Metro

The day that our social worker called us and told us that Mea would be coming home to us, I dropped by Mack’s old sitter Lois’ house to see if she would take Mea in her daycare once she was home. 

At that time, Lois had quit taking babies.  Two to three years old was the youngest she would take them. 

She said she couldn’t promise anything but she would try it.  She was concerned, she kind of didn’t think it would work with a “little” baby and the rest of her big kids.  She said that if it didn’t work out she would let me know, and give me time to find someone else to watch her.

After the first week, they were two peas in a pod.  Lois loved Mea, and Mea loved Lolo.  It was an instant bond.  Unfortunately, I didn’t have much time saved up to take when she came home, and my Aunt was sick, so I had lots of “being away for work” guilt, so Mea started with Lois the second week she was home.

Lolo and her husband have been like a second set of grandparents to both of my kids.  First Mack, and now Mea, they are forever bonded to this couple. 

On November 20, Lois pulled me aside and said that she needed the week of Thanksgiving off.  She told me that her husband had cancer, but they didn’t know where or how bad yet.  The week of Thanksgiving was when they were doing the majority of the testing.  The evening before Thanksgiving, I had a call from one of the other mother’s to tell me that Lois was done. Her husband was pretty bad, and she couldn’t do daycare anymore starting immediately.

I was a little hurt that she didn’t call me herself.  (This is a post for a different day.  We have visited and called since and it is yet another heartbreaking story to go down for 2013.)

In addition to her being Mea’s babysitter, she is my friend.  I have cried all over her and her husband so many times over the years it is ridiculous.  I gave them a little space, knowing just how much they were going through at that time, I just left them be for a few days.

Then the search was on.

No one can replace a Lolo, but I was determined to try.

Mea was adamant from the beginning that she did not want to go to Metrokids, the school’s before and after care program.  I didn’t know why at the time she didn’t want to go, but she was so upset whenever I even mentioned it, I was going to try hard to find somewhere else.

I called all the centers all around us, and none of them had an opening for Mea’s school.  It is a big school.  One of the largest elementary schools in our city.  Not one of them had room on their bus for before and after, or after school only.

I posted a few things on Facebook, looking for opinions or suggestions of friends.

I looked online.

We found a website for state approved daycare providers within our area, and called a few that were close.  I set up appointments to go over to these homes, and interview the babysitters.

At the first house, it was clean.  The girl seemed nice enough, a little young, but nice.  Then she told me that she forgot that her own child had early out from school that day.  She goes to a private Catholic school, that only does early outs every now and then instead of every week like Mea’s school. 

But, you guys, she FORGOT HER OWN CHILD!!!!

While we were there someone from her child’s school brought her daughter home and another daycare child!

WTF.

As I am talking to her she tells me that she picks up from another school that gets out at the same time as Mea, but what she will do is pick up from the other school first, and Mea could cross the street with the crossing guard and wait on a street opposite from the school until she gets there.  It should only take her ten minutes.

ONLY TEN MINUTES????!!!  My kid is not standing in the cold, on a street corner, away from her school while she waits for you to get there.

Next.

The next house.  This house was across the street from the school.  It looked okay from the street.

It looked less okay up close and personal.

It was awful.  Mea goes tearing off playing with the kids.  The babysitter asks me if I want to see the rest of the house, I agreed only because I don’t know if I knew what to say.  It was filthy.  If you knew someone was going to be coming to your house, wouldn’t you run the vacuum?  Wipe down the counters in your kitchen? 

But then again, from the looks of things, this probably was “clean” to them.  She asked me if I wanted to sit down in the living room and I declined because the couch was so filthy I was afraid to sit on it.  There were no legs on the couch or love seat.  There were visible stains on both couches, that were almost “crunchy” looking. 

Of course, Mea saw nothing wrong with this place.  At all.  She was so mad when I said that she was absolutely not going to go to either of these places.  After the last one, I quit calling any in-home daycare providers.

