Restoring Order

Housecleaning is such an emotional thing for me, like emotional eating. I know it completely falls under the category of "first world problems," but it really gets to me. I look at a mess and see all the things about my personality that I don't like -- my forgetfulness, my absent-mindedness, my laziness. The self-bullying just makes me feel worse, and I clean even less.

I've been trying to see the positive and give myself permission to let go a bit. We live in a very small apartment with no room for storage. I have a pretty happy kid who I spend most my time playing with.

So, here's what I'm doing. Some of these ideas are my own, but they also come from FLYLady's excellent advice on taking baby steps (15 minutes a day) to organize and clean, and the beautiful design and inspiration I find at Apartment Therapy (sites here: FLYLady and Apartment Therapy).

(1) I'm slowly working through each room per FLYLady's schedule, cleaning out closets, and making room for the things we LOVE and want around every day. My apartment is feeling more livable by the day, and I love that.

I just had a few days where I was in a funk, felt overwhelmed, behind on cleaning, and (2) I had to tell myself that these days would pass, that I could always jump right back into the plan per FLYLady's forgiving nature. So, that's what I did yesterday as I began working on the living room.

You know what else I did?? (3) I left the crappy cleaning tasks that I just couldn't face for Mark to do when he got home. I just did not want to do dishes, so I asked him to do those while I gave E a bath. Voila! Clean(er) kitchen and a more-organized living room.

And, I had to admit, when the apartment was quiet this morning, after E and Mark and left for day care, I looked around and saw change. Glorious change. I saw a much more manageable apartment.

I am also (4) learning more about myself -- knowing myself and what motivates me. If you're a regular reader, you'll know that I just love new projects, new challenges. They keep me interested. So, it's easier for me to look at "cleaning the living room" as part of a bigger project to transform the living space into something I love, even if that just means hanging some new art on the wall.

Apartment Therapy recently posted a list for learning to love your home and included a few great steps. One was to (5) buy furniture that you love, then (6) accessorize for cheap. I love this idea. I can't afford to buy new furniture, but I can give my current furniture, which I do LIKE, a face-lift or just a deep cleaning and build a unique style around them. I can also afford to redesign, organize, and make storage space in a room based on an inexpensive new piece of furniture, like a bookcase. Then I can easily accessorize with discounted items from TJ Maxx or even the Dollar Store for vases and frames. Now I just have to (7) pick a theme for my home, to make it feel more like me and to celebrate our styles as a family.

And in between all this, I still have to find time to do the (8) daily cleaning tasks like pick up the living room, unload/load the dishwasher, and still maintain my sanity. This is the hardest for me. I have no interest in doing repetitive and monotonous daily tasks. Maybe I can (9) make it fun somehow and (10) have my daughter help!

Also, stay tuned at the end of this week as I try out a Beach Body Challenge Pack courtesy of my lovely friend and fellow toddler-Mom, Ashley (Check out her Fitness For Living Facebook page here)! There are so many fun walking and running events coming up this summer. I want to be ready. Ultimately, I'd love to be able to run a 5K, but I'm shooting for 1 mile first! Baby steps! I know my biggest struggles are going to be making time to exercise, eating right, and staying hydrated!

Monday - Housekeeping Advice Needed!

Mark and I had a long discussion this morning about how we can be better about housework.

We both grew up in homes with amazing parents who did most the household chores for us. The only problem is that we have no idea how to take care of a home ourselves. We realized that most of the chores we did growing up were to please our parents or to avoid their wrath if we made a mess.

The result: The act of doing chores becomes an emotional battlefield. They should be done to please someone or out of fear of making someone angry. Add my mood swings to the mix, and the house gets messy, confusing, and nothing gets done.

My mom would say, "Just suck it up, and do the work" to which I would reply, "but what's my reward?" Her answer: "A clean house."

I wish that was enough, but growing up, it was an allowance, or ice cream, or just time -- time to play outside, to go in the pool, to go to a friend's house.

Why do I still need that extra reward? Am I just lazy? Should I really just suck it up and do it? There are some days I just can't -- I can't deal with the emotions that come with cleaning.

So, we decided to implement a reward system for cleaning. I'm 100% certain that we're too old for this (me being 29, him 35), but I'm willing to try it if it means we at least temporarily replace the emotional reactions with positive reinforcement. It may be good for Ellie to see too.

We decided our reward system would be similar to (okay, exactly like) the grade school star chart. Each "gold star" equals 15 minutes of time for us to use how we wish on the weekends. We can go to a movie, read, draw, etc. Meanwhile, the other person gets to spend time with Ellie.

This should work well with our cleaning schedule: We both work, so weekdays should be only maintenance chores -- every day we pick up our assigned rooms. I'm kitchen/dining room. He's living room. Weekends we: pick up bedrooms, clean the bathroom, and do the floors (mop/vacuum).

The cleaning schedule has worked pretty well so far, considering we were gone most weekends this summer and the apartment didn't get too out of control. But I wonder if we'll do even more adding the reward system.

What about you? How do you manage your house/cleaning schedule? Is it more a matter of just doing what needs to be done, or do you have a specific system? In need of tips!

Toddler Cleaning Schedule

I wish I had some advice to offer you about how to keep your house clean, because I've written numerous posts about getting my apartment in order but haven't exactly figured it out yet, at least not long-term. Just search "cleaning" on my blog, and you'll see my progress, or lack thereof.

Well, thankfully, my 2-year-old grew into a 55-year-old woman last week and has completely taken over our home and put me on a cleaning schedule. Say what you want about our parenting -- maybe I'm a little too lax with her at times, or maybe Mark and I tend to lean a little more toward 'follower' rather than 'leader' in our parenting roles, sometimes. But, generally speaking, I was content with a messy living room, finished paintings spread across the living room floor, and a kitchen clean enough to make food in.

My darling Ellie, however, was not. We got home from day care on Friday, and she started in, "Mama. You need to make some more space for me. This place is a mess."

The mommy-guilt hit me like a truck. "You're right, Elle. I'll pick up today."

"Okay, and I will help you," she offered.
"Alright."

"Also, there is no bucket for my dishes, and we need to wash them after we're done eating," she said.

"You know, that's a good idea." I mean, letting them sit in the sink until the following morning or afternoon... or until Mark comes home from work the following evening... probably not the best habit to get into.

I set up a bucket for her, an orange one I had left over from our craft corner. "Get me a chair, please," she insisted.

