Fear and Loathing In The Diaper Pail

First things first, according to MSN Today, Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears have finally ended their feud. Thank you, God.

Today was the second day of pre-preschool. And what a lovely day for preschool it was. Sunny and crispy and cool, the leaves fallng from the trees. Delightful. Off we went with Liam’s state-required immunization record and my school-requested class snack contribution. Animal crackers.

We got to school and stashed our stuff in Liam’s locker and went into the playroom. He quickly busied himself with the toys and I could see he was going to be fine, so I went upstairs to the parents’ discussion.

The discussion itself was stupid. Birthday Party Do’s and Dont’s. The lady who runs this things is a complete idiot. “Make sure you put both the day and date on the invitation! This is key, in case you put one of the days down wrong!” Then she suggested offering the kids broken crayons to color with, since they will be easier to handle. I suppose this is fine, assuming you don’t mind the occasional choking death at your parties.

We were given our own crayons and colored butcher paper to color on during the discussion. (Have I mentioned that I am 30 years old and a homeowner?) So I’m doodling and wishing I had someone to roll my eyes at for about 45 minutes when the door opens and a woman is standing there holding a tear-stained Liam. One look at me and he smiles for a second, bursts into tears and starts waving hello to everyone in the room.

I carry him out and offer him the cupcake we were practicing decorating (I tell you, this woman is a total moron, or she thinks we are) and he settles down and agrees to go back to his class with me. So we go back to his class. The lady in charge of the class tells me that he was just fine, until another little boy got dropped off and freaked out when his mother left. This made Liam realize, “Hey, my mom is gone too!” and he freaks out. The other little boy stopped wailing after about 10 minutes and then spent the rest of the time sitting alone with the occasional sniffle and eye wipe. Liam, on the other hand, would not be placated. He sometimes reminds me of one of his parents, I’m not sure which.

So I stay in his class and he sticks to me like white on rice in a glass of milk on a paper plate in a snowstorm. At the end of the session, the other moms come down from the discussion to pick up their kids and this other little boy’s mom asks how he did. “Oh he was fine!” gushes the Helper Lady. “He did really well. He was upset for a little bit but he got over it.”

All I wanted to do was go to that lady and tell her the truth. That my kid was JUST FINE until her stinky, whiny, crybaby kid showed up. And now my kid is the one who looks like the big baby. And she gets to go home all pleased with herself that Oh, little “Carter”, if that IS his real name, had such a nice day at school! He’s such a big boy, who can play away from mommy and eat his snack all by himself! Stupid Carter. I spent a whole week hyping this trip to school and he Fs it all up. And I can go home, seriously near tears, because Liam was upset and it was my fault because I left him alone and pushed him to be social when he wasn’t ready and he’ll never make any friends and never get married and probably become a loner psychopath mama’s boy.

And you know what? I don’t want to hear about how they’re just babies. I know they’re just babies. Dont you thinkI know they’re just babies? I dont want to hear your “reason” or your “making sense”. I have reason and I have sense and I just choose not to implement it at this time and instead I choose to be mad mom. MY kid is FINE. What makes that woman think her kid is so socially fucking advanced? HER kid is the loser. HER kid sucks. Not mine, HERS!!!!!!!!

So, when do we sign up for T-ball?

We had a fun day today! Today was Liam’s first day of pre-preschool. Our school district has a once-weekly family program for children ages birth through 5. It’s only an hour and a half. The kids do an activity while the parents attend a discussion in the next room. They keep the kids 2 and under in a separate room from the over-2s, which is a good thing, because 2- and 3-year-olds tend to run roughshod over little guys like Liam. Since today was the first day, there was no discussion. The parents stayed in the playroom with the kids, so they could get their sea-legs. Liam warmed up pretty quickly and had a good time playing with the trucks, toy phones and fake food in the play kitchen. They had peanut butter in the shape of sandwich bread.

It was nice to meet a couple of other stay-at-home parents. There was a little girl named Irene and a little boy named Elijah and both were only a month older than Liam and their parents were nice. We all said the same thing, “It’s time to get out of the house!” At this age, things start to get boring at home. They aren’t completely helpless and they get into a lot of stuff. I spend an inordinate amount of time watching Liam stand on the toilet at the sink, sucking water out of his toothbrush because he likes to “brush his teeth”. And he’s ready to meet some other kids. That stupid red Muppet Elmo is his only friend.

