Shopping with my little lady

Sometimes, I resent that I have to do practically everything with a child affixed to my leg that I forget these excursions are often the best times we spend together.  For example, I had to visit the local grocery store with Eliza this afternoon.  One time Eliza knocked over a jar of spaghetti sauce, splashing red sauce all over the floor.  Other nights have found me running down aisles in search of my daughter who thinks it's funny to run off and hide.

By the way, this store is only a short block away, I have a big stoop outside the entrance of my building and the store aisles are so narrow that I save the stroller for big trips only.  Just in case you're wondering why I choose to have Eliza walk beside me.

But then there are days like today when Eliza stays with me throughout the store, obediently puts objects down when I tell her too and some one else breaks a glass jar nearby.  Today, Eliza stood beside me and chatted to the cashiers, thoroughly charming them as I checked out.  Always wanting to be the helpful one, Eliza insisted on carrying the basket back to the store entrance where she placed it with the other baskets.  

It was a lovely excursion.  If only she'd eaten the dinner I'd prepared afterwards and would go to bed without a fight.

Love Moments

I've thoroughly enjoyed my week away from work.  The greatest moment of my day is when I show up at Eliza's school to pick her up after naptime.  On Monday, though she didn't sleep I found her buried under her little white baby blanket.  I crept down on the floor beside her as she slid her little arms around my neck and held me with surprising strength.

"Mama, you're here," she said, hugging me tightly.  "I'm so glad you're here."  

We snuggled on the floor together as the other kids slowly woke up and I gathered her in my arms to enjoy the rest of a wonderful day.

On Wednesday, I arrived later due to an afternoon parent meeting.  When she saw me her face broke out in the loveliest expression of pure happiness.  I thought my heart might burst at that moment, I was so incredibly happy to see my little love.

On Friday, the last day of my full week off from work, she waved to me, her hand obscured by the white blanket.  I waved and crept over to her.  A song by Fiona Apple that I love called "I Know" played quietly on a nearby radio.  I scooped my girl into my arms for a wonderful embrace and quietly sang the lovely words from the song "And you can use my skin, to bury secrets in.  And I will settle you down."

"You're here for me," Eliza said.  "Mama I'm so glad you came home.  You came to come get me."

Monday is the last day I'll pick Eliza up from school for a while.  On Wednesday, I have to attend a production meeting for work (absolute, complete waste of time) and on Friday I'll be back on set.  Though I love the paycheck and the ability to get out of the house, this job is not working out for me.  I accepted it knowing it was a big experiment and now I'm sad to say tis really has to be it.  I realize I'm fortunate to have a week and a half off every month but I work 65-72 hours the weeks that I do work.  Getting home on Saturday morning at 5am, 6am, even 9:30 am only to return to work at 6:30 am on Monday is too difficult for me.  I work with people older than myself who do this every day, no week and a half off, without difficulty.  They commute from Connecticut and work these kind of hours on a regular basis.

I can't though.  I still feel like I'm recovering from last week at work.  Forget that I went three days without seeing my daughter even though we worked in the area, I can't see myself working these kind of hours ten years from now.  It's a good job, I'm lucky they let me job share but I have to recognize my own physical limitations.  

And while I hope to find a job, one that won't enable me to pick my daughter up from school for an entire week, I have to believe that another job will at least allow me the ability to see my daughter's wonderful face every night.  When I can walk through the door and say "Mama's home."

What are you wearing?

I'm off work this week and its wonderful.  While I like being around adults and eating food some one else has prepared, the hours away from my daughter are tedious at best, and heartbreaking at worst.  The week following the labor day holiday was particularly brutal; I did not see or hold my daughter for three days in a row.  

By Thursday, I'd really had enough of no Eliza.  Sure, I know its temporary and eventually my daughter and I will be reunited, but three days in a row of watching the world go by while other people tend to my daughter completely was too much.  I remember crouching on the floor on the set that serves as our main character's office, begging Eliza to tell me what she was wearing.  I felt like some kind of pervert, intensely clutching the phone while I asked an underaged girl this question.  I was so desperate for a "look" at my daughter, somehow knowing that she wore her little red and blue dress with the fireworks, lulled me out of my misery for a bit.

Yesterday, I finally got around to doing her most of her laundry from the past two weeks.  In the space of those two weeks, she'd worn her new stretchy pants from Target, however not with the matching shirt, her pink shorts, her heart blue jeans and a variety of pink tee shirts.  I realized as I tossed the items into the washing machine that I hadn't seen her wear 90% of these items.  

Then I smiled knowing for the next week and more, I'll get to see exactly what my little daughter is wearing, day and night.

Going by at warp speed

As the mother of a new baby, I heard the same phrase repeatedly from older family members, acquaintances and well-meaning strangers at rest stops: "They grow up fast.  Enjoy her."