I pulled a chair over from the dining room table. She climbed up on it and started washing her snack dishes, setting up a system similar to the one they have at day care, where each child is responsible for cleaning up after themselves, and there is a designated space for clean and dirty dishes.

I followed suit, put away dishwasher dishes, and loaded the dishwasher with the dishes that were sitting in the sink from the previous night. I grabbed some cleaner dishes from that day and handed them to her to wash. I bleached my sink and wiped the counters while she did that.

She set up her empty bucket to use after dinner and hopped off the chair, in search of a mop and broom. I asked her to please pick up the paintings off the living-room floor first.

"Mommy. I'm much too busy for that right now."

I wasn't going to argue. Clearly, she had her own schedule she was trying to adhere to. I stifled a laugh and picked up the living room, started folding laundry. Ellie grabbed the mop and broom. I helped her sweep. Then, she mopped every square inch of the apartment, using her vinegar solution I made up for her. The living room smelled like a pickle cannery.

I watched our home transform from terrifying to livable, all at the direction of a 2-year-old.

It was actually kind of phenomenal. And, I mean, if she's happy, I can be happy with it like this. Sure, we're forever working on an endless heap of laundry folding, and finished paintings are spread over almost every surface of our living- and dining-room, but you know what? I kind of like it that way. As long as I can sit on my couch, cook in my kitchen, eat at my table, and paint at my craft corner, I'm pretty gosh darn happy, and so is she apparently!

Mark came home, and we had some pasta for dinner. Ellie explained the new kitchen system to him. After dinner, he sat in the recliner with his bowl of pasta, kicked his feet up, and took his last few bites of macaroni. Elle got up from the table, put her bowl in the orange bucket, stomped over to the recliner with her hands on her hips and said, "Daddy. Are you done with that bowl?"

"Um, yeah. Why?"
"Well, you know where it goes. Right in that bucket. Come on. Let's go."

15 Minutes of Cleaning is Saving My Life!

Today is Whatever Wednesday, so I've chosen to share what I am most excited about right now. I know this is hard to believe. I can hardly believe it myself (blinks a few times), but it's housecleaning.

Don't run off just yet, I'm serious. You know me, right? I usually hate housecleaning. Actually, "hate" is too gentle of a word.

I despise it with the rage of a thousand rabid dogs.

I could get into all the psychological reasons for this and go into a long rant about my cleaning past, but the gist of it is that I had a wonderful mom growing up who did almost everything for me. I had to keep my room clean, help clear the dinner table, put my dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and do my own laundry (if I really wanted a certain article of clothing clean). Occasionally, I helped out by doing the bathrooms, vacuuming, etc. Other than that, my mom did it all and didn't really mind if my room was a mess, cluttered with a pile of unfinished projects. She was amazing. The table was cleared every night of homework and toys, dinner always on the table, dishes done before she went to bed.

And for some reason, I'm still living like she's in the house with me. Then, I seem surprised to look behind myself and find a trail of creative wreckage that no one but me is responsible for picking up.

Then, of course, the negative thought process kicks in, "You're lazy, you're still such a child, you're forgetful, you're not a good housewife," and worse, "Ellie will get sick, because your floors are dirty." Everything must be my fault.

On Friday, I had a particularly rough day feeling overwhelmed by the housework and expecting company to come over. I finally cancelled all my plans, and that made me even more upset. I had a meltdown, as something as simple and insignificant as the garbage not being taken out became bigger in my mind. I thought, "I'm not in control of my own life," and "We're all going to die." Thanks, anxiety.

For the first time ever, I called my counselor and cried like a baby. She talked me off the hypothetical ledge, told me to stop cleaning, to let Ellie watch a TV show, and to put my feet up and take a break (physically and emotionally).

She also asked me, "Was it like this when it was just you and Mark?" No. Well, sometimes, but we could quickly pick up on a Saturday when we had nothing else to do. Now we have a toddler who demands a lot of our attention and is also a little bit like a Tasmanian Devil baby, flying through our house and undoing any of our picking up in about 5 minutes flat.

-----

She then suggested FLY Lady. I was skeptical, but it was a project, and you know how I love starting new projects. I'm still very new to this project, and as with most things, I'm customizing it to work for me right now.

Here is how I started:

• There is a list of baby steps on the site (here) that you can start any time. These are just little "habits" to get you into a routine. The first is to "shine your sink" every night. For me, this means, emptying the dishwasher at some point during the day, then before bed, all dirty dishes go in the dishwasher, and I wipe down the sink. As a result, my counters stay pretty clean, and I wipe those down when I can during the day.
  
  The FLY (Finally Love Yourself) Lady calls sink-shining her little "hug" to you in the morning -- seeing your clean sink. A bunch of baloney, you say? I thought so too. At first. But I have to say, seeing that clean sink each morning is nice. It makes my morning routine easier, which consequently makes the rest of my day easier, so it's a gift from myself to myself. "Thank you, self." "Oh, no, thank you, self!"
• One of the next baby steps is to "dress to shoes" each morning. I'm almost always dressed first thing in the morning but rarely have a spare pair of shoes to throw on, so I've skipped this step. I believe it's geared toward those of us who need that extra boost in the morning, and I have a toddler boosting me most days. I will, however, make sure to do this on weekends.
• But the BIGGEST and most important part of this little program for me has been the 15 minutes of decluttering. That's it. 15 minutes each day. I picked my target areas that I felt were most in need of picking up (though the site designates zones, as you'll see). On Monday, I decluttered the living room in 15 minutes. FLY Lady suggests setting a timer -- I use the oven timer. Yesterday, I cleared the kitchen table of mail and E's toys underneath. Again, I only did 15 minutes. When the timer went off, I was done. It's Wednesday. Three days later, and I have a relatively clean living room and dining room. My kitchen counters are clear, and there are no dishes in the sink.
• I spend each afternoon only maintaining these areas -- pick up dining room table, empty dishwasher. I pick up the living room after E goes to bed which usually only takes a minute or two to throw her toys in a basket. Altogether, I probably spend about 15 minutes each afternoon picking up. If E gets into a game during the afternoon, I do my extra 15 minutes of decluttering then. If I get interrupted, I stop the timer and start again later.

Going Forward
When you visit the FLY Lady page, you can click on the "Today" tab, and the "Flight Plan" link. Everyone has access to this -- no sign-up or sign-in required. Here, she has everything organized into sections. Once I feel my home has been significantly decluttered (just focusing on trouble-areas for now), I'll be at a better starting point for moving into the "zones."

