realizing I can't pick my child's friends

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Last summer, I blogged about a little girl in Catie’s daycare class who was bossing Catie around. It just occurred to me that I hadn’t really said anything else about it since then.

In the last several months, I’ve learned quite a few things about this girl, Allie, and her home life, which kind of make me feel bad for her. Like:

  • Her parents divorced after Dad started banging his secretary. (Seriously, could that be more of a cliche? And shouldn’t she be called his admin assistant or something? God.)
  • Both parents are now in new relationships (Dad is still with the secretary, Mom has a new boyfriend). And yet, even with a combined total of FOUR adults on the scene, Allie and her sister spend the majority of their evenings and weekends with Catie’s daycare teacher, Mandy. Like, they regularly spend the night at Mandy’s house. Mandy is a young single mom, and I’m sure that the daycare gig doesn’t pay a ton, so she’s happy to have the extra income from being a part-time baby-sitter/nanny. And honestly, Mandy is awesome with kids, with lots of hugs and kisses and “I love you”s and all of that. But still, it’s got to be pretty shitty to have your parents fawn you off on a paid caretaker rather than spend time with you.
  • Case in point: it was Mandy who brought Allie to Catie’s birthday party. On a Saturday afternoon. Allie’s dad showed up briefly, spent most of the time outside on a “business call” on his cell phone, and then left long before the party was over. Mandy took Allie and her sister home with her afterward. Not to her either of the parents’ houses.
  • Mandy brought an old broken cell phone for the kids to play with in the “housekeeping” area of the classroom. When Allie was playing with it, her imaginary conversation went like this: “You need to get over here RIGHT NOW and pick up these kids because they are driving me CRAZY!!!” It’s kind of funny at first glance, but then you think about the whole thing with the parents’ divorce and the fact that Allie is only three, so she’s probably repeating something she’s heard, and suddenly it makes me kind of sick to my stomach.

So, even knowing all that I do about her, and the fact that I kind of feel sorry for her, the fact remains that I still don’t like this kid. She’s obnoxious and rude. She’s bossy. She’s a tattle-tale. (Almost daily, when I pick Catie up, Allie runs over to tell me something Catie did that was bad. I usually just say, “Oh, ok.” I give her no emotional reaction at all.) She throws huge tantrums to get her way, and it works: the parent figures in her life cave in & give her what she wants to keep her quiet, and Mandy also caves in because (I’m guessing) she feels sorry for her too.

And honestly, I feel bad, because what the hell kind of adult am I, that this tiny three year-old child can grate on my nerves the way that she does? But there you have it: I don’t like her. She bugs the crap out of me.

Over the last several months, the dynamic between Catie and Allie has gone through several stages:

1. Allie bosses Catie around. Catie takes it.

2. Catie ignores Allie. The each find other kids to play with.

3. Allie befriends Roman, Catie’s BFF. Catie tries to play with both of them, but it doesn’t really work, so she gives up and plays with the other kids.
(And btw, Roman’s mom told me that Roman informed her, “When I grow up, I’m going to drive a car like Daddy’s, and Catie will ride next to me.” That’s apparently the 3 year-old boy way of saying he intends to marry her. Awww.)

4. Roman & his parents move to California. (So much for that future marriage proposal.) A few other changes in the line-up at daycare leaves Catie and Allie as the only two girls in class.

5. The current status: Catie and Allie are both BFFs and mortal enemies. They hug, they hold hands, they dance together… then five minutes later, they beat the crap out of each other. Mandy says they “take turns being the boss” now, which I guess is a good thing?

But the fights. Oh man, the fights. One day on the playground, Catie and a couple of other kids were in the little plastic playhouse. Catie told Allie she couldn’t come in. (Which, yes, that is bossy and rude, I admit.) Allie responded by dragging Catie to the ground by her hair. Catie screamed, “You pulled my beautiful blonde hair!!” and cried to Mandy about it. (And ok, that line made me laugh. And realize that maybe I compliment her hair too much.)

