Preschool. Wednesday. Yay.

Preschool starts on Wednesday. I think maybe I've mentioned it before, but incase you didn't read it on twitter or sprinkled in and out of practically every post I've written since they accepted our application...I'll tell you again, Alice starts her first day of preschool next Wednesday. I'm excited. Alice is excited.

Up until last night that's as much thought as I've given it. "Thank the dear lord this little bitty, blonde hair ball of defiant energy is starting preschool soon! HALLELUJAH! There is a heaven after all and it opens at 8:45 five days a week! Sweet Jesus!"

Then last night it hit me, my baby is going to preschool...five days a week...sigh. Sob. Sob. Sob. For five enitre half days I will miss my baby. Well, maybe I won't miss her all five days. I'm sure that first morning when she's insisting she's not eating breakfast or getting dressed, screaming NO! at me, and throwing her toys...yeah, I imagine I won't miss her much that day. Or the morning I come downstairs to marker on the kitchen floor, it's likely I'll leave drop off skipping and whistling a tune. And the first morning I get to watch Regis and Kelly...wait, I hear since the last time I was able to watch the show Regis left, what is it now, just Live with Kelly? Anyway, I digress. The first morning I can sit peacefully with my coffee and drink it hot without having to microwave it three separate times, I think I'll still be rejoicing that day too. But mostly I'm going to miss my little sidekick.

Since the moment the OB stopped screaming "Hard as you can! Hard as you can! Hard as you can!" and placed the tiny 6lb 15oz baby on my chest we've been inseparable. We do everything together. We go everywhere together. We have a bond that only her and I share. She wants to be just like me, complete with lines on her forehead and the ability to roll her eyes effortlessly. And I want to be like her, to see life as one big playground where the goal is to have as much fun as you can. We've taken on every adventure that comes our way together. Every challenge, together. Together we provide each other with comfort. Together we are strong and can do anything.

And starting Wednesday, all that will be just a little bit different. See, my baby is growing up. She's ready and so am I. We need it. It's time for both of us to spread our wings just a touch. As excited as I am for this next chapter in our mother daughter relationship, I am equal parts sad and maybe even a fraction fearful for what's next. She is too. We will adjust to the newness and who knows, maybe our relationship will flourish with a few hour break from each other every day.

And to Alice, since I know one day you will read these words written about you, you have no idea how much I love you, how proud I am of you. You have become an amazing little girl. You're clever and resourceful, beautiful and sophisticated. You stop a room when you walk in. It's always been that way. When you were a baby, I couldn't go anywhere without complete strangers telling me how beautiful and porcelain doll like you were. The gerber baby people said. At Gymboree your early speech mesmerized the other parents. Your emotional sophistication has always astonished me. You understand complex thoughts and feelings that some adults struggle with. You make me so very proud to say I am your mama. Dear, sweet Alice...you are my sun and my moon and I thank the heavens every day you are in my life.

Love at First Sight

I have a new car. And not the "new to me" kind of new car. A BRAND NEW car! Wanna see? I know you do. I know you've been at home curiously wondering, twiddling your thumbs anticipating the moment I reveal to you my new car. Wait no more...here it is!

Here for your viewing pleasure is a 2012 Honda Pilot in Bali Blue Pearl. And best of all...it's not a mini-van! Nothing against those of you with mini-vans. Truth be known, part of me wanted one. I was gonna plaster a bumper sticker on it that read "I used to be cool."

I am in love with my new car. Complete love at first sight. I've never had this reaction with a car before. Sure, I loved the oscillating ac vents in my very first car, an old Mazda 626. A novel feature that seemed to amuse my friends when they would ride with me. And I love all the memories I created in my Hyundai Elantra wagon. All the times the car left Hatta and I stranded...all very fun stories. What can I say about my Honda Element? I brought my baby home from the hospital in that car. For that reason alone it holds a special place in my heart. But really, I did not love any of those cars. They were merely cars. They served a purpose. I got from A to B. End of story.

Oh, but my lovely Pilot. We are best friends. Soul mates right from the start. With all the organizational options, she's clearly a girl car. She's smart and sophisticated. And clever, damn she's clever...for a car. You should see the seats fold. Don't be fooled into thinking she's all brains, you should see her classy leather wrapped steering wheel, so sleek and sexy. My new car has it all! Brains and beauty!

I've even toyed with the idea of giving the powerful lady a name of her very own. I've never owned a car with a name. Lots of rednecks people do it, right? She came to me from Georgia, a Southern belle! Maybe Scarlett or Victoria or Anabel?

There is only one thing I do not enjoy about my new car. She's clean. Not like, "oh I took the car to the car wash and was able to remove 2 months of the 5 years of dirt and gunk that built up" clean, but insanely brand new car clean. It's scary. I had a talk with Alice.

"You know we have to try and keep the new car really clean. We can't just leave our trash in here. You can't leave your toys all over the place. We have to try really hard."

"Like I can't stick gummy bunnies to the wall, right?"

This is why I'm scared. Alice actually did that and didn't bother telling me for days, weeks. I'm not even sure how long the gummy fruit snack was stuck to the wall. We will do our best. I will try hard for my new best friend, the new love in my life. For her, I will do anything.

Co-Sleeping

The time has come. You may recall a few posts ago where I couldn't decide what to write about. Today, I feel it's appropriate to tell the other story.

