.  To vax or not to vax, to spank or not to spank, rear-facing vs. forward-facing, and so on... Sometimes the debates reinforce my thoughts, sometimes they prompt me to do additional research on a subject, and in a handful of cases I have even switched sides as a result.  And Punky's dad could tell you that's no easy feat, given that fact that I'm stubborn and always right...

Anyway, to get to the point, lately it seems like many of the debates on the board end up on the topic of sleepovers.  I never thought sleepovers were a debatable issue.  Growing up in my world, sleepovers were the norm.  Everyone did it.  All little girls had a sleepover birthday party at some point.  It wasn't odd.  It wasn't taboo.  It wasn't unnecessary.  It was part of growing up...sort of a rite of passage.

When I was really young, my cousins would usually end up sleeping over most holidays.  In elementary school, sleepover parties were all the rage.  In junior high, I think I slept at a friend's house or had a friend sleep at mine almost every Friday night.  The sleepovers continued through high school, and even into college.  There were rules, of course, like not on a school night, no prank calling people, no loud music, and we had to be "quiet" so the rest of the house could actually sleep, etc.  Sleepovers were expected.  They were completely normal behavior...or so I always thought.

Based on the comments of the women on the board, there is an anti-sleepover movement sweeping the nation.  And I just can't grasp it.  So many say they just "don't do" sleepovers.  They don't allow it.  Sleepovers are unnecessary.  Unnatural.  One poster even said it would only expose her child to the dysfunction in other families.  Huh?

Don't get me wrong, I can totally understand not allowing it if there is an obvious safety concern.  If no parents will be home, if the kids are welcome to help themselves to the liquor cabinet, if the step-father was arrested for child pornography, if there are guns and drugs all over the house, if the mother is a hooker and entertains gentlemen at home on the dining room table while the kids watch Finding Nemo in the living room...all perfectly understandable reasons to politely decline the invitation.  But other than those types of concerns, what harm can come from a handful of giggly eight-year-old girls sleeping over a friend's house?  I have to be missing something.

As Punky grows up, I have an infinite list of worries ahead of me.  So many choices, so many dangers, so many things to consider.  I know it's still early in my parenting days, but the thought of her asking to have a friend sleep over when she's older doesn't even remotely hit my radar as a potential threat to her well-being.

I did it.  My friends did it.  We are healthy, stable, well-adjusted, functioning members of society.  We don't stay up till dawn every night, we brush our teeth, we get up for work in the morning, and no matter how strong the temptation, we generally refrain from squirting shaving cream into the hands of sleeping people and then tickling their noses.  Well, most of the time anyway.  Everyone has "off" days.

Say, is your refrigerator running?

A Bunch of Stuff

I haven't had many opportunities to write lately.  We are all still adjusting to the daycare thing, and as part of that adjustment, I have a child who stays up till almost midnight because they let her nap for hours at school.  Sigh.

I'll save my beefs about daycare for another post.  Now, while I have a whole twenty minutes or so, I just want to get out all the little, random stuff.  Nothing really full-post worthy...so watch for sudden stops and sharp curves ahead.

A new session of swimming classes started yesterday.  Well, actually, it started last week but we couldn't make it because of Punky's birthday party.  We hadn't gone since the last session ended early in November and I wondered if the break would make Punky hesitate now that she's getting older.  Nope.  She was just as excited as ever to go in the big pool.  I think I enjoy it as much as she does.

A few weeks after the last session ended, Punky rolled over on her tummy in the bathtub and said, "Look, Mommy! Swimming! Blow bubbles!"...and she stuck her little face right in and did it.  Since then, she's been practicing that skill almost every bath.  So, in class yesterday, I was excited when the time came for her to do it.  "Blow bubbles!" the lifeguard directed...

And my child wouldn't put her face anywhere near the water.  No amount of coaxing could convince her otherwise.  But in the bath last night, it was bubbles galore.  Little shit.

After swimming we headed to the furniture store.  The time has come to bite the bullet and start the transition to a big-girl bed.  I am not looking forward to this one bit.  I can't get her to sleep at night as it is, but she's at least confined.  I can't even imagine how bad it will be three to five weeks from now when the new furniture arrives.  I've joked a lot about velcro in the past...

In other news, we booked a trip to meet Mickey Mouse this summer.  It was my mom's idea.  I would rather wait another year or two, but she has this insane idea that she'll be too old to walk around the parks with us and she wants to see her grand kids at Disney.  So, this year it is, in one of the hottest months, right when school lets out and the place will be jam packed.

