Goodbye, Professional Mama

For as long as I can remember, I've always wanted to be a mom.  For almost as long, I've wanted to be a teacher.  That is, until I realized about 8 years ago that I wanted to be an editor instead.  It was there, amidst the red pencils and stacks of papers and colorful track changes that I found a career that I loved.  Most people work because they need to, but I have been blessed to be able to work because I wanted to.

Last night I quit my job.

Being a working mother is all about sacrifice.  For me, choosing to work has meant sacrificing time I wanted to spend with Little Bug and Little Bro, even though I believe their current school is critical for their social development.  If I stayed home, I would be sacrificing a career for which I have worked hard laying a solid foundation.

Either way, I sacrifice something I love.   And I came to realize if I was going to sacrifice one of them, it shouldn't be my babies.

The precise reasons for my decision don't need to be hashed out, but the decision was both hard and easy all at once.  Making the right decision is easy...making the decision that comes with heartache is hard.  But my kids will benefit from me being home, especially Little Bro.  And that is what matters most.

Unlike every other time I have ever considered quitting my job, I feel a great sense of peace about my decision. I don't get all panicky when I think about it, and in fact I am pretty excited to get more invested in my home care and feeding my family nutritious, home-cooked food.  I'm still in the "figuring it out" phase (truly, I'm taking a long time getting a good groove down in the housework department), but even on the hard days, I still find myself thinking about how lucky I am to have this chance to focus on my children, my home, and my husband.  NOT because I don't think I deserve to be a priority too, but because I've been stretched so thin in the last year that I haven't been able to give as much to the people and things that mean most to me.  It makes me happy to have my overworked husband come home to a clean house, it makes me happy to see my kids eating real food made with ingredients I can pronounce, and it makes me happy simply to be in a clean house, connected with my kids.

Editing stuff made me happy.  Scratch that....editing stuff does make me happy.  But it turns out that, at least right now, being a domestic goddess (although a rebel one who is NEVER going to have a bow in her hair when the hubs comes home and who will likely always struggle with cooking and cleaning) is what makes me happiest right now.

Some Days

Some days, usually for no real reason, I mourn the fact I am not at home with my baby all day, every day.  As much as I love the choice I made to keep my job and the balance and fulfillment it brings me and the growth and development Little Bug gains from his time in school, some days I simply want to throw it all away and cuddle down into my own home with my own baby and just be.

I'm confident that the choices we've made are right for our family right now, but that doesn't mean those choices come without sacrifice and regret.

Like today, when, pure and simple, I miss my child.

After 2+ Years as Parent....

...a red, painful bottom still sends me into panic.

The attractive, young pediatrician who took my weekend call had a hard time hiding his incredulity as I panicked through my list of symptoms, which included the abnormal and plentiful #2 and a tooshy that was bright red and painful to touch.  We've had so much sick time lately that I think I was really asking him to just stop the madness and return my home into a healthy body haven.

Me: Should I take him somewhere?

Him: Where would you take him for diaper rash?

Me: Umm....I don't know.  I was just wondering if there was anything I could do to restore my sanity relieve the symptoms.

Him: He's 3? Haven't you dealt with diaper rash before?

Me: Yes. I was just hoping....

Little Bug is still giving us a run (HAhaHa) for our money after a couple days, but things look to be on the mend, and he is finally back to school and Appa and I are finally able to work a full day again.

Just in time for the snow closures.

After 2+ years as a parent, I have learned the two things I will never have control of are my son's bodily fluids and the weather.

Eye of the Tiger

Today is a day I have been dreading and preparing for during the last 2 years. Little Bug is set to lose all his therapists when he turns 3 next month and will be getting his services from our local school district (and we're lucky we had the foresight to move into a good district). I'm completely freaked about him losing his excellent ST and PT, but that is for a different day.

Today he gets evaluated by the schools for what services he qualifies for. Our hope and belief is that he should qualify for the excellent half day, language intensive preschool program where an ST and PT will see him during his time there. It's a good school, perfect for almost all his needs (minus the smaller focus on PT), and it fits with our schedule. He can do mornings there and they will bus him directly to his normal school for the afternoon.

