Musings of a Six Year Old

Baeleigh asked me tonight when daddy was going to be home. I told her that he was working late. Why? He's moving his office closer to home. Oh yeah, that's great! Mommy, you work really far away, why don't you move your office closer to home? Well, that's a little easier said than done, honey. Oh, is that because you aren't as strong as daddy?

You can't help but laugh, especially when I'm visually a 19-story building being carried on my shoulders.

Birthday Bae

Today my baby turns six. Though she'd hate to hear me call her "my baby". (That's Gavin right? She's the big girl.) Looking at her new pictures, though, it was hard to see just that. The baby-ness in her face is nearly gone, exclusive of those squeezable cheeks she's inherited from yours truly, and mommy has to come to grips with her baby growing up.

Baeleigh, I can see, struggles with that same dichotomy. She straddles the world of babies but also dipping her toe into childhood. She's a very smart and quick-witted girl, and this is easily confused with maturity ahead of her years. I often find myself debating and/or negotiating with my six-year old, only to remind myself that hey, I'm in charge here. Mind you, I fully expect these power struggles to persist throughout our relationship, and at times welcome it. Yet, Baeleigh also doubles as mommy's sidekick. She is the mirror image of me, my mini-me. I see a beautiful, smart, funny and gregarious little girl developing, and I am very proud of her. It's the willfulness and ambitious drive that I see so clearly in her that has also gotten me to this point in my life. I wish the same for her. I have high expectations, hopes and dreams for her. Happy birthday, my little monkey. I love you.

And, two days ago Miss Bae learned to tie her shoes. Just in time for her birthday.

Santa's Calling

In my devious attempt to pry Christmas ideas out of my 5-year old, I may have told my daughter a little white lie. Santa called me. Yep, you heard, he called me. Has me on speed dial. Asked me what Baeleigh, who was a good girl this year, wanted for Christmas. You see he was putting together his preliminary list of toys for all the good kids, and wanted to know if there was one thing in the whole wide world that Baeleigh wanted what it would be.

Baeleigh's eyes were practically bugging out of her head. Santa called? You? Yeah, that's right. Me. I'm very tight with Santa. Me and him go way back. The skeptical eyebrow is still raised. So, I coaxed, "If you could have anything you wanted, what would it be?" "Weeeelllll," she said, looking frantically around the room like the idea was going to pop off the wall or from under the bed. "A doll that I can feed." Seriously? That's it. "Baeleigh, you have two dolls, both sitting in that crib over there and you don't play with either of them." "Ummmmm. I dunno." This was like pulling teeth. She's only pointed and practically shouted at me every time some new fangled toy comes on TV that mommy basically ignores the whole dramatic scene. Yeah, yeah, you want that. I get it. Ok, maybe I should have taken notes. So, sue me. The only thing I remember is Zhu Zhu pets, an annoying interactive hamster crappily made and of course the hottest thing since talking Elmo for this Christmas season. However, now that I've bought one of the damn things (at twice the retail price mind you) and persuaded my mother to purchase all the accessories, she doesn't even acknowledge the ad when it comes on TV. It's like the dollhouse and Littlest Pet Shop crap from last year that sites in the corner of the playroom as apparently the basement spiders' quarters.

After Baeleigh succeeded in fully frustrating her mother, what does she ask me? Mommy, how did Santa call you? My cell phone, duh. Mommy, Santa does not have a cell phone. Um, yes, he does. Give me his number, she says, drop dead serious. No way, Jose. Yes, Mommy. North Pole.

Satisfied, but I think still skeptical, she let it go. What is it with no mythical icons not being able to have cell phones?? I can understand her skepticism of the Easter Bunny. I mean come on, it's a four-legged furry animal, but Santa. Please. Cut mommy some slack and just play along. Ok?

Where's the Balance?

Out the window, that's where! I'd say I have no idea where the month went, but I know where it went, and where it's going and how it will be until at least Thanksgiving. And, I have to say I'm struggling with that. The everyday day-to-day is hard enough to keep up with. Let alone when you have a deliverable, or two, the size of say a newly constructed power plant.

Typically it isn't THIS intense at work, but lately I've been working long hours and not uncommonly weekends. I can sort of see the light at the end of the tunnel but couple that with holidays, unforeseen flu (possibly swine) and signing up for a 10K (months before I knew my schedule would be like this, mind you) that I haven't had time to train for but really want to still do (and will do tomorrow) and I think you see how I have a recipe to fail. At least at something. And, of course, I won't let that be work. Meaning what's shorted? You guessed it - family.

