School Days

Charli started 1st grade this week and neither of us were fully prepared. During the day is going fine.  Charlotte seems to be happy with her new class, her new teacher, and her new friends.  It is at home that all hell breaks loose.  We both are having trouble with returning to our morning insanity, oh, I mean, routine. Our mornings are back to being rushing, begging, pleading, pushing, dragging, scream-fests.  Then we all run to our separate places of work and then come back together in the evening for our nightly rounds of rushing, begging, and pleading.  Homeschooling looks more and more appealing with each passing day.  Charlotte would certainly be happy.  She really wants nothing more than to stay home with me, snuggle in a chair, and read good books all day.  She is such an old soul.  Which is why it is always so unexpected and frustrating when she melts down and throws tantrums.  It is only occasionally when we look at her and see the tiny child that she actually is.  Completely our fault.  She acts like a child because, well, she is one.  We act like children because we are immature and tired.  Seems like we would be able to see that doing less and working less would help everyone.  But, no.  We are products of our culture.  I need to have a career and a purpose outside of the home.  We need more "stuff".  I am sure I would be cranky and tired whether I worked outside of the home or only at home, but it just seems that I am spreading myself thin by trying to work in both places.  The mommy guilt rages on.

Worry

I worry.
I worry that I am not doing enough.
I worry that I am doing too much.
I worry that my big one is too sensitive.
I worry that she is insensitive to the needs and feelings of others.
I worry that my children are not getting enough sleep.
I worry that I don't spend enough time snuggling and talking to them at night.
I worry that I don't spend enough time with them during the day.
I worry that I don't spend enough time with my husband.
I worry that I don't nurture my children's talents by enrolling them in more activities.
I worry that they are over-scheduled and don't have enough down time.
I worry that they like television too much.
I worry that I am not doing enough at work.
I worry that my little one is getting pushed aside by the big one's needs.
I worry that my first born is getting her spirit crushed by life.
I worry that I am powerless.
I worry that everything I do has an impact on my girls.
I worry that I am not a good enough friend, wife, mother, worker, daughter, sister, in-law...
I worry that I am not good enough.
I worry.

Our 5-Year Old's Tonsillectomy and Adenoidectomy

We agonized over the decision to have the surgery done.  Charlotte had obstructive sleep apnea from her boulder-sized tonsils which meant that she snored since birth and would struggle to breathe at least some part of most nights.  When she would catch a cold, she would struggle to breathe with every breath, all night.  Even so, it took us a year before we decided to to go through with surgery.  Luckily the surgery went well.  Our ENT, anesthesiologist, and nurses were great.  We made an appointment with a Child Life Specialist at the hospital before surgery.  She gave Charlotte a tour of the hospital floor and rooms, let her play in the playroom, answered all of her (and our) questions, and gave her an anesthesia mask to take home and play with.  Charlotte was so brave the day of surgery.  She went willingly to the hospital and played in the playroom while we waited for over an hour.  She gave her daddy a kiss goodbye.  Then she held my hand and actually skipped back to the surgery area.  This earned her the name "the skipper" in the hospital for the rest of the day.  She kept her brave face on until I lay her on the bed in the surgery room.  She slowly got more wide eyed, then rolled onto her side and let the tears flow while she said "Mommy, I'm not sure about this."  Needless to say, the next second, my tears let loose.  So now we are both crying and I am trying, lamely to soothe her, while being inconsolable myself.  Luckily, the anesthesiologist was on his A-game and quickly suggested I cradle her in a swivel chair until she was asleep.  I held her and we both instantly calmed somewhat.  He then showed her how breathing into the mask inflated and deflated a balloon/bag.  She was fascinated and grabbed the mask and pressed it to her own face.  A few seconds later, her eyes began to roll and she said "this feels funny", as she had her first drug experience.  Then she was asleep and I was escorted out to wait.  And wait.  And wait.  An hour and a half later it was over and we were brought to the recovery room so we could be there when she woke up.  I was so thrilled that she was able to go to sleep in my arms and that we were the first thing she saw upon waking.  I think it helped her so much.  She stirred slowly and wanted lots of cuddles as she woke.  As she was cuddling me, she croaked out her first words ... "ice ...  cream".  I guessed she was doing alright.  Then we were given the news that she couldn't have milk products for 24 hours, but that she could have a popsicle when she got to her room.  She became interested in the room she was in and equipment around her.  She didn't like the bandage around her IV or the wires attached to her chest.  I showed her how the monitor showed her respirations on the screen.  She loved it and started to play with the line, talking slowly, breathing fast, and holding her breath.  I started to be nervous that she was going to make herself pass out, so I eventually made her stop.  She loved that her whole bed wheeled into the next recovery room.  She got herself a twin-pop and refused to share with her starving parents.  Two hours, two television shows, one dose of pain meds, and another popsicle later, we were discharged.  Charlotte said "I've had a big day" and fell asleep on the way home.