However, based on his PT evaluation of 15-18 months (Little Bug is almost 3), as misleading as it is, they want to put him in this really intense one-on-one program for severely disabled children. I'm against that because I don't think that is what he needs, nor do I think removing his social and independent components would be beneficial. Plus, with the full day schedule (full school day, not full work day), we would have to pull him out completely from his normal school...and I would have to quit my job to be there in the mornings and afternoons.

If this is what he needed, I would be on board in a heartbeat. But as his mother, I know it is not. Last time I checked, the only one who has a PhD in Little Bug was me.

I've been going round and round with them because they only see this one number on his paperwork, not HIM. If they saw him, I know they would see he is not a child who needs these wonderful, but inappropriate resources. To help this process, Appa and I decided to set Little Bug up for complete success. We scheduled an early bedtime and canceled all his therapy today.

Because, did I mention, they scheduled the eval for smack dab in the middle of my schedule-oriented, sleep-loving child's nap time?

Of course, the best laid plans always go to hell. Little Bug was up from 11:30 pm to 3:30 am this morning. He spent most of it showing off his first real tune full song mastery ("Skip to My Lou"), but the fall out is he is going to this important eval with less than half the sleep he needs to function well and without a nap.

I did what I could to minimize the fall out. He is wearing his favorite train shirt and I have an entire bag of M&Ms to bribe him out of sleep and into some semblance of a decent mood. But the reality is that he doesn't do well on no sleep and this evaluation will not be his best foot forward.

Which is fine. I spoke to some of his trusted therapists today and they gave me some ammo to use if things start going in a direction we all know they shouldn't go. I'm prepared to get a little feisty if they take his sleepiness for apathy or inability.

They willingly tell you that their interest in therapy is focused on making sure the child can function in public school....not in life or society or in his best self. That's fine, too.

But my interest in therapy, my focus, is broader than that. This is my kid's life, the future of his therapy. Perhaps I won't have to advocate at all for Little Bug today. That would be awesome.

But I am preparing to, just in case. And they should prepare to because a mama bear hopped up on 2.5 bottles of DDP is nothing to shake a stick at.

Misery Loves Company

Last night was horrible.

Little Bug woke up at 10:30 pm and proceeded to be awake until 4:30 am. Most of the time he was babbling or singing or kissing my shoulder and begging to be "up on mama," things that would melt my heart during any other time of day.

I struggle with these nights. Beyond sleep deprivation, my patience is very low and I often have mama moments I'm not proud of. I raise my voice sternly, I don't always count to 10, etc. I'm not the mama I want to be on these nights.

Last night was worse because Little Bug has suddenly developed this belligerent toddler attitude...he willfully disobeys, sticks his tongue out in response to direction, and LAUGHS at me when he is scolded.

My mom once told me a story about a time when she spanked me, and I turned and looked her in the eye and laughed. She had to lock herself in her room until she could calm down because her other option was to become a mama she didn't want to be.

Last night, the scene, substituting the spanking for stern words, repeated itself. Little Bug snapped my last thread by hitting me in the face and then laughing about it. I put him in his bedroom and baby gated him in to let him cry himself into exhaustion. We did this horrible cycle for a while.

The next few hours were not pleasant, most likely for anyone in our neighborhood.

This morning I was 20 minutes late getting out of the house, only to hit freak traffic and construction that added a solid 40 minutes to my 7 minute drive (I take locals, for Pete's sake!) . Little Bug was late for breakfast. I won't even begin to go into how late I was for work.

The whole time I was trying to keep a positive attitude on the morning. I made sure to smile and sing to Little Bug, forgiving him even when I wasn't particularly feeling like it. I breezed into work with an air of "let's do this awesome day," even though I was secretly trying to invent ways to call in sick. I even took a moment to marvel at some of my favorite fall wild flowers.

But yeah, today was blowing.

Almost immediately I connected with two of my Internet-turned-real-life friends who have it much harder than I do in the sleep department. I felt bad complaining about my one-off night, but my wise friend noted that "misery loves company."

And it's true. Because after commiserating a bit with them and having some morning chatter with other mama friends, I was feeling much more myself and willing to face the day with a positive attitude.

And two DDPs and a Red Bull, but the friends have helped a lot, too.

Off Duty Mama

I've been away on business for the last few days. When I haven't been talking about Appa and Little Bug, I've been thinking about them, and when I haven't been thinking about them, I'll suddenly find ways to start thinking about them again.