So I did.  Writing down as many things as I could so I wouldn't forget.  Enjoying the sleeplessness because my extreme fatigue seemed to slow down time.  I'm still sleepless but time is now suddenly moving way too fast for me to recall most of the cute things my daughter does.  Something wonderful happens and I think, I have to write this down later but when I do, like now, I don't remember.  

Eliza started school last week.  I took the day off so I could take her.  I'm off this week and hopefully most of next so I can enjoy her as much as possible.  Now that she's in school three days a week, the days aren't only for the two of us.  As sad as that feels, I'm also looking forward to getting back to writing, real writing for the first time since she was born.  

Everything she does right now is so cute, so wonderful that it's too much to write down.  I stayed with her during the entire first day of school excluding nap time.  She did pretty well though she had a bit of a meltdown when it was time to sit down with clay and another kid sat in the seat she wanted to use.  When I came to get her after nap time, she told me "I want to stay in school."

Last week, my mother watched her for the day until my babysitter was available.  Eliza told my mother "I'm sad that Mommy's at work."  As my mother tried to discuss the topic with her, Eliza said something along the lines of "I don't understand why Mommy has to work."  My mother explained, and this is largely true, that Mama works so she can buy Eliza presents.  "She wants to buy you a Halloween costume."

This delighted Eliza who then started to skip all over the house, singing about her new Halloween costume.  And I did, I ordered her a doozy of a princess Halloween costume online.  C opened it when it arrived, causing whoops of delight from my daughter.  The following day, I decided to try it on Eliza.  "It fits perfect," she said as the layers of purple and pink fabric draped over her wonderful little body.  

"Thank you for my costume, Mama.  You got this for me," she said as she danced around, easily the loveliest princess ever.  "I like that Mama goes to work."

I laughed, understanding what she meant.  I'll also add that she's said she likes that I work because her Katie, Harry, (brother and sister) and her Tina (babysitter) come over. 

But today as we rode the bus home from school together, Eliza cuddled up with me and said "I'm glad you're home Mommy."

Goodbye Lovely Summer

I know there will still be long gorgeous days but technically, the summer is over.  The city pools will be closed so there won't be any days of lounging poolside in a local playground.  Next week, Eliza starts school.  I am going to be so busy at work the next two weeks (save next Wednesday, when I take off to take my girl to school), there will be little time for leisure.  

I love the summer.  I don't even mind the heat.  I love the long days, with no rush to get anywhere.  I loved the trips to Coney Island, the handful of days at the beach, the night we watched the sun set over the Hudson River and I chose not to worry that Eliza was up well past her bedtime and eating ice cream when she didn't touch her dinner.  

I love the trip we took to Pittsburgh for my mother's 70th birthday and the two days we visited the water parks.  

I spent Labor Day weekend at my mother's house near the Jersey Shore.  I chose not to make the annual pilgrimage to C's parents beach house.  If you'd read my entry about our Fourth of July weekend, that comes as no surprise.  I didn't get home from work until close to 5am on Friday night anyway so I was hardly in the mood to travel 4-6 hours just to go the beach when I can travel for one hour and go to one close to my Mom.  Since we'd just returned from a long trip to Pittsburgh, C agreed that strapping Eliza into the car for an extended period of time was best for her either and I go the weekend with my girl.  

On Saturday evening, I decided I had to have some kind of wagon, you know like a radio flyer kind of thing, to tote Eliza to the beach when I visit my mother.  I dragged Eliza to Target but the only wagon we say was very expensive and too big for me to take out of the store.  I decided to take her to a playground.  I've seen several along the Bay on the south side of Route 35 and wanted to visit a place different from the playground we regularly stop by.

But every playground I passed, though it looked promising, offered absolutely no parking.  The side streets were so narrow, parking along the street was not an option.  Eliza sat in the backseat and protested as one playground after another passed her by.  The sky grew redder as the night grew darker but it was too late to turn around.

Finally, I found a playground with parking.  Only after I pulled in did I see the sign that said it was permit parking only.  Apparently the playground was part of some club that probably wouldn't accept me as a member.  It was close to 8pm and feeling pretty confident that no one would police the park at that hour, I pulled in.  Eliza happily ran out of the car onto the sandy playground, her giggles soaring high into the air.  Behind the playground. a group of tween boys played baseball.  Three other kids and their caretakers were the only other people at the playground.  Eliza raced up a pretty unique kind of jungle gym thing and hid in it's center.  It was several tubes that all connected into a cylinder like tunnel that reminded me of a spaceship.  

I peered in at Eliza and called her my little astronaut.  

She rode the swings, she rode some kind of bouncey seesaw.  She was afraid of a steep slide but I finally convinced her to go down it with me.  The sun slowly disappeared and one by one, the other people left until we were on the only two people in the park.

"Eliza, it's time to go.  It's dark."

"No Mama.  It's not dark yet.  It's still light.  It's not going to rain."

"All the people are gone now honey.  We're the only ones here."

"I want to go down the slide with you one more time."

