Separation anxiety

For the first time since September, T has been telling us he doesn't want to go to school. When I ask him why, he says things like "beacuse I'll miss you too much, mommy", or "I just want to be with you." Nothing especially alarming, but a total 180 from the boy who couldn't wait to go back to see his friends. I should have seen it coming...

Last week he had a mini-anxiety attack over going on a play date when he realized I wasn't going to stay. Throughout the week, he's said things like "Will you stay with me forever?" I thought maybe his dad's work schedule, which often takes him out of the house on the weekends or causes him to miss family dinners, was the reason behind the anxiety. After talking to other moms of kids in T's class, it looks like its just a phase for this age, but I feel like it might be harder on me than him.

I know that at 3 1/2 he can't possibly imagine what it would be like without me, but sometimes I wonder if he's taking on my anxieties, the ones I try so hard to keep under wraps. I don't want my fears to define me as a parent, and most of all, I do not want my children to know how much I worry about them. I don't want to cross the line between normal fear and unhealthy fear, and sometimes I feel like it could happen so easily.

When T randomly asks me if I'll stay with him forever, my heart breaks a little as I tell him that I'll never leave him. I know this is a lie, though hopefully he'll be way past this phase when it happens. I know that everyone has to say goodbye to the ones they love. I know this is a lesson everyone learns one day. But when I watch T's face crumble, his lip tremble and his arms go out for a hug that promises him one last minute with me before I leave him at school, I understand to my core what it's like to know you will never see the person you love most in the world again. That's why, despite some advice I've gotten, I have no problem humoring him with just one more squeeze. Because for almost 5 years I worried that every time I gave my mom a hug goodbye, or hung up with her on the phone, it might be the last. I wanted those hugs and conversations to go on forever. And I knew when it was the last time I could tell her I loved her, though I told her even after I knew she couldn't hear me; I dreaded that day more than I thought I could. And I knew when it was the last time she would manage to say those words back to me, when she could barely talk, but she managed to say it one last time so clearly. My heart still breaks when I think about that, and I never, never wish that knowledge on my children.

So, I have to help T get through this normal phase of development, without holding on to those anxieties, without projecting my fears back onto him, without making a big deal out of just one more hug, while I get through it myself. Beacause we'll have many more years to hug each other and the ones who are most important to us.

Halloween prep

We went to a Halloween street fair and T was obsessed with getting his hair sprayed green. After waiting in line forever, he decided to go with rainbow. It was the highlight of his weekend.

His go-to outfit is Pirate, which is what he was last year when I forced him to go door-to-door until I was satisfied with the candy assortment, which I ate most of myself. This year he's been saying he'd like to be either a knight, a witch, or a princess. I'm fine with any of those, but we really don't have much of a princess selection. He finally decided to go with Witch for the school parade and party tomorrow (yes, candy!). I just spent the evening crafting a child-sized broom for him, so he better not change his mind. Pics to come!

lotta stuff

We've had bunches of things going on, including out-of-towners. My sister-in-law and her fiance were here at the end of September for almost a week. The weather was beautiful and we played alllll day, every day. Pics above are from a cool and free play area call Kaleidoscope which is where Hallmark sends leftover materials from their manufacturing plant for kids to make art with. It's a little too advanced for G, but T liked the glow-in-the-dark paint room, and there was a fun dance booth where we danced with Aunt L and Uncle D until we were tired of techno and Bollywood beats. Plus, the whole place had an Alice in Wonderland vibe.

Then, one my favorite younger sisters came to visit with my sweet nephew H! It was kind of crazy with 3 kids all on different schedules, but we made it work, hung out, and drank lots of dirty martinis - a special family recipe. R's trip went by way too fast, but it'll get me to December when we go back East for Xmas to see my other favorite younger sister and sweet nephew F. Yay!

I took lots of pictures, but they all were blurry - boo. Maybe because these little boogers never sat still?

There was a little girl who had a little curl

right in the middle of her forehead. And when she was good, she was very good indeed. And when she was bad she was HORRID.


With three daughters, my mom must have recited this Henry Wadsworth Longfellow poem to us out loud at least once a day. Probably more in her head. I often singsong it to myself in my head, wishing there was the boy poem counterpart. Is there?


I feel like I have *kind of* figured our day's schedule out, 2 months into this stay-at-home gig. It could always vary, but here's an example: Arise (lately around 7:30-8:00 am which is a miracle, people! considering G didn't start sleeping through the night consistently until about 9 months), change diaper, dole out milk (which is like crack to my children. Was it the breastfeeding?), have breakfast and play. Around 9 am it's either playgroup with both boys or school for T. If he's in school, G and I may run some errands, play, and/or I'll try to get things done around the house. Doing extensive chores doesn't usually work out for me, and I'm most often found on the floor, coffee cup nearby but out of little hands reach, reading stories, snuggling, and wishing G would take a nap. (Is that bad?) Sometimes he naps for 3 hours (yes!), sometimes for 10 minutes (noooooo), and then we wait until it's time to pick T up from school.


I'm always very excited to see T when we pick him up. 4 1/2 hours is the right amount of time apart. His eyes light up when he sees me, he runs to me and tells me he missed me and shows me his projects. But here, as we walk out of the classroom, the day can go in several different directions...


