The answer is blowing in the wind

How many times will I reheat my coffee before I drink it while its hot?
How many of those times will it have never left the microwave?
How many times until remember I already put sugar in my coffee?
How many times will I drink cold sweet coffee and just think its easier that way?
How many times to I have to wash the couch cover before it stops smelling like dog?
How many snacks will I allow before "snack time"?
How long until I stop pretending there exists a "snack time" that is not all the time?
How long would it take if I picked up everything that's on the floor and shouldn't be with out stopping?
How long until I learn to never say "playground" until we are actually on our way there?
How long until I find out if someone showed S that her pacifier should be washed when she finds it on the ground, or if she deduced this herself.
How long will I listen to her screaming next to the sink before I wash it? Again?

Its only Kindergarten.

I am censoring myself from myself and trying to dig out of the bullshit to investigate what it is I am truly feeling right now.

We've done it. We've signed H up for the friends school I always knew we'd find a way to send her to. I am still not sure about 'the way' we will do this, but we have signed a contract and put a deposit down that we will find 'a way'. Luckily they didn't ask us details about 'the way'. Smoke and mirrors, and probable statistics. That's the plan we're working on. Hope and Probability. Incorporated. That's us.

I made up my mind where H would go, with out really considering anything else. I went through some motions, hemmed and hawed, weighed options, but all along I knew she'd go to this school. Its too personal, this school. This religion, as it turns out. Who knew? Who knew I would actually become what I was "raised" (I can hear my sister saying "we weren't raised...") The school seems like an extension of me. How egotistical is that? It embodies everything I think is important. They teach the way I try to live. They have the same values I do. They teach the world.

I wanted to be happy when she got accepted, and I was, but...
I wanted to be happy with their generous offer of financial aid. Award they call it. I was, but...

I am happy H will be going there. No really. No, really, really I am. Its just that is much more complicated that I thought it was going to be. I thought you just fill out the forms, wait, wait, wait some more, if the numbers seem reasonable you do it. (Reasonable here is relative. Its like bridal money, the cake costs 1,000? Well thats reasonable, considering I just read that this other cake costs $5000.)

H is happy, I told her that she'd be going to kindergarten at the same place we go to Meeting. Where she went that day to play (for her evaluation) She lit up, "I didn't know that was a school! I like it there!" So thats good. She's probably happy I am addressing the topic of kindergarten, finally. I haven't really talked to her about it before, I realized today. She hears all this kindergarten whispering going on, they talk about kindergarten at her school- I image kindergarten in her mind as this big looming future event. That stresses her parents out beyond belief.

I know its our decision, but I felt the need to bounce it off everyone I know. Very few are bouncing it back positively though. I'm finding an elitism towards public school. I'm finding lashing out of those who have chosen public school. I feel myself being called a hypocrite, a snob. (Ok. By one person. Indirectly. But it stung. I'm taking it personally.) It has never come to pass that I'm in line with the masses, doing what most people are doing, and this time I'm not even going against the grain on purpose. Somewhere around here, private school became evil. I don't know, maybe its the cost. Maybe its the community. Maybe its the under dog mentality of where I live.

I know its right, but why does it still feel hard?

I wasn't expecting sending my daughter to private school would feel so much like I'm swimming upstream.

***
Seriously, if I didn't have a spin class today I would be stuck to the ceiling. All this school shit has me wound so tight I can't breathe. Then I get stressed wondering how I'm going to vomit if I can't even breathe. Because I am so stressed from not breathing that I get nauseous. Then I get stressed that I'm so stressed and so on. And over and over. So thank god for the spin class, because I felt pretty good after that. I could breathe, and I could have even vomited if I wanted to, but I didn't feel the need. Brilliant.

But then I went to get my poor abandoned angle baby from the child care room. Still sitting in the chair where I'd left her. An hour earlier. She didn't eat her snack, and the tv wasn't even on. She just sat there, probably holding back tears. So brave! For. an. hour. I don't know what I'm going to do about this. I'm going next week, if she sits in the chair for a solid hour again I'll have to come up with a new plan. Maybe I'll go at night. When I'm supposed to be working. Or maybe I'll re-embrace the craziness and learn to love being on the ceiling.

Eggs benedict

I love it when I go to great lengths to make an actual breakfast, and am met with hair raising blood curdling screams and head banging.

The tantrum is always evolving and now has a wrestling move. I don't know what its called, you know the one where you jump in the air and the sit down hard on your opponent? That one.

I made eggs, with cheese, and bagles for myself and S, instead of just opening the fridge and putting together a concoction to pass off as breakfast as per usual. I even got it all ready by the time Sesame Street started. Eggs in front of the tv on a tuesday? Thats awesome right?

