Recently, I remarked that if Fun Daddy would just do what I told him to, his life would be so much easier. This was because in our long running battle of "Who Is The Most Organised" I had just won a resounding victory. These are becoming increasingly rare for me, as my brain mostly consists of jam sandwiches and nap schedules since I had a baby. Now that I am pregnant, even the bits that are left are stewing in a vat of pregnancy hormones, and I commonly wander into a room and back out of it with a vague notion that I went in there for a purpose, but I will be damned if I know what it was.
In any event, Fun Daddy couldn't find his social security card. This is a very important document in the U.S., so of course it's printed on some cheap paper and is tiny and easily lost. Fun Daddy was convinced that I, in my pregnancy addled state, had mis-filed or lost it. He kept hoping to trick me into confessing by periodically asking me pointed questions, such as "If you had a filing system, where would you have filed my social security card?" Now my brain may be disorganised, but my filing system is impeccable thankyouverymuch. In return, I suggested that Fun Daddy should look to his own double super secret filing system, otherwise known as his sock drawer. Thieves never look for important documents in the underwear drawer you know...
Fun Daddy sullenly replied that he HAD looked in his sock drawer. Convinced that I had filed it someplace random, he stomped off to the study one evening to go through all our filing. Poor martyred Fun Daddy. Having to sort out Harried Mum's silly mistake. Big sigh.
I went and took a shower. And when I got out, I opened Fun Daddy's sock drawer. Lo and behold, what do you think was lying there in plain view? Yes, friends and neighbors, the missing social security card was right where I said it might be.
So I might be a little scatterbrained and muddled at the moment, but Fun Daddy will always be looking for things like a man...
Monday, March 12, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
The Plague Cheeto
Lunatic Child surpassed himself in naughtiness last Friday, and on a playdate as well. Now we can never play with them again. The mum thinks I am a complete psycho, as I completely lost my sh*t and was reduced to muttering wild-eyed threats in Lunatic Child's ear as he shrieked while I held him down and attempted to clean plague cheeto out of his mouth.
Let me explain...
We met another toddler and his mum at the Central Park Zoo. Even though it was a lovely, sunny day and Lunatic Child normally enjoys the zoo, last Friday was apparently not our day. We started at the penguin exhibit.
"Don't like the penguins. Little bit scared."
Even though the other nice little boy was enjoying the penguins, we left. Apparently, penguins are threatening.
We went to the monkey exhibit.
"Don't like the monkeys". There was no reason given for this. He just doesn't.
He then sprinted up the hill and into the middle distance, with me puffing along behind, 5 months pregnant. I finally ran him to ground and wrestled him back into the push chair, which he didn't like either.
No one was happy at this stage, and I hadn't even said 2 words to the other mum as I had been wholly consumed by my recalcitrant child.
We went to the bird exhibit where he chased the birds around despite my increasingly shrill exhortations and threats of eternal banishment to the push chair.
Meanwhile, please note that the other nice little boy had been perfectly behaved, wanted to see each exhibit, walked quietly with his mum and did not chase the birds.
The other nice little boy's favourite thing is to watch the sea lions being fed, so we turned up early to get a good viewing space. This is really where it all went to pot. We gave the children snacks. Nice little boy sat quietly and ate his snack. Lunatic Child wanted to eat his snack and climb up the stairs. And down the stairs. And up the stairs. And down the stairs. And then sprint into the middle distance. By this stage I was red and frothing.
We were at the bottom of the stairs, and I was attempting to coax Lunatic Child back to our seating area. There were about 50 people standing around us. Lunatic Child spots a cheeto lying on the ground next to the sea lion enclosure. A disgusting, crusty cheeto which has been lying there for God knows how long, collecting who knows what kind of germs. He announces: "I need that". And before I can get to him, he picks it up, shoves it into his mouth and starts chewing. Cue crowd laughter.
I am SO CONSCIOUS of this other mum just looking at me while I try to scrape the plague cheeto out of Lunatic Child's mouth. He's shrieking. People are enjoying our impromptu show. I'm muttering that he is GOING TO BE SORRY. (He was not). It was just a complete disaster.
We left the zoo in complete disarray and retreated to the playground, where Lunatic Child played happily and quietly in the sandbox for 45 minutes. I know he's only 2. They are just SO NAUGHTY sometimes.