In adult terms, I kind of see them like Linda Evans and Joan Collins on “Dynasty.”

BFFs:

Not so much:

The problem I’m noticing is that Catie is starting to adopt some of Allie’s more obnoxious behaviors, with the whining, rudeness, and tantrums. We try to nip it in the bud. I’ve told her flat-out that acting that way might work for Allie, but we don’t act like that in our house.

And yes, I’m sure that the impending arrival of Baby 2.0 has a lot to do with it. I’ve been out of commission a lot because I feel lousy, and Dave has had to take over as more of a disciplinarian. So Catie is challenging that whole dynamic shift. I understand that: it’s her job to test boundaries, and it’s our job to enforce them. That’s normal.

So we’re working on it. I just wish there was a way I could hand-pick Catie’s friends for her, and I know I can’t. I also know that this is the least of my troubles compared to, say, when she becomes a teenager.

Sigh. I tell you, man, this parenting gig is rough.

happy lazy Mother's Day

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I feel like there’s so much I want to blog about – Catie just said some awesomely hilarious thing, or some weird pregnancy symptom happened that I think I should document – but when it comes time to sit down and write it, it all sort of flies out of my head. I could blame Pregnant Brain for that, I guess. My attention span feels like Dory in “Finding Nemo.” Wait, what was your name again?

So. Mother’s Day.

I woke up on Sunday morning with a killer headache, which is unfortunately really common right now. The best I can tell, it has something to do with weather changes (when it goes from sunny to rainy and back to sunny again in just a few hours); it seems that the rapid barometer shifts give me headaches. And that kind of sun/rain/sun weather happens a lot in the spring in North Carolina.

I took one of my OB-prescribed headache pills and headed back to bed to let it do its work. Soon I had a little companion who wanted to make me feel better.

My headache companion #1

[Side rant:

How is it possible that I need to cut her bangs again already? I swear my mom just cut her hair in late March! Look, I have photographic proof:

Getting a haircut from Mimi is HILARIOUS...

See, she got a haircut! Now it’s barely 6 weeks later, and I find myself constantly pushing her hair off of her face because I want to see her eyes. Is she sneaking my prenatal vitamins when I’m not looking? Is she actually Rapunzel? What’s up with the crazy rapid hair growth, kid??

/end side rant]

Oh, we were also joined in bed by my other headache companion, who was basically useless.

My headache companion #2 (this one is useless).

Beaumont will not leave me the hell alone these days. He did the same thing when I was pregnant with Catie, so I guess I must be giving off some kind of baby pheromones, but he’s driving me bonkers. I do not like being herded around the house by a cat, nor do I like having his giant fur-shedding body up against my face when I’m trying to sleep. A little personal space would be nice, is all I’m saying.

Once I was feeling a little better, we fired up the Gamecube (do they even still make those anymore, or are we officially old school?) and played Legend of Zelda in bed. Or rather, I played while Catie watched and narrated everything I did. (“Get the bad guy, Mommy! Oh look, there’s a treasure chest! Quick, open it! What’s the treasure??”) We managed to waste most of the day doing that, it was pretty fun.

My two Mother’s Day gifts from Catie:
1. Dave took her to the store and let her pick out a card for me. It’s 101 Dalmatians themed, and she wrote her name in it and covered it in flower stickers. I love it.

2. She cleaned up all of her toys without me having to prod her about it. (In fact, when Dave wandered into the family room while she was cleaning up, she told him, “Daddy, you have to get out so I can pick up all my toys like a big girl.” He was about to get offended at being told to get out, but I explained that she wanted to be alone so she could have her big “Wow!” Moment to impress us when she was done. We left her to it, and then made a big, “Look at this room! You did a great job cleaning up! High-five!” fuss over her when she was finished.)

My Mother’s Day gift from Dave was that he finished up all of the last-minute items on my to-do list before Baby 2.0 arrives. That beats flowers any day in my book.