My critical error: opening the refrigerator to get the cheese out. S spotted the yogurt. She had to have the yogurt. Why didn't I just give her the yogurt? I had already cooked the eggs, so THAT was what was going to be eaten. The problem is I'm as stubborn as my children. Thus the tantrum and almost burnt eggs.

I ate my eggs and watched sesame street by myself while keeping the dogs away from S's eggs. S screamed on the kitchen floor. Don't feel bad for her. This tantruming is out of control. We don't only tantrum when we don't get our way, but also, this just in, when we are frustrated. S gets very frustrated very quickly. If I'm slow to understand what shes saying, if she can't find something.. let me rephrase, if something she wants isn't in her hand as soon as it occurs to her. "Find something" insinuates she looks for it. No, straight to tantrum. We all need body armor around here. There is constant flailing and being flailed upon.

S did join me for breakfast, eventually, and was promptly horrified by an elephant puppet on TV. Its a good thing S wasn't a part of Sesames Streets original focus group. She was stubbornly refusing to eat the eggs, which she normally would inhale. And giving me sulky brow furrowed glares.

I think next time I'll make eggs for the dogs, if I'm in the mood to be appreciated, and just let S have her way with the refrigerator.

Special is as special does.

Spinning towards sanity

I have been slowly, over the period of a few weeks, coming to the realization of something I've known all along. When I exert myself physically, I get the crazies out. I have held the "hey, what a coincidence, I feel great after mountain biking" next to the "Hmm, I feel kind of insane and a little bit like I can't go on when I don't get a chance to go mountain biking" and know that I do feel better when I'm able to work it out physically. Then I take that knowledge and ignore it. I was seeing a therapist for a while not all that long ago, until I reached the end my insurance allotment. The good doctor said, head lowered and looking at me over her glasses, with the conviction of a fortune teller, "exercise is going to be very important for you." Yep, I said. I know. And did more nothing about it.

Its taken me, oh, 5 years give or take to even try to get some kind of exercise regime going on. I am an excellent excuse maker. Today I took giant strides and passed my best excuse ever, leaving my kids in the child care room at the Y. I did it! I left S there while I took a spin class this morning. I went in, gave her a guilt cookie, and put her in a chair at the table. I came back and hour later and she was still in the same chair. I asked if she had been there the whole time- yes, she had. There was a tv on, so I hope she was distracted at least and not just sitting there frozen in fear of abandonment.

When H was a baby, probably 10 months old, I tried to leave her in the child care at the Y. I had to cancel my membership because I couldn't do it. She was walking at 9 months. I knew she wasn't going to sit in one of those excersaucer things- that were the fate of the other small kids there. She never sat still at all. Still doesn't. I was afraid she'd escape. Or eat all the tiny toys that were all over the place. There was one kid there eating raisins, which I had just learned were a choking hazard, another kid eating choking hazardous popcorn, and then... there was ham on the floor. These days I would probably just shrug and ask how a little floor ham is going to harm any one- but at the time that was the deciding factor.

They've re done the child care room- it pretty big, nice, has a lot of toys. There was no ham on the floor. S didn't cry, which was very awesome of her. Once I got back, she didn't want to go. Then she wanted to play and flipped her lid when I made her leave. I'm hoping she'll come to like being there, and will move past sitting in a chair for an hour. But, not bad for the first time ever being left in a room full of strangers. (my baby! I am fighting fighting fighting feeling horrible. I was doing really well, but forgot to concentrate on not feeling bad, and now I feel bad.)

Despite that last sentence, I am actually no where near as tense and stressed as I normally am by this time of the day. But I am exhausted. I am wondering if I need that craziness to propel me through the day. There is stuff everywhere, and I am making no motion to put anything away. I am not even delegating. I am waiting for the magic school bus to come on as eagerly as H is.

So, sane and exhausted, crazy with just enough energy to run around all day. Which is the way to go here?

Long distance

My father in law has been in Pakistan for a month. He comes back next week. He goes every year, for about a month, it is integral to his being- he needs to go, but the truth is he can't handle being gone.

The calls start from the airport, before he's even en route. "How are the girls? Oh they sound so big!" He calls everyday- just as he would if he weren't away. Night for him is our day time, he stays up late so he can hear H tell him about her day at school (more than she tells me, by the way) so he can listen to S try out her new words and listen to her point to things over the phone.

Today I looked at the girls and thought, good God he is going to freak out when he sees them. They have gotten so big. Again. They have gone on a simultaneous growing spurt- you would think I would come to recognise these things by the amount of food trafficking around here- but I am never up to speed. I get sucked into the grocery vortex and by the time I come to the girls are bigger.