Punky will be a handful, I'm sure, but my sister will have it worse.  My niece will have just turned one when we go, so she needs to cart all that baby crap with her, too.  Don't get me wrong, I'm excited and I think we'll have a good time, but it just seems like an awful lot of work and expense with three kids five and under who will probably not remember a single second of it.

Next subject.  We are suffering through an extreme cold chill and it can't end soon enough.  Tonight's forecast?  Ten below.  Ouch.  We have about seven inches of snow on the ground from last Friday and are due to receive a pile more in a storm predicted to hit Wednesday.  It's disgusting.  I can't stand it.  I absolutely hate it.  And we have at least two more months of it, if not three. 

Punky keeps asking to go to the playground and ride the swings.  Spring must seem a lifetime away to her...hell, it does to me, too.  I'd love to take her outside to play in the snow, but not in these ridiculous temperatures.  Plus, she has a cold.  Coughing, runny nose, watery eyes.  I'm sure I'll have it in a few days.  Just another perk of daycare.

And, last but not least, today is nineteen years that I lost someone very special to me and my life changed forever.  I spent the day drifting in and out of silent mourning.  It was so long ago, yet the wounds feel so fresh.  The scars will never go away, no matter how hard I try to hide them.  I still remember.  All of it.  I suppose this doesn't really fit the category of not full-post worthy.  In reality, it's probably full-book worthy.  Maybe someday I'll have time to write one.

Birthday Party

We finally got around to having Punky's birthday party this weekend...almost three weeks past her actual birthday.  Bad parents, bad bad bad...

Seriously, it's challenging having a birthday right after Christmas.  Planning a party early won't work because people are busy attending holiday parties and rushing around in all the hustle and bustle of the season.  Right after the holidays, people are recuperating, returning to work, and trying to get back into the routine.  Add in the wonderful weather we have this time of year, along with her dad's crazy work schedule, and we have the perfect recipe for a late birthday party.  Poor kid, she kept asking about it and breaking my heart. 

Sesame Street Birthday Cake

Last year we squeezed her first birthday party in at my sister's house while we were home for the holidays.  This year I wanted to have it at our house.  It was really cold and snowy yesterday, but my family all managed to make the long ride up to be here.  And Punky had a great time.

The number one thing on her list for the perfect birthday party?  Balloons.  Closely followed by presents, of course.  And cake.  And hearing everyone sing happy birthday to her.  I probably don't even need to say it, but yes, it was a Sesame Street party. 

Yummy cake!

She was adorable opening her presents.  Every time she started tearing the paper off one, she'd say, "Whoa! What is it?!?!"  She got new outfits that are perfect for school.  She is set now until we need summer clothes.  To her delight, she also got a few new toys.  Grammy and Pappy got her an Elmo guitar...and I let her open it first.  Needless to say, it took a long time to get through the rest of the presents.

Not This Already

Punky and I spent two straight hours coloring our hearts out last night.  After a long day at work, and a tiring fifth day of daycare, it was nice to have some downtime to relax.  Coloring is almost mesmerizing; it's easy to lose yourself entirely in back-and-forth crayon strokes.

Aside from an occasional comment about the picture she was coloring, or the color she was going to use next, or a random song lyric here and there, we mostly colored in silence...lost in our own thoughts.

Out of the blue, I heard Punky say something like "Keeevvviiinnnn..." in a sweet, adoring, sing-songy way.

"Kevin?  Did you just say Kevin?" I asked.

"Yeeaahhhh..." she replied in the same sweet tone.

"Who's Kevin?" 

"A boy!" she said and smiled ear to ear.

"Is Kevin a boy at school?"

"Yeeaahhhh... Sooooo cute!" she chirped.

I smacked my forehead in disbelief.  Five days of daycare and she's already crushing on a boy.  Great...

So, when I picked her up tonight, I couldn't help but ask the teacher if there is a Kevin in the class.

"Kevin?" she asked, "No, no Kevin, but we have a Gavin."

"Oh, that's probably who she was talking about..."

"She adores Gavin," the teacher added, "He's only twelve weeks old and she always runs over to his bassinet and tells us he's soooo cute!"

Whew.

Love it!

Well, Punky survived her first week at daycare with only a few minor meltdowns.  In some ways, I think it was much harder on us than it was on her.

