…you invest your life.
I’ve been solo parenting since Thursday afternoon, and I’m just about dead. I seriously don’t understand how some people do this every. single. day.
Anyway, I’ll be back soon, but right now I need to go pass out in my bed. For forever.
When I was growing up my mom had this compilation tape in her car with some sort of vague title like “Love Songs.” In addition to featuring “Endless Love“, it also had “Love Child” on it. Guys, I loved “Love Child”. LOVED IT. And sang it constantly. I now realize that it was probably pretty odd (or worrisome?) for my elementary school teachers when they heard a 7-year-old humming a song about an illegitimate child.
Anyway, it’s been in my head lately, so I thought I’d post a video of it. While I do love Diana’s less-than-subtle sweatshirt, the background vocals are really my favorite (when else can you get away with singing “tenement slum”?) . Let me know if any of you want to karaoke this one up. I’m totally down*.
*I will also gladly sing “Endless Love.” I am comfortable singing either Lionel’s or Diana’s part, if that makes any difference.
(Ok, not school days. But day care days sounds weird.)
So far, JR has spent 2 1/2 days in day care. Monday was kind of a test run; he only stayed a couple hours due to delays from the snow, but he’s spent all day Tuesday and Wednesday there.
Here’s a picture of us outside of the center Tuesday morning.
(Please excuse my dumb face. I’m just going to say that this was in the middle of me taking a deep breath. There were lots of those that morning because OMG MY BAY-BEE.)
It’s going well so far. I’ll spare you the mind-numbing details. Here’s a summary:
Day 1: Just a half day; I cried, he didn’t; walked in the find him sitting in a little chair eating lunch with his classmate like he was a little person or something.
Day 2: Full day; I cried, as did he; picked him up at around 4; found him messy with finger paint, sweaty, tired, and so very happy.
Day 3: Another full day; I didn’t cry, neither did he; picked him up at around 4; found him toddling happily around the room (despite the fact that he only slept for 30 minutes (!).
So, we’re pleased. The lead teacher is lovely, and the assistant teachers are very, very sweet. He’s tuckered out by the end of the day and I can already tell that he’s much more interested in sitting and listening as we read to him. He’s also gotten much more cuddly when we’re with him. I can support anything that leads to that.
I didn’t know about Maddie or her parents before today. I happened upon a link (via someone I follow on Twitter) while nursing my own little one. And even though I didn’t know her, I can say that I did feel the loss of her.
When a family loses a child, it’s as if the entire world shudders, crumbles a bit. And you look at your own and can’t help to think “What if…” And you gasp for breath a little, clutching him tighter, turning his face up to you, touching his cheek to yours, taking in all of him.
It’s not as if the feeling is “Oh thank God it wasn’t us.” It’s more, “If it could be them, why *couldn’t* it be us?” Your heart stops for a minute. And when it starts beating again, the adrenaline of gratitude is mixed with just so much sadness.
When I get it in my head that I need a haircut, I become somewhat obsessed with it and can think of little else. Unfortunately, my schedule leaves little time for such things.
I have recently started following celebrities on Twitter. We’re talking people like Demi Moore and John Mayer. Part of me is embarassed. Another part of me is happier for it.
Sometimes I can’t believe I have the job I do. Recent tasks have included touring the new movie theater and going to a beer tasting. It’s absurd to me, but also wonderful.
While I love my child more than life, I am currently TERRIFIED of accidentally getting pregnant again. So much that the alarm on my iPhone to remind me to take my birth control pill is entitled “No babies.”
Having to suction snot out of my child’s nose has made me ridiculously thankful for being able to blow my own.
Ross, the in-laws, and I will be traveling to Iowa in June for a wedding. The baby is coming with us. On a plane. I’m already nervous about it.
This Saturday we’re all supposed to turn our clocks one hour forward. Whenever a time change happens, I have the same dream that I’m in seventh grade and can’t for the life of me catch the bus on time.