• Each week, FLY Lady designates a zone to focus on, and each day of that week, you spend your 15 minutes of time in that zone. Read more about zones on her site, here. This week's zone is the Bathroom and Laundry Room. She assigns tasks for you to complete in that short amount of time, and at the end of the week, you have a spotless zone. Again, you can switch zones if you need to focus on another area of your house, but the tasks for each area are so well organized and explained, it's worth following the flight plan as closely as possible.
• The site has TONS of other ways to help you get into other routines like drinking more water and detailed cleanings. It also has lots of products to help on your journey, but starting with these simple baby steps, splitting up my cleaning time, having time for the other things in life that make me happy, and having a relatively clean apartment (after only day 3) has been life-changing, and I hope you'll like it too!

Also, "I need help!"
Maybe it's just because Mark and I both work and have a toddler, but as much as I love this cleaning plan, I need help with it. I strongly encourage you to share your housecleaning plan (whatever it may be) with your partner and children. Let me tell you why...

The first night I shined my sink was an awakening for me. It was finally admitting to myself that I needed more help, that I needed FLY Lady to be my surrogate cleaning-mom and to tell me what to do each day in order to have less chaos and clutter in my home.

I don't need a perfect home. I just want to be able to make food in my kitchen, to have enough room on my couch so that both Mark and I can sit on it, to be able to use my dining room table, and for guests to be able to use my bathroom and not get exposed to some 18th-century disease that I'm sure is breeding in my toilet. Those are the very small goals I've set for myself.

So, I said to my beautiful sink, that first evening, "Goodnight, see you in the morning friend," and fell asleep happy. When I woke up, I remembered my good deed and rushed out to see it sparkle, to feel that happy feeling of doing something good for myself. And you know what?

Someone had put a nasty milk cup and bowl of old coleslaw in it after I had gone to bed. Ugh. Mark must have been too tired to really understand my little speech about sparkly-sink excitement the night before. I explained to him again why this was so important to me.

Now he knows, and even if he doesn't help me shine it, he surely won't put dishes in there before bed. We're on the same page, and it feels great.

He even has offered to do his own 15 minutes each night, and I've given him tasks that are hard for me to do during E's nighttime routine -- like take out the garbage and put the dinner dishes in the dishwasher. Those 2 tasks left me with a clean kitchen last night.

We both woke up this morning and smiled at each other in our clean kitchen. "This is nice," Mark admitted. Plenty of room to make lunches, and a clean sink to rinse dishes. "Yeah, it is."

The Parents Descend

My parents haven't been able to visit E in VT since her birth due to lots of craziness on both sides of the lake.

In NY, Mom was dealing with her own round of surgeries, and both she and Dad were handling matters with my grandparents' deaths. You know about the craziness in VT with my surgery and new-mom life.

Didn't my counselor tell me I should start a family calendar? Yep. Would have been very useful yesterday. I actually have a family calendar, but just FYI... It helps if you write your appointments on it.

My already stressed-out Mom and Dad arrived Sunday evening. I had made a crap load of veggies late in the afternoon with the intention of reheating them while baking a half ham. Voila! Easter dinner!

I cheerily texted "Happy Waster!!" (Thanks, auto-correct!) to all my friends as I bopped around the kitchen, wasting my few moments of post-surgery energy on dancing. E enjoyed the show from her bouncer but conveniently got bored right as the veggies were done. I figured you can't over-boil potatoes and carrots, and let them sit another hour while I tended to the baby beast.

Mom and Dad arrived early. I put E in her crib to keep her busy a moment, changed her diaper, and Dad called me into the kitchen to assess my veggies. I forgot about E and returned 10 minutes later to find her pantless and chewing on her fingers peacefully. She was 100%, totally fine. In other words, she was "neglected" (per my high standards of parenting). Dinner proceeded normally but so began a parental visit with a general feeling of blah-ness at realizing I couldn't babysit my guests and tend to my daughter at the same time.

We all chatted for awhile after dinner then Mom and Dad headed to a hotel at E's regular temper-tantrum-inducing holy-crap-I-gotta-go-to-bed?! time. E also got creative and paired this parenting challenge with the holy-crap-it's-2am-let's-have-a-party!! wake-up call and feeding frenzy which led straight into the holy-crap-I-gotta-pee-5-times! diaper-changing marathon. I concluded that having a baby is like taking care of a drunk college friend every Friday night... for the rest of my life, and I cried a little bit.

Late-morning came quickly, and Mom and Dad arrived at 9am. I got E fed, dressed, and ready to head out right in time for Dad to decide he wanted to do our taxes for us and take care of some other errands. He proceeded to search the entire house for the papers he needed, and I panicked, doing the same. This led to a series of panic attacks especially when he didn't find them but instead found the other hidden, crumpled pile of letters he had sent me explaining how I needed to organize my finances after Mark and I got married. He gave up and retired to the sofa while I had a mini meltdown.

The good thing? As a mom, I couldn't resort to crying. I had to pick myself up, call the Town Clerk for those missing papers, make two other calls to rearrange some appointments, and get E ready again for our outing. We had to stop at her day care, eat lunch, and run a few other errands. Mom helped, I re-fed her, and was just getting her car seat ready when there was a knock at the door.

I mumbled a "Who the hell...?" and opened the door to find the housekeeper. I forgot that I had scheduled one more cleaning session with my housekeeping gift certificates.

I'm supposed to ready our house first - just a minor pick-up for floor/counter cleaning, etc., but I had completely forgotten. I gave the woman freedom to do whatever needed to be done to clean, and ushered all four of us out of the house, while my mother insisted E wasn't dressed warm enough AND while explaining to the cleaning lady that she doesn't know why her daughter keeps her house this way, that she certainly wasn't raised this way, that me (the strange one) just isn't the "domestic type." Humph.

It's true, I am no Bree Van de Camp. I'm not even a Lynette Scavo. I'm probably some mix of Susan, Gabi, and one of those moms you see crying in the freezer section at Walmart.

However, my baby gets the best of me, and my parents had to get the leftovers. I calmed myself, insisted to Mom that she didn't embarrass me in front of the cleaning lady, and headed out with my family.

