S'more and Some More To Do

I think the combination of pressure to develop my own syllabi for the fall, trying to finish essays that I'm supposed to be working on, beginning the process of enrolling The Babydoll (who will be in private 5K because she just barely misses the public school cutoff) and The Baby Boy (who will likely have to enroll in 2K because of this potty business, even though he technically could/should be in 3K) for the fall, and the 4th of July holiday has set off a S'mores-making spree that I can't shake. The children love it, but Hubby just talked me into joining his gym, so the timing is a little iffy. Mere weeks to go. I'm not ready. I'm not ready. I'm not ready . . . .

*We've been going back and forth about this school thing for at least a year. Hubby thinks it's probably fine for The Baby Boy to stay on the manufactured "start late because I have a late birthday" track and for The Babydoll to get a little manufactured push ahead. He says that she's much more mature and ready for school and that he would benefit from being the oldest in his class. Maybe she should wait--that's what the state says anyway. Maybe we should let him be the youngest--if he ever potty-trains and the school moves him up to his "rightful" class. Is anyone confused yet? I just don't know what's best.

You're Gonna Miss This (Think Trace Adkins)

I go back to work tomorrow. I am so glad I have a job and I like my work, but I hate for this time to end.

I don't think that I ever mentioned that we brought Popcorn home (she came home in June), but all summer I've been a stay-at-home mom. It's been wonderful!

At first, despite what the nurses said in the NICU, she did not eat and fall asleep immediately. When we would wake up in the middle of the night, she stayed awake for the rest of the night. Either me or Diva's Husband would be fighting sleep while rocking the baby who would be just looking at us with eyes wide open. So, having the chance to stay home all day was beneficial. Now, she is sleeping through the night (yea!), but I just like being home with her. We play and read and sing and sleep and just be cuddly together.

Tomorrow I have to take her to the babysitter. Initially I was extremely sad about the idea that being with the babysitter would be the first time since she came home that she would be without either me or her father, but then I remembered that there have been a few times when her grandmothers came to visit that I ran to the store while DH was at work. That made me feel better. But only a little.

Before I had her, I always thought I would welcome the opportunity to go away and have time and space to myself. Now, although the prospect of getting back to the world of academics and intellectual pursuit is mildly exciting, that opportunity is not looking quite as appealing.

My mom and aunt say I will get over this feeling by the second day. I'm doubtful.

A Better Day

So, I realized that it's been almost a month since I tearfully left my dear baby boy in his daycare class with both of us sobbing from the separation. The teacher told me yesterday that he finally decided to eat his lunch (until now, 1000s of cookies per day was the best they could get him to swallow) and he was playing when we picked him up. Yay!

It was so much easier to leave him today. Don't get me wrong, now. When I walked out the room, he scurried his chubby feet to the door as fast as he could. And was making that pre-crying noise that promised to turn into something more any second. I had to make a quick get-a-way. But I spied through the window just a few minutes later and he was in his chair eating breakfast like a big boy. No crying or whining or anything. They tell me that he blossoms in the afternoon. I'm just going to charge that to my husband, who is nobody's morning person. In fact, neither is my daughter, who , about 3 mornings a week, informs me that no she will not be using the potty and no, she does not want to wash her face, and she doesn't like her tootbrush and she wants to go back to bed.

I'm so glad that it's getting better. He's such a sweet and funny boy; I want him to have a good time. And I want the teacher to stop dreading his entrance in the morning. But for now, I'll just be grateful that he's having productive, tearless afternoons. That means that I'm also having productive, tearless afternoons. Well, tearless anyway. Yay for us!