I didn't even tell you about the recent party we attended where he snuck behind the buffet table and climbed up on a chair and proceeded to stuff cupcakes in his mouth one after the other until Fun Daddy and I finally realised he was missing (we are negligent, bad parents is really the moral of this tale). I think he got through 3.
In any event, he suffered no ill effects, from either the cupcake overdose or the plague cheeto, so we will continue to persevere. Some days are good. Some days are...challenging. We all still love each other and that's all that counts!
Let me explain...
We met another toddler and his mum at the Central Park Zoo. Even though it was a lovely, sunny day and Lunatic Child normally enjoys the zoo, last Friday was apparently not our day. We started at the penguin exhibit.
"Don't like the penguins. Little bit scared."
Even though the other nice little boy was enjoying the penguins, we left. Apparently, penguins are threatening.
We went to the monkey exhibit.
"Don't like the monkeys". There was no reason given for this. He just doesn't.
He then sprinted up the hill and into the middle distance, with me puffing along behind, 5 months pregnant. I finally ran him to ground and wrestled him back into the push chair, which he didn't like either.
No one was happy at this stage, and I hadn't even said 2 words to the other mum as I had been wholly consumed by my recalcitrant child.
We went to the bird exhibit where he chased the birds around despite my increasingly shrill exhortations and threats of eternal banishment to the push chair.
Meanwhile, please note that the other nice little boy had been perfectly behaved, wanted to see each exhibit, walked quietly with his mum and did not chase the birds.
The other nice little boy's favourite thing is to watch the sea lions being fed, so we turned up early to get a good viewing space. This is really where it all went to pot. We gave the children snacks. Nice little boy sat quietly and ate his snack. Lunatic Child wanted to eat his snack and climb up the stairs. And down the stairs. And up the stairs. And down the stairs. And then sprint into the middle distance. By this stage I was red and frothing.
We were at the bottom of the stairs, and I was attempting to coax Lunatic Child back to our seating area. There were about 50 people standing around us. Lunatic Child spots a cheeto lying on the ground next to the sea lion enclosure. A disgusting, crusty cheeto which has been lying there for God knows how long, collecting who knows what kind of germs. He announces: "I need that". And before I can get to him, he picks it up, shoves it into his mouth and starts chewing. Cue crowd laughter.
I am SO CONSCIOUS of this other mum just looking at me while I try to scrape the plague cheeto out of Lunatic Child's mouth. He's shrieking. People are enjoying our impromptu show. I'm muttering that he is GOING TO BE SORRY. (He was not). It was just a complete disaster.
We left the zoo in complete disarray and retreated to the playground, where Lunatic Child played happily and quietly in the sandbox for 45 minutes. I know he's only 2. They are just SO NAUGHTY sometimes.
I didn't even tell you about the recent party we attended where he snuck behind the buffet table and climbed up on a chair and proceeded to stuff cupcakes in his mouth one after the other until Fun Daddy and I finally realised he was missing (we are negligent, bad parents is really the moral of this tale). I think he got through 3.
In any event, he suffered no ill effects, from either the cupcake overdose or the plague cheeto, so we will continue to persevere. Some days are good. Some days are...challenging. We all still love each other and that's all that counts!
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Trouble...
Oh dear. Harried Mum hasn't posted in a while. This is for a variety of not particularly good reasons, the most interesting of which is that I'm pregnant. Yes. Lunatic Child is going to get a sibling on or about June 26. I'm already calling this one Trouble, as I suspect that's what I'm going to be in when trying to cope with 2 of them.
Trouble has provided a very different pregnancy experience than Lunatic Child. I sailed through pregnancy with Lunatic Child, including multiple overseas trips into my 32nd week of pregnancy. I had no morning sickness at all and generally felt pretty OK.
This did not stop me from CONSTANTLY moaning throughout my entire pregnancy with Lunatic Child. I don't enjoy pregnancy. I don't "glow". I'm not "blooming". I'm not feeling the high involved with creating life. For me, it's all about the fat ankles, ridiculous boobs and myriad indignities that pregnancy brings. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about. I mean, isn't it bad enough you can't get off the couch without saying "oof"? Do you really have to be constipated as well? It's all so UNFAIR.