I am grateful to tears that they have him in their lives. My heart grows and hurts a bit. One of my favorite things is to watch my father in law with his grandchildren. He wears head bands. He paints toenails. He does anything they ask without hesitation. He adores them, its magic, really.

Control

Last night we had some friends over for dinner. They have 2 boys roughly the ages of H and S. Our plan was to plop the kids in front of a movie while we hid in the kitchen and drank wine. It was semi-successful, but we all ended up watching the movie- which then had to be part one-d as it was getting late and small people were falling apart from exhaustion.

Towards the end of the night, a box of music makers was brought out (not by an adult, I'll tell you that) and the brothers were on the verge of a major squabble over who would play the squeeze box. H ran to the box of noise makers and riffled through it until she found a pair of maracas, and ran back over to give these to the younger brother so the older brother could play the squeeze box and no one would be upset. And no one was upset.

I was kind of amazed- and realized this is what we do all day. If H wants something from S, I tell her to get her something else for S to play with. After I got done being impressed at my daughters conflict resolution skills, and impressed that she was the only one in the room of 4 parents who thought on her feet and saved us from a major melt down, I had a moment of major parenting doubt.

I had flashes of moments in my life where I'd done a similar thing. This is what I'm passing on? An example: When we were kids, convincing my sister to be the one to ask to stop at McDonalds so I wouldn't have to be the one to ask. Really believing I could will a cheeseburger and fries to happen. Obviously it wasn't my will that made it happen, it was my sisters asking. That I arranged behind the scenes.

What are H and S learning from this tactic? Is this the beginning of not asking for what you need/want? I know that I am often indirect in saying what I want, which has led to me often not knowing what I want. I'm the first to call someone out having a fear of confrontation, but it is becoming more and more evident that I have my own fear of confrontation. Just keep everyone happy. Appease the masses. Give them another toy. Should I be encouraging more aggressive less passive behavior?

Then again, neither of the girls seems to have a problem asking for what they want- repeatedly and not taking no for an answer. Earlier today, when J and I said no to buying 2 boxes of band aids (we need one for upstairs and one for down stairs! Thats what we ALLWAYYYS DO!!!) we were appointed by H "the meanest mommy and daddy in all the meanest TOWN!" No passivity. Pure aggression.

When H was born, I would look at her so tiny so pure and cry that I was going to screw her up. Then I did the same thing when S was born. Only that time I cried longer since I had already started screwing her sister up and knew it was inevitable that she too be tainted.

I am slowly learning that I don't have the power to single handedly screw anyone up. Although I also believe that every parent screws up their child. See what I mean? I don't know what I believe. I believe it all.

(Ok, interlude for something I really don't believe at all- while I have been glued to this computer, H ate a whole bag of soybeans.)

Maybe, at least, I can control H and S from thinking they can control everyone's outcome. That they don't always have to keep the peace. That they can continue to ask, which doesn't mean they'll get. That they'll believe in the power of nice. That they'll know the difference between being nice and avoiding confrontation.

The sun also rises

This day.
This day started at 6 am with both girls simultaneously screaming.
H "Is it MORNING? I was to eat BREAKFAST!
S "MooooOOOommmMMMMEEEEEeeee!"

me "no, its not morning yet. Let me take a shower."
H "I DON'T WANT YOU TO TAKE A SHOOOWWWWER..."

While this was going on (and on) I had gotten S out of her bed, and dumped her into ours with J. I shot him several filthy looks for having the nerve to still be lying down.

I got into the shower, with H still screaming about morning and breakfast. When I turned off the water I heard continued wailing from H. "You said you'd be fast! That was NOT A FAST SHOWER" then "I WANTED TO EAT BREAKFAST WHEN ITS STILL NIGHTTTTIIIIMMMMEEEE..." (and again. and again.)

Apparently the sun rises with my shower, which explains a lot for those days when I don't get a shower.

Then this gem from H: "I WANT MOMMY TO GO BACK TO SLEEP"

Oh. Really? Is this a test?

Finally, J says to me, "Its night time when you're still asleep" Thus the breakfast at night time.
All this because she wanted a Daddy breakfast.

Too bad, I told her. I'm awake now. (See? See what happens when you jolt me awake at 6 am? You're stuck with me. I don't do back to sleep well. I can't nap either. Its too hard to wake up the first time.)

The sun rises when I shower. Morning comes when I arise from slumber. I have spoken.

I will have to tell the rest about this day tomorrow- as it took me the entire day to describe my morning.