While we were at playtime, an announcement came over the PA system that there would now be a “lock-down drill”. Please stay in your rooms, close the windows and place something over the crack at the bottom of the door. We parents all looked at each other like, “LOCK-DOWN drill?” For what, a Columbine-type event? Disenfranchised 4-year-olds pissed over the quality of snacktime? Terrorists in a middle-class, Midwestern, suburban preschool? So we stayed put, the kids went on playing and soon the “drill” was over. A supervisor lady came to the classroom and said the drill was in the event of pleasantly euphemistic “airborne contaminants.” So an anthrax drill, essentially. My son’s first day of preschool had an anthrax drill.

We all just shook our heads. We remembered our own school fire drills and tornado drills. Some schools have earthquake drills. Now there’s bioterrorism drills. Sad, sad state of affairs. And these drills are about as helpful as the nuclear attack drills of the ’50s. Only the safety of a school desk will save you from having your shadow burned onto the wall as a mushroom cloud engulfs your classroom. Now it’s, “just stick a blanket under the door”. Blankets have the ability to keep microscopic particles from invading your lungs and burning you from the inside out. Bet you didn’t know that.

So that’s that.

In other news, a job opening came available at a nearby weekly. The perfect position for me, assuming the money was right. Although this is newspapers. We can only assume that the money isn’t right. But it’s daytime work, close to home, weekends and holidays off. The dream copy editing job for me. And it turns out my mom knows the publisher. So I sent in my stuff and the woman emailed me back wanting to interview me next week. But all I could think about was putting Liam in daycare on a full-time basis. And I don’t think he’s ready for that. I’m not ready for that. Yes, yes, I know people do it all the time and their kids are younger than Liam. But when they’ve been going since they were a month old, those kids just don’t know any different. Liam definitely knows different and 40 hours a week away from either of us makes both Adam and me uncomfortable. Maybe if he was just a WEE bit older. Maybe if he could speak better or was potty trained. How do you do potty training and daycare, anyway? How do you know the helpers are treating your child with patience, compassion and understanding? He can’t talk; it’s not like he can come home and say what happened to him during the day. I didn’t know what to do. On one hand, there’s the extra money, and the time out of the house and the extra money and the adult interaction and the extra money. Visions of a new car and paid-off credit cards danced in my head. But on the other hand, there’s Liam. I tossed, I turned, I couldn’t sleep, I cried, I mulled and paced and wishy-washed and back-and-forthed and finally …

I turned down the job.

Well la-dee-da. Not much up here, really, but it’s been a little bit since I’ve written anything, so I will scribble a bit.

We started renovating the kitchen. The microwave is torn out of the wall, wall cabinets are on the floor and Adam has framed up a wall. I can just barely get an idea of what it will look like when the wall is complete. I should probably get on top of sanding, priming and painting the cabinets. It will have to be an evening job, to let the coats dry overnight, so it will actually probably take quite awhile.

Liam is wearing me out. He takes one two-hour nap now and if he’s conscious, he’s on the move. He literally stops for NOTHING. And he makes me play with him. I can’t sit on the sofa and read while he plays. He’ll come drag me off the couch. And he has an attention span of approximately 3 minutes, so we’re going from one activity to another. Really, there’s only so many things to do in a day. I have to admit to letting his Elmo DVD babysit him once in awhile. I also take unnecessary shopping trips, so he’s in a car seat or grocery cart. I know that’s horrible of me. Bad parent. But we talk about what we see and we goof around and touch things, like bumpy avocados and fuzzy peaches and I usually buy him a piece of fruit to try when we get home. He likes kiwis.

Speaking of fruit, I’m getting my antioxidants this very minute by drinking pomegranate peach iced tea. It’s delightful. I can almost feel the free radicals fleeing from my skin … Right.

Well, I’m going to go read now in peace and quiet before I have to color, eat American cheese, play cars and keep a certain someone from emptying the hall drawers.