Despite all the snivelling, I knew Lunatic Child was an easy pregnancy. In contrast, I had a miserable first trimester with Trouble. And by miserable, I mean that I felt a bit sick and tired. (See above, re: moaning). It was like I was constantly hung over for 3 months. If it was socially acceptable to subsist on macaroni and cheese, I would have. I also wanted to nap. A lot. Hence, no blogging.
I'm feeling much better now. I'm also happy I'm finally out of the "Has she just got a bit fat, or is she pregnant?" stage. I'm not happy about maternity jeans. I mean, seriously. Can no one make a pair that don't immediately fall off your butt the first time you sit down?
As I am older now and in the "decrepit maternal age" category, and also because I'm having Trouble in the U.S., I have been bemused by the differences in pre-natal care. I've given a lot more blood to the cause. I've peed in a lot more cups. I've generally been poked and prodded and tested a lot more. I see the obstetrician at every appointment as opposed to a midwife or nurse practitioner. Additionally, and scandalously, we are going to be hundreds if not thousands of dollars out-of-pocket with Trouble, and this despite Fun Daddy having "comprehensive" insurance through work. Seriously, US. Get your sh*t together on the healthcare front. It's ridiculous.
My obstetrician is nice, but very firm. After she weighed me on the second visit, she basically told me to lay off the cake, fatty. In pretty much those exact words. Sadly, she was probably right about this, as last week, I broke one of our kitchen chairs when I sat on it. I was leaning over to prevent Lunatic Child from some wanton act of self-destruction, when the whole front leg gave way. I told Fun Daddy, looking for some love and sympathy. Instead I've had a lot of "who ate all the pie" jokes made at my expense. Pregnancy. It's just not dignified.
Trouble has provided a very different pregnancy experience than Lunatic Child. I sailed through pregnancy with Lunatic Child, including multiple overseas trips into my 32nd week of pregnancy. I had no morning sickness at all and generally felt pretty OK.
This did not stop me from CONSTANTLY moaning throughout my entire pregnancy with Lunatic Child. I don't enjoy pregnancy. I don't "glow". I'm not "blooming". I'm not feeling the high involved with creating life. For me, it's all about the fat ankles, ridiculous boobs and myriad indignities that pregnancy brings. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about. I mean, isn't it bad enough you can't get off the couch without saying "oof"? Do you really have to be constipated as well? It's all so UNFAIR.
Despite all the snivelling, I knew Lunatic Child was an easy pregnancy. In contrast, I had a miserable first trimester with Trouble. And by miserable, I mean that I felt a bit sick and tired. (See above, re: moaning). It was like I was constantly hung over for 3 months. If it was socially acceptable to subsist on macaroni and cheese, I would have. I also wanted to nap. A lot. Hence, no blogging.
I'm feeling much better now. I'm also happy I'm finally out of the "Has she just got a bit fat, or is she pregnant?" stage. I'm not happy about maternity jeans. I mean, seriously. Can no one make a pair that don't immediately fall off your butt the first time you sit down?
As I am older now and in the "decrepit maternal age" category, and also because I'm having Trouble in the U.S., I have been bemused by the differences in pre-natal care. I've given a lot more blood to the cause. I've peed in a lot more cups. I've generally been poked and prodded and tested a lot more. I see the obstetrician at every appointment as opposed to a midwife or nurse practitioner. Additionally, and scandalously, we are going to be hundreds if not thousands of dollars out-of-pocket with Trouble, and this despite Fun Daddy having "comprehensive" insurance through work. Seriously, US. Get your sh*t together on the healthcare front. It's ridiculous.
My obstetrician is nice, but very firm. After she weighed me on the second visit, she basically told me to lay off the cake, fatty. In pretty much those exact words. Sadly, she was probably right about this, as last week, I broke one of our kitchen chairs when I sat on it. I was leaning over to prevent Lunatic Child from some wanton act of self-destruction, when the whole front leg gave way. I told Fun Daddy, looking for some love and sympathy. Instead I've had a lot of "who ate all the pie" jokes made at my expense. Pregnancy. It's just not dignified.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Dude.........not
A couple of weeks ago Fun Daddy, Lunatic Child and I went to a Dude Ranch. I don't know what we were thinking either. We seem to have taken leave of our senses for as much time as it took us to make the reservations and get there, and then it was TOO LATE. We were stuck at the Dude Ranch for the weekend. And it was Hell.