We basically had no choice.  It had been two weeks, I needed someplace for her to go.  I told her that she had to go to Metrokids at the school, and if she hated it, I would do my best to find somewhere else.

The night before the first day, we had read some of her latest chapter book and were snuggling in bed.  She says in her whining tiny little voice that she does not want to go to Metro.  I asked her what was bothering her so bad about it.

She said, “Metro is in the cafeteria, and during lunch we have to sit and be quiet and not talk, or they turn the lights out.  I don’t want to sit in the dark from after school until you get there Momma.”

Oh, my heart. 

“Mea, just because Metro is in the cafeteria doesn’t mean that it is just like when you are in the cafeteria for lunch.  At Metro they play games, they play with some toys and do crafts.  They play outside when it is nice enough outside, and it’s supposed to be fun.”

She was still terribly nervous.  I promised her we would go early and I would stay with her for a little while so that she could meet some friends.  The lady who met us at the door was a little gruff, but nice enough, the other ladies inside were sweet and talked to Mea about some things.  She saw a friend playing “restaurant” with some other little girls, so I took her over to say hello.  They immediately asked her if she wanted to be a “worker or a customer” and brought her into their game.  I stood back for a little while and watched. 

I walked over to her after a few minutes and asked if it was okay for me to leave. She nodded her head and kissed me goodbye.

When I picked her up after I got off from work, she asked me why I came to get her so early.

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A few weekends ago, my husband and I went away for the weekend.  It was the first time we have left Mea.  It is also the first time that we had gone anywhere just the two of us, since our honeymoon.

We really needed that trip.  It was good for us.  Mea lived, and although she was super pissed that we left her, she had lots of fun with her big sister, E1, her niece and her nephew, and the following night with her Aunt and cousins.

We didn’t really do anything that we couldn’t have done here, but going out-of-town made us spend time together. It was all good.  We ate junk food and drank in the middle of the day, we went to a movie that was rated R, and last longer than an hour and a half.

We had fun.

When we got home, we picked Mea up, and went home and started our normal Sunday routine.  I got laundry started, went to the grocery store, fed my family lunch and dinner.

I did notice that the majority of the clothes that I had sent for Mea to wear while we were gone was still clean, folded, and hadn’t been worn.  When she was at her sister’s house, she claimed she didn’t have any shirts (she had two in that bag) and when she was at her Aunt’s house she swore that I hadn’t packed her any pants, to which my sister just told her to wear the pants she had worn the day before.

I am a little surprised that the grown-ups didn’t question this a little more, but whatever.  She had at least two full outfits in each bag.  We left Friday night, and came home Sunday morning. I totally over packed her, and it was for no reason.

After dinner, I went to help Mea get ready for her bath.  She was being silly, super squirrelly, and was forcing me to help her get undressed.  I get her pants off, and look at her feet.

She was wearing the same socks that I had helped her put on Friday morning.

They were once white.

They were about ten shades of brown when I peeled them off of her feet.

I posted something on Facebook about it, just being my normal smart ass self, giving my sister and E1 a hard time for not doing a very good job of Mea sitting.

The next morning, my Mom told me that she got the biggest laugh out of Mea not changing her socks.

She said that once she had a seven-year-old daughter, (duh, it was me) who she dropped off for a weekend camping trip for Brownies.  Apparently, this daughter wore the same socks, underwear, and undershirt the entire weekend.  They had gone hiking in the woods, and it had been muddy.  They did stuff around the camp fire.  Apparently, she even walked in only socked feet back and forth to the latrine a few times as well.

As we were talking I could hear the smile in my Mom’s voice, remembering this silly story of her seven-year old daughter being a dirty little piglet during her first camping trip.

I, of course, do not recall doing this.  I do remember camping with Girl Scouts plenty of times, but I don’t remember my filthy socks.