For dinner, since the weather had gotten really nice, we put out some citronella candles and sat on the deck to eat. A little evening picnic was pretty much the perfect way to cap off the day.

Oh, and the best part? I never put on a bra all day. I call that a total win.

a mood adjustment from a bunch of preschoolers

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I’ve been feeling pretty cruddy lately. Not emotionally (thank you, Lexapro!), but physically. This pregnancy thing gets really hard at the end, and I’m sure it doesn’t help that I’m of “advanced maternal age” (pffft). It’s just standard stuff: my hips, lower back, shoulders, and belly muscles ache all the time. My guess is that it’s the same issues that every woman probably feels at 36 (holy crap, y’all, THIRTY-SIX!!) weeks pregnant.

Yesterday was hard. I needed to work, and even though I’m working from home, I had a hard time focusing because of my discomfort. I managed to do the work that needed to be done, but nothing beyond that. Which stinks, because I really love it when I can lose myself in my work.

Eventually, I realized it was getting close to 5:00, so I changed out of my maternity yoga pants for maternity jeans, and actually put on a bra (I know, my standards are super-high these days) to head over to daycare to pick up Catie.

Catie is going to be transitioning over to the pre-K class at the end of this month, and since her teacher was out today, they let her spend the day in the pre-K class as sort of a practice round.

When I got there, I was suddenly surrounded by a half-dozen little girls who were throwing question after question at me.

“Catie says you’re having a baby!”
Yes, we sure are.

“Is it a boy or a girl?”
A girl.

“What are you going to name it?”
Oh, we haven’t decided yet.

“Could you name her Sally?”
Um, probably not, but Sally is a very pretty name!

“Is the baby in your tummy RIGHT NOW???”
Yep, that’s where she’ll be until she’s born.

“Is she sleeping or awake?”
I don’t know, she’s not kicking right this minute, so she might be asleep.

“Can I feel?”
Sure.

“Oooh, can I feel too?” “Can I?” “Can I?”

Next thing you know, I’m surrounded by about a half dozen four year-olds who all have their hands on my belly. It was very weird and very funny at the same time. I felt sort of like one of those Buddha statues that people rub for good luck.

“So where is the baby in there?”
Well, you see this little bump right here? That’s her tushie.

**Entire crowd of four year-olds falls over laughing. Note: when in doubt, go for the butt jokes. It kills with that crowd.**

“Hey, Catie’s mom? Can I have a hug?”
Of course you can have a hug!

“Oooh, can I have a hug too?” “Can I?” “Can I?”

So, yeah, I was the rockstar of the daycare pre-K class. That was pretty awesome.

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Other random daycare anecdote #1:

Last night, Catie was telling me about a conversation at daycare.
“Miss Germaine [note: that’s the pre-K teacher] said that little kids don’t drink coffee, and I said, well I drink coffee every day!!”

So today I had to find Miss Germaine and explain that Catie’s version of “coffee” is actually caffeine-free Diet Coke, and she is allowed to have a teeny-tiny cup of it as a special treat, maybe once a week, certainly NOT every day. (This all started because she refers to Diet Coke as “Mommy’s Coffee,” which… well, it IS my coffee, since it’s the only source of caffeine that I drink.) I just didn’t want her to think I was the World’s Worst Mother, but she laughed and said that she figured that Catie must have been referring to something else.

Four year-olds, man. Freaking impossible.

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Other random daycare anecdote #2:

This morning, when I took Catie in to drop her off, one of the little girls who asked for a hug yesterday marched up to me and said, “I had a dream that you had your baby today.”

I said, “Well, I hope your dream was wrong, because she isn’t supposed to come quite yet!”

And now I’m totally freaked out that there’s some creepy psychic four year-old who knows when I’m going to go into labor.

On the plus side, though, it has totally motivated me to hurry up and pack my suitcase for the hospital. So there’s that.

Want to help name Baby 2.0?

