Oh, in-home daycare lady...

From where doth thee come?

I'm on a quest to discover which planet the little one's daycare provider came from...

It all started with TC was around 6 months and I picked him up and on his "paper" it said "I HAD BEEF TODAY." WHAT? Seriously? Beef? He's 6 months - what's the rush?

Then about a month ago I picked him up to find that she had given him meat sticks. When I said something one of the ladies said "Oh he loved the meat sticks you brought". The other said "Oh I bought those - Tracy didn't bring them". So I said "No more - no meat until at least a year - that's what we're doing". After the 1950's ladies gave me grief for being uptight about feeding they said okay and I followed that up with "No more food that we don't bring..."

Then today I got there and she dropped this one... "He had peanut butter toast today and he loved it." Ba-whu?

Did you say peanut butter?

And then she said "So you might want to watch for an allergic reaction tonight."

All I can say is *wow*.

And by wow I mean, how quickly can I find a new place...

This time last year...

I was holding this little bundle of joy in my arms...

Happy 1st Birthday baby of mine!!!!!!!

This time last year...

I was in the beautiful haze that is an epidural and resting/napping while my "body did the work" as my OB put it. The end is near.

This time last year...

I think I was about 3cm and was asking for my epidural. Make fun all you want, but I was in pain and there's no need to suffer just because you are giving birth... for real.

This time last year...

I was getting ready to have my water broken with the dreaded giant knitting needle...

This time last year...

I was getting ready to check in to the hospital and get ready for my induction.

"You'll never miss a call again"

That's what Tiki said to my mom at the movies the other day when she could not find her phone.

"TK I can't find my phone"

"Nan, you should get a Buxton Organizer. It has special compartments for for your wallet, your credit cards and your phone. You will never miss another call again."

"Really? Huh?"

"Yeah, it comes in red, black and tan."

"Really?"

"Yeah - you can get it by calling 863-xxx-xxxx."


That whole mind like a steel trap thing...

But I have to wonder, what is the real Cartoon Network/Disney/Nick Jr demographic?????????? Are 5 year olds really the right demographic for the Buxton Organizer or the Life Alert Necklace or the roll out mat of flower seeds that grows itself...primetime might be less dangerous...

It's a GIRL!

At least according to TK.

I dropped TK off at school this morning and his teacher Ms. Ashley spotted me. She gave me "the look". That's usually the "I need to talk to you" followed by "TK did such and such to so and so" look. So I'm always nervous.

So she came over with that weird smile on her face and got really close, spoke really softly and said

"Are you pregnant?"

I was like "NO!" "Are you?"

"Yes. But TK told me you were, too. He said that you were pregnant and that y'all already knew what you were having and it was a girl and everyone is so excited".


Where did he come from? For real...

I must admit that I'm not surprised since about 4 months ago he saw an episode of Aurthur where Binky's parents adopted a baby girl from China. I spent the next month assuring classmates mother's that we were NOT adopting a baby from China...

A mind like a steel trap, that one... and an imagination that can't be measured. I'm proud and all, but can it just stop involving me being pregnant or raising another baby? Seriously.

Rocky or just a baby with Pink Eye?

And other high stakes drama from the world of daycare going kids...

I hope that my blog is not *that* famous yet because I don't want my neighbors to read it. (haha)

But seriously, the little one goes to a daycare owned by a lady down the street - an in-home daycare. So Friday afternoon I go to pick him up and she says "I think TC has pink eye." I was thinking "Information that would have been useful 5 HOURS AGO!". It's 5:30 Friday afternoon.

He wakes up Saturday pretty okay and we are thinking "Allergies - let's just watch and see how it goes". By Saturday night it is clear that it's not allergies and it is indeed pink eye. So we all suffer through Sunday and hit the doctor first thing Monday morning.

On our way back from the dr and $90 later his daycare provider calls "How is TC? Is he coming today?" I said no - maybe in 24 hours.

Fast forward to this morning and he's looking much better, but we are still not ready to go back to daycare. I get another call

"Is TC coming today?"

"No he's doing better but I think we will wait until Wed morning"

"Oh, did you go to the Dr? What did he have?"

"Pink eye"

"Is that all?"

"Uh, yes. Why"

"Well I'm sick and so is another child and we're trying to figure out what TC gave us"

Ba-whu?

"What do you have?"

"I think I have bronchitis"

"Well, TC has pink eye and that's not bronchitis. Isn't bronchitis a secondary infection from a cold?"

