I just pumped. For the first time in probably more than six months. The last time I remember doing it was last July, when I was still working on the painting crew, and was pumping in the casino bathroom. Since then, it hasn't really been necessary. I'd even considered thought about putting my pumps in storage, but just hadn't gotten around to it. I thought about throwing/giving away my bottles. Good thing I didn't.
Today, when I picked MrMan up from daycare, his teacher said I should send him with a bottle of milk tomorrow, to ease his transition to naptime. She's mentioned it before, but I told her he doesn't drink cow's milk. She said my milk. I told her he's not used to drinking from a bottle. He's into sippy cups, open cups, straws. Bottles? Not so much.
But, she's one of my new partners in raising my child. A scary prospect. Not a reflection on her, but me. A loss of time with my son, missing out on the little moments, losing a little control. And part of that loss of control is giving in when others make suggestions. Trying it her way. I feel like I've let her down now. Because the milk just wasn't there. I used to fill bottles and nursing pads to overflowing. Those days are gone, thank goodness. When MrMan nurses, I can hear the milk gushing into his mouth, so I know he's getting more than comfort from sucking. But the girls weren't willing to perform for a machine. Hopefully, I can add more to the bottle before we leave home in the morning.
Corporal, our rabbit, died today. He has left the corporal world. Is it bad to make puns following a pet's death? It may sound heartless, but it was time for him to go. He's really been slowing down the past year, and especially the past few weeks. People who've known us for a long time were always surprised to find that he was still alive, since we had him for more than ten years. And he wasn't a baby when we got him, but a hormonal adolescent, who would run in circles and thump the ground around me. And any other available females.
For months, I've been dreading that I would find him dead. The odds were in my favor (or would that be not in my favor), since I'm the adult most likely to be home in the day. I had this morbid picture of walking in and finding MrMan petting the Corporal's stiff body. (Again, hard not to stick the word corpse in there.) Out of the blue, yesterday, my dad said, "I predict he will die within the month." And this morning, he was in a weird position and I thought he was dead. But everyone jumped in to say that, no, they'd just seen him breathing. And then, he was in another weird position. And then, within another hour, he was dead. He has now joined our chicken, our guinea pigs, and our cat, in our backyard pet cemetery. I've proclaimed a pet vacation. We'll see if my mom and MrMan agree.
Not to be inappropriate, but today we also took advantage of the fabulous weather and went picnicing along the river. Many others had the same idea. Some of them brought along their dogs and horses, which thrilled MrMan.
We then capped off the day with the community's Ayyam-i-Ha party, held at a suburban home. I took along barbequed tofu, which a lot of people enjoyed. Though one ten-year-old deemed it not worth eating: "It tastes like peanut butter!" To his credit, it is one of the ingredients.
Linda tagged me a while ago. The Princess a while later. But I don't think I have too much weird stuff about me, so I had to scrounge around to make my list. I suppose everyone has the same predicament, though.
1. I don't wear makeup and don't really know how, nor how to fix my hair. Seriously, I can count on one hand the number of times I've worn foundation and all of those times it was applied by someone else. It's a special day when I apply mascara AND lipstick.
2. When dealing with bread, it is very important to me that the bread slices line up: if making a sandwich, the slices should be oriented just as they were in the loaf, just with something between them.
3. While I'm not very good about making the bed, I like to have the sheets and blankets on "right" when sleeping under them. If I wake up in the night and find that the top of the sheet - the side with the widest seam - is not the one closest to my head, or that there is an obscene amount of sheet hanging off of one side of the bed, I will fix it. Even if it means waking Sam up. Luckily for him, I relaxed about this once MrMan was born. Unluckily, I seem to be resuming the habit now that MrMan is a little older.
4. I've never had a broken bone (not counting ones in my feet, but I figure they don't since everyone breaks those), nor stitches until they cut MrMan out of me and sewed me back up.
5. I wanted braces for much of my childhood (to the point that I would sometimes pretend a paper clip was a retainer, and coveted the headgear of this older boy in chorus with me), and was happy to get them as a teenager. Even the second time around a year later.
6. I love vegetables. Especially the ones most people dislike. Brussels sprouts, spinach, kale, asparagus, broccoli... on most days, I'd take a plate of these over a chocolate chip cookie.
