I jumped a hurdle today

I had a moment today where I wondered if everything I ever believed in was true.

It’s odd how those moments bubble up in our lives. I dropped my kids off at a day care today for the very first time. An in-home, friend of my daughter’s house, day care.

All morning I talked myself out of calling to cancel, or calling just to make sure I had all the details right. I spent a good 45 minutes completely freaking out and calling Aaron, beside myself, crying. While they were still with me.

When I drove up to the house I imagined how the drop off would go, I’ll bring their bag in along with the paper with our numbers and their allergies listed. I’ll kiss their heads, they’ll cry for me and I’ll bravely walk out – ready to go to work.

Guess what happened? I walked it, presented some donuts and let my kids go. They ran away from me, not even caring that I was having a small crisis contained within my heart, letting them go. I fumbled my way through the drop off details – your number, my number, naps and did I mention this is hard for me?

Ok, gotta go.

I forgot to kiss them good bye. No matter really, they weren’t even aware that I was leaving … they were happy to play and explore this new environment. They were hopeful for donuts in just a few minutes.

I was trying to escape the moment, to force myself to be ok and put the car in reverse, to not freak out.

Try not to cry, try not to cry, try not to cry, try not t….damn it.

I drove aimlessly for a little while wondering if I should pull over and collect myself but knowing that if I did I’d just fall apart harder. Focus. Pick something. Pick somewhere.

I tried calling my mom, tried not to call Aaron and then decided to visit my mom at work.

A good idea right? Have a mental break down at your parent’s place of profession?? I thought so.

She wasn’t there. AHHHHHH!!! People are asking me if I found her, telling me she’s on her lunch – asking about the homemade donuts in my hands – are they for them?

No, no. No. Please, I just. I can’t.

And tears.

Finally I text my mom after two calls went unanswered and I just said: Mom, I need you

She called me.

I found her.

I went to her. She hugged me and I cried. Less than before, but I cried.

Leaving them there – at someone else’s home, where they make memories and have beds with sheets that don’t belong to me – it’s heart breaking. I felt like I was abandoning them. Tossing them off to someone else. Isn’t my job to be with them? Aren’t I supposed to be the one who wipes their mouths after a snack? Who suggests that shoes should be worn before playing outside?

I am that person. I will always be that person. I am their mom.

I gave myself a buffer before I had to make a meeting in town because I knew that dropping them off would be difficult. Hence the hunting my own mother. After all of that I had to go on with my day. I had to be productive and get a few things done. I had to work.

And I did and it wasn’t the end of the world. Not even my world.

I picked up the kids at the alloted time, both were filthy from playing outside in the dirt and sweating from the heat. Both weren’t ready to go home.

Both were smiling.

Oh my God, thank you. Thank you.

Baby Bach

According to today’s literature that society pours onto expecting parents, we’re supposed to talk to the baby as much as possible. This not only get’s it acquainted with our voice and the influxes of the language we use, it also allows for bonding.

We’re also prompted to play music for the baby, through earphones or stereo and this is supposed to allow for some of their brain development to somehow be uber efficient. They apparently feel they’ve given us the formula to a genius and that we’re bad parents/people if we even think about ignoring the instructions.

Aaron and I haven’t really read into alot of this mumbo jumbo, as we feel it is. We talk to the baby, I do more often when it’s kicking me incessantly and I have to pee for, no kidding, the 7th time in 30 minutes. Granted I’m not telling it how much I love it at that moment … but you can see where I’m coming from.

We broke down and played music for the belly last night, as an experiment. That�s right – we’re EXPERIMENTING with this pregnancy. Who would have thought, people have been doing this for thousands of years and yet we still feel the need to read book after book after book on how to do this whole parenting thing the “right” way.

I usually have music on in the house when I’m home, but these past few nights have been, how do I say it, awful. I haven’t slept a whole night in almost a week. Not only am I being introduced to the many-a-trip to the potty every night, I’m also being woken up, every 2 hours at least, by the kicking … there is so much kicking in my belly.

Not only all of that, I know – it’s horrible, but there is no comfortable sleeping position to begin with. I’m a stomach sleeper, and as soon as I found out about being pregnant I immediately began sleeping on my side and back to get ready for what was to come – this marathon I put myself on, was worthless.

I missed out on the last 3 months I could have been sleeping on my stomach for the obvious and apparently undeniable suffering of the last half of the second tri-mester to the entire third tri-mester. Oh glee.

Up to this point, we tried everything. Aaron would rub my stomach until I would fall asleep, only to wake up an hour later to the kicking and the summersaults and the back pain. Aaron tried talking the belly to sleep, calming this baby with soothing, low sounds. I tried 32 different pillow positions with 32 different pillows scattered over the bed and to no avail.

Last night we finally unpacked the ear phones, plugged them in to the portable CD player and put lullabies on the belly. I’m here to tell you, it worked. The first 5 minutes were calm, no moving, an apparently sleeping baby inside me. But then it resumed its gymnastics only to calm down again within minutes and be still for the music. OH how I love the wonderful baby Bach lullaby CD. Uber efficient baby brain waves, here we come.