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I cannot believe I’m doing this, because I am typically in the camp of You Do Not Discuss Baby Names Before the Kid Is Born. After all, who wants unsolicited feedback, right? I don’t want to hear “Oh, I knew a girl named [whatever] and she was a horrible bitch!” Who needs that kind of aggravation? Plus, I’m a little suspicious of jinxing anything – what if we decide on a name and then SURPRISE! It’s a boy?

(Which really, would not be a huge deal, because we had a boy name picked out ages ago. It would require some pretty fast redecorating on our part because the nursery is currently pink, but otherwise, not a huge deal.)

But the thing is, with the name for this little girl? Dave and I are at an impasse here, so I’m rounding up outside help. So I figure we can let the Internet help us decide.

Here’s the story about the two names we’re trying to decide between:

1.) Lucy. My grandmother’s name was Lucile, so there’s a family connection there, and I think the name Lucy is adorable. Dave likes it too, but he has a negative association with it, because his ex-wife has a baby that she also named Lucy. (Which, um, have I ever mentioned that Dave is divorced? Quick sum-up: they were married for 6 months, divorced in 2002, no kids together, she lives in Seattle, and they don’t stay in touch at all, but they occasionally hear about each other via in-laws… or ex-in-laws, as the case may be.)

Anyway, Dave likes the name except for that association with his ex. I say that my dead grandmother trumps his ex-wife.

2.) Leah. This is Dave’s suggestion for a compromise name. It was my great aunt’s name, so it still has a family connection. To be fair, I think that Leah is a beautiful name. It’s very simple and classic, nothing too crazy. (I hate trendy names or things with weird spellings.) So I don’t have any objection to Leah at all.

Dave even suggested Leah Lucille as her full name, so my grandmother’s name is still in there, but as a middle name instead of a first name.

But here’s the problem: ever since I found out we were having a girl, back in November? I’ve just had this gut feeling that this little girl’s name is Lucy. And we’ve considered a few other perfectly lovely, nice names. But none of them feel like her to me, if that makes any sense at all.

So what say you, Internet? Help us figure this out so we don’t have a huge fight in the hospital when it’s time to fill out her birth certificate!

[poll id=”2″]

P.S. Feel free to add a comment about why you picked whichever name. Especially if you’re agreeing with me, I’ll take all the backup I can get.

P.S.S. I put that third option there just for kicks, but, um, don’t place any money on me actually listening to what y’all might pick out. Heh.

in the not-too-distant future

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I had a dream last night that Baby 2.0 had been born. (And no, she didn’t have a name in my dream either. I was hoping for a sign, but alas.) The main thing I remember about the dream was holding her on my shoulder, her tiny face on my neck, and patting her tiny padded diaper butt, and I woke up feeling like, “Oh, hell yes. I want that. NOW.”

I’ve mentioned before that I don’t have many happy memories of the newborn days with Catie; my brain seems to only remember the exhaustion and the tears. But then suddenly I’ll remember a tiny moment like this:

sweet

And I absolutely cannot wait to do it all over again. Which is particularly weird since I’m pretty sure I got puked on just a few minutes after that picture was taken.

———————————————————————————-

Semi-related: my sister had to be in Raleigh for a work meeting this morning, so she came over last night and spent the night with us. Catie was super-excited, as Tracy is pretty much one of her favorite people on the planet.

The night before, I told Catie about Tracy’s visit, and explained that yes, Tracy is coming, but it’s only for one night and then she has to leave in the morning and go back to Charlotte. I was hoping that if I warned Catie in advance that this would be a quick visit, that it would prevent any meltdowns.

Catie: But I’ll be sad when Tracy leaves.

Me: I know you will, Catie-Bug. But you know what? Tracy will be back again soon. When Baby Sister is born, and Mommy & Daddy go to the hospital, Tracy is going to come to our house to take care of you!

Catie: (looking worried) Forever?

Which, OMG. She’s been talking up the whole Baby Sister thing, I had no idea that there were underlying fears that once the new baby arrived, we wouldn’t be her Mommy & Daddy anymore.