First of all. Lunatic Child is about 3 years too young for *any* of the 1,001 activities on offer at the Dude Ranch. He couldn't give his left nutmeg that there were horses. He did NOT want to touch the pony. "All Done!!!" He was too little for the pool. Has the attention span of a gnat and eats paint (see previous post) so we couldn't do crafts. I can't even imagine the chaos which would ensue if we took him on a paddle boat. Obviously, organised sports are out. Hiking lasts about 4 seconds. "All Done!!" Can't even say "scavenger hunt" let alone participate in one.
This left us with a lot of time to fill.
In fact, the only thing which Lunatic Child wanted to do all weekend was play with the giant dump truck in the Dude Ranch nursery.
Fun Daddy and I thought to ourselves, if all Lunatic Child wants to do is play with trucks, he could have done that at home, and we would not be having to navigate our way through these hordes of shrieking children to the a la carte buffet, where you could choose from lukewarm chicken nuggets or lukewarm pasta marinara.
The other disaster (yes, there's more!) was that our hotel room was just a single room so we were trying to put Lunatic Child to bed whilst we were in the room with him. This involved hiding in the bathroom for 20 minutes, then having Lunatic Child wail "All Done !" as soon as we cracked open the door. The first night I was BESIDE myself with frustration. I'd been trying to put Lunatic Child down for over an hour. Then, Fun Daddy, who had taken a later train, turned up and got Lunatic Child all hopped up on Fun Daddy shenanigans, after which we had to try and put an over-stimulated, over-tired child to bed. Harried Mum was sulky and angry about this and convinced it was Ruining His Sleep Patterns. However, by the next night, I'd given up, and Lunatic Child went on a moonlight tractor ride to the bonfire, where he listened to a nice cowboy sing "Incy-Wincy Spider" and ate toasted marshmallows until his teeth fell out. He eventually collapsed from total exhaustion around 9:30pm. The Sleep Patterns are fine. Harried Mum is mildly neurotic.
Frankly, even if Lunatic Child had been old enough to enjoy the Dude Ranch, I think Fun Daddy and I still would have found it depressing. A child-friendly Dude Ranch is just not the aspirational holiday of our dreams. I realise having children changes things, but this was just a cold, hard reality check that Harried Mum is not going to be drinking margaritas on the beach at any time in the foreseeable future.
So here's a tip from Harried Mum. Don't waste your money on "child-friendly" holidays (BTW - it cost a PACKET for a crappy weekend away) until your child is actually old enough to speak in complete sentences and is trustworthy around paint.
First of all. Lunatic Child is about 3 years too young for *any* of the 1,001 activities on offer at the Dude Ranch. He couldn't give his left nutmeg that there were horses. He did NOT want to touch the pony. "All Done!!!" He was too little for the pool. Has the attention span of a gnat and eats paint (see previous post) so we couldn't do crafts. I can't even imagine the chaos which would ensue if we took him on a paddle boat. Obviously, organised sports are out. Hiking lasts about 4 seconds. "All Done!!" Can't even say "scavenger hunt" let alone participate in one.
This left us with a lot of time to fill.
In fact, the only thing which Lunatic Child wanted to do all weekend was play with the giant dump truck in the Dude Ranch nursery.
Fun Daddy and I thought to ourselves, if all Lunatic Child wants to do is play with trucks, he could have done that at home, and we would not be having to navigate our way through these hordes of shrieking children to the a la carte buffet, where you could choose from lukewarm chicken nuggets or lukewarm pasta marinara.
The other disaster (yes, there's more!) was that our hotel room was just a single room so we were trying to put Lunatic Child to bed whilst we were in the room with him. This involved hiding in the bathroom for 20 minutes, then having Lunatic Child wail "All Done !" as soon as we cracked open the door. The first night I was BESIDE myself with frustration. I'd been trying to put Lunatic Child down for over an hour. Then, Fun Daddy, who had taken a later train, turned up and got Lunatic Child all hopped up on Fun Daddy shenanigans, after which we had to try and put an over-stimulated, over-tired child to bed. Harried Mum was sulky and angry about this and convinced it was Ruining His Sleep Patterns. However, by the next night, I'd given up, and Lunatic Child went on a moonlight tractor ride to the bonfire, where he listened to a nice cowboy sing "Incy-Wincy Spider" and ate toasted marshmallows until his teeth fell out. He eventually collapsed from total exhaustion around 9:30pm. The Sleep Patterns are fine. Harried Mum is mildly neurotic.