We went to lunch, visited the day care, shopped at the craft store, went to Walmart (no crying in the freezer aisle), Babies 'R' Us, Starbucks, and home. I had to breast feed E in the car. She peed all over her only blanket and the bench at the restaurant. Me, who never wants to ask for help, had to have Dad get her stroller and Mom get paper towels.

Everyone survived, barely. We came home to a gorgeously cleaned home. We had dinner, and Mom and Dad went to their hotel. Mark came home from work and put E to bed. I plopped down on the couch to RELAX.

Mark offered to rub my feet and legs. I graciously accepted under one condition: that he would not give me one look of romantic anticipation, not one hopeful touch that this leg rub would turn into anything more physical. And after he promised me that, then halfway through the leg rub broke that promise, I told him this exact story, word-for-word. He hugged me and sent me to bed. Alone.

The Star Chart

Sorry, I cannot change the size of the font in this post, and I have no idea why. :-)

So, I wanted to make my mid-week blog entry about anything I wanted to talk about -- be that art, a funny story about how Ellie is into (and trying to eat) everything in sight (including her Children's Bible -- yikes!), or how much I love the Beach Boys Pandora station (Best 50s/60s mix ever! The Ronettes?! No way, right?! Yes, way!!).

Instead, I'm obsessing over the cleaning star chart which I've renamed, "The 'Forget It' Chart".

My sneaky husband is spending every waking minute either trying to avoid making the system work or trying to take complete advantage of it!

On Monday morning, when I first presented the plan, Mark was all, "Oh good GOD, nooo..." + huge eye-roll + dramatic sigh. He claimed he would need at least 12 hours to think about this plan and make his decision. I'm convinced that he thought this was the exact amount of time it would take ME to forget about the plan and move onto some other shiny, distracting task.

This angered me on multiple levels, as I have ADHD tendencies and felt he was taking full advantage of my vulnerabilities. Ugh.

I told him that if he needed 12 hours to come up with a reward system for cleaning, he must be an idiot... We're two intelligent adults and should be able to quickly come up with a plan that works for us. We came to an agreement (per my previous post) -- we would do the star chart and earn stars that could be cashed in for time to ourselves or money to buy a small luxury item (a book, etc.)

On Monday evening, I shared this idea with Mark's sister, Kim. Through careful analysis of our plan (and knowing her brother better than I do), she was able to reveal the first of several loopholes in our system... Mark thought that he could hoard stars! In his crazy star chart world, he could choose to not spend stars... saving up hours of star time and cashing them in for, what?! A European vacation? Hold on...

First amendment to Star Chart:

Each Sunday, you must clear any unused stars and start over.

On Tuesday, I cleaned the entire kitchen and did 2 loads of laundry. (Kitchen + Laundry = 2 Stars) I happily updated my chart! I had 3 total after a maintenance kitchen/dining room clean on Monday!

On Wednesday, Mark's row had 5 stars! How did he get 2 more stars than I had? I questioned him when he got home from work. Answer: He had done a grocery shopping after work on Tuesday. In his mind, a grocery shopping was "clearly" worth "at least" 4 stars. Plus, he had done 1 load of laundry. Hold on...

Second Amendment to Star Chart:

I am the one who decides how much each chore is worth in stars.

I admit, this one hurts on multiple levels. Part of me was hoping that this would be a visual representation of how much work I do around the house... so he could see how much time and energy I put into housework. I never (in a million years) thought I would see more stars on his chart. Which leads to...

Third Amendment (suggested by Kim on Tuesday... that I thought I had covered in Amendment 1.):

You can only earn a max of 8 stars per week (equal to 2 hours of personal time or 8 "star bucks" to spend on a luxury item).

This morning, Thursday, I was surprised to discover that the drain was leaking under the kitchen sink. The good thing: It had leaked into a dish pan I had under the sink with cleaning supplies in it and not into the cupboard. The bad thing: That dish pan was f*cking nasty! It was full of disgusting, mildewy, black water. I told Mark that I was taking Ellie off to day care, and if he could just kindly remove that "little" pan of goo, I would love him forever and grant him 4 stars.

I sent him a text once I arrived at work:

Me: How'd it go??

Mark: That was probably the most disgusting thing I have ever seen in my life. I'm pretty sure there were things in there that would have boggled scientists for years. And I can't be certain, but I had the strangest feeling that it was staring at me... Like it had some sort of malevolent intelligence. I think I've just witnessed the doom of mankind, and it began in our kitchen. This is worth more than 4 stars.

Fourth Amendment to Star Chart (in conjunction with Second Amendment):

Big messes equal more points (but no more than 4!).

I know that... none of this really matters. The entire point for him is to throw more obstacles and distractions at me on the path to household harmony (though he completely denies that), so that I give up and keep things the way they are, which I believe, to him, is safe, cozy, secure, consistent.

But I'm determined to make our lives better, cleaner, happier, more organized, to be a better person and a better example for Ellie. And, the more obstacles he presents, the more amendments I will write!

I really sympathize with our forefathers. I wonder how Thomas Jefferson felt when the "Mark" of the Constitution framers was all, "'We the People??'... hmm... that just doesn't sound right. How about, 'We People...' or maybe just 'The People...' Wow, how long have we been at this? Better call it a day."

An Uneventful Day

Happenings
Wow, I bet the title of this post just brought 10 more readers to my blog... Anyhoo, it was a pretty uneventful day. No poop explosions, no crock pots croaking, no moon-size comets crashing into Earth.

E's afternoon routine went smoothly: day care pick up, play time, snack, nap, dinner, bath time, bed. I got lots of cleaning done while she napped today.

She struggled a little bit falling asleep before her nap, so I worked on a new rhyme for her. She loves fabric so I've always thrown her blanket over her, played peek-a-boo and gently ran the material over her skin which always resulted in a fit of giggles. I then like to pretend it's her shawl, a skirt, a head-dress, a scarf blowing in the wind, a sail on a ship out on the ocean. I sing songs of beaches and deep sea breezes and let the waves of the blankie wash over her. It inspired me to start a new little book for her. I can't wait to work on it more and maybe someday find someone to illustrate it! Andrea Joseph, please?!

Quote(s) of the Day
Me: Did you notice I cleaned the entire kitchen and dining room? Or were you not saying anything because last time I told you to not make such a big deal out of me *actually* cleaning something?
Mark: Oh, um, yeah... that's why I didn't say anything. Exactly...

Listening To
Random radio pick: Carry on my Wayward Son... Kansas.
Appropriate, because saying, "We're not in Kansas any more..." would suggest that something exciting actually happened today.