We had a very long talk about how I will always be her Mommy, and how Daddy will always be her Daddy, and all this means is that now we’ll be the Mommy and Daddy of two little girls instead of just one. She buried her face in my neck and hugged me for a long time, so I think she got the message.

What’s funny is that I’ve been trying to lay off on talking about the new baby with Catie for the most part, and I usually wait for her to bring it up, because I don’t want to overwhelm her with baby-baby-baby all the time. But now I’m realizing that approach might not be the best, and maybe I do need to start talking with her more about what things will be like after the baby is here, and emphasizing how this is going to be a good change for our family.

I mean, we have the “I’m a Big Sister Now” book, and several of her friends have younger siblings, so I guess I took it for granted that she understood how the whole transition would work. But my guess is that four year-olds aren’t really capable of internalizing quite so well.

If any moms out there want to throw some advice for how to walk a four year-old through this process, feel free to throw it my way.

warning signs

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Funny that right after I wrote that last post about feeling all relaxed and chilled out, I started feeling… off. Nothing related to anxiety or anything like that. Just, pain. I don’t know how to describe it, but it was like a combination of occasional contractions (which feel sort of like my entire torso is made of concrete; so, um, OUCH), and also sharp stabbing pains in my lower abdomen.

And I’m also having some of the, ah, digestive issues (cough*the runs*cough) that I had when I was pregnant with Catie. It’s not as bad this time, and it started way earlier in my pregnancy with Catie, but still. It’s not fun. No one knows why this happens to me, either. I’m just a Pregnancy Anomaly. Maybe I’m allergic to the third trimester, who knows.

So, I’ve been pretty miserable for the past few days. I’ve had several moments where I’ve wondered how bad it needed to be before I went to the hospital. But there was no discernible pattern to any of the pain I was having, so I knew I wasn’t in labor. I had an OB appointment today, and I figured that I could just ride it out until then. And Dave has been taking over most of the child-care duties in the evening so I can take it easy, which has helped.

I saw my OB today, and I feel about a thousand times better now that I have a diagnosis:
* The stabbing pain is most likely round ligament pain, which for some reason I never had with Catie, but I feel better knowing that it’s normal. Even though it hurts like hell.

* The most probable cause of the Braxton-Hicks contractions is dehydration because of the intestinal issues I’ve been having. I’ve been trying to drink a lot of water, but my doctor suggested that I also need some energy drinks (like a Gatorade-type thing) to keep my electrolytes in check. I love Vitamin Water, so that’s easy enough.

* She said to try to monitor how often I’m having contractions. I told her that typically I’ve been having two or three an hour. She said she’s ok with that, but if I have six or more, I need to be off of my feet immediately and downing fluids. If they still don’t stop, I need to head to the hospital.

* She also said that if I went into labor right now (at 34 weeks), they probably wouldn’t do any major interventions to stop it because Baby 2.0 seems to be developing fine and all that, but she’d prefer if I waited at least another 2 or 3 weeks until I’m officially full-term. I agreed with her wholeheartedly. Even as uncomfortable as I am, I’m in no huge rush to serve this kid her eviction notice. I would really love to avoid the NICU if at all possible.

I’ve decided I’m most likely going to be working from home for the remainder of my pregnancy. It’s not really an issue with my job at all; they don’t care where I work as long as I meet my deadlines. And I’m fortunate to have a really awesome manager who has little kids himself, so he’s very understanding about pregnancy-related stuff.

I probably could still continue to go into the office, but my fear is that if I start having contractions and need to get off of my feet, it’ll be easier if I’m already at home and close to my bed. That’s actually how I’ve been working most of this week – in bed with my laptop on a TV tray over my belly. And I’ve been oddly more productive than you’d think.

So, that’s where things are now. No imminent baby arrivals at this point, but all signs definitely point to the fact that I should be taking it easier than I have been. I’ll be working on that.