Moving right along… September 28, 2007

Whew… I am glad that funk is over. I am done feeling sorry for myself (at least for the moment). So it is time for more lively conversation…

So, I got Birthday shoes. I love my new Birthday shoes. Shoe shopping makes everything seem better. Ooh and I also got 2 new outfits – they fit on the first try and they are very, very girlie.

Also, Mogo has a “Reading Buddy” at Kindergarten. He is an adorable little blonde 1^st grader named Nicholas and he comes into Mogo’s class once a week to read one-on-one with her. I like the idea of every kid having their very own reading buddy – it just sounds like a great idea to me. And this Nicholas kid? He is very sweet to my Mogo. She tells me that he takes good care of her at their after school program as well. Mogo says “he keeps her safe.” I am not really sure what dangers lurk at the 6 to 6 program after school (Big fire breathing dragoons perhaps?) but Sir Nicholas is her version of a Knight in Shiny Armor.

So, on the way home from school yesterday, I was informed (unprovoked and out of the blue mind you) that she is definitely NOT in love with Nicholas (at the top of her lungs). She went on to explain that since she is not a grown up, she cannot be in love with anyone yet (Thank the Gods). She will marry him someday but she is not in love. She repeated that she was not in love with Nicholas 3-4 more times on the way home. She doth protest too much.

So it begins.

Not your typical Birthday Blog Post… September 24, 2007

Disclaimer: This could be disturbing to those who have lost children to miscarriage, have weak stomachs, or who otherwise don’t want to hear about dead babies. This is my way of processing my angst without subjecting people to it in person – I am so thoughtful. I would like to say I care if it bothers you but I really don’t so this is your warning. If you can’t handle this subject matter, you should probably pack your things and go. I’ll wait…

9/20/07 – Double Edged Sword September 24, 2007

September is a double edged sword.

The month of my birth,
the month of hers,
and the month he was born still,
and the month that part of me died.

September to me means loss and gain. It is bittersweet.

So it is fitting that the weather has turned a blustery cold. Fall was always my favorite time of year. The smell of autumn in the air would always start to fill my nostrils around August. As a child it meant my Birthday, school starting, the smell of people’s fire places burning in the air and of Halloween and candy corn – sweet things. Later it became about waiting for her. It became about the memories of bringing her home, of fumbling with diapers and curling up on the couch to nurse her under a blanket. It meant smelling her baby sweetness mixed with that familiar autumn smell.

I have always loved the blustery wind, the sprinkles in the morning as the marine layer mist hit my face. Man, I used to love this weather – it invigorated me gave me a feeling of life and energy. Now it gives me sweet pain; pain that is the only connection to him that I have left of him; the only thing that makes him seem real to me now. Those smells of fall now bring me body memories of the time I spent waiting for his arrival, and the time spent mourning his loss. Now, as the wind hits my face all I really feel is the cold sting of tears hanging out behind my eyelids. It burns. I am angry that his death ever had to overshadow the celebration of Mogo’s birth. I am angry that no matter how happy I try to be as we celebrate her life, all I can think about is that he died – there will be no parties to celebrate his turning another year older. He will always be that 2 lb little boy – never aging. He will never blow out his candles, he will never talk back with a genetic smart ass wit; he will never get to scream with delight at the presents that should be waiting for him. He will always be my something missing.

Mogo on the other hand will get to blow out her candles and scream with delight at the presents she will undoubtedly get and she will play with her cousins who will be screaming right along with her. She will run around on strong 5 year old legs. She will wear her pretty pink Birthday dress and she will know she is loved. She will undoubtedly feel that blustery wind on her cheeks and she will feel invigorated and full of life. I sometimes wonder if he hangs around and lets her do that living for him. I wonder if he feels it too.

Moving sucks… September 10, 2007

We move next weekend to our (hopefully) last apartment ever. You know the one with the Washer & Dryer? I am so excited about having a full sized washer & dryer in my residence and at my disposal 24/7. It makes me smile just thinking about it. My Mama is a bit concerned that she may never see me again since I won’t have to cart my laundry over to her place anymore.

So, I am not sure if I mentioned this to you all but, I had this idea in my head that this move (unlike all the other times) was not going to be such a cluster. I had every intention of being thoroughly organized, I was prepared to execute this move with surgical like precision (I stopped short of using Microsoft Project to plan it all). Yeah well, I am not even close to being ready (those who know me are not at all surprised, I am sure). There is just way too much to do and I feel like I am the only one who is really doing anything. That may or may not be a fair assessment of the situation though. BTW… How does one little familial unit accumulate so much shit in such a teeny tiny space over 2 years? Is it possible to own that much shit? Most of it does not even have any use. It is sentimental crap that would be better off at Goodwill or the local landfill and the clothes, I forgot about the clothes and also shoes… too many to count that I just do not wear – ever. I just can’t seem to pitch them though as if someday I will decide that my arms are not so bad to look at that I might were that one blouse with the capped sleeves that I just had to buy at Ross or the shoes that I swear someday will magically not leave nasty old blisters on my poor feet. I am  without a doubt the worst offender when it comes to keeping old shit. My Old Man comes in a close second though. He is very sentimental. His brand of shit is very different than mine. He pitches old clothes easily but he has comic books galore, power tools with no place to go, LPs that we never listen to, and CDs sans jewel cases, also jewel cases sans the CDs. It is a disaster in our house right now. I want to set fire to the place and start over. 

So, the moving cluster will begin on Friday and go until Sunday. I am hoping to be done with all the moving by Saturday night actually. Miss Mogo is turning 5 on Sunday and it is bad enough that we are not doing her b-day party until the following weekend but I want to be able to spend some time with our girl on the anniversary of her birth.