T is like the hardworking dad who needs a gin and tonic the minute he walks through the door. Except he needs milk. Occasionally, I'll be uber-prepared and come with a cup for him to sip on during our walk home. If I don't, I know we have to walk quickly before meltdown. Sometimes I can distract him from thinking about his shaking hands by yelling out "wow! look, a brown rock!" or "do I hear a helicopter?!" I've been known to do a crazy dance in the middle of the street just to delay whining. But, on the bad days, the dark days, our two minute walk home becomes excruciatingly long and painful, with little G staring up at his older brother in horror.

On a good day we'll make it home, have a snack and play, play, play. On a bad day, I drag T home to throw himself on the floor until he feels ready to play, play, play. And then, on either type of day, DONG, DONG, DONG. 3pm, the witching hour falls upon us... Nap time is over, it's too early to start dinner (or is it?), and we're sick of playing. We're sick of looking at each other. I lay on the playroom floor, children crawling over me, sometimes sitting on my head, while I dream about what kind of cocktail to start with at the stroke of 5. (Actually, I don't usually start with drinks until after bath time. I need my wits about me while bathing two crazy, slippery boys.) And as my sweet T laughs in my face when I try to put him in time out, and G throws himself on the floor crying because I won't let him play in the toilet, I start reciting, "There was a little girl, who had a little curl...."

(G has curls in the back of his head, though.)

h-a-t-e

These a**holes are all over my front porch. I HATE them. They make big, horrible webs on the windows, on the porch light, on the steps, on the stroller I leave outside overnight. This picture does not accurately show the awful disgustingness of them.

One of my (many insane) fears is that I'll be walking along, pushing G, wind blowing through my unwashed hair, and I'll look down and see my child encased in a web. Or, at the very least, with a large, gross, slimy spider on his head. What will I do? Will I be able to get it off? Will I be able to find a long stick quickly? Will I find the inner strength to use my hand? Or will I scream and run away, leaving him on a sidewalk, rolling downhill because I didn't think ahead to put the brakes on as I sprinted off?

(Quick side story - the other day, as I was cupping my hands to peer into the window of Restoration Hardware, salivating over an awesome chaise that I will never, ever be able to afford, I was alerted by a homeless man, who I'd just told I had no money ((totally true, btw)) that G was indeed rolling down a hill backwards in his stroller. I felt like I should have paid the guy something for his help, but again, I had nothing in my wallet.)

A occasionally uses the shop-vac to suck them up, but I get nervous that he might forget to empty it out before bringing it back inside. I mean, he might as well deliver a spider nest into my bed, you know? Do you see the anxiety these spiders bring into my life? And I do not need any more anxiety, thank you very much. Is there a way to get rid of them? Or just embrace them as part of our Halloween decor?

Was I always this awkward?

Tonight I went to a Happy Hour for new members of the neighborhood mom's organization I am a (paying) member of.  I was late because T's new phase is one in where he is afraid I might leave him forever, even if I am just walking out to the mailbox.  And honestly I am fine indulging this phase because I am sensitive to this issue myself. (Though it is rare that I actually step the 2 steps out to the mailbox by myself. Someone under the age of 4 is usually with me.) I noticed this starting when he got upset that I was 10 paces ahead of him on a walk with the dog, saying we had to stay together in case he lost me.  I'm thinking I may have brought this on when I recently tried to give the Don't Go With Strangers Talk.  The Don't Talk To Strangers Talk has already happened.  He didn't understand why he would go with a stranger if I was there, and I gave the example "If we're out on the porch and I go in to answer the ringing phone and a stranger asks you to help find his puppy, say no".  This example backfired though because he asked way too many extraneous questions and finally just screamed "Why don't you just already have your phone out here with you?!" Smart question, actually.  Was this conversation was too advanced for 3 1/2? Or too below him? Anyway, all that came of our talk was a paranoid little boy whose side I couldn't leave tonight, at least not without catching the 2,436 kisses he blew to me as I walked out the door.

I digress...

So I was late getting to the bar.  I walked in to see a table of about 15 women I assumed had to be the group.  They were right near the door, probably saw me coming, sweat moustache glinting in the dim light.  I stood at the end of the table for what felt like a really long time, waiting for a break in conversation when a couple of gals pitied me, stopped talking and looked up, I'm sure expecting me to say something normal. And I did.  I waved like a total dork and squeaked, "Hi.  Are you guys moms?" I seriously felt like a few crickets chirped while they silently thought, oh this poor, poor girl.  And then some sweet soul said, yes we are, and pulled out a chair for me.  I sat down, wiped away my facial perspiration, had a beer, and settled in for a hour of chatting with very nice people about pediatricians.

Happy New Door!

Final pics to come, soon. This past week was really busy with entertaining and enjoying our first house guests and celebrating the new year with at least three different versions of matzoh ball soup (all delicious). So the door still needs one last coat.

We did manage one quick project in a couple of hours. We pried off (with difficulty) and repainted the house numbers to match the glossy black door paint. This was done quickly because A was insistent that the numbers be up at all times possible, just in case someone was trying to make a delivery. Or trying to find us. Final photos of those to come soon, too.


(The cardboard under the 8 is the packaging from a sampler of locally brewed Boulevard beer. Delicious!)