In short, I've missed my boys.

However

I just got done with fancy dinner where I drank wine and ate silly looking appetizers and didn't see a single beverage with a straw. I immediately went back to my room and took an hour long shower without anyone pounding on the door while screaming "baffffffff!" I hummed and sat on the floor of the tub and let the water spray over my body.

For an hour. Without feeling guilt.

My hotel room, even after a couple days, is still clean and tidy. I've barely turned on the TV, opting instead to read in my king sized bed.

And the sleep

OH, the sleep!

Granted, I have been working like 15 hour days, but the few precious hours in the evening more than make up for the punishing daylight hours. I've thoroughly enjoyed taking care of just me for a couple days.

Yet, as much as I love having six super soft pillows all to myself, I've purposely left a little toy train in my purse the entire time, as a little reminder of who I really am.

A mama...who just happens to be off duty for one more night.

Unicorn Fluff

So this sleep book...the one about unicorns and kittens and rainbows and slumbering babes....it's still annoyingly upbeat and positive while our nights are not so much.

But it's actually really illuminating.

In the grand scheme of sleep issues, ours are minimal. To be frank, the reason I even started modifying the routine is because I want to be able to deal with the sleep-issues surrounding the upcoming (HA!) arrival of our second son without dealing with Little Bug, but I wanted to give myself months to deal with this transition to avoid having him just cry it out and keep me up more than he is. My selfish goal is to be able to have him go to sleep by himself and stay there all night long. I want that for him, of course, but even more, I don't want to be dealing with two crying babies on my own. I'd like to be able to deal with them at night in an orderly and smooth way.

Rainbows, unicorns, dancing fairies.

And as much as I like the warmth of my baby in my bed, my husband's chest is pretty warm the 3 nights a week I get to share a bed with him....and yeah.......I'd like that back, too.

Ahem.

So this sleep book. It claims that there is a certain amount of sleep most children inherently need each night. It states that if your child is getting wiggy around bedtime, instead of saying "Oh, poor Little Bug is starting to get tired" and going on with your evening, you should just put your kid to bed.

Kid is tired = parent should put kid to bed. No matter when the botanical garden closes.

Rocket . Science.

Sadly, this no brainer statement really hit home for me. Little Bug's 8 pm bedtime was arbitrarily chosen because it worked for my schedule and he seemed to do fine with it.....minus the 30 minutes beforehand when he would start sucking him thumb and whining. I just thought that was what kids did in the evening; it never connected with me that I might be keeping him up past the time his body inherently wanted to be up.

Another instance of "I'm a first time mama and have no idea what I am doing" with a healthy dose of "I'm being unintentionally selfish and inflexible."

Sigh. I hate you, book.

So this week I've been watching Little Bug in the evenings to monitor his mood and when he starts to go down. A few nights ago, when he started to get fussy and whiny, I just started his bedtime routine early and put him to bed.

He was deeply asleep 30 minutes before his "bedtime."

And mama is a believer.

It's going to be an adjustment for us all. As a working mama, my evenings are so precious with my son, and I am going to be giving some of that up. We've still not even attempted anything serious with the going to sleep alone or staying in bed during the night or the waking up during my morning showers and pounding on the door while sobbing "baf, Baf, BAFFFFFFFF" pieces of our life, but those will come. I also know that every kid is different and that what is working for my kid would never work for another kid, including Little Bro.

Kids are lame and awesome like that.

So although this book is just a big pile of unicorn fluff, it is giving me a new way to view my child and how much of his routine I can attempt to control, which has been very illuminating.

And possibly the stuff of unicorns, kitten, and rainbows....we shall see.

Family. Work. Sleep.

I've spent the last two weeks "hibernating."

In the last 7 days, I got promoted at work. Although this is a very cool thing, it also comes with a client and projects that need significant attention...like yesterday. I also flew across the country for a weekend. I hosted my family for a couple days and then turned around and started hosting my little sister. I attempted (and basically failed) to spend some quality time with my husband, as it has been nearly a month since we had a quality night to ourselves. I raised my kid and he's doing great.

So, by hibernating, I mean that I've drained my life down to the bare essential priorities lately.

Family. Work. Sleep.

