The First Night Away

It's probably no surprise to everyone that I survived my first night away from my little girl. Really, it was not too terrible. Once I got over being misty eyed in the morning as I departed, and a few real tears as I went to bed that night, I remained upbeat and enjoyed my time away.

But do you know who struggled?

Her daddy.

The truth? I'm a little glad.

Since my husband neglects to read my posts recently, and I found this to be the most unexpected part about my time away, I just have to share.

You know that means this will be the first time he's read my blog in three months, but oh, well.

The daytime was fine. We texted each other and I tried to call during my breaks at the conference in attempts to be able to talk to Amelia. Of course, she was snoozing each time I called. Then when I reached my hotel room that evening, I called Jon and we had a nice conversation where he reassured me that all was well and I should enjoy my time away. So with that, I headed out for the night ready to have fun.

Jon called me again around 7:30 p.m., but of course, I didn't hear my phone ring being that we were dining at Dave & Buster's. I texted that I was eating and would call him later. When I called at 10:30, he was less than happy. At first, I was slightly annoyed that he had ordered me to have a great time but was frustrated that I wasn't answering my phone. However, the truth is my husband was not mad at me, he was nervous and worried. When I thought back to how many times I've felt that way when I've left Amelia with other caregivers, I couldn't help but to feel sympathetic.

With that in mind, I took a deep breath, told him all would be fine and was sorry that I hadn't answered my phone, and ordered him to drink a beer and relax. My friend informed me that Amelia stirred and whined a few times during the night, but all she had to do was roll over and rub her tummy (yes, my friend is a co-sleeper too, how convenient for Amelia!) and she was passed out again. They played in the pool during the day, and I was one happy mama to see my little girl in the evening. Clearly Amelia wasn't too miserable while I was gone though:

This is great news because I will be gone again later this week to go to a concert. This time Daddy will be in charge overnight so that should be an interesting adventure for him. Everyone cross your fingers that Miss Amelia sleeps in her crib all night!

Seperation Anxiety

I woke up at 4:00 a.m. this morning.

FOUR. A.M.

Not because Amelia woke me up. Not because the dog had to go out. Not because some moron was squealing his tires outside of our house.

Because I'm leaving her. All night. Tonight. For the first time ever in 19.5 months.

Part of me is a bit excited. Part of is nervous. The other 75% wants to vomit all over the place.

It's hard to pinpoint my anxiety over this event. I've lined up her care, the friend she is staying with knows her inside and out and has a lot of the same caregiving philosophies that I do, and she is getting daddy time all day today. I've arranged for someone to let our dog out while Jon is at work, repeated to him five hundred times to bring enough diapers to my friend's house and to text me if he has questions.

And still. I can't sleep.

What is it about being away from our babies overnight for the first time? I told my husband yesterday evening that I know part of it is that I know how my brain works versus his. I am the manager of our household. I work from home, I care for the animals, I am the primary parent the majority of the time. Every whine that escapes our toddler's mouth has a purpose, and I know what she needs 99.5% (or more) of the time.  I can calculate in a split second when the last time she ate was, if she wants water, or if it's about time for a diaper change. If an impending molar is the culprit, I know. If she could have used an extra hour of sleep the night before, I'm aware of how that will impact her naptime within a half hour.

With all that said, I know that my husband and my friend will know what Amelia needs. It will just take maybe a few minutes more than it would take me. So, it's totally fine. She will enjoy her daddy time, her slumber party, and her playtime with her toddler friend tomorrow.

Meanwhile, I will be driving with the car radio blasting, eating meals without cutting food up into teeny tiny pieces and wiping strawberry juice off a toddler chin, and enjoying a bed ALL TO MYSELF without having to tend to middle of the night cries or being jabbed in the ribs.

Whether I actually can sleep in that bed is another matter.

Yuck Part II

Friday I shared that I had the flu. It was no fun, and caused me to miss tailgating at the UT vs. BG game, and many bottles of Octoberfest. On the plus side, it was super windy Saturday and so being sick was a good reason to stay in where it was warm, and my body probably can't handle a whole lot more regular beer this Fall drinking season. I need to start training for Christmas cookie eating season.

I was still feeling a bit queasy Sunday as I headed over to my parents for weekly family time. I was a little irritated that my weekend had gone by with me feeling like hell, as this flu also brought on killer headaches. I tried to focus on being thankful that I had not thrown up and that Amelia hadn't gotten my illness. Then I started pondering what my reaction would be when Amelia does get the flu at some point. I'm one of those people that will gag and be on the brink of vomiting myself when someone does so in front of me. I had been reassured by other mommies that when it's your kid, it's different. Much like being adrenaline charged at a horrible accident scene, you just kind of let your mommy instinct take over and become a puke-cleaning-up machine.

As if to answer my question, Amelia was throwing up by 6:30 p.m. At first, it wasn't so bad. I felt bad for her, I cleaned her up with my mom's help and changed her clothes. There, all better. I recalled how many mommies noted that their kids could hold down breastmilk even when they could hold nothing else down, and since Amelia will not take a pacifier, stuffed toy, blankie, nothing-but-mommy-when-I'm-mad-sad-scared-nervous-just-mommy-all-the-time-dammit, I figured she would feel better if she nursed.