I keep thinking that I'll reach some sort of epiphany in household/family organization. This said epiphany never seems to arrive. The schedule I attempt to create is never followed. The husband is overwhelmed in his new demands. Things I typically take care of. Full-time, long stretch care of the kids, with no help from super-mom. The grocery store. Dinner (or should I say pick-up). Packing lunches. Early unexpected kid pick-ups. Doctor's appointments. So I'm left to barely tread water, put out fires and keep everyone as healthy as possible.

And thank goodness for two great sets of grandparents that live so close by to help keep the kids busy, away from cooties and ushered back and forth to dance classes.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. But, we will survive. HEY, HEY!

The Dog Ate My Homework

With Bae starting kindergarten this year, I'm not sure who was more eager, me or her. I have always wanted to be a hands-on parent. The kind that participated in PTA, maybe baked some birthday cupcakes for class, looked over my kids' school work, helped them their homework. I got my wish, minus the PTA for the moment (that's another story). Chalk that up to my competitive and ambitious nature. Little did I know that I needed to be careful what I wished for.

Every night Baeleigh brings home her folder, containing all her assignments of the day and any homework that she might have. Ah, but it also contains every flyer, permission slip, application, Scholastic and student document. There is something daily. Every day I ask her, "Baeleigh, do you have any homework?" "No," she says, "No, wait, YES!" Inevitably, it's not her homework, it's mine. And, I have to say, I'm a little overwhelmed as a kindergarten parent. Does this get easier? Will there be a test? Do I need to study for 1st grade? Can I say the dog ate my homework?

Stream of Consciousness

Sometimes I feel like my little brain just can't hold all of the details that I'm trying to remember, such as doctor appointments, what day tomorrow is at school (e.g., Violet Day), items on the grocery list this week, or just calling my mom to see how her month off from work is. I thought it might be amusing to just see what bubbles up in my mind in the next five minutes. So, here goes:

• Looking down at Baeleigh's Kindergarten supply list: The list seems shorter than I thought, but what does my child need 4 boxes of 16-pack crayons for? I need to sign up for school email alerts.
• My orchid is looking incredibly unhealthy today, and after entering day four of ownership I think I got jipped out of $13.99. Hmm, haven't water the plants in my office today - that was on my to-do list. Not that the orchid needs water.
• Why are there so many motorcycles that rev their engines in my office's neighborhood?
• Should I cut back on my soda consumption? I took two grocery bags full of cans down to recycling yesterday, and I'm staring at the new accumulation (one soda) on my desk.
• The kids need baths tonight.
• One last night before Tommy heads out of town, and a good night of sleep. Does he only choose to make it a "family night" tonight because "So you think you can dance" is on? Working out tomorrow night will hopefully make me sleepy.
• Should I circulate an email to ask my co-workers to contribute to a baby welcoming basket for one of my staff?
• When is my financial advisor ever going to call back about our retirement accounts?
• What is tomorrow at Bae's school? Guess I gotta go look that up.

Quite an eclectic mix of thoughts, wouldn't you say? Some are distractions, but mostly it's just a lot to keep organized in my head. Now, if I can only find that perfect system, and then train Tommy on it. I feel like I need a triage station in my kitchen or something. Or maybe I'll just take on Tommy's mentality of it all and just assume that he'll take care of it. I do like the sound of THAT plan.

Women Need Details - Or At Least This Woman Does

Would it be that hard for certain people to elaborate on their commentary? For example:

I bought a very cute Juicy Couture (one sale) one piece bathing suit, and Tommy responds: "Huh. A one piece. Well, you are older and a mom. Uh, it's cute, just don't stop wearing bikinis." Does that mean I should return it??

I got my hair cut short last night. Tommy's reaction: "Well, you look older. It's different!" Always a good reaction to a girl who thinks it's a super-cute hair cut and specifically told the hair stylist to not give her a "mom haircut". What's with this "older" and "mom" thing?

His mom's reaction to my hair cut last night: "Grandmother still remembers when you were upset over Tommy shaving his hair off for the first time." Huh? What does that have to do with my hair?! Should Tommy be upset that I cut my hair?

Baeleigh when asked why she's on red at school: "I don't know" or "'Cuz." Ugh.

Deliverables to my boss on a daily basis. "Looks fine." "Looks Ok." Or simply no comment and just forwarded on. I only hear negative feedback. But usually, it's crickets. Is "fine" or "OK" mediocre or a good job? I dunno. I just want to know that I'm exceling at my job.

I don't need a life story but give me a little more detail, please. Otherwise, my pessimistic self is left to interpret her own ideas of this evaluation. And that's never good.