Misfire

Yesterday I posed the alternative of me sleeping for an extra 20 minutes and the Hoos getting up first. Then, I would shower in peace while he got the girls up and dressed.

This morning was my reality check on this scenario.

The Hoos had an early meeting so he asked if I would bring the girls to school. In return he would get up first.

At 6:20 (about 20 minutes before my alarm) AK started calling from her crib.

Around 6:55 the Hoos got out of bed and went into AK's room and whispered something. Next thing I know, AK is laying on top of me and the Hoos has slipped out of the room to shower.

So much for an extra 20 minutes of sleep.

When I tried to slip quietly from the bed and make my way into the shower, AK sat upright. And then she ended up joining me in the shower.

So much for showering in peace.

The Hoos did get LP up and dressed, which is really quite the feat, but we all ended up going downstairs together. In fact, I think I ended up going downstairs with AK first and getting everyone breakfast...

So much for option B.

Dang Time Change!

So I know it has been over a week since we changed the clocks. I thought by now my sweet little angel's internal clock would have readjusted, but it appears that she continues to march to the beat of the former drum.

LP used to sleep peacefully until sometime between 8 and 8:30. The Hoos would have to wake her up at 7:45 for day care the three days a week that she goes. And even after rousing her from her peaceful sleep she would rest her fuzzy little head on his shoulder, milking every last second of relaxation she could before having to greet the day.

Don't let the media fool you - only people without young children actually gain an hour of sleep when we turn the clocks back. In my house, since "falling back" we have all lost an hour of sleep. LP now wakes up at 7:15 or so EVERY DAY. And not just waking up and mewling for us - but standing in her crib and calling at the top of her lungs to be released.

On the weekends we try to bring her into bed with us and hunker down, hoping that she will just relax and enjoy the warmth of mommy and daddy. But no. She is up and she wants to play. She may stay in bed with us, but there is no rest to be had. She will poke, prod, smack, and generally make it impossible for grumpy grown-ups to maintain the illusion of sleep. The other day, she pulled my lips back and attempted to force her pacifier into my mouth. She thought it was hysterical. I was not as amused.

Please don't tell me that we have to wait until Spring to regain our precious hour of sleep....

I Am So Lame

This weekend was supposed to be an exciting adventure for the Hoos and me. Mid-day Saturday we dropped LP off with my parents on Long Island and returned home to an empty house for 24 hours. We actually had a concert to attend Saturday night, the impetus for the baby-sitting. I know, it sounds like we are going to have something crazy planned, right? We are going to party like rock stars, relive our second honeymoon (the first honeymoon, Canada in December, was a bust)...


But no. Here is what really happened:

• 2:30. We return home.
• 2:35. The Hoos notices that there is water pooling around our less-than-a-year-old boiler.
• 2:40. We search our disorganized files to find the boiler paperwork and service number. We call.
• 2:45-3:30. We do yard work while waiting for the service guy to show up. I rake by the driveway and side of the house and he shreds leaves to dump into our new composter.
• 3:35-4. The composter is full, so I go inside the house and start to clean up, I vacuum, spot clean sticky spots on the tile floor...you know, the good stuff.
• 4-4:10: The service guy shows up, looks at the boiler, closes a valve and is gone is less than 10 minutes.
• 4:10. I leave the house in search of a "nap mat". Apparently you can only buy these things online, because at all of the stores I go to, all I get is sympathetic looks.
• 5:10. I return home, peek my head into the basement where the Hoos is cleaning off the kayak he is building, and remind him that we have to leave by 5:30 in order to grab dinner before going to the concert.
• 5:45. After going through my entire closet to select an outfit, I throw on clothes, grab the directions and we make our way to the car.
• 6:10. We arrive in fabulous Ridgefield, CT to discover that the town only has 3 restaurants. Since the concert is at 7, we both eat breakfast at the local diner. Fancy.
• 7:02. We circle the parking lot of the East Ridge Middle School in Ridgefield looking for a spot. Eventually we end up parking about as far from the entrance as possible, illegally, and make our way to the entrance.
• 7:10. We find seats in the last row of the auditorium and the lights dim.

......In case you thought we were maybe at a rager of a concert, we are watching the Ridgefield Chorale. A local chorus, the Hoos did some pro bono work for them and they rewarded him with free tickets to their concert. They sang a selection of songs from the 50s, 60s, and 70s. We did enjoy the music, but we also found time to be catty, as one woman was wearing a black dress slit up to her crotch. Every time she moved we would crack up. We were thankful to be in the last row. We are horrible people...........

