38 weeks + 1 day

Livin' large.

Success

The first day of school couldn't have gone better. I arrived half an hour early to pick Sidamo up, not realizing the half-day kids are fed lunch before going home—and good thing, because I got there just as they were about to serve him pasta with meat sauce (he's vegetarian). When I walked into the classroom, I saw all the kids sitting around tables with their meals in front of them, but I didn't see Sidamo. I found his teacher and asked where he was, and she brought me to the sink area in the back of the room. He was there scrubbing the counter tops with a wet paper towel. I said to the teacher, "He really likes to clean." She said, "Yeah, I figured. That's the second time he's cleaned this area today."

It's true, he does love to clean, and I take advantage of it. Nothing makes him happier than a wet rag, and nothing makes me happier than clean baseboards that I didn't have to touch. I think I sometimes expect a little too much of him in the cleaning realm, though. He is only two-and-a-half, after all, and he's not overly blessed with what we taller people consider common sense. This morning, for instance, I was scrubbing the floors (no, not a common occurrence), and there were some leaves and other miscellaneous garden debris that had been tracked in. To keep him occupied, and to keep me from having to vacuum, I picked up the pieces of trash one at a time and asked him to throw them away. All was going well, or so I thought, until as he was toddling off with the third or so piece I heard him utter, "That's spicy!" Mom of the Year award?

Anyway, back to school. The teacher interrupted Sidamo from his scrubbing and said, "Look who's here, Sidamo!" I think we both expected a better reaction than a blank stare and the question, "Where's Daddy?" Oh well. I pried him away from his janitorial duties, and the two of us went to a place called Steve's Snappin' Dogs for veggie dogs and a chocolate shake to celebrate (thanks for the recommendation, Maia!). Here's a video of him singing a little Marley while stuffing his face.

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

And some still shots:

Big boys take big bites.

I meant for this shake to be mine, but after he smeared mustard all over it (I detest mustard), it was all his. I'm in trouble now that he knows that trick.

A man who might have been Snappin' Steve gave Sidamo a balloon animal after the meal was done. I asked, "Sidamo, do you know what kind of animal this is?" Correct answer would have been dog. Sidamo's answer: dromedary.

All growed up

Greg and I just took Sidamo to school for his first day. Yes, I'm a little choked up just writing that. He did great: walked into the classroom and immediately started playing with anything with wheels. He spotted the slide, sort of acknowledged his friends Hope and Malachi, and generally just threw himself into the mix. No tears when we left him (at least none from him). His teacher seems lovely, and I think this will be a really good place for him. But still …

As if to prove he was ready for this big step, he sang the alphabet song start to finish this morning as I was dressing him, for the first time actually hitting each of the 26 letters (or 23 if you count "LMNO" as one, as he does). Usually I'll chime in when he seems like he's stuck, but this morning when I did that he said, "No, Mommy. No sing," and took it from the top. Who needs Mommy when you're a budding student of two-and-a-half?

I need to take advantage of the quiet time and get some work done, but here are some photos of our big boy heading out for his first day of school. Can someone tell me how he got so big?

Pretty

My wonderful sister has handed down just about everything I could possibly need for a new baby, so I've done pretty much no shopping for the new arrival. That's fine by me, since the things my sister has shared are nicer than anything I would ever find, and I'm just not much of a shopper anyway. But there was one thing she couldn't find—her nursing cover—and that gave me an excuse to hit Etsy and pick up this beautiful little number. Isn't it lovely? And can't you just imagine how much lovelier it will be when covered in breast milk and spit-up?

Edit: It's from the shop Made Just for Me.

The delivery I'm really excited for

Sure I'm looking forward to meeting this baby, but most of all I miss my wine.

Say it in pictures

I just finished up two big assignments today, so I've run out of words for the day. So here's an (almost) wordless update:

Max in a box

Sidamo and his soccer team (bring on the soccer mom jokes). Yes, the other kids do have eyes, but is this what you're supposed to do when posting pics of other people's kids without permission? Or am I still violating people's privacy?

More soccer practice. Honestly, I never understood the term "herding cats" before I saw a group of 2-year-olds learning to play soccer.

That very genuine smile.

And again. Really, he is this happy.

All the mamas at today's Mother's Day brunch.

Potty training brings even more rewards

I've been trying for the past few months to get Sidamo into preschool for the fall, and so far no luck. All the preschools around here have mile-long wait lists or impossible lottery systems. One of the most sought-after preschools is on a local college campus. It's well-run, very diverse, and very affordable—and very hard to get into, since priority goes first to siblings of enrolled children, then to children of the college's students, then faculty and staff's kids, and finally to unaffiliated folks like us.