Her dad had drop-off duty all three days and he had a rough time coping.  She was excited to go to school, but the minute he'd turn to leave she would burst into tears.  It was utterly heartbreaking for him.  As you'd expect, one of the teachers would grab Punky and tell him to go.  They would get her calmed down after a few minutes but her dad suffered all day just thinking about it.

He also picked her up on the first day but the next two were mine since he had to work.  When I walked in on Thursday, she certainly didn't seem upset.

"Mommy! Mommy!  Hi, Mommy!  School!  School!" she yelled and spun in a circle.  "Love it!"

Hmmm, she loves it.  Well, okay then.  Not quite the reaction I was anticipating but I guess it's the best one possible given the alternatives.  I mean, I certainly didn't want her to hate it...but she could've missed me a little bit.  It took forever to get her out of there; she didn't want to leave.  All grown up...at two.

She is having some trouble with transitions.  I thought that would be the hardest thing for her and I hit the nail on the head.  She is used to doing what she wants, when she wants.  If she wants a snack, we give her one.  If she wants to color for an hour, we let her.  If she gets bored with something after two minutes, we do something else.  All with reason, of course.

At daycare, life happens on a schedule.  Once she gets involved in one activity, it's time to transition to something else...and she has a meltdown.  She's fine again once they get into the next activity...but then it ends and the tears come again.  

I know it must be hard for her to understand why they keep stopping her when she's having fun.  Those are moments we embrace in this house.  If she is happy and amusing herself, shit gets done.  We let her play it out and when she's ready for something different she tells us.  I'm sure it will get better as time passes and she adjusts to the whole routine.

She's amusing the hell out of her teachers.  They crack up at the things she says and the way she says them.  I guess they never heard a two-year-old say, "Holy moly stromboli!" before... 

First Day of School

I've gotten nothing but positive remarks from all the teachers about how well she talks for her age, the crazy vocabulary she has, and the fact that she tells them colors, numbers, letters, and counts things.  "She's so smart! I can't believe she just turned two!"

Aaahhhh...music to a mother's ears.  Oh, shut up and let me enjoy it.  I'm sure the day will come when the conversation at pick-up time revolves around Punky decking some kid for taking her toy, or throwing one of those ever-lasting temper tantrums, or slipping a four-letter word she heard at home.  It's only a matter of time. 

Yeah, she is a smarty-pants, no doubt about it.  But she's two, and she's good at it.

Bye-Bye Aunt Mimi

In this case, the term "babysitter" is overly simplistic.  I have used it in blogging many times, but it doesn't do justice to the relationship Punky has with her Aunt Mimi, or the appreciation I have for the time they were able to spend together.

I was terrified when I had to return to work after Punky was born.  My mom offered to come up one week a month (as she still does), but we needed help for the other three weeks and I just couldn't bear to put my sweet, beautiful, tiny little baby in daycare at eight weeks old. 

Punky's dad had a suggestion.  His brother's wife had already been off work quite a while.  She loves kids and was so excited when she heard we were expecting a baby, but my hesitation rested in the fact that I really didn't know her.  Some small talk a handful of times was all I had to go by, but Punky's dad told me to trust him.  I needed to take a chance; we really had no other choice.

Over the past two years, I can honestly say I haven't regretted the decision.  Not once.  To my surprise, she quickly gained my trust...and that's not always an easy thing to do.  It was evident that Punky was in good hands right from the start.  And as the weeks and months passed, Punky formed a special bond with her Aunt Mimi.

When she was here, Punky had her undivided attention and they would play for hours.  They went for walks, did crafts, read books...  And through all of that fun stuff, Punky learned.  And learned.  And learned some more.

I have to give her a lot of the credit for how amazingly smart Punky is now.  Between working full time and juggling the household to-do list, I simply didn't have enough hours in the day to teach her all the incredible stuff she knows...nor would I have even imagined she was capable of learning some of it.

The best example I can think of is letter recognition.  Punky was a mere seventeen months old when Aunt Mimi started writing letters in sidewalk chalk and asking her to say them.  Within a matter of days, she knew six or seven letters.  By the end of summer, she knew them all.  Even if I were a stay-at-home mom, I don't think I would've even considered doing that at her age.  I didn't think it was possible to learn that stuff so early.

We always knew there was a possibility that she would get called back to work...we just took the "ignore it and it will go away" approach.  The longer time passed, the more we put it out of our minds.  I should have at least done my homework and researched the daycare options available in our area...but I didn't.  Just thinking about the D-word makes my stomach turn.

