Lasts and Firsts

This morning, I woke up and heard the baby. I picked him up and started to nurse him for the very last time. It felt strange to know that we are done with this phase, and even stranger that barring a whole string of surprises, I will never nurse another baby.

And yet here we are.

Later, I got on an airplane for a business trip -- the first business trip I've been on for years without my husband and babies in tow. It is strangely quiet and surreal without them. I don't know if I can get used to it, although a few hours of blissful, solo sleep will help.

The Pre-Halloween Halloween

The week before Halloween, we had gotten a notice from school that they would be having a Halloween/Fall Festival on October 31. Then the kiddo -- who is so not a baby anymore -- was out of school for a few days with a little cold and a low fever.  She went home Tuesday afternoon when it started -- and because we've now reached that parenting point that having to drop everything to go get her in the middle of the day is more disruptive than just keeping her home in the first place -- she didn't go back to school until Friday morning, October 30.

Costume 1

Apparently, while she was out, the school posted flyers everywhere that they were going to have a Halloween parade on Friday morning, in addition to the festival the next afternoon.  So, without advance notice that there was going to be a parade that day, I brought a kid to school without a costume. I should have assumed that there'd be something, like every other school everywhere, except the ones that think Halloween is evil -- but I wrongly believed that the reason they gave us notice about the Saturday event was to keep us from sending kids in costume on Friday. Oops.

Costume 2

When we got to the threes room, almost all of the other girls in the threes class were dressed as princesses.  (One was Spidergirl, and I give her mad props for going against the relentless tide.)  Only my kid and one other -- her friend Melanie -- did not have a costume at all. The other princesses all gave me a hard time because my kid did not have a princess dress -- it seems that even preschoolers hold their friends' moms to very high standards.  

Costume 3

The two costume-less girls were so sad when I left -- the other kids were sitting in the circle for story time, and the two of them were sitting outside the circle together, with the most dejected looks on their faces.  I got in the car and started driving to work, but then I felt really guilty. So, I turned around, drove to the house, grabbed two princess dresses from the dress-up bin, and brought them to the school. Sleeping Beauty and Rapunzel were very happy princesses, the teachers think that I am the best ever -- and I was very late to work.

Post-Vacation Realization

This weekend, I finally figured out the one thing I really didn't understand before having kids. 

Before, at the end of a long day of work, I could relax in the evening (in my quiet, clean house). And if that wasn't enough, there was always the weekend to recharge. And if THAT wasn't enough, there was always a three-day-weekend or vacation to look forward to. 

Now, my weekends are lots of toddler-wrangling surrounded by piles of laundry and broken up by errand-running. And today, at the end of a long weekend mini-vacation just a short drive away, I am just as tired, if not more so, than at the beginning. 

So that leads to my new-found understanding. It's not the sleep deprivation that you have when your kid is a newborn that is the killer. (That ends, thank goodness.) It's that, with kids, there is no real "down time" to relax and recharge. Maybe ever. 

This is not really a complaint: I wouldn't trade my kid for the cleanest, quietest house or all the fancy spa vacations in the world. But sometimes, I wish I could have it both ways. 

The Truth About Having A Baby

I read so many of blogs and Facebook posts about pregnancies, birth stories, and the early days with babies. Everyone seems to have had such lovely experiences. I think that's why I never wrote anything of substance about mine: other than the outcome -- my delightful daughter -- my experiences were not pleasant (understatement of the century). I had a challenging pregnancy; I had a long, painful, and traumatic childbirth experience, the high point of which was the surgical intervention; my first few weeks with my daughter were painful because of complications from surgery and panicked because of breastfeeding difficulties. None of it was pretty, and almost a year after the baby's birth, I am still traumatized.

Don't read any further if you're squeamish.

Dear Leo's Mom

I saw you crying when you dropped Leo off at daycare for the first time today. I wanted to hug you, to tell you that it's okay, that it gets better. But the truth is that I don't know if it does. We just learn to hide it better so that we can get done what needs to get done, and so that our babies don't know that we're really a wreck inside.

It's not like the daycare isn't a good place. It is. They've been taking excellent care of my daughter for the past two months. She is happy and well-cared for, and really, what more could I ask? Still, if I didn't have to work, I'd be staying at home with her, soaking up all the cuddles and delighting in watching her figure out this crazy, extraordinary world. But that's not currently in the budget.

You are lucky, in some respects: Leo is over 4 months old and today is the first day that you dropped him off. I had to go back to work when my baby was just 12 weeks old, still a newborn. And, like you, I cried.

I cried after every babysitter interview. When we finally found someone, and I left her the first time, just for two hours as a transition, I cried the entire time. Then, when I went back to work full-time, I cried in the car for a week. Some days, I cried in my office, and in the evening after I put her to sleep. And then, three weeks later, when she started at the daycare? I went through the whole process all over again.

I cried because I felt like such a bad mommy. But now I know, I am not a bad mommy: I am doing what I need to do to take care of my family to the best of my ability. Bad mommies are the ones that don't make sacrifices to take care of their families; mommies that always put their own wants and desires first.

You are not a bad mommy.

It gets easier. I promise.