I've barely uploaded (or taken) pictures of Little Bug this month. Blogging has been reduced to the barest minimum to preserve my family memories. Facebook is hit or miss. E-mail? What's that?

It's felt odd, but not nearly as odd as I expected it to feel. I don't FEEL disconnected or left out, I simply miss those people who I connect with through blogs and Facebook.

The people, not the medium.

The online community is here to stay in my life. I have made wonderful friendships and will continue to cultivate new ones that will enrich my life and my family's life. Am I going to throw that away? Not a chance. But, I've sort of enjoyed shutting the computer at night and curling up (in bed!) with a book. I've enjoyed turning away from my computer at work to proof a large project with only my iPod, and not Facebook notifications, as my companion. Yahoo? It's about to be a thing of the past.

I'm going to continue to find this balance that seems like it could really start working for me right now with some tweaking. Balancing what (or to be blunt, who and why) my online priorities with my basic life priorities.

Family. Work. Sleep.

Late for Work, Again

I was 5 minutes late for work today....again. More often than not, I'm a little late for work, although because I get in before most people and can stay late to make up the time, it's not a huge deal.

The reason I am usually late, however, IS a big deal.

I watch my kid while he sleeps.

After I get up and get about half way through my morning routine (and this is on a good day when my routine is working), I end up gravitating back toward my bed and to the warm little baby cuddled in the middle (yes, we are still closet co-sleepers). I lay down on the very edge of the bed and put my face right next to his. I stroke his hair or his pudgy cheek or the little sliver of belly protruding from his jammies. I don't think of much during those 5-10 minutes I am "wasting"...

...other than that spending time staring at the most amazing miracle in my life for 10 minutes I should be using to get ready for work is absolutely not a waste of my time.

Mama-Ego Stroking

As I was pulling into Little Bug's special therapy today, I got a little giddy. I was about to spend a whole hour with him....this special treat for me in the middle of a busy work day. He likes the therapy well enough because they're so skilled at making it seem like fun, but the new location has him a bit on edge, so he holds my finger tightly and come back to my lap numerous times during the session. He's not like that usually, so it's become a nice little treat for me to have an hour of "mama-ego stroking" each week.

It might be wrong of me to enjoy this so much, but I can't help it.

Card Carrying Member

When I drop Little Bug off each morning at his fancy-dancy "early learning center" (yes, it's snooty and we call it school), I enjoy seeing my fellow members of the unspoken club we all belong to:

The Professional Parent.

20 minutes earlier we had curlers in our hair and a toothbrush hanging out of our mouths while we were begging our half-naked children to show us where they hid their other socks, some obnoxious cartoon blaring in the background.

20 minutes later we will be the consummate professional, taking meetings, making deals, manipulating spreadsheets, or saving lives. Or something like that.

But at this moment, the moment we come together to drop our kids off at school, I find a lot of amusement (and fellowship). The business man who is going to broker million dollar deals has his tie slung over one shoulder and his 2-year-old son slug over the other, his hands filled with diapers, a sippy cup, and a little model train. The woman in awesome designer heels who will be restructuring a human resource department today is bent down trying to dig a booger out of her 3-year-old daughter's nose. The nurse who is singing "Wheels on the Bus" as he slowly backs toward the door. The accountant who is giving a detailed account of his child's bowel movements for the last 24 hours. The editor who stands patiently in the lobby as her little bug delights in a very loud voice over and over that the ceiling fan is "ON!"

I often feel like I am living dual lives. My life as a wife and mother, and my life as a professional. I sometimes shake my head as I am doing a "poop check" and think, how did I go from doing this to editing the writing of a triple PhD? I sometimes sit at work and can't believe I am editing some dry bit of textbook when somewhere my adorable son is learning how to jump.

It's the moments in the mornings, when I see all the other parents who are doing their best to navigate between their dual lives where I feel more normal. Those 5 minutes of half parent/half professional make the transition to my desk each morning a little easier.

That and I rarely find poop during the "poop checks."

Motherhood is an Art

I rarely feel like I have a very good handle on the creative side of motherhood. I stress over the fact that my kid isn't being creatively stimulated enough at home. I have a feeling most mothers do. For me, I at least know that he is doing clever projects at school each day. It's almost like I get a free pass in the evenings to be the lame part of his day.