Frankly, even if Lunatic Child had been old enough to enjoy the Dude Ranch, I think Fun Daddy and I still would have found it depressing. A child-friendly Dude Ranch is just not the aspirational holiday of our dreams. I realise having children changes things, but this was just a cold, hard reality check that Harried Mum is not going to be drinking margaritas on the beach at any time in the foreseeable future.
So here's a tip from Harried Mum. Don't waste your money on "child-friendly" holidays (BTW - it cost a PACKET for a crappy weekend away) until your child is actually old enough to speak in complete sentences and is trustworthy around paint.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Adventures in Art Class
I signed Lunatic Child up for an art class. I thought, why not let him get messy somewhere that is not home? I like a nice short-cut, and this is a two-fer: Lunatic Child is entertained, and I don't have to clean up after it. Plus, I had grand visions of him having oodles of artistic talent, and then I could get rich selling his paintings on e-Bay.
Things did not work out as planned. And now Lunatic Child has been evicted from his first educational experience. We have tactfully been told that Lunatic Child may prefer one of the *other* classes on offer, which is code for "Please get your child out of here. Now." For one thing, he was eating all the paint.
But I digress.
Let me start at the beginning.
Normally, Lunatic Child goes to art class with his Nanny. She mentioned, in passing, that sometimes Lunatic Child gets a little distracted toward the end of class. I now know that what she meant was "He is hell on wheels after 5 minutes". She is, apparently, a master of the understatement. I never would have known this, except she couldn't come in last Thursday, so I took Lunatic Child to art class.
I was excited. It would be Bonding Time. It would be Fun. We would Create Art.
What Lunatic Child creates is chaos.
First activity was drawing with crayons on paper. Every child could take 2 crayons. Lunatic Child would take one crayon at a time, then chuck it on the floor. Box of crayons is taken away. Lunatic Child, sans crayons, notices some puppets on a shelf. Wails because they are Not Available. Refuses to be distracted from lack of puppets. Sits in miserable huddle of thwarted toddler. Then tries to steal crayon of Nice Little Girl next to us.
We move on to painting. This starts out well, but goes South after about 30 seconds when Lunatic Child announces he is "All Done" and makes a break for freedom out the door. I chase him down and bring him back in. He tries to eat the paint, then cries because it tastes disgusting. I think, really? You have not figured out after 4 classes that the taste of paint is Not Nice? We wash the paint out of his mouth. He then becomes obsessed with climbing the stepladder to the sink. When he realises this is No Longer an Option, he tries to paint on the easel of Nice Little Girl next to us.
We move back to the little table for a creative project "Making Blueberry Pies". Lunatic Child becomes distressed when there is no yellow chair available for him to sit on. Tries to shove Nice Little Girl off yellow chair. Huge shambles while all chairs are rearranged so Lunatic Child has yellow chair. He then proceeds to not sit in it. Ever. Nice Teacher is explaining to the children about blueberries and how we are going to paint blueberries and make a pie. Lunatic Child, not sitting on yellow chair, makes another break for freedom out the door. He is not interested in pie. By the time we are done with the pie making exercise, I am covered in blue paint and glitter, none of which is on the actual pie.
This is probably why Art Class Mum gave me such a chilly reception.
So, anyway, the school has suggested he might like music class better, and by all accounts he does. They get to sing and try out all the instruments and they do dancing games. Much more in Lunatic Child's wheelhouse as it involves not being still for more than 30 seconds.
I am still sad, as I now have to figure out another Get Rich Quick scheme based on Lunatic Child.
Things did not work out as planned. And now Lunatic Child has been evicted from his first educational experience. We have tactfully been told that Lunatic Child may prefer one of the *other* classes on offer, which is code for "Please get your child out of here. Now." For one thing, he was eating all the paint.