It’s the little stories like this that I soak up and savor so much these days.  I have a hard time thinking about all of the stories that I don’t know, or no longer remember, and how they could someday just be gone because I was too young to remember or notice, and my Mom may not be there to tell the story to me.  How one of my children doing something silly like not changing her socks will remind my Mom of something similar that either I did, or that my sister did at the same exact age. 

I hope to hear more of these.

Actually, I hope to hear all of these.

 

 

PS.  Guys!  I am writing again.  Words come out when I come here!  Thank you for sticking with me.


New Members of the Family

I have decided that the easiest way to deal with The Questioneers, is going to be to just embrace them into the family.  They have become less annoying to me over time.  They are just kids, and I think they are just looking for adult attention.  Something tells me they don’t get a lot of it at home.

I haven’t mentioned them in a while, but since Mea and I have been home nearly every single day, we have been spending a lot of time with the twins.  Similar to last time, it is getting to the point that I don’t really notice them too much anymore.

They are just a fixture.  Part of the fence line between our two houses.  If we are outside and they are outside they are at the four-foot section of fence asking questions.

We have just passed through our busiest holiday/birthday season around here.  Between Mother’s Day, my Dad’s birthday, my birthday, Mea’s birthday, my niece S’s birthday and Father’s Day we have had so many BBQ’s and cookouts at our house it is insane.

Thankfully, the weather has been nice enough for us to be able to set up on the driveway aka patio, and eat, drink and be merry there.

The only issue is that four-foot piece of fence.

Where I have gotten used to them, my husband has mostly gotten used to them, and they are actually missed if Mea doesn’t see them, our family and friends are always amazed at our 7-year-old neighbors standing at the fence asking eleventy billion questions.

Then I notice it again.

“Kelly, what are you doing?”

“Mea’s Mom!  Who is coming over tonight?”

“Mea’s Mom!  What are you going to be eating?”

“Mea, are you getting presents again today?”

And so on.

Times infinity.

So the last couple of times I have politely asked them to quit asking our friends and family eleventy billion questions, and that it is a little rude to watch us eat.

This I blame on Mea.

She feeds them all the time.

I am pretty positive that they must not ever get snacks.  Or drinks besides water.

I have busted Mea giving them candy, ice cream bars, fruit, fruit snacks, granola bars, chips, dip, once a sandwich.  I have had to explain to her that I cannot afford to feed the neighborhood, and that if The Questioneers are hungry, they should go ask their parents for a snack. A few weeks ago she fed them candy sprayed with perfume.

They ate it.

Then last week, they asked for a snack again.  Mea disappeared into the backyard, and came back out a few minutes later.  The boys had gone up to their house.

When I asked what they were doing, she said that they were getting a drink of water.

Then she told me that she fed the twins crab apples off of our tree.

Now crab apples are edible.

If the tree produces mature fruit.  I specifically remember having crab apple jelly made by my Auntie Ann that was super delicious.

Crab apples.

Crab apples.

However, our tree does not have mature fruit.  The crab apples on our trees are about the size of a skittle.  A mature crab apple is about the size of a golf ball.

We did not see the boys the following day, or the day after that for that matter.

Makes me wonder if they ended up with belly aches after eating things that Mea gave them.

Maybe they will think twice before eating food that Mea offers them from now on.

 

 


Bloggling Seventeen

I feel like I have been missing in action from my online world.  Without having a computer in my face for nine to ten hours a day, it has been easy to stray away from blogging, blog reading, and such.  Things have calmed down some, so I am hoping to get a bit more focused in my blogging.  (Stealing #hashtags from Jen.)

