1 Mother 2 Another

Two Sundays ago, Cora was hit with bad
diarrhea for about twenty-four hours, thankfully BEFORE we got in
the car to go to church. A few days later, we all got flu shots and
the girls were achy and cranky for a couple days. Saturday morning,
Cora woke up with a high fever and spent the weekend miserable and
hot, with a dry cough and a little vomiting thrown in for good
measure.


And yes, I rushed her to the doctor, and no, it wasn’t the
flu, but believe me I checked.


Now she’s got a little cough again, and is sneezing and
sniffly. I’ve had a miserable time with allergies this week,
and my throat’s raw and I’m coughing like Camille dying
of tuberculosis. Brian had the nerve to say he was coughing a
little bit this morning. So maybe it’s not allergies, or
maybe our whole freakin’ family has the same allergies.


Kids in Maddie’s classroom have been diagnosed with the swine
flu, and while the school is diligent in its hygiene, that’s
the sort of thing you just can’t stop. And I know that the
swine flu seems to be milder than everyone had thought, but I still
can’t imagine it’s much fun. So far, Maddie is healthy,
and I’m about to send her to live in a bubble for a couple
weeks.


I’d really hoped this winter would be different than last
winter, when Cora and I seemed to catch every single bug that went
around, but so far I’m not thrilled, and I’m not
looking forward to the enforced isolation that’s to come. I
already feel as if I haven’t slept through the night in a
couple of weeks, and my beautiful sleep-filled vacation is but a
distant memory.


It’s gonna be a long few months.

Halloween’s coming up soon (and yes,
I have very mixed feelings about the holiday, but that’s
another blog) and we’ve been having the big Costume
Conversation with both girls. Cora was relatively easy – she
decided somewhat early on that she wanted to be Thomas. Maddie made
a fast decision as well: she wanted to be Cinderella.


To be precise, she wanted to be the Cinderella pictured on page 7
of the One Step Ahead catalog.


For sixty bucks.

We spent Friday morning at a park with a
friend, and I loaded up for the morning, as is my wont. I brought a
picnic lunch, a blanket, snacks galore, bubbles, chalk, a soccer
ball – and a football.


About half an hour into the playdate, Maddie expressed interest in
doing “something else”. I listed my supplies, and after
a brief round with the soccer ball she was ready for the football.
Her friend, Sam, was also game, so I took a few minutes to explain
the basics of the sport to them.

Maddie had her first ever Picture Day at
school this week.


So did Cora.


What’s that, you ask? You didn’t think Cora goes to
school? Yeah, she doesn’t.

Ok, so I know I said I’d start with
breakfast, but I started to sketch this series of articles out and
quickly realized that you can’t tackle the actual meals until
you’ve done some of the planning stuff.


Oh, you don’t plan ahead with meals?

When Maddie first started solid foods, I
was so excited, flying into a flurry of steaming and pureeing and
freezing and spooning. I experimented as much as I could with
baby’s first foods, and enjoyed coming up with new and
unusual things for her to try. I was Mommy, the Super Nourisher,
willing to do whatever it took to feed my baby.


Fast-forward three years, and I’m not so excited any more.
The past three years have felt like one long, continuous dicing
session: dicing mango, chopping turkey, cutting up grapes into
eight (!) uniform pieces, slivering cheese – the list is
endless. I feel as if I spend half of my mommy life dealing with
the subject of food: planning meals, shopping, making meals,
organizing snacks, packing lunches, cleaning up from meals. And no
matter what I do, no matter how elaborate and delicious and
nutritious a meal turns out, I know that the clock moves inexorably
forward and the next meal is looming mere hours away.

So Maddie’s been in school for a few
weeks now, and I’m starting to see how this school thing
works. Truthfully, it seems pretty exhausting.


I’m not talking about all the work Maddie does – though
she is prone to meltdowns on school days, simply from overload. No,
I’m talking about all the work that the parents are supposed
to do.

So yesterday morning we were all sitting
around having our typical school morning – fixing lunches,
eating breakfasts, packing bags. Cora had gotten up early and was
finished with her meal, and so was roaming around the house playing
with toys and entertaining herself. Maddie, in an astonishingly
good imitation of a teenager, was half-awake and crabby, curled
around her cereal bowl.

Cora’s spent one night and one nap
in the toddler bed air-mattress now, and it’s been relatively
easy, thank God.


We’ve got the toddler mattress set up on the floor right next
to her crib, with all her stuffed animals and blankets spread out
around her. When she first climbed in, she grinned as if
she’d just won the lottery and rolled luxuriously all over
it. I can tell just looking at her that she’s insanely proud
of herself for “finally” becoming a big enough girl to
rate a little more space.

As many of you know, I’ve got Green
tendencies – I lean towards the whole recycle, earth-friendly
momma movement. A couple years ago I tried to empty the house of
plastic water bottles, partly from a “rid the world of those
mounds of single-use water bottles” point of view, and partly
from a “rid my house of BPA” point of view. So I went
out and bought several Sigg water bottles – the metal,
reusable bottles that come in a variety of sizes and are dishwasher
safe and BPA-free.