Where is the fun in that?

It took me a long time, but I am finally realizing that kids need to get messy sometimes in order to explore their creative side. I can either let him color with markers and learn how to color on the paper at age 2.5, or I can withhold markers until he is 16 and I can take away his driving privileges for coloring on his shirt or trying to eat the marker.

So, I have been trying really hard to add some mess into our lives lately.

Last night was...ominous music...paint.

My planning ahead consisted of buying nontoxic and washable paint and some canvas when it was on sale and saving it for a nonrainy day when I was feeling brave. That was the extent of the planning.

When I resolved to take a stab at the painting last night, I just stripped my kid down to his diaper; took him outside; gave him a paintbrush, canvas, and bucket of paints; and let him pick a color out (one by one to preserve some semblance of color) and have at it.

An hour later we had two very fun painted canvases, and Little Bug was covered head to toe in paint he had lovingly applied to his body with his brush. I busted out the hose and washed my kid and his slide (which was also painted) down...the best way to end a very fun and muggy tonight.

It wasn't until much later that I noticed my face was streaked with teal blue from the huge, unprompted kiss Little Bug gave me in the midst of his work.

Motherhood is an art. A messy, colorful, sticky, beautiful art.

A Working Mama's Whine

What came first? The (working) mom or the messy house?

I'm really trying to find balance in my homemaking role, and it's hard. I work full time, and my son works his little diaper-clad butt off each day in school (he uses up SO much energy just doing daily things, let alone his multiple therapy sessions). When we get home, it's time for dinner and then a few hours of together time. For me, this time is best spent with my child because I don't see him during the day.

But I'm tired. He's tired. We both just want to hang.

Sure, we go to the park or take a bike ride. We play outside. We work on colors or shapes. At least once a week we head over to the botanical gardens or a much cooler park. But the honest truth is that my son really just wants my complete attention while he winds down. This can be while watching his music show or while he is playing with kitchen utensils or walking backwards a la Michael Jackson. But the key is that he wants my attention.

I know my 2.5 year old should be more independent than he is. He's not crippled by needing me, but he certainly is attention-spoiled and would like to keep it that way. I like spending time with him, I like being wanted and needed.

But I don't like the fact that I can't easily even think about fold a load of laundry or do the dishes or mop the floor until after 8:30 pm.

Because I'll be honest, after working all day and being a bit on the lazy side, at that point I am not feeling it.

Being a working mama is hard. Not to say being a stay at home mom isn't just as hard, but being a mother in general seems to be a challenging position. However, from my working mom position, I try to spend all the limited time I have with my boy doing things that will be good for him and good for us. I'm trying very hard to make our time together more and more substantial now that he is getting older and more aware. Appa travels during the week, so it's not like I can tag team with anyone. It's all up to moi.

Once he goes to bed, I want MY time. I need my time to stay sane. To surf the web and connect with friends, to write and read, to do adoption paperwork, to veg. The last thing I want to do with my time is clean late at night, so I usually don't.

But shocker, no one else does it for me.

Having a messy house does weird things to my head. In the summer we can get out in the evening so I can pretend there isn't a large family of dust bunnies living in our corners and something sticky underneath my table. We all have clean underwear somewhere....right?

I'm actually hiring someone to do some light cleaning for us a couple times a month, but I need to get better about figuring out a way to convince Little Bug to play nicely long enough for me to do some housekeeping things during a time when I am actually motivated to do so.

I don't want to be supermom (well, I actually would love that), but I do want to get better about balancing all the aspects of motherhood and homemaker that I have taken on in our home. My poor husband works his butt off, and I feel horrible when he comes home after a long week to loads of dirty laundry and dishes...even though his son and wife are happy. I'd like to feel a bit more balanced.

How? No idea. That's why this was a whine......

Paci

This morning Little Bug was digging through a drawer he normally does not get to play in. Because it was either play in the drawer and be quiet or demand to be held while Mama is trying to apply makeup (and be only 10 minutes late for work, as opposed to the usual 15-20 we've been rocking lately), I let him enjoy the little slice of forbidden.

Then he found it.

No, nothing that will push him into years of therapy....he found a pacifier.