Weather in VT
Sunny, warm... bring on the rain!

Back from New York

I'm starting this post with a big yawn, as I sit back at my desk in my little cubicle in Vermont, listening to the whistle blow as the 10am train rushes by outside.

I wish I had some wild story to tell you about Ellie's antics while we were in New York, but she hardly made a peep during our 5-hour trip, thanks to snack breaks, a few movies on the iPad, and two exciting rides on the ferry.

The weekend was absolutely perfect. My mom and dad babied us as usual, making big meals and cleaning up after us. And we just... played. Glorious, fun, relaxing play time. Ellie played with her cousins, went to the park twice, played in the hose, made s'mores around the campfire out back. We did crafts, painted, visited with old friends. I shopped with my sister and my 7-month-old niece.

Now, I'm tired, happy, and ready to settle into a busy week, looking forward to another long weekend with my family. Time to get my home in order, plan meals for the rest of the week, get a shopping in, catch up on freelance work, and put more time into my big-picture project! More to come!

I Made a Cleaning Game (Because of My Sad Life)

No, I'm just being a drama queen. The only sad thing about my life is that I need to create some element of fun to motivate myself to clean my apartment. I've been doing this general plan since we came home from my parents' house on Wednesday, and it's actually working... so far. So, I thought I would make it into a game... A sad game I play all by myself. Haha!

This is the sample. If you'd like the blank template to play along, shoot me an email at: YourMomIsStrange@gmail.com!

Family Time

I don't know what to write about lately... The latest plague -- the famed upper respiratory virus -- just went through our house. What a nightmare that was! I'm left feeling tired, worn out, and fed up.

Still, my apartment is up to this mama's cleaning code, and E is happy and has made a full recovery!

She's saying every word imaginable right now. I'm in awe of her every moment. She's memorized most of her books, after reading them only a few times and shocks us by saying words like "zucchini," "butterfly," and "temperature" so clearly.

The other day she asked me for some milk. When I got it for her, she said with such sincerity, "Thank you, Mama!" I melted. She gives the best hugs and kisses, loves to be with us, and is a real little member of the Strange family.

She seems to have my goofy sense of humor, too. She makes silly faces and laughs at every strange thing I do. I love having a little audience who clings to my every word and dances to every song I sing. Hide and seek is a favorite game right now, in every form -- whether it's peeking out from under a blanket or chasing me out of my hallway hiding space.

I feel like I've known her my entire life. I keep having these strange déjà vu moments, where I remember that years ago I had a dream about being in this apartment with her. Somehow I just knew that she existed, but being by her side now is like being in heaven. The rest of the world just fades away. There is no bad in our corner of the universe -- just our sunny little moments spent sneaking up on each other, laughing, and smushing our faces together.

God is great, and life is good.

Sweet

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(lullaby, rock-a-bye, Lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek-peek-a-boo).
The shopping is not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there is a hullabaloo.
But I'm playing "Kanga" and this is my "Roo."
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(lullaby, rock-a-bye, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

Ruth Hulburt Hamilton, 1958

The Day a Guinea Pig Saved My Life

Is it possible that E could have hit the "Terrible 2s" stage a tad early today?

I took her out to eat at Moe's and after the waiters and waitresses greeted us with their signature holler, "Welcome to Moe's!!!" everything went downhill.

I wish that I could write this all out and twist it into a long-winded, comical scene, but it just wasn't that funny. So here's the rundown:

1. Waited in line for 20 minutes.
2. There were no high chairs.
3. Got a glass of water with no help.
4. Spilled water... everywhere.
5. Had to ask for help cleaning up.
6. The waitress replied, "Why?"
7. E tried the table-cloth-pull trick with the paper they put under your food in your meal basket.
8. Queso got all over my shirt.
9. It didn't look like queso...
10. E took her socks and shoes off.
11. E had a temper tantrum and threw herself on the floor.
12. E rolled under the table.
13. I got my meal to-go and ate 3 bites in the car before E threw her second tantrum.
14. E cried for bouncy balls and dogs.

I spotted a Petco. Before I knew it, we were speeding through the aisles. Everything is a dog to E, so I couldn't lose. The only thing different was a "shish" (fish). All other species = dog. Her favorite dog was a guinea pig. That little guy was active too, thank God. She watched him for a full half hour -- ducking in and out of his little igloo, playing peek-a-boo with her and drinking out of his water bottle. He even ate some of his wood chips -- toddler comedy gold!

We also saw birds and a dog getting a haircut. I circled the store about 25 times then went outside, and we saw a plane. "Whoa..." she said.

It was pretty much the baby version of Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Mama FTW!

Housekeeping Disasters and FLY Lady

Okay, so you should all know by now that I'm not a great housekeeper. I think I'm a pretty good mom, though it took me awhile to admit that, and I'm still feeling guilty for hollering at E the other day when she drank water out of a dish rag.

And I think I'm doing okay at being a wife -- even if that means that this week the most I did was hug my husband, ask how his day was, beg him to take out the trash, and asked, "Are you okay? Are we okay??" as he ran out the door, to which he replied. "Yeah, of course! Always. I love you!" Ahh, isn't love grand?

But the housekeeping thing is just... meh. Here's my usual daily routine:

Waking Up (A Half Hour Late)

• Grab my bra off the bed post
• Trip over books and pile of dirty laundry
• While on the floor, grab my jeans that I wore yesterday from under the bed
• Stumble to the mirror while putting on jeans
• Make sure my hair isn't too greasy and try to remember the last time I washed it
• Try to figure out what day it currently is
• Simultaneously brush teeth and put hair in ponytail 
• Scrounge in the clean-laundry pile for a shirt
• Put on that shirt and decide it's too wrinkly
• Put on a sweatshirt over wrinkly shirt
• Remove toddler from hip by coaxing her with Cheerios and milk

Making Lunches

• Distract toddler with dancing and Shakespearean soliloquies in horribly bad olde-English
• Grab bread from cupboard
• Find turkey in cupboard from yesterday
• Throw out turkey
• Make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
• Discover that toddler's lunch pale hasn't been cleaned
• Clean lunch pale
• Toddler wants to "help" (DO NOT ALLOW THIS)
• Lets toddler help wash lunch pale
• Change toddler's wet clothes (allow 30 minutes to 3 hours)
• Distract toddler with a YouTube video (must be longer than 5 minutes)
• Hit "restart" on video every five minutes
• Clean lunch pale
• Argue with toddler about why she doesn't need to help again
• Lie to toddler about the lunch pale already being clean
• OR pretend that cleaning the lunch pale is not fun
• Pretend it makes you cry

Getting Out the Door

• Send toddler out the door
• Give hugs and kisses 5+ times
• Send my husband out the door with toddler, missing half the items she needs for day care (not to worry, day care has extra boots and blankets)

I've only forgotten her lunch once, and I made sure to bring it over to her. I rarely forget the important things, and if I do I can get creative to make it work.