Except that they’re not.

When Cora was born, Maddie was three weeks
shy of two years old. I’d been thinking for months of how to
transition her to a big-girl bed because we’d need the crib
for the new baby. I didn’t want it to look as if we were
kicking Maddie out to give the crib to the new edition, and so I
spent a lot of time making the transition smooth.


First, Cora went into a bassinet for a few months, which gave us a
bit more of a breather. Then I bought a toddler-sized aero-bed and
put it on Maddie’s floor, talking up the “big-girl
bed” and getting her excited. While Cora still slept in the
bassinet, Maddie moved quickly to the aero bed on the floor of her
own room, right next to her crib. A few times she asked to move
back to the crib – bad dreams and the illusion of safety
behind bars – but we always dissuaded her, and finally I
broke down the crib and set the pieces casually in my room, where
Cora slept. About a month later, we put the crib together in our
room and Cora moved in, with absolutely no comment from Maddie
except, “Yeah, the crib is for babies.”

I’m back, and I’m having a bit
of re-entry shock.


I spent three days learning how to sleep through the night; the
first night I woke up several times, shouting, “I can’t
hear the monitors! What’s wrong? Where am I?” By the
last night, I slept like a baby in my blacked-out room, and told
Brian glumly that it was the last good night’s sleep
I’d get in years; I’d get home and be shocked at the
monitor noises and ambient light and all that stuff, all over
again.

Bye bye, all you poor suckers who have to
live with a regular work week; I’m off for a three-day
weekend with my hubby.


AND NO KIDS!!!!


Yes, in our first vacation IN FIVE YEARS, Brian and I are
travelling to an exotic location – about five miles from our
airport, and a rather swanky tourist trap of a hotel. But you know
what? As long as it’s got blackout shades and a “Do Not
Disturb” sign for the door, I’m good.


Because I’m going to sleep like I’ve never slept
before. And then sleep some more. And when I wake up, unable to
sleep for another second, I’m going to eat some mighty fine
chocolate. Without sharing. In my bed. While I watch t.v. Shows
that don’t have any furry red monsters or dancing mice or
swimming mermaids.


In an act of heroic sacrifice, my mother’s offered to keep
the kids all by herself for three days (note to local relatives:
you may receive a last-minute distress signal for help) and we are
on our own.


I have no more to say. I must go pack my trashy novels and
eyeshades.

So if Maddie’s night-night routine
is challenging – what with all her incessant questions and
all- then Cora’s routine is downright torture. My toddler is
going through her “I hate bedtime and will do ANYTHING to
prolong it” phase, and it ain’t pretty.


Cora will argue over every aspect of her bedtime routine: brushing
teeth, getting pj’s on, pouring a glass of water – you
name it, she’ll debate it. Almost every step is a knock-down
drag-out fight, and it wears you down, trust me. There are only so
many times I can –gently but firmly – pinch those
cheeks to make her open her mouth so I can brush her teeth before I
think to myself, Heck, how bad can skipping one night of brushing
be?


I know, I didn’t say I did it. I just think it.

The following is a list of the actual
questions Maddie asked me last night, in the actual order they were
asked, when I went in to snuggle her for night-night time:

We’ve completed our first week of
school – Maddie only goes Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday
– and I can say it’s been successful beyond my wildest
dreams. Cora and I are finding our new rhythms, our new grooves,
and are beginning to enjoy our time together a little better
without feeling as if we’re an amputee missing our phantom
limb. But it’s Maddie who gets the gold star for this week.


That kid is now absolutely addicted to school. I’d suspected
that once she got past her fear of the unknown she’d quickly
grow to love it: Maddie absolutely adores routine and rules and
structure and knowing what comes next, and school plays right into
that. She sees order created out of chaos, and watches a mess turn
into a thing of structure and beauty with only squares of
construction paper and a glue stick. My girl is hooked.

I figured we weren’t out of the
woods on the whole “starting school emotional trauma”
thing, but I was assuming the stress would show on Maddie the most.
Instead, it’s been Cora who seems to be having the hardest
time.


Cora spent all day yesterday on an exhausting emotional journey,
going from manic to depressive in seconds flat. She woke up an hour
early, crying and clingy and unable to get back to sleep. Then she
spent the morning begging me not to take Maddie to school –
to not leave the house at all. She didn’t want me to go by
myself, and didn’t want to come with me to drop Maddie off.
Cora simply didn’t want it to happen at all.

Several of you have written in
congratulating me on Maddie’s successful first day of
preschool. And pretty much all of you wanted to know one thing: how
did Mommy and Cora fare on that first day?


The answer – probably not quite as well as Maddie did.


I have to admit that I wasn’t too teared up about the first
day. I was nervous and worried, largely in anticipation of
Maddie’s reaction. I’d spent so much time trying to
orchestrate the morning for maximum smoothness that I hadn’t
really thought about myself in the situation. I mean, I knew it was
a big day, my baby growing up, blah blah blah, but I hadn’t
had a chance to wallow in the feelings.