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ABOUT ME

About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.

Sunday, January 31, 2010

I suddenly understand my fear of discos and showgirls

I did a lot of thinking over the weekend. And lots of rocking in the fetal position. But I think I'm ready to eat Nabisco cookies again.

It all started Friday morning, when Junior woke up and said, “I want to go to school! I want to go to school!” When he saw me getting ready for work, he said it again, so Chuck and I decided to let him try the pre-preschool thing for a full day. If I found myself crying about the zombies again, that would be it.

Amazingly, a new teacher greeted me—a friendly teacher. I took a big gulp, said good-bye to Junior, walked across the parking lot and went to work.

Of the three times I stopped in, Junior was happily playing each time. He even took a nap. When I picked him up at four, he cried because he didn’t want to leave.

Now, I’m pretty sure you don’t want play-by-play accounts of my two-and-a-half-year-old’s foray into daycare/pre-preschool/whatever the hell you want to call it, but some important things hit me on Friday's drive home, and I'd feel better if I documented them for future reference:

1) People who seem like zombies might actually just be adjusting to a brand new childcare facility and learning the ropes themselves

2) If it's the wrong time of the month, the realization that your child doesn't need you to be happy 24-7 can turn you into a sniveling disaster

3) I'm not a cute crier

4) My 10-minute drive to and from work is the only time I have entirely to myself

Another thing I realized—remembered, actually—was that when I was three my mother sent me to a babysitter who listened to Copacabana by Barry Manilow nonstop on her record player. The woman sat for other children, some older than I.

Every time I went there, my mother sent me with a box of assorted Nabisco cookies. After she left, the older kids would lock me in the basement and push the cookies they didn’t want under the door. Imagine sitting on a basement step in the dark and watching Lorna Doones pile up. All to Copacabana.

(My mother pulled me from the place soon after.)

After I told Chuck this, I suddenly understood my Mount Everest-sized anxiety about leaving Junior in someone else’s care. Yes, the teachers were a bit detached, but it wasn’t the horror scene I’d made it out to be. And when I reread my last post, I was a little embarrassed by my automatic rifle reaction. I shot up most of Mulletville with my mental bullets.

Kapow, zombie!

Tomorrow is a new day. Am I ready for Barry? Never. But can I lick the creamy center with reckless abandon?



No, no I can't. But only because someone told me it's made of lard.

27 comments:

Julia said...

My worst memory of day care was going to stay with an older grouchy lady who would not let us flush the toilet ourselves. Let me tell you I feel your trauma...

I am glad Jr likes day care. It's better than the two months of crying Ella did when I started sending her to three days of half day-day care. She literally cried the entire time for the first two days. Now that was torture for everyone and there were no zombies anywhere.

Mrsbear said...

Well, I'm glad you've adjusted to the idea and patched up all those mental bullet holes. (No zombie head shots, I hope.)

It's a good thing that Junior likes day care and he won't relive your babysitter trials. I feel for you. Barry Manilow and Lorna Doones are a tragic combo.

Really? Lard? Gurg.

slow panic said...

Once my mom dropped me off at kindergarten on a school holiday (president's day I think). in Minnesota. it was cold and I stood outside, alone and confused for like an hour at least until someone at her work told her there was no school.

Brandy said...

ugh no wonder you have issues. I can't let grayson go to an in-home daycare because of my own phobias/issues.

Lindy said...

My old babysitter walked around in her black bra and fed us White Castle.

Oreos are the devil.

But....glad he (and you) are adjusting.

Sara said...

Glad things are working out and JR likes the place.

The Mother said...

You are showing your one-child-ness.

Once you have a few more, getting rid of one for a whole afternoon (morning, day, night, weekend, month) becomes the most promising idea in the history of the universe.

Go ahead, tell me I'm a terrible mom. I can hack it.

tootertotz said...

What a sweet treat to have a place that Jr. loves. Give yourself a little while to get accustomed to the idea of school for him and you will be sending him with a smile...even into the arms of a gibberish talking zombie.

As long as they make him happy, they are doing something right. Unless of course they are just loading him up with toys and treats in your absence...hmmmm, I might need to have a stash of that stuff around for our crazier days, now that I think of it.

Hang in there...you are doing a great job even when he craves school. Its a fun place with little friends and no matter how you try, you'll never be as cool as another little tike. I've tried to no avail.

Mary said...

One of my sisters locked my other sister in the basement once. When the locked up sister got hungry, the locker sent an onion down the dirty clothes chute for her. What a sweetie. :)

My point is, at least you got cookies and not an onion.

Yes, you can call me Pollyanna. Everyone does.

http://marybt.wordpress.com

Magpie said...

Wow - Lorna Doones under the cellar door - that's the stuff of nightmares, and I like Lorna Doones.

Mama Badger said...

Good thing those were the days before lawsuits, huh? That woman would have had to pay for years of therapy.

Glad JR is happy during his days. I bet it'll get easier for you, too. At first my feelings were hurt when LG cried at pick up time. Now? Meh.

Cinnamon said...

I, too, have memories of a baby sitter and barry manilow records. Maybe we went to the same place! (Okay, probably more the times we lived in, but still funny.)
PS- No lard in Oreos... see the little U inside a circle on the bottom of the package? That means it's Kosher (no lard or meat products in them). Had to share that info since they're too delish not to enjoy!
:) Robin

SLColman said...

Sorry that you had a rough time letting Junior go a little :( But good news that it was a LOT better this time around as far as "school" went!!

Susan said...

Her name was Lola, she loved to chacha..sorry. I think you're growing up. I still stare at the school building wistfully after I drop the kids off. And they're in jr. high.

Frogs in my formula said...

No lard? Magic to my ears.

Pricilla said...

It is good that he likes it there. It will give both you and Chuck some freedom.
That was some strange babysitter you went to.
Very strange....

Jen said...

I am so glad things are better. There is nothing worse than having your child cry as you drop him off at day care. Wait, yes there is, it's having him cry when you come to pick him up because he wants to stay. Wait til you hear "mommy go away". It's precious.

DysFUNctional Mom said...

I worked in child care for years. They should at LEAST fake it better when they know you're there. I mean, come on, put forth a leeeetle effort.

blognut said...

I'm glad it's going to work out for you - it gets easier.

Also? Whoever told you that the creamy center of Oreo's is lard only wanted all of the cookies for him/herself. Girl, go get you some of those and give 'em a try! You'll thank me later.

Leanne said...

I hear you. But honestly? It gets easier. Soon you'll be complaining when you can't take him there because they get sick or something.

But lard? Really? Shoot, now what am I'm going to have for breakfast. Sigh.

Otter Thomas said...

I am glad you are healing because everyone needs oreos. My wife has already said I will have to take our son to daycare when we start. She is certain she can't do it.

Buggys said...

Well, I guess we are what we...don't...eat. Makes no sense I know but that's what my fingers wanted to say.

Lori said...

You have way more composure than I. I think people might let me off or help me out when I'm crying just so I stop making the hideous face that I've got going on.

If the centers of Oreos are made out of lard, why does my vegan friend allow her son to eat them? This is a mystery I am too lazy to solve...

Keely said...

Huh. When I was a kid the older neighbourhood kids used me for my gum and then locked me in an outhouse.

No *wonder* I don't like outhouses.

Glad Junior likes daycare :)

Working Mommy said...

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...OREOS!!!!! You should get the Valentine's Day ones with the colored center...that might make you forget how fattening they really are...just a thought :)

~WM

Cris Goode said...

I'm not a cute crier either...

Nanc Twop said...

never fear...

Oreos - no lard

And no blubber, either! ;-)

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