But sometimes "getting creative" is exhausting.

I'm trying out this new site my counselor recommended. No one paid me to say this. Ha! It's 100% free to sign up, and I've found the emails and plan that "FLY Lady" sets up incredibly doable and manageable, even with my busy lifestyle! Here's the link! Disclaimer: You get TONS of emails, so I recommend signing up for the "Lite" version if you sign up for the emails.

I've only just started this plan, but am already noticing SO MUCH of a difference in my attitude about housecleaning and the state of our apartment! If you decide to join me or have already tried this program, I would love to hear about how it's working for you!

What's New

So... I haven't actually written in awhile and am a tad behind on Project Life. Usually I get my page done on the weekend. The whole point of doing Project Life was to make it easier to scrapbook, but I've been feeling pressure to make the pages more customized. I need to let that go and just get the photos on the page. Task 1.

My house is a mess. No, it's a disaster. I have dirty dishes piled in the sink, dirty pots on the stove from last night's dinner, and 4 bags of garbage that need to be taken out. E's room is getting messy, and the clutter everywhere else has got to go. I came up with a plan to have each of us take ownership of rooms. Mark's responsibilities are the kitchen, dishes, and our bedroom. He works late, so I let him off easy. The plan was for each of us to do a simple "maintenance" clean when we got in each night after work. Dishes rinsed, counters picked up, rooms neatened. 10 minutes, tops. This plan worked great before we had E. My counselor claims I have ADHD tendencies, so I am easily distracted, and the apartment is littered with my unfinished projects. But if each day I could just clear the few messes from that day, I'd stay on top of it. Mark has stubbornly refused to help at all the last few weeks. I had to forge his signature on the cleaning contract I created to seal the deal on this plan. I know he works hard, and we're both exhausted, but we have to keep up the clean! Task 2.

Ellie is, what doctors call, an "active baby." She is constantly moving, rolling, talking, laughing, and needs constant attention to keep her happy. She also needs room. I have a master plan for home organization. I always do, but this one is seeming like more of a necessity each day E gets a little stronger and a little closer to crawling. We're going to have to build a cage for her. Let's call it a play pen. Seriously, though, she needs a play room in an area of our apartment where I can see her at all times. When we turned our office into her room, everything in it ended up in totes in the dining room. I need to move all those totes into our bedroom closet and move our dining room table off the walkway into the living room. Then the dining room will become her playroom. It's just one big room, so if sectioned correctly, I think it will work. Task 3.

I have at least 1 freelance job to finish. It's a hip hop poster. Those are so hard for me, because I'm more of an 80s rock kinda classic rock kinda Abba kinda gal... I've done them before, it just takes me some time to get into the hip hop vibe. It's for a dance workshop. I understand dance even though I can't... dance. Task 4. Dance. No, make poster.

These 4 things are really weighing me down. They feel so overwhelming with a full time job. I'm working half days at home and have a baby. Am I being a wimp? Do other moms do all this effortlessly? Is it just my anxiety making these 4 tasks seem monstrous?

Maybe partially. Whether it will help or hurt, I don't know, but I decided to quit my day job. Then my boss talked me into working part-time. I don't know what this will mean for benefits, etc. I have to figure out all the details. But for the first time in my life, I made a (fairly) big decision on emotion alone. I didn't do the math, literally. Ok, I did basic math. We can afford rent, our cars, and food for E. I know that. The rest is a leap of faith. I hope it's like Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade and there's a stone bridge beneath me. Yeah, God is like that. Always my stone bridge.

We keep getting a call from a company called Stonebridge. I think it's a telemarketer. Or a code name for a Jason Bourne mission...

Anyhoo... The times they are a changin'. I have to post an update about my week with Siri as my personal assistant. It didn't go as planned, so I need to make a 'pros and cons' list and decide if I should fire her. Task 5.

Blog more. Task 6.

Dreamer Code Addendum

So... I've reached that point in the broken foot recovery process where I feel like my life is falling apart. The apartment is a mess, dishes piled up in the sink, table covered in papers, art projects, and other miscellaneous stuff. I haven't put up the tree yet, because that requires cleaning out one more bookshelf to move into E's room.

Mark set up the card table to put all our folded laundry on. E pulled off all the folded laundry and danced in it. I made her put it back, which she did... in one giant ball. So, the table is taking up my little living room, with a pile of laundry on it, and underneath it is a sea of toys, yarn balls, and anything else that grabbed E's attention over the last week. The laundry bins are sitting in the living room next to the recliner.

And instead of being able to get my house Christmas-ready, I'm sitting at work...

So, this week, as I'm feeling a little better, my goal is to do more picking up after myself and to encourage my little E to do the same.

I realized there was a slight problem with our approach to cleanup when she took a deck of cards off the table this morning, opened them, took all 52 out, and threw them into the air. They fell around her in a cloud of black and red. She danced happily, then threw the box on the floor and ran out the door to go to day care.

Don't get me wrong, I want her to feel the freedom to dance in a storm of makeshift confetti. She's my little dreamer, after all, and I feel I'm raising her by the dreamer code which is or at least would be, um...

Storm wildly through this world.
With a respect for all its wonders.
Don't ever forget that you're one of them.

Addendum: Clean up your messes!!

I love you, kid.

Super Dad Day

In honor of the upcoming Father’s Day holiday, and for the fine people at the Dollar Shave Club company, I’m writing this week to celebrate (early) my husband and our Super Dad, Mark.

I’ve really struggled with what to write for this post – not that there is any shortage of qualities that Mark embodies that deserve celebrating. It’s just that… how do I sum up who Mark is as a father? How do I celebrate this guy who, as shown here, would never balk at wearing a toilet-paper-tube necklace made with such love and care by our sweet daughter?

What’s the one thing that makes Mark rise above the rest?