"I don't know. Talk to you later"

Huh. For maybe the first time ever, I was speechless.

"They were like, so cute and I was like, blushing"

What was I doing talking to a teenage girl from California you ask?

I wasn't.

I was talking to my son...my 5 year old son. That's right. Tiki was "like, blushing".

Here's how it went down.

Saturday afternoon during the little one's nap, Tiki and I went to Sam's for a quick errand. After we finished he asked for a snack - a pretzel and Icee. I agreed and we sat down to have his snack. He was sitting across from me and kept staring at something behind me. I could hear that there were some kids and parents back there and I guess he was interested in them. He started to tell me something and then stopped and right then the people from behind us were walking by. Two girls, probably 12 or 13 years old, walked by and said "Hi" to TK - obviously they were sweet and knew he was staring at them. His face turned red and he put his head down and started giggling. He then looked up and said "Those girls were like, so cute. They said hi and they were like, so cute". I said "TK - how old do you think those girls were?"

And he said "They were like, probably at least 8. Mommy, I was so embarrassed and I was like, blushing".

WTH? Um, you're "like" 5 and it is NOT cool for you to be checking out the ladies yet! When did boys start being programmed this way? Thanks Hannah Montana.

Are you this lazy?

Have you ever re-run the clean dishes in the dishwasher just to avoid having to unload the dishwasher? So that hopefully when it's finished your spouse will be home and finally take his turn unloading the dishwasher...

If you ain't no punk, holla we want prenup!

"Um, they aren't real - you know that right?"

Tiki has about 100 stuffed animals that he has a love hate relationship with. By love hate, I mean "I love rhino but he makes me itch". "I love Tigger, but sometimes he's mean to the other animals." Typical pretend play. He's their dad and I'm their (gulp) grandmother. He tucks them in when they are lonely, he puts them down for 'rest time', he sits them in time out when they are bad. Do you see the pattern here - he pretends with them they way his life operates as if they were real. The two smallest members of his pack are two very small stuffed dogs from a Wendy's kids meal. One is white and named Whitey and the other is brown and named Brownie so as not to get them confused with each other. So he wanted to take them to school yesterday. Bringing toys to play with is verboten, but you can bring a small stuffed animal for rest time. So off went Whitey and Brownie to school.

Monday is the one day of the week I go into my office instead of telecommuting so it's a particularly busy afternoon trying to commute my hour and get the kids before the fines kick in. I picked Bitty up first and then had to carry that squirmy baby in to TK's school. We hurried out and as a result left behind Whitey and Brownie. Tiki didn't realize this until around bedtime...around 8:00 when the school had been locked up tight for hours.

About that time the bottom lip started to quiver and then the tears began. Big crocodile tears...and they kept coming. The "not so good at being a mom" part of me wanted to go "Are you kidding - they are junky toys from Wendy's - now stop crying". Buuuuuuuttt I didn't. Instead the "you might have kids that make it to 15" part of me steered the conversation this way...

"Oh I know you are so sad, but those puppies are going to be just fine. They are locked up tight in that building and safe there. And they have each other. In fact, I bet those puppies get in trouble tonight. I bet they get out of that tote tray and run all over the school. Tomorrow morning I bet we'll find puzzles scattered all over, chairs turned over..."

"Yeah and they'll work the puzzles too..."

"That's right - and they'll sneak in the kitchen and eat the food and color on the walls. I bet they even sneak in the arcade and play the games in the arcade. Those puppies probably wont' even go to bed tonight..."

By now the tears had dried and a look of pity had replaced the quivering lip.

He looked at me with that look of pity and said..."Um they aren't real - you know that right? They are just stuffed puppies and they only sit here like this".

And just in case I didn't get the words, he illustrated what stuffed animals do by propping one his pillow and then slowly looking at me to make sure I got it...

Thanks son.

But you do it...

Nervous laughter follows.

That's what TK said to me line @ Walgreens...during this conversation.

We walked up to pay for our purchases (deeply discounted Easter candy :-)). There was a younger, handsome guy working the register and an older handsome gentleman paying for his purchases. About the time we got to the counter Tiki lets a belch loose that I didn't think was possible from a 5 year old belly. It was wet and noisy and disgusting! Out of habit I said "Teeeeks - yuck- say excuse me". The two guys at the counter were looking away trying not to laugh and I was doing the same.

A few seconds later he said "Excuse me." And then "But mommy you do it all the time."

Touche.