Lets start with the happy stuff. YOUR FIRST CHRISTMAS! Though being honest with myself and thereby you…it should really be ‘your first Christmas.’ While it was wonderful and I got choked up reading ‘The Night Before Christmas’ to my little baby I have to admit it was very anti-climatic. I liken it to my wedding day. Though marrying your Daddy was one of the best days of my life, it was the idea of being married to HIM that made my soul soar ~ not the picture perfect day. Much like your first Christmas. The idea of creating special traditions with you make me weepy ~ not showering you with material objects on one day of the year. I’m not saying that I can’t wait for you to believe in Santa. Or that I can’t wait to see the delight in your eyes when you open that gift that you haaaaaad to haaaaave. But, I also look forward to the day when we can bake cookies for Santa, shop for the perfect carrots for the reindeer (debating, of course, if they would like the stems or not), and see the pride you radiate from making presents for your friends and family (while I vigorously scrub the glitter and paint off the table, walls, floor and your cloths.) I can’t wait to sing Christmas songs in the car with you and giggle in secret about how much Daddy is going to looooooove what we made for him. So while your first Christmas was very special, it was even more so because it is just the beginning of so much more.
Unlike your typical party spirit, your first New Years was to say the least very chilllll. We had planned on taking you (along with your brother and sisters) to the First Night celebrations in Pittsburgh. You however had different plans all along. I’ll grant you it was a crazy week of car rides between Ligonier and Pittsburgh so it should come as no surprise that on Dec 31 you just said STOP. You didn’t take a nap all day and then come evening you were a fussy lil mess. Finally around 8pm you went to sleep. Your Daddy wanted you and I to come downtown with them, but frankly, there wasn’t a snowy chance in hell that I was going to wake you up. So we slept and I watched a movie on Edith Piaf ~ the Sparrow. Good times.
The next morning we woke up early and went to the Mon-Wharf for the annual Polar Bear Plunge. It was a frosty 36 degrees, but mommy had talked a lot of smack for the past year about polar bear cubs and the toasty 56 degree temps of last year. Of course I couldn’t participate in the jump the first year with Daddy and Tyler because I was pregnant, but OF COURSE I’d do it the following. Wouldn’t you know it’d be a COLD ONE.
We returned to DC on Jan 3 and vegg’ed for the rest of that week. The next week your Daddy and I ‘woke up’ from the holiday fog to realize ~ OMG you need a daycare and Mommy’s job starts NEXT WEEK. Frantically we get your pediatrician forms filled out and returned, submit it all to daycare and magically there was an available slot for you. Sunday night I cried, Monday morning I cried, Monday afternoon I did all but RUN into the daycare to grab you. Tuesday I was weepy and cried into work (I’ve now stopped wearing mascara) and Wednesday I was ok. And I use the term OK in the most heart numbing sense of the word. While I don’t flat out cry anymore, I do get giant wells of tears but can now talk them away. The horrible part is I feel just turned off. I truly believe that your perfectly fine with daycare and its probably doing you a little good to be around other adults and children. I think the worst blow is coming to your Daddy. Of course he’s upset as well, but on top of that ~ he’s got to deal with me all day too. Horrible, bi-polar, robotic me. Thankfully no one has a problem with us coming to get you’re at 4pm (1h 21m from now).
You’ve been at daycare for 4 days now and I swear your hair has grown, and you’re going to be a grown up and walking by Friday.
I’m afraid I’m missing it all.
Mommy
No comments:
Post a Comment