She's Always Watching

In so many ways, my children make me want to be a better person. Of course I want to be a good mother.  I try so hard to say the right things and explain things fully in 4 year old speak, when Charli asks questions.  She says she wants to understand everything, and who am I to say she can't.  I try to help her navigate the world, but not too much.  I try to have the healthiest foods in the house and have the family eat them together.  I try to mean what I say and follow through on promises (and threats).  But, it goes deeper than that and sometimes it amazes me how much she is watching, paying attention, and learning from my every move.  Just this morning, I came in from a run and I am kneeling next to the shelf where we place our shoes when we enter the house.  I see in Charlotte's little shoes, her socks.  Each one in a ball in a pair of her shoes.  This is not something she does usually, and this is not something we usually do as a family.  Shoes go by the door and socks go in the hamper.  But, I realize that her shoes were next to my sneakers this morning.  I had placed my socks in my sneaks last night in anticipation for my run this morning.  (I have to get ready in the living room, but that is another topic about light sleeping children.)  Anyway, it hits me how much she is watching me when I am not paying attention.  It is yet another wake up call, that I need to be the best person I can be, so I can help my children be the best people they can be.  No pressure.

Yoga and Kindergarten

Brooke and I finally made it to a mommy and me yoga class.  I used to go to this class every week with Charlotte till she went to preschool.  Since then, I have been trying and failing to get out of the house in time to get Charli to school and across the city by 9 am to take this class.  We had such a nice time, I am going to have to try very hard to get there again next week.  I love the moments where I can slow down and actually spend time playing with, watching, and enjoying Brooke.  These moments are sadly rare.  We are always running around with our "have to do"s.  Today, I was able to take deep breaths in my yoga poses while watching Brooke explore and conquer the play space.  Her new favorite word is "no" and so I heard that lots today.  She is a full fledged toddler now and has the toddler creed down pat (what's yours is mine, what's mine is mine, if I see it its mine...)  She has learned to defend her turf and doesn't back down (thanks to Charlotte).  She is working on sharing and turn taking.  She is a sweet soul and Jeff and I are convinced that pretty much everything she does is adorable.  She loves to say hi to everyone we pass by on the street, she will hug random people whenever the whim strikes, she points out every ball and bird within a 20 mile radius, and she really wants to do everything her big sister does. (like spit toothpaste, twirl around in dresses, turn cartwheels, and draw with markers).

Today was also the day I officially signed Charlotte up for Kindergarten.  We have been on the fence about sending her.  The school district is in the middle of changing the birthday cut-off for K to line up with private school and to take new research into account.  Charlotte makes the cutoff currently and will for the next few years, while they slowly roll the ages back.  Eventually, she will miss the cut-off by two weeks.  We think she is ready now and will be fine, but we are worried about the tween years especialy. I just hope we are making the right choices for her life and future.  The parenting thing is a lot of pressure sometimes.