Of course, he plays with our daughter any time she asks and takes care of her with constant love and patience. He frequently goes above and beyond the call of duty by getting up with her at 2am or taking over for me when I’m sick or just having a “blah” day. Last weekend, he brought her shopping to buy new shoes, and brought her home with bright blue and yellow Batman Crocs. “She insisted,” he explained. Fine by me.

But what really makes him stand out as a father, I think, is his sense of wonder and imagination. He is a philosopher, a writer, an actor.

He can do all the voices of her favorite cartoon characters, and when he plays with her, stuffed animals come alive, cars have different personalities, they really drive and launch over block towers. While I do dishes, when she watches a video, Mark watches with her and knows all the plots and characters. If I ask, “What’s going on?” he proudly and very seriously explains that “Wonderheart is trying to figure out what her belly-badge power is.”

“But didn’t she just get it to work?” I ask. Mark sighs and shakes his head sarcastically. “Do I have to explain everything? Wonderheart is just in training. Her belly-badge is lighting up, but we still don’t know what her special power is.”

Oh. Okay.

He also got way too excited the other day when he found a Care Bears movie on Hulu that seemed to explain the entire Wonderheart mystery, “Hey, Gretch!” he yelled from the living room, “There’s a movie on Hulu called something like, ‘Wonderheart Gets Her Belly Badge!’ I think we’re finally going to figure out what it does!”

“Are you serious?” I yelled back.
He laughed hysterically before finally admitting that yes, he was.

I realized, especially in that moment, that he was gone, as in, completely submerged in this entire parenting thing. He makes marble tracks out of tape-measures and roads for Matchbox cars, and he’s just as happy to play house and baby dolls.

He is smart and an expert answerer of all “why” questions, and I find myself looking up from cleaning poop off the floor and staring in wonder at this man who makes parenting fun, who makes me feel like a kid again, and who is raising our daughter to be smart and imaginative, an explorer and adventurer.

He is our Super Dad, and I couldn’t be prouder of our little family.

Monday Curse

Don't forget to check out my post today for the BVT Moms Blog site, here! This week is all about sleep! I gladly shared a story about my anxiety-ridden first month with a newborn! And there are some other great posts out there from other moms!

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In other news... there really isn't any other news. It's a typical Monday, and I have no motivation to write or do anything, really. It's your every-day post about nothing. Am I selling it, or what?

Here's what's going on in: E had an awful morning. She slept okay but woke up early wanting to use the potty, then not wanting to use the potty. She wanted to eat cream of wheat for breakfast but refused to eat most of it. Then when I finally told her it was time to get dressed, she screamed because she was "still eating," also known as "not eating."

I gave her a 5-minute warning. She spilled her milk and spread it across the table, so I moved her right on to getting dressed. I gave her plenty of time to do it on her own (her favorite thing to do right now), but she refused, so I dressed a very angry, screaming, thrashing toddler myself.

I let her put on her coat on her own, which made her happy for all of 5 minutes before she ripped it off, when I didn't "act surprised enough" after witnessing the miraculous event.

I mean, seriously, I gasped so loud I nearly passed out at the intake of air and in my highest-pitched voice said, "ELLIE!!!! OH MY GOSH!! YOU DID IT!!"

"Nooooo!!! Mommy, I want you be soo-pwised!!" she cried hysterically.

This is as "soo-pwised" as I get on a Monday. I'm sorry! I then had to get in the shower so that I wouldn't be late, so I told Mark to do whatever he had to do to get her out the door. Taking her out without coat, hats, and mittens was fine by me.

"But it's -11 outside!"
"So, she'll be cold. Wrap her in a blanket," I yelled as I got in the shower.

I just refuse to reward this behavior. I told her that I was sorry she was sad, that we could talk about it if she wanted to, but she was just beyond that point. Maybe later.

In the mean time, she's off to day care and went happily I found out.

My mind is swimming with some new projects... a children's book for E, some practice illustrations with some inspiration from Andrea Joseph's blog (here), and the fact that I didn't get my entry form in time to do the Baby & Child Expo in Berlin on the 12th. I'm going to try for another one in the summer. My schedule is full right now, anyway.

I'm kind of in a funk. I hope it's just a Monday thing. I want to just draw, just sketch, but I feel obligated to make it be something -- you know, something I can sell or build into a bigger project, and that entire obligated feeling is making me want to do absolutely nothing.

I'm behind on cleaning per Fly Lady's schedule, but I was happy to find out that this week is dedicated to Zone 5, the Living Room. I'm almost completely decluttered in that room, save one corner, so that makes me happy. I can't wait to get that room feeling more livable.

I'll keep you posted throughout the week, and I sincerely hope that your Monday is a happy one... or over quickly!

Much love,
G

Hello, New York!

NYC Trip 2011

Ok, so the weekend didn’t go exactly as I had planned. Does it ever? Nope. And I’m so okay with it. Maybe it’s because I got so caught up in the outpouring of love and support at my in-law’s. They took care of me like their own daughter and sister – as they always have. We ate good food, played with E, and I spent a good majority of my time either resting my foot, reading my true crime book (happy sigh), or shopping. We decided to stay over again Saturday night after taking E to her first movie (Frozen), which she loved!

By Sunday morning, I was still a little tired after getting up with E at 7:30, so I asked Mark if I could lay down after breakfast. I drifted to sleep at about 9am and woke up feeling more well rested than I have in awhile. I reached for my phone to check the time. 3:00PM!! I couldn’t believe it. I had slept for 6 hours!

So, my plans for getting home early on Sunday, picking up the apartment, doing dishes, catching up on laundry, and putting up the tree just weren’t possible. And I pretty much didn’t care. I slept. Really slept! Without being on high alert listening for E.

I went downstairs to find her happily running around at Nini’s house, being doted on by Mark, Nini, Grandpa, Bee, cousin Christian, and pugs Alfie & Waffles. Snow falling outside, hunkered down in the little brick house, warm woodstove, and toasted tuna fish sandwiches. Who could ask for more? I love Vermont! This family. This life.

We got home last night at about 5:00, and Mark spent a few hours cleaning the apartment, doing dishes, laundry, and washing the couch-cushion covers. E had fallen asleep in the car, so I woke her up to eat a quick dinner of lentil soup and crackers, then put her in a bath. After, we snuggled and read stories in “Mama’s big bed.” Perfect end to a perfect weekend. Once she was settled, Mark and I caught up on some TV and went to bed.