For a moment I would like to address the Judgey McJudgerson's. Hi. If you don't mind, today's post isn't for you. If you regard yourself as a perfect parent, a super mom perhaps, may I kindly ask you to visit my older posts or another blogger entirely. Just for today. I'm sure tomorrow's post will be much more appropriate. I will welcome you back with open arms. See, today's topic is a bit personal. You understand, right?

I've been hesitant to write this post. As a parent, teaching your child to sleep is one of your first tasks. And many would say I've failed. At this very moment, Alice is fast asleep in my bed. This morning she woke up in my bed. The night before, my bed. The night before the night before, my bed. Sensing the pattern? I will stand sorta-kinda proudly and say, "My four year old sleeps in my bed."

Now that that's over, let me start at the beginning. As a newborn, Alice couldn't sleep alone. I tried night after night, nap after nap. It just didn't happen. She would either wake as soon as you laid her down or within a short period of time. She'd sleep fine in your arms or snuggled next to you. Anything else was not acceptable to her and, sadly, I was not a proponent of the cry it out method. I tried and tried, at Hatta's persistence, to transition her to the co-sleeper every night after she woke for a middle of the night feeding. Until that one night when I didn't. Snuggled next to me in bed, I latched on a hungry Alice and my exhausted postpartum eyes closed and remained closed. When I woke up several hours later, it was a total hallelujah moment. Finally, her and I both slept peacefully. Out of sheer desperation, I was hooked. Hatta, not so much. I did research, forwarded pages for him to read, tried my best to convince him if we co-slept smartly it was going to be okay. And it was.

Fast forward four years. Up until now, Alice hasn't slept in my bed consistently since the newborn phase. She transitioned to her crib for a period of time, then into the toddler bed. However, sleep has always been a struggle for Alice. I've googled, read books, and followed fellow mom's advice. Nothing seemed to work. Try as I might, I've rarely been able to convince Alice to spend an entire night in her bed. She'd fall asleep in her bed and when she woke at 3 or 4am 5 or 6am she'd toddle into my bed. This worked for Hatta and I. It seemed the lesser of the evils.

Until the damn bug entered the picture. About six weeks ago, during nap time, a fly entered Alice's room. It's not hard, there's a skylight in her room and she still doesn't have a door. Flys can come and go as they please. But, see, Alice has a bug phobia (that I promise I will post about soon. Any day. It's coming.) A harmless house fly or fruit fly is anything but simple to her. It's devastating and all, "Mama! Mama! A bug in my room! Eeeeee!! Hurry! MAMA! OH...EEE...MAAAAMA!" Ever since, she won't sleep in her room. The fly is long gone. Died of natural causes by now and, yet, she's still terrified to be alone at bedtime in her room. She tells everyone about the bug. I've given up. I willingly let her start out in my bed every night now.

Ah, but there's an end in sight. School starts soon. Have I mentioned preschool starts soon and I'm really, super, uber excited? Oh. Right. I've mentioned that. Anyway, school starts soon and guess who goes to preschool. Big girls, that's who! And guess what big girls do. Sleep in big girl beds! You see where I'm going with this? Yep. I've had the talk with Alice about school and big girls and sleeping in their own mother effing beds...maybe not in those exact words. Now, not only is Alice petrified of bugs, but she's dreading school, too. I foresee a few rough nights coming up in my future. Can't wait!






The courage for this post where I out myself for allowing my four year to sleep in my bed has been brought to you by The Honest Toddler. I realize I'm not alone in the big bed saga. Thank you.

Day One = Success

Good morning, fine friends. I really mean that. It is a good morning. Isn't that fantastic?!

It started out rough. I pulled a Hatta and realized 10 minutes into the drive I had left my phone at home. I contemplated taking one for the team and doing without for a few days. That could be fun, right? I hear how wonderful and freeing it is to disconnect and genuinely be present in your life for a change. Then it dawned on me, whoever said that was a moron. I needed my phone now more than ever. I quickly had us turned around and headed back home. Conveniently, Alice began complaining of a stomach ache. She wanted to poop. A 20 minute pit stop, complete with phrases like, "I can't keep pushing. The poop needs to catch its breath," and we were on our way again.

The drive turned out exactly how I expected. Alice was tired and refused to sleep. I was accused of fondling my leather wrapped steering wheel. We had to stop more times than I can bring myself to admit making the drive at least 30 minutes longer than necessary...not including my cellphone screw up. Eventually we arrived at the beach, mostly unscathed.

I shit you not, Hatta had a Summer Shandy in my hand within 3 minutes of walking in the front door. He's a standup guy like that. From that moment on, life was good. We quickly had beers in a cooler, swimsuits donned, and our bodies on the boat headed to the bay.

Something happens to me every time I'm on a boat. I'm reminded this is the one place I feel at home. I suppose it's the way some people feel when they eat a familiar food or visit a town from a past life, transported back to the comfort of your childhood. With my mother no longer alive, many of those old comforts trigger sad feelings for me. Except the boat. There's something about being on the water, the salt air blowing through my hair that makes me feel my childhood. Driving through the inlet, remembering all the times we would come to this spot to greet my father, a waterman, as he returned home after a week long trip. We would wave and jump up and down, he would sound the horn, knowing we would finally get to see each other again.

So, yeah, I was enjoying myself. We spent a few hours anchored at what turned out to be our very own private beach. I spent a few hours doing absolutely nothing and it was awesome. I drank. I sunbathed. I watched my daughter from a distance. I willingly played beer wench for Hatta as he fished. I would have breathtaking pictures to post for you...but I forgot my phone, again.