So I did.  Here's to the wonderful, long, not so lazy days of summer.  I already miss you like crazy.

Letting Go

Work is winding down for now.  Unless the schedule changes, I should be off and free to be full-time Mom to my girl until Tuesday, August 26th.  We're going to Pittsburgh the weekend of the 22 to see my grandparents.  I can't believe a year has passed since the last time they've seen Eliza.  That's way too much time.

Work has been good in the sense that it has given me financial freedom from C.  Eventually, I'm convinced it will give me real freedom from C.  I vacillate all the time about what I should do as far as he's concerned.  It's hard breaking up a family, especially as I care for his other kids and will no longer be a part of their lives once I split.  C has some good qualities, I too often focus on the negative.  My going back to work has helped us get along a lot better.  In the end though, we will never be happy together and I refuse to be one of those women who's always complaining about her situation but never takes action to change her life.

Eliza has taken real steps towards independence and its beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time.  I am no longer the center of her universe.  C, his kids and frankly, the babysitter have all moved into equal roles in her life.  Eliza will start preschool in a month with a class mostly comprised of kids older than she.  She fit right into the class which was wonderful.  But I will miss her on my weeks off from work, I will miss all the wonderful time we've had together just as I miss it now.

I'm sure Eliza would have made this move even if I'd not returned to work.  She would have started preschool in the Fall, made some friends and started to form a life independent of all of us.  I am grateful and proud of the little person she is becoming.  

But oh, how I miss that tiny little baby who wouldn't let me put her down.  My little girl still needs me, but she's my little girl anymore, she's her own little person and oh boy, is she lovely.

Because My Girl is Just So Awesome

The bank dilemma of last week appears to have been solved.  The money was credited to my account but it seems the record of the deposit, on their end, is nowhere to be found.  When I have more time, I plan to move my money to a different bank.  It appears that Chase Bank's system makes them a little vulnerable to these kind of problems.

I don't want to go into that too much because I'm about to return to work, which always feels a little like going underground.  We often refer to it as being in the trenches or reporting to the factory only to be released when the foreman tells us it's time to go home.  I want to briefly talk about how wonderful my girl is.

Eliza will be starting a preschool/day care kind of program in September.  She's a few months younger than the other kids in her class so the center's director asked me to bring Eliza by last week to make sure she'd fit into the class and be able to follow-along.  At first Eliza clung to me, refusing to speak any words.  The first word the director heard her say was "Dora" as we passed a Dora backpack in the cubby area.  

We entered the classroom as the kids were putting on sunscreen.  The director spoke to Eliza about putting on sunscreen to protect the skin and asked if Eliza wore sunscreen.  Eliza nodded emphatically, said she always wore sunscreen to the pool, to the beach but she couldn't "go into the Dead Sea because the water is very, very salty."

I knew then that it would all go well.  Eliza followed instruction, sat in the circle for story time (with a good deal of shushing from me), and even helped put toys away.  When the teacher asked Eliza to introduce herself, Eliza's finger went around the circle asking every other child his or her name.  

We went back to the center today to drop off our deposit and Eliza immediately asked "Can I go meet my friends now?"  

We visited my mother over the weekend to celebrate my mother's birthday and Eliza's interaction with my autistic adult brother also was lovely and amazing.  When I was young, my brother could pass for normal.  However now, with his lobotomy standard haircut, coke bottle glasses and frequent seizure expressions, he is easily categorized as "different."  Billy is also pretty tall, often doesn't make eye contact and doesn't interact in a regular way.  When he first pressed into my mother's house in the middle of a coughing fit, I didn't blame Eliza for clinging to me and saying "I'm afraid of Billy."

I told her I didn't want to be afraid of Billy.  When he came out of the bathroom and I said hello (ignored) and Eliza grinned and waved enthusiastically (ignored), I wondered why we'd gone through the trouble of visiting on his birthday in the first place.  Billy didn't look at either one of us, bent in an odd position and farted loudly.  Then he smiled and acknowledged our presence.  Nothing like a good toot to get the party started.

Later, as I tickled Billy and Eliza jumped to my side, ready to tickle and tease, I suddenly got emotional.  My daughter's kindness and tolerance is astonishing.

The day after Billy's party, I took Eliza to visit my mother's neighbor.  This neighbor, who I'll call Karen, runs a small day care center out of her home.  With a pool, seasaws, mini cars and mini-roller coasters, it's like candy land for kids.  Eliza has come to know Karen's regulars.  At one point, all the kids were clustered on the swings.  One girl crossed too close to another kids swing and ended up on the ground crying.  I picked up the crying child and Eliza immediately crossed to the kid who was swinging and said "You hurt her."  Eliza wouldn't resume playing until she knew the other girl was alright.  Her consideration was wonderful.  

That's my girl.  Less than three years old and looking out for everyone.  I wanted to record some of this stuff so I won't forget.  Years from now, when my daughter is a teenager screaming about how much she hates me, I want to come here and remember the person she really is and will be again.