But I digress.
Let me start at the beginning.
Normally, Lunatic Child goes to art class with his Nanny. She mentioned, in passing, that sometimes Lunatic Child gets a little distracted toward the end of class. I now know that what she meant was "He is hell on wheels after 5 minutes". She is, apparently, a master of the understatement. I never would have known this, except she couldn't come in last Thursday, so I took Lunatic Child to art class.
I was excited. It would be Bonding Time. It would be Fun. We would Create Art.
What Lunatic Child creates is chaos.
First activity was drawing with crayons on paper. Every child could take 2 crayons. Lunatic Child would take one crayon at a time, then chuck it on the floor. Box of crayons is taken away. Lunatic Child, sans crayons, notices some puppets on a shelf. Wails because they are Not Available. Refuses to be distracted from lack of puppets. Sits in miserable huddle of thwarted toddler. Then tries to steal crayon of Nice Little Girl next to us.
We move on to painting. This starts out well, but goes South after about 30 seconds when Lunatic Child announces he is "All Done" and makes a break for freedom out the door. I chase him down and bring him back in. He tries to eat the paint, then cries because it tastes disgusting. I think, really? You have not figured out after 4 classes that the taste of paint is Not Nice? We wash the paint out of his mouth. He then becomes obsessed with climbing the stepladder to the sink. When he realises this is No Longer an Option, he tries to paint on the easel of Nice Little Girl next to us.
We move back to the little table for a creative project "Making Blueberry Pies". Lunatic Child becomes distressed when there is no yellow chair available for him to sit on. Tries to shove Nice Little Girl off yellow chair. Huge shambles while all chairs are rearranged so Lunatic Child has yellow chair. He then proceeds to not sit in it. Ever. Nice Teacher is explaining to the children about blueberries and how we are going to paint blueberries and make a pie. Lunatic Child, not sitting on yellow chair, makes another break for freedom out the door. He is not interested in pie. By the time we are done with the pie making exercise, I am covered in blue paint and glitter, none of which is on the actual pie.
This is probably why Art Class Mum gave me such a chilly reception.
So, anyway, the school has suggested he might like music class better, and by all accounts he does. They get to sing and try out all the instruments and they do dancing games. Much more in Lunatic Child's wheelhouse as it involves not being still for more than 30 seconds.
I am still sad, as I now have to figure out another Get Rich Quick scheme based on Lunatic Child.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
In response to popular demand!!
Responding to the fervid pleas (well, mild suggestions) of at least...oh, 2 people I know, I am starting this blog. As we are living far from friends and family in London and around the world, you can check in here to find out what Harried Mum, Lunatic Child and Fun Daddy are currently up to on the West Side, otherwise known as the Best Side!!!
What have we been up to, you ask? Well, exciting things!! All the time!! We're parents!! Life is a whirlwind of excitement, starting at 6:30am EVERY DAY. Awesome.
We had a recent holiday to Portland to see the Stylish Sister, Hip Brother-in-Law, Non-Sullen Teenager and New Baby! Plus Grandma and Grandpa! Lunatic Child enjoyed licking Stylish Sister's glass doors and smearing peanut butter on all available surfaces. (Sorry about the mess!) New Baby was precious and cuddly and roly poly. He cried the entire time I babysat, which is about par for the course with me and Stylish Sister's offspring (Non-Sullen Teenager - I'm looking at you. I still haven't forgiven you for crying THE ENTIRE TIME when I babysat you. Once.) Grandma brought Lunatic Child numerous noise making toys, which he adores. Thanks Grandma. I know a revenge purchase when I see it.
Fun Daddy enjoyed the holiday, right up to the time when he got LYME DISEASE. Who knew it was on the West coast? He developed a seriously nasty rash on his leg, and for a while it looked like the leg might actually. fall. off. Copious quantities of antibiotics seem to have resolved the problem. That's what he gets for going mountain biking. So far Fun Daddy is 0 for 3 on mountain biking. Recent expeditions have resulted in a serious concussion, getting lost and now Lyme Disease. I think the Universe is trying to tell him something.