Today was the lottery for the faculty and the unaffiliated, and I got there (in the pouring rain) at 7 a.m. For the record, this is the first time I've been out of the house before 9 since Sidamo came home. Anyway, I got there, picked my number, and sat in a playroom with the same people who have been at all the other preschool tours. We waited as numbers were called, and before even getting through all the waiting faculty members, someone came in to tell us that all the slots for kids between 1 and 3 were filled. Unless, that is, they happened to be potty trained. Every other parent of a pre-3 got up and left. I stayed, and Sidamo got a slot in the 3–4-year-old class, based solely on the fact that he can pee in a pot. Awesome.

I didn't realize until my number was called and I was being assigned the coveted spot that this was the lottery for the summer semester, so he'll actually be starting in three weeks. Yikes! I don't know if I'm ready for it. It's only two mornings a week at this point, but in the fall we can increase that if we want.

I also have mixed feelings about his being in with the older age group, but I guess we'll just have to see how he does. On the one hand, I think it might be better for him to be around older kids instead of younger ones, since he's already around younger kids a fair amount. Plus, he's pretty precocious in a lot of ways—he has been able to recognize all the letters and numbers (and count to 31) for months now, for instance. But on the other hand, he's a little timid physically and socially, so I hope he doesn't get overwhelmed by the interactions of the big kids. It's scary to send him off into the big world without us—even if it is only for 8 hours a week.

Ginormo

Here I am at 35 weeks. Yowsers—this is getting a little out of hand! My due date guesstimate is June 11. Anyone wanna take bets on the actual arrival date? My money is on June 19.


And here's what else is hatching around here: apricots! Aren't they adorable? (They sort of blend in with the leaves, but if you look hard you can see fuzzy little green orbs.) And no, I wasn't out photographing at midnight—it was dusk, and the lighting just turned out this way. Looks pretty cool, though.




Sidamo just woke up from his nap (crying for nuts, not Mommy, FYI), so my blogging time is over. He's doing great, by the way, and I would no longer describe him as a tyrant. He seems happy to be back on home turf among all his trains and books.

A vacation with a toddler …

… is really no vacation at all.

We went up to Basalt (near Aspen) for a pre-baby weekend getaway, but we ended up coming home after about 20 hours because a certain little someone was being so difficult. We did have about two good hours in there, so I'm including pictures and video of that magic time, and then I'll tell you about the other 18.

So, now that you have evidence that I can still see beauty in life, let me tell you about the ugliness: We stayed at the condo of Greg's friend, who was out of town. The condo was beautiful, right on the river, with a living area downstairs and a bedroom loft upstairs. We hadn't thought too much about sleeping arrangements, figuring we'd just all share a bed. What we had forgotten is that Sidamo is absolutely impossible to share a bed with—even moreso when that bed is a full-size futon.

After a very cranky dinner on Friday night, during which Sidamo completely refused to eat but then had a monumental meltdown when we finally threw his food away and got up to leave, Greg put Sidamo to bed in the loft. Didn't work out too well. With no containment system, he just refused to stay put. I tried going up there and staying with him while he fell asleep, but that didn't work either. Eventually, after about 2.5 hours (and, I admit, some yelling on my part), he fell asleep. Greg and I stayed up a little longer and then went to bed for what was the most sleepless night either of us can remember.

The little monster (all 33 pounds of him) somehow managed to assault both me and Greg—constantly and simultaneously—for about five hours. He poked Greg in the eyes at the same time he was grabbing fistfuls of my hair and rolling over with it clenched in his tiny hands. When I turned to face him so he couldn't grab my hair, he'd go ninja on my belly. When I put my hands over my belly to protect it, he reached down and pried my fingers off one by one so he could do it again. All while he was sleeping! I swear, the kid isn't evil in real life, but apparently he has some sort of alter-ego in unconscious states.

Every hour or so throughout all this, he'd wake up and want to talk. "Hi. Hi. Hi. Hi Daddy. Hi Mommy. Hi. Hi. Hi. Hi." Get the point?

Eventually we put him on some blankets on the floor and we all got to sleep—at 3:30. Then the morning light came in and woke him up at 6:30. Repeat the "Hi" conversation.

Significantly worse for the wear, we all got up and started our day—Greg and I exhausted and cranky, Sidamo wired and cranky. After a very frustrating breakfast (repeat of the previous night's dinner) Greg left to get some fishing in, since that was the point of the whole trip, and Sidamo and I went for a walk. The weather turned out to be lovely, which was a surprise gift in the midst of a week of snowy and cold spring storms. Sidamo had a grand time throwing sticks and rocks in the river, as you can see in the video above, and I had a nice time relaxing and not being yelled at. We kept at it for about an hour and a half before we had to leave, find a potty, and begin our tantrums again. Fun times.

Rather than risk another night of the same, Greg decided to call it. He was satisfied with his fishing, having caught three, including one that was indescribably large (no eye witnesses, unfortunately). So we hit the road, stopped in Frisco to see an old friend of Greg's, and made it home by evening so we could sleep in our big, comfy bed—with two closed doors between us and the tyrant.