• 9:05. The concert ends and we make our way back to the car and home.
• 9:10. I call my parents to check on LP. She in wonderful, had a great time and went right to sleep at 8:30 when they put her down.
• 9:30. We arrive home and go upstairs to change. I tell the Hoos that I have no intention of going back downstairs and slip into my flannel PJs. He agrees to stay upstairs, but only if I watch TV in bed instead of going right to sleep.
• 10:00. We watch a very romantic episode of Law and Order: SVU. I fall asleep before the final credits roll.

Are you sick of the play-by-play yet? Because I haven't told you about the grocery shopping that I did Sunday morning...I was at the store by 9:15 since I woke up at 7:45.

Lest you think the weekend was a complete bust, let me reassure you, the Hoos and I actually had a very nice time. We spent some time together, got to do things individually without worrying about occupying LP, and I did even manage to get a manicure...

To be honest, the weekend was reminiscent of any weekend before we became parents. Errands had to be run, things had to get done, they just didn't take as long.

Sigh...I have become lame.

Yes, I Call This Work

On Sunday night the Hoos tried to persuade me to sit on the couch for a few more minutes and watch a television until 10:30 by saying, "It's not like you have to work tomorrow." Fortunately for him, this was accompanied by a smirk and laughter.

Before we had LP, the Hoos used to joke that he wanted to be a stay-at-home-dad. He pictured sleeping late, fishing in the middle of the day and having time to complete a myriad of projects he had dreamed up. Since having LP, we have both realized that we have difficulty even accomplishing simple tasks when we are both home - like raking leaves or putting away the dishes. We have to take turns doing things (and not just because we only have one rake) because one person has to constantly be on patrol, ensuring LP doesn't occupy her time with activities such as eating dirt, digging up (and considering consuming) worms, or running into the street.

Most dads and moms of every configuration - stay at home, work from home, work away from home, work part-time, etc. - know that staying at home for any amount of time (other than perhaps time that coincides with nap time) with a child is work. Hard work. Harder than being in the office work.

It takes energy to come up with events to fill up the day that don't involve television or snacking. And with any reserve energy you have after conceiving these grand plans, you have to put into not only executing the activities, but coming up with back-up plans when your child gets bored, or completes your multi-hour project in seconds, or just rejects it out of hand. (Not that I am bitter that LP didn't want to play in the fort I created in the middle of our living room, creatively strewing blankets over furniture.)

Every day is an adventure. And yes, some days the office seems like a vacation. But most of the time, LP's cheeks, laughter, and hugs make the lack of energy, sleep, and relaxation worth it.

Old Lady

Last night was the first session of my Financial Management course. And boy, do I feel old.

Contributing Factor 1: It has been about a year and a half since I attended class in person. In the 16 months since I last visited the UCONN-Stamford campus, it seems that everyone I knew graduated. I did not recognize a single person in my classroom. And the average age of the students appeared to be about 25.

Contributing Factor 2: Class is held from 7-10pm. To sit rapt and pay attention at the end of the day is difficult for anyone; I feel especially at a disadvantage after having spent the day running around (and thoroughly enjoying it!) after LP. Typically by 10 o'clock I am dragging myself up the stairs in our house to get ready for bed. I didn't even get home until close to 10:30 last night. And without time to really talk to the Hoos or wind down, I had a really difficult time falling asleep.

Contributing Factor 3: Last night the MBA program had pizza and soda available during the break. The pizza was cold by the time my class got its break (our professor apparently likes to talk) and it looked completely unappetizing. I used to eat pizza at 11 in the morning that had been ordered the night before. Our group was also being used to test a new drink, The Switch, which is 100% carbonated fruit juice. My only question for the poor woman standing there handing it out was "Does it have caffeine? Because it is way too late for me to have caffeine."

All of these factors, coupled with the dreary weather, definitely has me feeling my age. Which, as of today, is officially thirty-one.

Splat!

Inevitably when rolling downhill you will hit something that stops your forward momentum. As you continue downward and pick up speed, you pray that by some miracle you avoid everything or worst case hit something soft.

Well, this evening I hit something soft all right...

Word to the wise - be careful what you wish for.