At first I was amused. I don't know why the pacifier was in that drawer (we bought them, he rejected them, he sucks his thumb, end of story), but there it was. He recognized it from some of his little friends at school. I am ashamed to admit that my initial though as he laughed and popped it in his mouth was "score, that will stop the whining and maybe I can apply something more than just mascara!"

10 minutes later, I could just see the wheels in his head turning. He liked it. He REALLY liked it. Perhaps it was just novel, or perhaps he liked having the use of both his hands while sucking, but when I casually tried to remove it before we headed out the door, he ran.

He RAN.

The only way I could get that thing out of his mouth was to give him the forbidden garage door opener. Seriously, this kid has had a morning of forbidden pleasures. We'll probably even have shellfish for dinner (no, we won't actually).

At an age when most parents are killing themselves trying to break their kids of the pacifier habit, I have to go and encourage it. I so deserve the years of dental bills I can already see in our future.

Putting on the Game Face

The last few days have been stressful for me. I'm slammed at work. Appa was out of town. I'm overly anxious for an expected update on Little Bro. Things are completely stalled with Little Bro's adoption paperwork and the implications of the stall (and the lack of support from those whose help we sought) are heartbreaking. Yesterday I sat at my desk and cried.

I'm not a crying at work sort of gal.

The one thing that keeps running through my head is to put on my game face. I don't really see any other choice.

I have to put on my game face at work. I can't ruin my reputation of being even-headed and calm and professional over personal stress. And yes, the amount of work that fell in my lap this week is unholy. But I can either turn it into an opportunity to show that I can handle the pressure or I can turn into the girl that cries at her desk when things get tough.

Game face.

I have to put on my game face for Little Bro. Amid my heartbreak and frustration and fear over the stall in his paperwork, and more recently, my hurt, confusion, and sadness over the growing fissure of a relationship I had counted on to advocate and support our family through this process, I have to stay calm and get my questions answered in respectful, yet satisfactory way. I owe it to my son to do whatever it takes to make sure he is not waiting longer than absolutely necessary. Tears and anger are not going to get me anywhere.

Game face.

Most of all, I have to put my game face on for Little Bug. He doesn't care about my work, nor does he care about his brother's paperwork. All he cares about is that his mama is there to play with him after being away all day. That she is there to laugh at his new dance moves, sing his favorite songs to him, and play our new favorite game, "silly eyes." Over the last few days, I've caught myself frowning as I mull over all the stressors I'm dealing with. I catch his eye and see him falter, confused as to why I'm unhappy with him. He's way too young to know anything of stress or to understand why I might be stressed. All he knows is what he senses and sees from me.

Game face.

Let A Sleeping Child Lie

There is an old adage, "let sleeping dogs lie." Or maybe that's not the way it goes, but whatever.

Last night Appa and I got another reality check of "You're Still Novice Parents and Are Idiots Sometimes."

Yesterday we switched Little Bug over to his "big boy" bed, which is really just his crib converted to a toddler bed with a railing. To be honest, he probably isn't exactly 100% ready (as evidenced by his two swan dives right over the side rail less than 3 minutes into his exploration), but he will need to be completely comfortable in his real big boy bed in his big boy room in a year, so we decided to take things one step at a time and start now with the transition. Plus, Little Bug thrives on challenge, so without being pushed, he would probably happily stay in his crib for the next few years.

He loves the new bed. Loves it. He finds being able to declare "out" and then get out himself to be one of the funniest things. Ever. That's a good thing.

But just to really ease into this transition, I rocked him to sleep last night and then placed him in his bed. A few hours later, I heard a soft thump and went to check on him. Sure enough, he was on the ground, facing the opposite way, slumbering peacefully.

STEP AWAY FROM THE SLEEPING CHILD. STEP AWAY FROM THE SLEEPING CHILD. DO NOT TOUCH THE SLEEPING CHILD.

Oh, but I did.

Appa and I thought we should put our peacefully sleeping child back in his bed. Why, because we are idiots. Of course he woke up and spent the next 4 hours (did I mention this all went down around midnight to start with) alternating between crying and demanding to be rocked in the chair and having a grand old time in his new bed while laughing his head off. The cry-it-out method was a big fat joke, although I secretly thought the little pitter patter of his determined feet running toward the door each time I shut it was adorable.