I went to my high school reunion whilst in Portland. I am filing this under "weird". Had a super pre-function day with Highly Glamorous Friend, who of course had organised hair and make up. Yay!! We also drank in the hotel room before hand, as you do when you're trying to re-create the high school experience. Then we went to the reunion. And that was just kind of weird. It was different, and yet... still so much sameness. I am not sure we ever really evolve as much as we think we do.
Deep thought over.
Returning to NY, we re-immersed ourselves in NYC living, to which we are still adjusting. Recent NY experiences include the following:
- realising that our local public preschool had 500 applications for 36 spaces last year. Necessitating frantic internet search for private options. Realising that I had ALREADY missed application window for start in the 2012-2013 school year. Realising cost of private preschool is in the range of 7000 - 18,000 per year. For PRESCHOOL. I mean, come ON. They're CUTTING PAPER. This remains an open item on Harried Mum's to-do list.
- being run into on the street by woman who was completely not paying attention to surroundings, only to be told angrily, "You could have got out of my way".
- being stiff-armed by a mum in Lunatic Child's art class. I went with him one day (this is a separate blog post of its own, as this was TOTAL DEBACLE) and introduced myself to one of the mums after the class as she lives in our building. Was coolly told that I "might see her in the lobby sometime". We are not organising a playdate with THEM any time soon. Stylish Sister has suggested that she might not approve of Lunatic Child's lunatic behaviour, nor the fact that I am a Harried Working Mum.
So, as I said, still adjusting!!
We miss everyone and love you lots.
What have we been up to, you ask? Well, exciting things!! All the time!! We're parents!! Life is a whirlwind of excitement, starting at 6:30am EVERY DAY. Awesome.
We had a recent holiday to Portland to see the Stylish Sister, Hip Brother-in-Law, Non-Sullen Teenager and New Baby! Plus Grandma and Grandpa! Lunatic Child enjoyed licking Stylish Sister's glass doors and smearing peanut butter on all available surfaces. (Sorry about the mess!) New Baby was precious and cuddly and roly poly. He cried the entire time I babysat, which is about par for the course with me and Stylish Sister's offspring (Non-Sullen Teenager - I'm looking at you. I still haven't forgiven you for crying THE ENTIRE TIME when I babysat you. Once.) Grandma brought Lunatic Child numerous noise making toys, which he adores. Thanks Grandma. I know a revenge purchase when I see it.
Fun Daddy enjoyed the holiday, right up to the time when he got LYME DISEASE. Who knew it was on the West coast? He developed a seriously nasty rash on his leg, and for a while it looked like the leg might actually. fall. off. Copious quantities of antibiotics seem to have resolved the problem. That's what he gets for going mountain biking. So far Fun Daddy is 0 for 3 on mountain biking. Recent expeditions have resulted in a serious concussion, getting lost and now Lyme Disease. I think the Universe is trying to tell him something.
I went to my high school reunion whilst in Portland. I am filing this under "weird". Had a super pre-function day with Highly Glamorous Friend, who of course had organised hair and make up. Yay!! We also drank in the hotel room before hand, as you do when you're trying to re-create the high school experience. Then we went to the reunion. And that was just kind of weird. It was different, and yet... still so much sameness. I am not sure we ever really evolve as much as we think we do.
Deep thought over.
Returning to NY, we re-immersed ourselves in NYC living, to which we are still adjusting. Recent NY experiences include the following:
- realising that our local public preschool had 500 applications for 36 spaces last year. Necessitating frantic internet search for private options. Realising that I had ALREADY missed application window for start in the 2012-2013 school year. Realising cost of private preschool is in the range of 7000 - 18,000 per year. For PRESCHOOL. I mean, come ON. They're CUTTING PAPER. This remains an open item on Harried Mum's to-do list.
- being run into on the street by woman who was completely not paying attention to surroundings, only to be told angrily, "You could have got out of my way".
- being stiff-armed by a mum in Lunatic Child's art class. I went with him one day (this is a separate blog post of its own, as this was TOTAL DEBACLE) and introduced myself to one of the mums after the class as she lives in our building. Was coolly told that I "might see her in the lobby sometime". We are not organising a playdate with THEM any time soon. Stylish Sister has suggested that she might not approve of Lunatic Child's lunatic behaviour, nor the fact that I am a Harried Working Mum.
So, as I said, still adjusting!!
We miss everyone and love you lots.
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