She did. For about twenty minutes. Until it all came back up and then some.

I know, this is my most disgusting post yet.

And yet, while briefly grossed out, I mostly was struck with deep pain and sadness for my poor baby girl. At this point she was crying and sweating, scared and confused at was happening to her little body. And when I say little, I mean it. Amelia has consistently been in the twentieth percentile for her length. Her weight is always good and she consistently grows, she has adorably chubby cheeks, and she is generally healthy. But she's definitely a petite girl and just hours before we had a store clerk ask if she was six months old. She's almost twelve months. To see our little peanut be so sick, again and again-- I counted almost a dozen times that evening-- was more than I could take. By about the eighth or ninth time she got sick, I started crying. My dad hugged me, my mom cleaned her up, we got her comfortable again. About this time it was 9:00 p.m. and my mom announced that she needed to go to bed soon because she would have to get up for work in the morning.

You what now? Work? You aren't calling off to help me with Amelia?

I got that same overwhelming sense of who-in-the-hell-decided-I-can-keep-a-baby-alive that many parents get when they first bring their newborn home from a hospital. I panicked and grilled my mom for details about when I should consider taking Amelia to the E.R., signs of dehydration, what degree temperature is too high, when I should offer her fluids and tylenol. And, when my dad squeezed me as I cried, I wanted to look at them and say-- I can't do this. I'm the kid, you have to take care of me, take care of us. I don't want to do this adult thing anymore, I'm scared, what if I mess up and she gets hurt or worse?

Maybe I sound dramatic, a 30 year old talking about feelings of wanting to revert back to childhood when her own child is ill. All I know is that those feelings were so intense at that moment that recalling them now is bringing me to tears.

I did know that I couldn't ask my parents to call off work, so I had to take a deep breath and be strong for Amelia. And in the back of my freaked out mind, I knew that if she was super ill in the middle of the night, I could call them and still lean on them, ask them to come to my house and help me as I crumbled into a pile of emotion over my sick baby. I headed home, called Jon and asked him to pick up some pedialyte, wine, and candy pumpkins, scooped Amelia up as she started getting sick the second we pulled into the garage, and made up a little sick station in front of the TV, complete with blankets, pillows, and garbage can. We stayed up till 11:30 watching Despicable Me, waking once to be rocked again and take a sip of pedialyte that thankfully stayed down and then up for the day at her usual 6:30 a.m. Amazingly, as if nothing ever happened the night before:

I could not be more thankful that she recovered so quickly, and keep reminding myself of that today as she has a whiney ass challenging day. This is probably because she is still a little queasy and also, what better thing to happen the day after you have the flu than to oh, boy, get some more teeth in?

Poor Peanut.

Poor Mommy.

Where in the hell are those damn candy pumpkins?

The Babysitter Conundrum

I mentioned recently that I will soon have a new job. I've been pretty vague on details because it has taken a while to hash things out with my new employer. It is an online charter school to which I have applied to several different positions. Although I am a licensed school counselor, I had hoped that even if I couldn't do what I had been trained for initially, perhaps I could start in a different position then become a school counselor with them later. This is exactly how it's turning out. My position will actually be as an advisor, with the added responsibility of entering in transcripts for the academy. This is great because the added responsibility brings with it extra income. The downside is that I will have to work out of the office part time.

We are really grateful that I've A) found a job and B) found a job that eventually will lead to me working from home full time. However, because I'm working out of the office this school year, I also have to find someone to watch Amelia. Frankly, I'd rather have another root canal than search for childcare.

My two gorgeous girls <3

I think I speak for the majority of moms when I say that finding childcare is no fun. My most basic anxiety here is that I worry someone will hurt Amelia. Maybe all moms don't have this particular fear. Maybe they just worry about overall care in general. All of those worries are completely valid. As a counselor, I've worked with enough abuse and neglect cases that I cringe when I have to find a new person to watch my daughter. In addition, I watch too much TV at times, and this includes Dateline and Law & Order SVU. Nothing good can come from watching these shows, FYI. They make an already anxious person want to down a bottle of Xanax.

If we were rich, I would have just hired her last sitter as her permanent nanny. On the other hand, if we were rich, I wouldn't work. Her last sitter was patient, kind, young and energetic, and only caring for her own 2 1/2 year old during the day. It didn't hurt that her daughter LOVED Amelia. While I hated leaving my little one every day, I was comforted by the fact that she was a minute down the street, was receiving great care, and was spending time socializing with another child. And, being that I was working in a small town, it was pretty easy to verify this person's character. All I had to do was mention in passing who Amelia was staying with, and I heard how terrific she was.

Now, here we go again trying to find someone just right to watch my daughter. I can't seem to convince my mom to retire, nor can I figure out a way to convince Amelia's Aunt Mandy that quitting her job is financially feasible. Enter Facebook. Thank you, God, for making this piece of social networking not just simply a waste of many hours of my day. All I had to do was post a plea for babysitter references and someone that I've known for years and years volunteered to watch Amelia. She's six minutes away from the office. She has a little girl for Amelia to play with. Has daycare experience. Hallelujah. Of course, my mom needs to have some grandchild fun during the week to so she has claimed Wednesdays. Even better.

Guess I will save the bottle of Xanax for another time.