It's less adorable now that I am sitting at my desk at work, double fisting DDP and wondering how I am going to make it through today. Even worse, Little Bug slept through his diaper and clothing change this morning...something I have never in my life seen him do. I don't think today is going to rock for him, either.

So the moral of this story: let a sleeping child lie.

Seeing Pink

Man.

It's a good thing I love my kid and I love my job (less than my kid, obviously) because right now the two do not seem to want to play nice with each other.

In the new dynamic that is my family life, Little Bug ended up getting sick (AGAIN) just as Appa was getting over his latest illness. Of course. The silver lining is that it's not puking sick...it's more of the OMG-My-Kid-Has-Freaking-Pink-Eye kind of sick. That's the kind of sick that keeps a kid out of daycare, people.

And a kid out of daycare = a mama out of work. Sigh. (Never mind this mama is still dealing with her own super virus crap.)

Ultimately, I am lucky. Appa was in town today and able to split the shifts with me, so I can put a half day in the office. I'm also lucky to have a job that I can usually take home, so I can work during his nap this afternoon. It could be so much worse for us.

There's no real use complaining about all the illness (although it doesn't stop me). My family is not eating our meals off the EL platforms or licking the toys at the children's museum (okay, Little Big might be doing a bit of that when we aren't looking), so I feel like all these illnesses are just the luck of the draw for us. Fine.

When we signed up (literally) to be parents, we knew sacrifices of all types would need to be made. You think of the big ones; the financial and emotional and physical sacrifices. There are a lifetime filled with smaller, more day-to-day sacrifices, too. My pride at having to ask my boss for MORE time off and a dwindling PTO bank are two that I am willing to give for the chance to spend 5:00 am-6:00 am this morning cuddling in bed with the cutest little boy in the world who was cooing "my mama" while petting my face.

What a Baby

The reason they tell parents not be belabor goodbyes is not because the kids can't handle it; it's because the parents can't.

I don't take Little Bug to school (daycare) each morning, Appa does it. I just get to be the hero every afternoon when I come to get him (actually, he is more excited to play with me there, not to leave really). However, lately I am going over on my lunch break to do more self feeding work with him (my poor baby; I could just see the injustice in his eyes as all the other kids happily ate with their fingers).

Anyway, after lunch is was time for a nap. I KNEW I should just up and leave. To give a lot of hugs and kisses and coo my goodbyes into his hair would "make it harder for him." Yet, I had to drag myself out of that classroom and away from him. As I shut the door, I heard him whine my name and thought "oh, this must be so hard for him."

Yet, when I checked the monitor about 45 seconds later, he was happily showing his friends his beloved raggie. Only one of us had a hard time with my leaving....and it wasn't the 2-year-old.

Mamas are such babies.

Routine Magic

As a working mama, I have found that I have to go out of my way to plan things for my family. Not so much on the weekend, although I am getting much better about filling out schedule, but rather with providing Little Bug, Appa, and I with those fun little memories, things that might be too small to block a weekend off for, but are definitely not your normal night at home.

My days are spent at work and my evenings between the hours of 4:00-8:oo pm are spent with Little Bug feeding him, playing with him, working on his therapy, bathing him, and putting him down to sleep. Honestly, although 4 hours seems like a lot of time, it goes by really quickly. One or two errands will throw our whole routine off, and my family thrives on routine.

However, routine is also rarely magical or memorable.

So I am trying hard to find little things I can do in the evening that are magical and memorable and still within that 4 hours time block. Sometimes I take Little Bug out to eat by myself (Appa usually works late). Sometimes we finger paint in the back yard or have a picnic or play in a fountain or take swimming lessons.

With the weather in the Midwest, my plans have had to become even more creative (which is a stretch for me because I am really not creative at all). So, when I saw our local botanical garden had a "choo choo" exhibit, I made an effort to get tickets (for three separate dates). We went for the first time last night.

And it was magical.

It only took an couple hours in that sweet spot between dinner and bed time, but it was definitely a memory for me, and a real treat for Little Bug. It was something out of the ordinary and exciting and simple. I'm hoping to make this a tradition in my family in the coming years.

Spending time with my son is always special, but sometimes you need to break the routine for something even more special.

You know you're a mama when....

Your workspace art is proudly "kid deco."

I've waited a long time to find ugly blobs of paint on paper beautiful and marks of creative genius.