Oh so fun (from a distance)

Today I volunteered in my son's preschool. Extra help for Halloween-related crafts and festivities was needed. I was so excited about finally seeing him in action, and seeing what went on in those 4 walls between the hours of 9am-11:30am, two days a week.

When I began researching preschools last winter, I just knew a cooperative preschool was for us. I mean, after all, I was a teacher in one of my previous lives, I haven't used the MA of Ed I'm still paying off in ages, plus I liked the idea of being able to keep an eye on Nicholas while he was in class. I toured my chosen location, plunked down a deposit, and that was that. Then I began to share this decision with friends and family. I got a lot of funny looks.

I began to rethink my decision as my patience with my toddler/budding preschooler began to wane. I started to think time away would be beneficial for both of us (cringing!). I wondered if he would benefit from some structure and guidance from someone other than myself. He had become, for lack of a better term, immune to me when it came to following directions. My voice apparently had become like some of those sounds that dogs can hear but humans cannot? It was difficult to let go of the idea of the coop, but I started to think I would be kicking myself in the fall when my son was hanging on me in class one moment, and hurling blocks at another child the next.

What I saw today was exactly what I wanted for my son. He is well adjusted, is having a great time in school, and I've seen positive effects at home. The teachers are beyond patient. They really enjoy the children. They even take the time to wash the hands of the boy who uses his hands as a kleenex.

And, I get to go grocery shopping without using one of those frigging car carts: priceless.

Bucholic Gaeity

Visited The Farm at Swan's Trail today. I love this place. All the good things about growing up in a semi-rural area, but with hand washing stations.

So I bought a girdle

Ok, not an actual, old granny girdle, but a modified tank top that might be made of steel reinforced rubber bands. Anyway, it works. And, I didn't get stuck in it like the other one I had with me in the dressing room. I can't be the first woman this has happened to. They ought to have one of those 'Call Nurse' buttons in the dressing room like you find in the hospital bathrooms. Bring the jaws of life, the Spanx claimed another victim.

I can't blame it all on pregnancy and childbirth; I lost that weight and then some (thanks to a combination of back surgery, pain medication, and Nutrisystem meals. I can really only recommend one of those methods). But, I put some back on. Did you know M&M's have 210 calories for 1/4 cup?! Me either.

Things are just squishier than they used to be. Luckily, this new form of flab is easily molded and smoothed by today's shapewear. So I won't be able to take a full breath for a few hours. I'll be temporarily back fat free, it's so worth it.

Alright, alright already!

So my friends and family have often said I should go into stand up comedy (um, no, I can't plan ahead very well, and frankly, I don't think I'm that funny), write a book (again, the planning, and then the carrying out of the plan), telling the tales of my life and my adventures in motherhood. Well, someone (again) mentioned I should create a 'mommy blog'. So, here I am. I am blogging. For the first time ever. Hold your applause.

I was originally as opposed to 'mommy blogs' as I was to the Snuggie. My husband came home not long ago with a Snuggie-for himself. It grew on me, as has the idea of a blog. I've read a few amusing and touching blogs over the past couple of years, so here I am. At the very least it will hopefully serve us better as a baby book than the notes I'm jotting on the calendar to record my son's milestones. Which reminds me, Nicholas stayed dry all by himself this morning. Still waiting for the poop that will inevitably occur while he is playing at the train table, aka, the poopitorium.

I would add more, but Nicholas keeps returning from the pantry with food items that require adult supervision.

P.S. I hear N at the train table now....