I think a lot of you have already done this meme. But if you haven't, I tag you. Leave a comment so I can share in your weirdness.
Yesterday was a good day. The weather was perfect: not too hot, not too cold, not too wet, not too dry. Just right.
We ended up going only to Rex, but I think any more would have done MrMan in. He expended so much energy dancing to the bands, waving his hand for throws, and just having a good time. Mardi Gras was so much more... robust than last year. Bigger crowds, more throws, and more extensive krewes. The major intersection that we live near is the spot where Rex and the truck parades roll from. So the marching bands were lined up within a block of our house. It was great hearing the musicians and seeing the dancers practicing. It's like being backstage. Hopefully, I'll upload some pictures soon.
In other news, I had a job interview today. One year, to the day, since I was last employed, in my field.
Yes, I've decided to return to the workplace. I think it's time for me. Not just because of money, though that's a factor. Also for my brain. And my quality of mothering. I think not spending every minute of every day with MrMan will be good for both of us. I'll miss him to pieces, but it's a good thing. Even if it takes him a while to believe it. Today, he apparently spent his time at daycare crying for me and insisting on being held. I guess I can't blame him after a week at home, not just with me, but with much of the household.
It's hard to gauge how the interview went, especially since I met with four different people. But I think it's a job I would be psyched about, even though it's somewhat different from what I've done in the past. Or maybe because it's somewhat different.
I'm due a Dear MrMan..., as he turned fifteen months old yesterday. But for now I will just share that the boy is a friggin genius. On the way home from tonight's parades, MrMan was clutching two stuffed fish - some of the parade booty - and I asked him how many fish he had ("Chandta mahi daari?") and he exclaimed "Two!" ("Doh!") Just to prove it wasn't a fluke, he performed the same feat when we arrived home. Gen.I.Us. Does Mensa have an age requirement?
Life of the last few days has revolved around Mardi Gras. In addition to making sure I eat so much King Cake I get sick of it until next Epiphany (though I'm not sure I could ever really get sick of McKenzie's King Cakes, sold by Tastee Donuts - I finally had some of one yesterday and was thrilled to pieces... maybe it's because it reminds me of my childhood, or maybe because it's so darn good in its simplicity), I've been going to parades, and reorganizing my schedule and driving routes to account for parades. We probably would have gone to more parades if it weren't for this chilliness we've been experiencing, especially at night.
Friday morning, I bundled up MrMan and myself and headed to a wee parade, by Nursery School A. (MrMan goes to Nursery School B, but is on the waiting list for Nursery School A. We've toured Nursery School A, so I'm hoping that the director doesn't think we're stalking her. Especially since we also saw each other at yesterday's parade, which was a lovely experience, taken in in front of Whole Foods. Hanging out in front of what seems to be our second home, surrounded by other families, chilly but sunny - life was good.) It was brief - little kids dressed up and being pulled in wagons by their parents, accompanied by a brass band - and perfect. It was a situation where MrMan could stand by himself without my worrying about his being trampled, and he was quite smitten by the hand strung bracelets he received. He's enjoyed the other parades too, for the most part, but definitely a different experience, including the fact that we have him firmly grasped in our arms.
At yesterday's parade, I, for the first time, heard first hand from someone who'd been affected by the tornado. It's still shocking that we had a tornado here last week. I've driven past (or near) some of the houses that were damaged/destroyed and it's mind-boggling. Especially since so much of the surrounding area looks normal. We are not a tornado town. Is God trying to clear us out of our own accord, before global warming and rising waters force us out? The woman we spoke to said she was awakened in the night by a sound that made her wonder if a monster was trying to get in the front door. She clutched her infant daughter as she heard the roof ripped off the house. Thankfully, the damage didn't penetrate farther. We have acquaintances that lost cars and trees and walls and belongings. Driving through Carrollton the other day, I got a little teary - it's the neighborhood where I lived until I was sixteen, and it's strange to see it in its current state. But the bright side - because isn't there always a bright side? I must hold on to that idea - was that there was motion: damaged trees were being sawed and stacked on the side of the street, plywood had been put over broken windows, the ever-present blue tarps stood in for missing walls and roofs. As much as I love this place I call home, if our house had been hit, I don't know how eager I would be to rebuild it. I feel for those that are having to make that decision. Someone I spoke with the other day said she thought about moving away from New Orleans. Not because she's given up. But because sometimes its so hard to live in a place one cares about so much.
