Monday I go back to work. Eight short weeks ... with Imri I had 12. But money is much tighter this time around.
It's killing me. Each time I think about it my heart starts racing, tears well up and my palms go sweaty. 8 weeks old. She is tiny ... too tiny to leave her mommy's arms.
It's killing me.
Carmel has started smiling at me. She coos and kind of chortles a little. Her temperament is definitely her own - a bit more high maintenance than her brother was. 0-60 in no time flat ... and then it's hard to get her to calm. Early intervention is key with my "just-so" girl. She does have lots of gas and some spit up ... something I never saw with Imri. But for the most part, she is content.
Carmel, you are beyond sweet - so tiny, so cute, so obviously alert and bright. Your face lights up at the sight of me, at the bright lights around you, at the colours on your play-mat. We are just getting to know one another, you and I. I can't stand the thought of leaving you with someone else.
And I have to leave you.
It's plain wrong.
I found a nursing school girlfriend by chance the other day, while surfing the web. She lives in Canada and is home on maternity leave with her second child, who was born in May. Because Canada supports families who have children by giving paid maternity leave.
My daughter was born in September and I have to go back to work. Because here, in one of the richest and most powerful countries in the world, there is no mandated maternity leave, paid or otherwise. In other words, the US government for all its "family values" talk, doesn't give a shit about families.
It's easy to go on and on about cells multiplying in the uterus ... doesn't cost a thing. But when the money needs to go where the mouth is, this government is strangely silent. Unless it comes to asking Congress for even more money for a war we shouldn't be in, in a country whose people don't want us. But care for our own families?? Nah. Why bother? Too expensive. So veto the s-chip bill, Georgie, why don't you, block children's access to health care ... but yell really loud about abortion rights because that costs you nothing.
Yes, I'm not happy. I can't stand the thought of leaving my infant daughter in daycare, all because I'm living in the wrong country. I told John that we are going to be back in Canada before Imri goes into first grade. Non-negotiable.
Please send us good wishes.
My little boy is getting big. Yes, he's still little, only two now, but when I look at his sister, he's practically ginormous.
Imri, you can jump now ... both feet off the ground. Your vocabulary (yes, I know, I know, I brag about this a lot)is incredible and expanding every day. You can tell us colours and are getting shapes under your belt. Numbers still need some work - not the recital of their names which you do fairly well, but the comprehension of their meaning. You sing songs; ABC, itsy bitsy spider, etc. You sit down with books and "read" them.
You are my special boy, Imri ... even if you drive me to distraction some days. Mommy is still the target for your displeasure with the change in our lives, aka Carmel. We are slowly getting there but it's tough for you some days. I did see an inkling of love when mommy went to leave Carmel in the infant room of the daycare center for a brief moment - you got all upset that Carmel wouldn't be coming with us. That did make me smile.
Your birthday was last Sunday and we celebrated in style. Train style, that is, one of your favourite things. Unfortunately, you woke up with a bad cold but we celebrated anyway. Here are some of the highlights.
Other than a few tantrums, a bad cold and two year old crap, we had a lovely day.
After breakfast Imri opened his first present ...
He loves this table, seriously. He does have another train table but it is higher off the ground and hard for him to use, so this was a great find. Not to mention I got it cheap off of Ebay. All we had to do was drive to Baltimore to pick it up.
After that, we went to the nearby Train Station - it's not an active railroad, but there is a museum and they run trains on the weekends during the fall and summer - it's an hour long ride and very nice. They also host birthdays on the caboose, something to consider in a couple of years time.
Imri and Daddy on the caboose
Here is Imri sitting on the seat in the train, eating goldfish.
And yes, that is a Thomas snack holder.
Imri fell asleep halfway through ...
yes, those are Thomas sneakers ...
He woke up when we got off and went to see the engine. The conductor and engineer took him up into the engine!
The engineer even tooted the horn!
We toured the older trains that aren't being used anymore
It was great fun! Then we went home and had cake
And mommy and daddy spoiled a small boy rotten with another present ... a trike!
Here's daddy taking Imri for a ride - the trike has a steering wheel for the parents ... very nice.
And in the end ... he'd rather play with sticks ...
And yes, that is a train on his shirt. What can I say?
We are moving along nicely at Chez Chaos. Carmel is growing nicely; she has her first month appointment on Friday and I am looking forward to finding out her weight gain as she is no longer as light as air, the little porker.
We are still struggling with her tummy issues: discomfort, lots of gas (some quite smelly), straining and grunting, some greenish poops. I did a bunch of reading as is my wont, and found out that it may be due to overactive letdown (and therefore a foremilk/hindmilk imbalance, perhaps), which I definitely have. I've been trying to do different things to make it better for her but it doesn't always seem to work. I've tried frequent burping (not a good burper, not my girl) but when she doesn't burp - and I try in a variety of positions - do I put her back on the boob so she can get the hindmilk?, pumping first (if I can), feeding while reclined, delatching and relatching ... any other thoughts out there?
Other than that, I can really see how she's growing and changing. She's filling out - what were scrawny chicken legs are getting plump and strong, her little cheeks are cherubic and chubby and she is awake more often now. She is alert and watchful and really doesn't like it when she can't see what's going on around her. And, she's starting to recognize her mommy. This morning, I saw *something* in her eyes when she saw me ... a glimmer of a smile and what I swear is recognition. I'm not just saying that because I'm her doting mother, either. She does recognize me by sight.
She's also starting to hold her head up really well. Tummy time this morning netted us head position changes from side to side and more vocalizing. And i finally clued into the fact that she's not a bouncy seat fan but loves the swing. I'm loving this, I really am. I am so enjoying my daughter.
This afternoon she actually grabbed for my hand as she curled up in my lap after nursing. *sniff*
Life is damned good, have I mentioned that?
Imri has good and not so good days. His language skills are amazing - at least to us. He speaks in complete sentences now and they get more complex by the day, it seems. He is also counting well "one, two, three, five, six, seven, nine, ten". Not bad. He has the colour "red" down pat, and usually "green" too ... blue and green can be interchangeable. Yellow is a whole nother ball game. He is still trying to sort out the whole Carmel thing and where he falls on the continuum. We constantly give reassurances as to his place in our hearts, but heck - it's damned hard being nearly two.
After all, being two means wielding some serious power. Like the power of "no". A potent word which stops big people in their tracks. Even if you're saying no to something you actually want, it's still pretty cool to say it and see the results.
Hence the defiance thing, so I've been trying to de-escalate by counting to three. As in "ok, I'm going to count to three. You need to get off of the table or you'll go to time-out. One ... time to get off the table. TWO ... time to get off the table ... two and a half! ... "
Usually that's as far as we go. For now.
But it's still worth every darned minute of frustration. Every damned minute.