So, when we got the call on this day, I was immediately launched into panic mode.  She had to be at work the very next morning.  Nice of 'em to give her a whole twenty hours notice, huh?  I locked myself in my then-toxic bedroom and started making phone calls...

By five o'clock that day, Punky was enrolled in daycare.  She starts tomorrow.  Sigh.

Most of the options near us are in-home centers.  I didn't want that environment, not because in-home providers suck or anything, but because I am being stubborn.  If Punky can't be at our home, I don't want her at anyone else's.  Yes, I'm being a total brat, but it's my perrogative.  My child, my decision.

Ruling those out immediately left only one option within a few miles of home... and I held my breath as I made the call.  Were they accepting new kids?  Would they work with our crazy schedule of different days and hours every week?  What about safety and security?  How do they handle food allergies?  Do they actually teach things or just let the kids run around like maniacs?  How does this whole daycare crap work, anyhow? 

If I asked her one question, I asked her two hundred.  Finally I was satisfied with my greulling phone interview and decided that we needed to go visit...that same day.  Hey, we were both home from work due to Punky's puke-isode and ER visit the night before, so it was the perfect opportunity and the only chance we would have prior to the holidays.  I knew my mom would be up for a week after Christmas...but come January 5th, we would need to have something arranged.  And I didn't want it hanging over my head through the holidays...I wanted it resolved.

We arrived at the daycare at 4:00.  Punky took off at 4:01...and we had to drag her out an hour and a half later.  All those toys!  And books!  And a herd of people her size!  She was in her glory...but she could see at least one of us at all times.  I'm not sure she'll be so brave when we're not there...

The director took her time and showed us all around...while patiently answering another barrage of questions.  When she finally ran out of things to show us... and I finally ran out of questions to ask... the moment of truth was upon us.  We signed the registration forms.

We spent the last two weeks talking about "school" at every available opportunity...how much fun it will be, all the exciting things she'll get to do, the plethora of kids and toys to play with...  Tomorrow we'll see if our propaganda worked.  And true to the life of a working mom, this is yet another milestone I will miss.  Her dad is off work tomorrow, so he gets to have that terrible moment where he turns his back and leaves her in a strange place, full of strange people, for hours on end.

We thought it would be a good idea to have him at home on her first day...just in case it doesn't go well.  If she has a total meltdown, he is only five minutes away.  Come Thursday, we'll both be at work and she'll be on her own.  Damn, here come the tears, again.  I've been weepy all night.

So, with a heavy heart and teary eyes, we bid farewell to Aunt Mimi.  I can't thank her enough for the quality time and care she gave Punky over the last two years.  I know they will miss each other so much.  And any time she feels like visiting, she is more than welcome.

Tomorrow will be rough for all of us.  In fact, the next few weeks will suck as we adjust to this new arrangement.  It'll be hard at first, but hopefully in time Punky will grow to love her new school...and I will learn to trust them with my precious little girl.

Another New Year

2011 has dawned.  Another new year is here.

So, what does that mean?  I mean, what does it really mean?

Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.

Every time the ball drops, people go crazy.  Making resolutions and swearing that the new year will be different.  Setting their sights too high, and thus setting themselves up for failure.  I don't understand why people put so much hope in the flip of a calendar.  Truth is, no one will change unless they truly want to...no matter the date on the page.

I always get a bit aggravated this time of year listening to people go on and on about their resolutions.  Everywhere I look, from the TV, to the newspaper, to friends and family, people are yapping about all the wonderful changes they will make simply because it's a new year.  It wouldn't be so annoying if the majority would succeed, but in reality only a tiny smidgen of people actually live up to their claims.  

To me, the whole concept of a new year's resolution is ridiculous.  Media hype and peer pressure fuel the fire and suck people into the scheme.  Suddenly everyone wants to be...better.  Thinner.  Smoke-free.  More available to loved ones.  And so on...

Most people dive right in at the stroke of midnight.  For a few weeks, people will seem nicer... hopeful... determined.  Mary will eat salads for lunch.  Johnny will get the nicotine patch.  Frank will make it home in time for dinner with his family.

By month end, the fire will be nothing more than some smoldering ashes.  The media will be over it... and so will most people.  Life will return as it was before the singing of Auld Lang Syne.

Maybe I'm just a pessimist.  Maybe I'm bitter for failing when I bought into the hype myself.  Maybe I'm simply a realist.

I think there will be many changes in my life in 2011, and not because the calendar says so.  Some are welcomed; some...well, not so much.  But either way, they are happening because it's time for them to happen.  

Ready or not.