Best Ages Ever

Brooke and Charlotte are at such great ages, we would like to freeze them in time.  At 4 (and a half!), Charlotte is such a joy to be around.  She likes to be with us and can talk for hours about nothing and everything.  Sometimes her observations of the world are quite interesting.  Other times, I can't follow her random flights of thought for more than a few seconds before I am lost.  Either way, it is a pleasure to spend a few moments together, just the two of us.  Brooke, at 14 months, is also a bundle of joy.  It is amazing to watch her mind work.  She can spend minutes just playing with her toys.  Her shape sorter, books, drawing, and stacking toys are her favorite right now.  She loves to climb, spin, and walk around everywhere.  She tries to jump but can't get off the ground yet.  She wants to do everything her big sister does, good or bad.  Brooke's vocabulary is exploding, both in speech and signs.  I haven't yet counted her words, so, here goes.  She says hiya, bye-bye, mama, dada, book, ball, yaya (Charli), eat, more, milk, agua, patos (zapatos), socks, dog, meow, please, help, close, open, cracker, baba (bottle or paci), no, bear, baby, duck, quack, star, up, down,  pig, bath, tick-tock, ow, night-night, thank-you, hippopotomus, fish, helicopter, all-done, pan, por favor, balloon, bubble, and poo-poo.  She probably has more that I am not thinking of right now.  Brooke is also now sleeping through the night at least 4 nights a week.  Unfortunately, she does think that 5 am is a perfectly acceptable time to wake following a full nights sleep.  We will have to convince her otherwise, and fast.  I need a nap!

Of Death and Dying

In the past few months two wonderful people that I saw on a regular basis, but did not know very well have passed away.  A coworker of mine, Steuart, who was an angel who left the earth way too soon, but whom Charlotte did not know, and our lovely next door neighbor Neil, an elderly gentleman whom Charlotte knew by name and would say h to and chat with for a minute on our way from here to there.  Each of their passings has led to many discussions with Charlotte about death and dying.  I was not prepared for these talks and I am still unsure that I am handling it properly.  She tends to think about things for a while and asks questions at very random times.  I try very hard to answer any questions she has openly and honestly while remembering that she is still a preschooler and may not want as thorough of an answer as I may think.  We are not a member of any organized religion and therefore I try to give her a few different perspectives when the questions get metaphysical.  In answering some of her questions I realize how strange and possibly frightening some things may seem.  Such as, "So, what happens to your body after you die?".  "Well, some people put the bodies in a box and bury it in dirt.  Then they put a stone up to mark the spot so they can visit the spot to think about the person who died." (ok, this seems like this may be slightly creepy, but so far so good), "Why do they bury people in dirt?", "Well, you are not in your body anymore after you die, you leave your body. And your body, well...  You know how we have talked about compost, and how the food and paper we put in the compost turns into soil to make new flowers and plants?  Well, your body turns into compost, so some people bury it in dirt to make new flowers and plants.  Other people turn the body into ashes and sprinkle them somewhere nice"  Luckily, she did not want to know how we go about turning people into ashes.

I tend to say "well..." a lot in my explanations to Charlotte to give myself time to think, think, think like Pooh bear.  So, I think she is processing this and she will every once in a while just say something in passing about Neil's being dead.  She also thinks about his wife sometimes.  "Mommy? Rita lives alone now, right? Because Neil died.  That's ok though, because Rita will get married again."  Here's to hoping, Charlotte.

The other night I was putting Charlotte to bed.  This entails reading her few books in bed and then (in her words), "lying with her for a while or two".  We were lying in bed snuggled up together when she starts to play with my earring.  And the following conversation occurred:

"Mommy, when are you going to take your earrings off?" (she has asked me to take them off a few times before, but tonight I figured I would try to get to the bottom of this line of questioning)

"I am probably going to keep them on a long time.  I like to wear my earrings and forget to put them back in when I take them out.  Why do you want me to take them off?"

"I don't want you to die with them in" (aww, the poor kid is worried about me dying...wait, that's not quite what she said...)

"Why don't you want me to die with my earrings in, Charli?"

"Well, because someone may want them."

"Someone may want them? Who is someone?"

"Someone like me" (jackpot, so evidently, the kid is not worried about me dying, she is worried about me getting buried with my diamonds on, great)

"Don't worry Charlotte, you can have my earrings even if I die with them on.  Feel better?  Good, let's go to sleep."