Oops - Wrong Mirror

I am a voracious reader. I always have been. I could read at least a book a day if given the opportunity. I was the only kid at sleep-away camp that used to be thrilled with packages of books instead of snacks. Without lots of time on our vacation I still managed my way through three books: In Her shoes, The Illuminated Soul and The Art of Undressing.

I also enjoy magazines. The problem with magazines is that they are such quick reads. Once through (a half hour, tops!) and really they are done. Unless you are desperately bored. Then you go back and re-read everything and maybe even review the advertisements closely. I recently met my match - a publication I actually find completely unreadable.

Using my e-rewards points, I ordered a subscription for Working Mother. I figured it was free and I could always use more reading material. The first issue was in the stack of mail our neighbor collected for us while we were on vacation. "Yay," I thought, "something new to read."

The title should have been a dead giveaway - who considers themselves a "mother"? I am a "mom". Mother is accurate but way too formal to fit me. And that pretty much sums up the whole magazine. As far as I can tell is geared toward high-powered women who are older than me, work harder, and have more money. I couldn't relate to any of the articles and even after skimming the first few I decided to just close the magazine. I still have 11 more issues to get through and I already know that this subscription is wasted on me. I am thinking I might leave it in the lactation room at work. That is a place where you are always looking for something to distract you from the task at hand.

Relaxed, Refreshed

Well, we are back from our week-long vacation at Cape Cod. We stayed on a lake in the lovely town of Centerville which has a really nice beach (Craigville Beach) and excellent homemade ice cream. We had never been to the Cape before and enjoyed it very much. The good news is that we were mentally prepared that this vacation would not be about sleeping late, because otherwise we would have been sorely disappointed. Anyway, as a sign of a good, relaxing vacation, I don't have much exciting to report.

Except...

On our last night there, LP was wandering around the house. She was always in our sight and it had good, laminate floors so she was really walking from room to room. All of a sudden, the Hoos hears her playing with something in the front bedroom. A room we didn't use. He walks in to find her playing with a broken lamp. A lamp that we didn't hear fall and break and that wasn't broken before. Fortunately baby girl is unhurt.

We contemplate the broken lamp, trying to figure out how it got that way and finally determine that we must have pushed it back on the nightstand to keep it out of LP's way, thereby placing it closer to the blinds. A good, stiff wind must have kicked up while we were out (natch), knocking the blinds into the lamp and the lamp onto the floor.

What to do? What to do? We already spent an arm and a leg to rent this house, we certainly don't want the cost of this lamp to come out of our security deposit, especially if we weren't even responsible for the damage. So, like any true scaredy-cats, we hop in the car and drive to every home store in the greater-Hyannis area looking for a replacement. From K-Mart, to Linens and Things, to Home Goods, Pier 1, Marshalls, Macy's (bet you didn't know the Cape was so built up. It just so happens that Centerville is the ideal location for surf and shop). Apparently off white, cylindrical, 12-inch high lamps are out of style.

We find another lamp in a closet in the house and replace the broken lamp, which we wrap up and throw out. The next morning the Hoos calls the owner and relates the story (minus all of the nutty running around). She understands, especially since it is incredibly windy the morning we are preparing to leave, and tells us not to worry about it.

Anyway, as nice as it was to be on vacation and not think about work, there is something really nice about returning home. Too bad I have 150 emails to go through...

A Day in the Life

Yesterday friends from out of town came in to spend the night. They were a couple we actually introduced - he was the Hoos' college roommate and she was my first friend at my first job out of college. Suffice it to say they have known both of us for quite some time. Married, they live in the city where we went to college, in a lovely condo in an up-and-coming part of town. They meet friends for drinks, travel and have a different existence than we do.

They arrived in the early afternoon, way before the Hoos would normally be home from work, but he had an event last night that precluded him from getting home before 10 anyway. We spent the day strolling the neighborhood, catching up, and being entertained by LP. She was in rare form, playing up all her silliness for our guests. Last night we drove down to the beach, walked out of the fishing pier and ate dinner. The weather was clear, the temperature was pleasant and it was a nice way to pass the time.

Five years ago we lived pretty similar lives. We would meet with them and other young couples a local restaurants a couple of nights a week; we would take turns hosting casual dinners and play on each other's company-sponsored softball teams. Now I am a married mommy, employed part-time in an occasionally challenging job, with a baby-proofed home. I wouldn't change having LP for anything in the world, but I couldn't help but wonder if I was boring then with my domesticity.