Off to a parade! With this night, MrMan is marking his second time at Orpheus. Shall we call him a New Orleans boy now?
MrMan started nursery school yesterday. Sam and I took him into his room and then slipped away with no complications. As anticipated, nap time was hard, as he usually falls asleep while nursing. When I arrived in the afternoon, he cried out - not crying, just cried out - and ran to me. But he wasn't clingy. I figured today would be the real test, since he could anticipate what was coming. This morning, I spent about half an hour there, having breakfast with the kids and teachers and other parents. Different teachers came and put out their arms to him during breakfast and, much to my surprise, he went to them. Even if only briefly. Leaving was, again, quite smooth. I had a bit of a panic this afternoon, while still at work, when another mother reported that in her visit to the school, MrMan had been crying quite a bit. So I was anticipating the worst when I went to get him. But it was pretty much like yesterday: relieved to see me, but not clingy. It seems like my little boy is pretty ready for this new thing in his life. However, for now, he's going only on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. And next Tuesday is Mardi Gras. So he's going to have to wait a whole week before going again. Hope he's not too disappointed to spend the day with me tomorrow.
Sam and I finally picked up our new car this evening, and were even able to combine the process with a Valentine's Dinner at a Japanese restaurant. While MrMan and my parents dined at another Japanese restaurant. When one hasn't had to have car insurance in six months, and one spontaneously decides to buy a car without exploring financing options, and one chooses a car on the other side of a lake, it takes a few days to sort things out. But, tomorrow, MrMan and I will galavant in our new wheels.
There was much chocolate exchanged in the house today. And Sam made me an Italian charm bracelet and gave me a hilarious card that makes reference to goozing. Who says the romance dies? ;)
So, Friday was Oh-my-gosh-MrMan-is-going-to-nursery-school day.
Yesterday? Yesterday turned into Oh-my-gosh-we-just-bought-a-car day. We didn't wake up planning to buy a car. We woke up planning to look at cars, maybe test drive a car. We need to buy one, but were planning to wait a while longer, maybe another month or two. But when we went to the dealership, the price on a new 2006 was too good to pass up. So we bought the Mazda5, a little known six-seater about which we're quite excited.
Today, we went to look at a house. No Oh-my-gosh-ing just yet. But there are another twelve hours in the day ;)
Before I became a mother, I would read about how moms just wanted to go the the bathroom alone, and I would think, "It can't be that bad." And then I became a mother, and would take MrMan to the bathroom with me, or to the exersaucer just outside the bathroom door, and think, "This isn't so bad."
Then, MrMan started walking. And became fascinated by toilet paper. And delighted in tearing the toilet paper into little pieces and putting the pieces into the toilet. While I am still sitting on the toilet. "Gimme some of that white stuff." He walks from the toilet paper dispenser side of the toilet while I frantically pee as fast as I can, hoping that maybe he'll spend an extra half second tearing up the toilet paper before sticking his hand behind me. If there's one thing that can speed my voiding processes, it's the fear of soiling my child's hand. And, guys, don't tell me about how urine is sterile. Yada yada yada. It's still gross.
So, now I understand, "It's bad," and I delight in the moments when I can sneak away for a quick (but unrushed) trip to the bathroom. Alone.
Today, I enrolled my baby in nursery school. Nursery. School. Starting next week, on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, I will drop MrMan off to spend time with people other than me.
And I will probably cry a little. And then go to the bathroom by myself.
Lately, MrMan has been more participatory during our trips to the store. He wants to help put things in the shopping cart.... He wants to reach into the cart area and pick up things to carry on his lap.... He points out things on the shelves that he would like to acquire.... Today, he wanted to carry the bag of chips I'd picked up. No problem. Five minutes later, I realized that he was EATING a chip. The boy had RIPPED a hole in the front of the bag, and helped himself. Amazingly, it was very tidy, with only one or two extra chips falling out. I do not know the boy's strength. Or determination.
We live a few blocks from a major intersection, where several Mardi Gras parades line up to roll the streets. This morning, I got very excited to see the bundles of police barricades on the neutral ground, waiting to be used. Mardi Gras is officially upon us now!