Back to reality this morning, though. I snoozed for as long as I could and finally rolled out of bed and made E a quick lunch of leftover lentils (Sorry, Ell!), cheese, crackers, and applesauce. I had to wake her up, so I picked her up, cuddled her in my arms, and rocked her in the chair for a bit. She was all smiles and happy to find out that she was going to day care this morning.

I got her out the door and made my new-diet smoothie (Sorry, Me!). Then off to work.

I pulled into the office parking lot in a dreary, turkey-hangover state of mind, drunk on love and a good-old-fashioned Vermont-country-weekend. I yawned as I pulled myself out of the car, work bags in hand. Then I noticed the huge delivery truck parked in front of the door with New York plates. The back was open, packed with cubicle parts (our office is expanding) and three 20-year-olds in Yankees hats, goatees, and earrings. One was yelling in a thick New York accent, “Hey, Tony!! Hey!! You take this cabinet. Whaddya mean, ‘Where does it go?’ You bring it upstairs!!” The guy next to him chimed in, same accent, “Yeah, why are we tellin’ ya this? You know! You know!! Go do it!”

Oh, the sounds! Truck rumbling, boxes sliding, exhaust filling the air (I breathed it in greedily), and a flurry of angry but soft Rs and rushed-over Ds. I closed my eyes for a minute and said under my breath, “Oh, hello, New York!” I resisted the urge to spin around in the gently falling snow, imagining skyscrapers towering above me.

As I made my way slowly up the walk (still favoring my broken foot), one of the guys in the back of the truck noticed me, elbowed his buddy, and yelled out to Tony again – who was now struggling with the front door, as he tried, on his own, to maneuver the awkwardly oversized filing cabinet through it. “Hey Tony!! There’s a lady coming! You better hold that door for her!” Tony rolled his eyes, and his buddies laughed, but he turned and gave me a big smile then painfully waited for me to make my slow journey to the door. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Oh, no! Don’t apologize! Tony’s got this,” they laughed, “and you be careful on that floor, Miss! It’s slippery!” I laughed too and gave them a thumbs-up.

As I hobbled in the door, in my mind I was skipping. They called me “Miss,” even amidst all signs that I was at least 30, and Tony held the door for me, amidst a constant threat of being crushed by a filing cabinet. I love Vermont, I really do… but there’s nothing quite like a little dose of city-style chivalry and harsh comradery on a Monday morning. Ahh, I love New York!

From The Craft Table

Just wanted to say a happy "Hello!" from our craft table today -- where there's more paint on the table than on the paper, our limbs are more decorated than our canvas, and our accidental-art approach takes "mixed media" to a whole new level!

E climbs up on the table -- she insists on sitting on the table top, so all her tools are within reach.

"I want black paper, Mommy. And red paint," she insists, very seriously instructing me on the preparation of her supplies. I happily comply, curious about what she might create. She continues to politely list her needs:

"Some yellow paint here now." She points at the bottom left corner of her page.

"Mommy, can we make orange?"

I quickly show her the two tubes of red and yellow paint and begin mixing. She scoops some up with her brush and continues to work away.

Then blue. It glows against the black paper. She squeals with delight as she spreads it across the page.

"Now I need those paints, Mommy." She points to her watercolors and adds, "Need some water."

I go and fill one of her little play teacups with a little water. She takes it from me and very carefully pours the water across each of her watercolors (and drenches the case). She dips her fingers in paint, then her paintbrush, and begins making dots on the paper. She carefully watches how the watercolors are absorbed by the paper. She tries each color until she finds just the right one.

"Purple! Oooh, purple!" she says. The purple is only partially absorbed by the black paper and creates areas of shadow and light -- a grungy but shimmery effect. She smiles happily, then dots the purple across the page.

By now she tires of painting the page and proceeds to paint the table (ok), pen cup (alright), bulletin board (um, well...), and lamp (wait a minute...). I reach for her, but she squirms away from me, legs flail over her painting, watercolors tip and spill.

I get her in the bathroom for cleanup, which must happen completely by her terms. "No bath," she insists, though standing in the tub to wash her hands and legs is acceptable.

"If you just want to sit down," I offer...
"No, no, no, Mommy."

Sitting down would qualify this cleanup time as a "bath," which may lead to the inconvenient "washing up time" in which there will be no avoiding the torturous "hair cleaning."

Half a bottle of soap later, her hands are washed, a task that distracted her enough to allow me to wipe most the paint off her legs. She runs off to play, and I wipe down the table.

Tomorrow, we'll start again.

Can I Just Say...

YAWWWNNN... Ugh. What a Monday morning. Mark and I had complete communication failure this morning. Yesterday, I had asked him if he would mind bringing E to day care, so that I could get to work at a more decent time (since I have to be to work earlier than him).

He swears he agreed to this, but all I remember is him wandering off silently to never speak of it again. As usual, I interpreted this as a "no" and went about my Monday morning as usual. I got myself ready, made lunches, then turned around to find Mark all ready but not E.

"What's going on?" I asked.
"I'm just getting myself ready. You're getting her ready, right?" he said, sleepily.
"No. I don't know. Why?"
"The new plan, right? You get her ready, then I take her to day care?" he asked.
"Did we agree to that? You didn't say anything."
"Yeah, I did. I was like, 'Oh yeah, fine.'"
"Yeah... 99% sure you didn't say anything."
"Well, are we doing it or not? I can go either way with this..."

So, I rushed to get E ready in time for him to take her to day care, trying to make sure that he wasn't late for work.

Once they were gone, I proceeded to clean the kitchen, look everywhere for the key to the office (which I never found -- thank God for early-arriving coworkers who could let me in this morning), and plopped down in my chair at work ready to conquer my day.

Then I had a meltdown, because I didn't get to see her off to day care, as I have almost every day for the past year and a half. I can't get her face out of my mind, her big eyes, looking up at me all confused, asking, "You take me, Mommy?" and me having to tell her, "No, Daddy will take you today, but I'll pick you up."

My little 1.75-year-old, looked up at Mark, then back at me. Then, she reached out for his hand and casually walked out the door. No tears. I know this is a good thing, but sometimes I'm not ready for her to be so grown up.

And, in this moment, a (relatively) smooth Monday morning getting out the door leaves me a nervous wreck and weepy. This mom stuff is so weird...

Up next: grocery shopping, dinner prep, cleaning the apartment, then getting ready to head off to New York on Wednesday for our very first 7-day vacation with friends (and E)!