Going on a Field Trip

I am taking Charli on her field trip this week with her school.  She is so excited.  She usually is not at school on field trip days, so I take her on the ones I can so she doesn't miss out.  She enjoys them very much.  Her favorite part is riding on the big yellow school bus.  She thinks it is great that she can sit alone and not be in a car seat.  This seems to be a consensus with all of the preschoolers.  It seems that the field trips could be reduced to a bus ride to nowhere and the children would all be ecstatic.  The strangest part is that these are all city kids.  They probably all ride on the city buses or trains fairly often, but the power of being big enough to sit alone is that huge for a three year old.  With this in mind, I was prepping Charlotte for this next field trip.  We are going to Angel Island State Park, a beautiful island in the bay to the north of San Francisco.  Our conversation went like this:
Me - "I am looking forward to the field trip this week.  We are going to an island in the middle of the bay, so we are going to take the ferry."
Charli - "We get to ride on a ferry?"
"Yes, isn't that exciting?"
"Yes, it is. Are my friends going to ride a ferry too?"
"Yes, we are all going on the ferry"
"Is there a very big ferry?  Big enough to carry all of my friends?"
"Yes, the ferry is big enough for all your friends at school"
"I didn't even know there were really such things as ferries."
.... "Um, Charli, did you think I said fairy?"
"Yes"
So now I have a lovely mental image of Charlotte, me, and all her little school friends flying over the bay on the back of an overly large fairy.  After that, a boat ride on a rusty barge might be a bit of a let down.  Charlotte has had a tough time with my return to work.  She was thrilled when Brooke was born and loves her without bounds.  I kept waiting for her to complain or act out toward her, but that hasn't happened.  She started preschool right after her sister came and I was concerned that it may be too much change at once.   But, that went swimmingly as well.  I didn't even consider my going back to work to be a life changing event for her.  Evidently I was wrong.  It seems to be the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.  Everything is a little harder for her and she is acting out in new and creative ways.  She now cries in the mornings when I leave for work and asks me not to go, or at least to drop her off at school myself rather than letting our babysitter do it.  She has found a new penchant for drawing on things (her wooden train tracks, a friend's floor, books, tables).  This has resulted in a strict marker,  crayon, and paint restriction for two weeks.  She is finding new ways to say no and has settled this week on a disdainful "nope" when asked to do things.  But, we are fighting our way back to normalcy.  We have lots of talks, I take lots of deep breaths, and I am trying to spend good quality time with her each day.  I try to squeeze some quality time for Brooke in there as well.  She luckily has some q.t. built in as long as I am nursing.  Some of my favorite parts of the day are giggling with Charli and talking to her to find out about her day at school, and nursing Brooke and having that moment to rub the soft hair on her round head and look deep into her eyes as she smiles up at me.

The job is great, but the hours suck!

This weekend has been fabulous... by day.  The weather has been San Francisco at it's best.  Warm and sunny with a slight breeze.  Going on long walks with the kids, taking Charli for bike rides around the neighborhood, going to the park, and having barbecues with friends.  Jeff's brother, Bill, has come to visit and Charlotte is so happy.  She loves fresh meat to coerce into playing games and reading to her for hours. Our nights, however, have not been so idyllic.  

Brooke used to be a great sleeper.  She was sleeping 5 to 7 hours straight every night from two weeks of age.  (much to the jealousy of my friends with young children)  Unfortunately, she has recently remembered that she is, in fact, a baby.  For the past few weeks her sleeping stretches have declined steadily, and my sleep, and fuse length have disappeared along with them.  Last night was the worst so far, with Brooke's internal timer set at 20 minutes.  I got to see 12 am, 12:20 am, 12:40 am, 1 am, and on and on, until 3 am.  Just when I was trying to figure out which of us was going to live through the night, her timer was reset to about 1 1/2 hours.  Better, but only by comparison.  During our every 20 minute break from that pesky state of slumber, Charli woke and needed moral support in the bathroom.  Then she came into our bed where she performed somersaults and other acrobatic feats that ended with her kicking me square in the face.  That didn't go over well with the sleep deprived mommy who then growled "head on the pillow, feet down, or GET OUT!".  She immediately obeyed, but also whispered groggily "mommy, we don't yell".  She always knows the best way to bring me back to my senses and make me feel awful at the same time.  Many days, I don't know who is parenting who.  Sometimes I feel sorry for my kids that they have to be the guinea pigs for my parenting experiment.  Much of the time I feel the experiment is going quite well.  Sometimes, its a train wreck.  I can only hope they will forgive and (even better) forget my missteps.  Just like I will forget the pain of childbirth, the sleepless nights, and the fact that I ever wanted to throw my children out of a window.