  • I still am actively looking for a job.
  • I have had a few promising interviews, and am in a bit of a waiting mode.
  • Trying not to stress out about it.
  • Each time my phone pings with a notification from my “professional” email account, my heart lurches a little bit.
  • I am also trying to do some fun things with Mea while I can.  We have been to the zoo, the amusement park, and are going swimming this week.
  • #makingthebestofit
  • My Mom had her last “big” chemo treatment last week.
  • The symptoms hit her sooner this time, but they seemed to pass a bit quicker.
  • Father’s Day dinner was a bit awkward, with C trying to act like everything was normal.
  • I was cordial, but really that was it.
  • At one point she was in the house, and the girls were all in the backyard, ages 4 to 10 playing on the swing set.  I could hear the oldest granddaughter yelling, and went back to investigate.  She was yelling at Mea, stating that Mea “stole” the swing from her sister.
  • After asking all of them, this was not the case.  Mea just got to the swing  first.
  • I told her there is 2 swings, and 4 of them and that I expected them to take turns.
  • If they weren’t going to take turns they could go sit with everyone else and not play at all.
  • She cut me a scathing look, and went and sat down with everyone else.
  • This leads me to believe that her mother has been talking about all of the family issues in front of her or to her.
  • I just don’t really know what to do about all of this.
  • On Saturday, Mea had an outing with her Uncle, my BIL.
  • He later posted something on Facebook about how great it was to be able to do things with his niece, and that he is so happy that we trust him with her.
  • I am really proud of him in his recovery.  He is doing an amazing job.
  • Mea was requesting to watch Olde Willis the other day.
  • It took me a full day to figure out what the hell she was talking about.
  • I felt like a detective, asking a zillion questions about what the movie was about, who was in it, etc.
  • I finally discovered that she was talking about Forrest Gump.
  • There is no connection.
  • #kidsareweird
  • Mosquito season is upon us with a vengeance.
  • All the rain and flooding around here makes for perfect mosquito weather.
  • I have been trying some less chemical filled options for bug repelling, and after bug bite itchiness.
  • #essentialoils
  • I hate spraying things filled with Deet on her, but up until recently haven’t really found anything else that keeps her from being bitten.
  • I haven’t come to a conclusion yet, but there could be a post coming about what I have discovered after more research, and trial and error.
  • My dear Mea has discovered lying.
  • I had forgotten that age seven is the year of “liar, liar pants on fire.”
  • “Did you spill the water in the kitchen?”
  • “No.”
  • “It wasn’t there five minutes ago, and now you have a glass of water.”
  • “It wasn’t me.”
  • #smh
  • Hopefully the lying thing doesn’t last long.
  • All kids go through it.
  • I finally broke Mea of saying “ain’t” after she picked up that gem from one of her sister’s and her children.  (Not naming names, but she doesn’t have an E or M name.)
  • It was a long couple of weeks.
  • I honestly didn’t think I was going to make it through.

I think this is it for now.


Proceed with Caution…

I am serious.

What is about to be spewed from my fingers via my head is a big bunch of ranty, venty, horribleness.

I want to fire myself from my current position.

Housewife.

Maid.

Chauffeur.

Mother.

Wife.

Today, really equals Kelly wanting to just run away from home.

My husband is in full baseball mode, which means he is not home.  Ever.

Mea is tired of me.

I am tired of me.

I am just tired.

Mad props to the real stay at home moms, because I cannot do this.  I am not cut out for it.  I am bored senseless.  I have cleaned, reorganized, laundered until I am bored with it.

I am starting to hate my house.

Just the sight of it, makes me want to run away.

Trying to be lighthearted about Mea not listening to me on Facebook, equaled two people calling me to see if I was okay.  All that I said was that my “Mom look” must be broken.  It is a good thing that I didn’t say what I really wanted to say on FB.  One of the calls was to see if I wanted to come to a free parenting class.  Are you fucking kidding me?

SCREAMING IN MY HEAD

I am tempted to run out the door when my husband comes home today, but I don’t know if that will “fix” anything, and I don’t really have anywhere to go, or money to spend when I would get there, or anything else.  Not to mention that gas is eleventy billion dollars a gallon.

If I did leave, the way I am feeling at the moment, I might not come back.