So while we are moving, Miss Mogo will be visiting her Gramma and having some Birthday time with her (since Gramma will be on a boat to the Mediterranean for her b-day party – Bitch that she is). Mogo will have a blast; I on the other hand will not be enjoying myself quite so much. Old Man & I will be slaving away with the boxes, the furniture and the piles O’ random crap. I don’t know if this is true for all married folks but Old Man & I do not always do so well on the whole communication thing while moving. We have very different ways of doing stuff. We both think our way is best. Also, I really like to give directions. It is a gift of mine actually. I am a great supervisor and it drives him absolutely bat-shit (not that I blame him). Come to think of it… it might actually be better idea for everyone involved if we get all the boxes done on Friday and he can figure out the furniture on his own Saturday while I meditate with my freaky women’s group instead. We might stay married if I do that. We will have to see how Friday goes though before I start my Ohhhhms.

So anyways, I will probably be mostly out of commission blog-wise until we get settled and I can get the computer up and running. I will see y’all when I get back. I am sure to have some new angst to discuss by then. Ohm.

Mom Angst… September 7, 2007

 

10 Things I have serious angst about with regard to Mogo & school/day care. Disclaimer: Yes, I know most of this is irrational no need to point it out.

1. Day care… nuff said
   
2. Actually, let me elaborate on the day care theme. Since birth Mogo has been with me, Grandma, Papa, or my Old Man while I was at work or some variation thereof. We are blessed that we have family that was willing and able to do that. I never had to put Mogo in day care for 9+ hours while I was working, she was always with someone who loved her as much as I do. Preschool was the only exception but that was only 3 days a week for 4 hours or so and they seemed to love her an awful lot. I am well aware that this is not the norm and that there are many working parents who have to deal with daycare from day one and let me tell you, I do not envy that. (Go easy internets, I know the SAHM vs. Daycare bandwagoneers have very strong opinions on this, I am not interested in debating that.)
3. Is it wrong that I want Mogo to wear jeans and a t-shirt to school rather than the pretty dresses (with matching ribbons and dress shoes) that she loves oh so much just so she won’t stick out like a sore thumb? I have this fear that she will be considered a “priss” and that the other rag-a-muffin kids that she goes to school with will set her apart (or worse). Are Kindergarteners as mean now as they were when I was a kid? My Mogo is very girly, she is not prissy but she does love her some frills.
4. Do the other kids really have to draw on my daughter? Washable or no, I cannot stand that some other child is using my daughter as her canvas or that Mogo is a willing participant. I guess I have to pick my battles on this one because I seem to recall I loved to do artwork on the back of my hands and pretend they were tattoos as well. As a Mom, not so much. Also, she gets marker on those previously mentioned pretty dresses which makes her cry.
5. Is it unreasonable to not want my 4 (almost 5) year old wearing lipstick? No lipstick until she is 16 damn it! Do I have any control here? Why oh why are these little girls in full face make up at 9 years old anyways? Sheesh.
6. Could we please try to have some healthful food for breakfast/snack/lunch at the day care? Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls for breakfast (when she already has had breakfast at home) are not exactly what I would consider the Breakfast of Champions. Do I really have to be a bad guy and tell Mogo she is not allowed while all the others are macking down their frosted goodness for breakfast? Same for the pizza on half days, same for the ice cream they are giving her for afternoon snack. Am I the only parent who thinks that this is too much junk food?
   Has anyone seen her Mother? Don’t they know they are dooming her to a childhood of fat girl jokes? (Ok, ok – we are talking about Mogo now, not me, I get it.)
7. Can we talk about the unseen dangers and influences lurking around every corner waiting to turn my sweet little kindergarten girl into a foul mouthed hooligan?
8. My Mogo has uttered the words “Damn it” more in the last week than she has in her life. (Notice how I never said she had not heard/uttered that word before) Something tells me that the little tykes are trying to out cuss each other on the school grounds for shock value. I thought I had a few more years before that happened.
9. WTF is “Chicka-Chicka Boom Boom?” Mogo has been talking about this all week and I cannot figure it out.
   
10. My baby is growing up without me and I wanna tie her up and stick her on a shelf in my closet. I feel like I am throwing her to the wolves.

Kindergarten Update September 6, 2007

Sorry it took me so long to post. The globe has been turning ever so quickly in my section of the world and I have had a hard time keeping up.

In case you were wondering, Kindergarten is wonderful! Mogo loves it. Here is the gist of her 1^st day…

We got there on time and found her class. Mogo had the option of sitting with her folks at the Kindergarten sized tables (Oi vey, my butt is way too big for Kindergarten chairs) or sitting on the rug and she chose the rug! She looked back occasionally to make sure we were still there but she was intently listening as her new teacher filled us parents in on the rules (she being a stickler for rules wanted to have them memorized so she can point it out when we brake them later) When it was time to go she did not flinch – she gave us big hugs and told us she would see us later. That was it. She went on to her after school program and played and we picked her up after work. She was all smiles and full of stories about her day.  

The PTA hosted a “Boo Hoo” breakfast for the parental units after dropping off the kiddos but we decided to skip that and head to the local Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf instead. There we partook in our own version of “Oh my God our Baby is growing up – when did she get so big yada yada yada” but still there were no tears (from either of us).

Kindergarten September 3, 2007

Starts tomorrow… EEEKKK! I am so excited for her.  I don’t think I will be able to sleep. It is 100 deg. in my apartment right now that will not help the sleeping, I am sure (Curses to you Summer – I am done with you.) So this Saturday & today, I sewed little girl clothes and I must say, I feel like a “real Mom” whatever that is.

Whatever – my inner asshole tells me that I will never measure up to what a Mom is supposed to be but today I really felt like I was doing a pretty good job.

More later…