Two interviews tomorrow.

Say a prayer for me.

I need a job, so I can leave this house, and have conversations beyond the latest episode of Good Luck Charlie, which One Direction boy is cutest (Mea says Niall is) what is going to be on Kelly and Michael tomorrow, etc.

I am about to lose my fucking marbles.


Bloggling Fifteen Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious Edition

I have been MIA for a few days.  I just haven’t really had much to talk about.  I am starting to lose my mind sitting at home all day long every single day.  The good news is that it’s starting to get nice outside, so hopefully, I will be able to spend some time in the nice weather.

Let’s get to the thoughts taking up space in my brain.

  • I am starting to get on Mea’s nerves.
  • She is also starting to get on my nerves.
  • Quality time is over.
  • I am bored out of my mind.
  • I need a job.
  • I have another interview set up for next Monday.
  • It is promising.
  • I just wish that something would/could pan out soon.
  • It was my mission to completely wear Mea out after school yesterday.
  • I succeeded.
  • She played outside for three hours.
  • We even did her homework outside.
  • When it was time to go in, she made this face at me, and told me that I wasn’t her friend anymore.
Momma, I'm making my mad face at you.

Momma, I’m making my mad face at you.

  • Even when she is “mad” she is super cute.
  • So after dinner, I put in Mary Poppins.
  • Specifically so that I could prove to Mea how “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” is said.
  • Every time she goes to say it, she somehow adds “Miss Alabama” into it.
  • I have no idea why.
  • It ends up something like, ‘Supercalimissalabama, Momma, how do I say that one really long word again?”
  • She fell asleep before the song came on.
  • Which means we will probably have to watch it again so that I can prove to her how the word is said.
  • I don’t mind, because I love Poppins.
  • Also, let me tell you how thankful I am that Hollywood hadn’t attempted to remake this movie.  There are some movies that just should not be remade.
  • Mary Poppins is one of them.
  • I probably just jinxed it.
  • I have been thinking of a dear friend who underwent major surgery on Friday.  Take it easy!  Let yourself heal!  Don’t do too much!
  • I made this super delicious Caramel Apple Crisp Pizza on Sunday.  So good.
  • Cross between apple pie, and apple crisp.
  • It was almost too easy to make.
  • Sinfully good.

This is all I have.

I hope you all have a Supercalimissalabamafragilisticexpialidocious Day.


Kids are Weird

I know that the majority of you are not surprised at all by “kids are weird.”  They are strange little creatures.

Yesterday, when I picked Mea up from school, she had a neon orange slinky that she had picked from the teacher’s prize box.  Every now and then she will come home with some item from the prize box.  I don’t really know what they do to earn a trip to the prize box, but she comes home with some sort of tchotchke every other week or so.  She has brought home small balls, tattoos, stickers, little containers of bubbles, sticky things, slimy worms, sometimes a gum ball, or a fruit snack.

When we were on our way home, our conversation went some thing like this…

 

Momma, what should my slinky’s name be?  Mr. Slinky or Mrs. Slinky?

Well, is your slinky a boy or a girl?

Hmmm, I think he’s a boy.  So I guess he is Mr. Slinky.  Mr. Slinky can go stretttcccchhhhhh like this…  (She yanks the poor little plastic slinky as far as her arms will stretch.)

Mr. Slinky can make a flower.  (I couldn’t see how she made it a flower.)

Mr. Slinky can make a circle.  (Obvious, circle shape.)

Mr. Slinky can get stuck in my poofs.  (Moves circle shape to the top of her head, and it gets stuck in her hair.)

Mr. Slinky can go in a rainbow.  (She makes an arch.)

Mr. Slinky like to bounce.  (Grabs it by one end, and shakes it and wiggles it all around.)

What else can Mr. Slinky do?  (We had pulled in at home by this point.)

Mr. Slinky likes to eat Doritos!

Mr. Slinky wants a fruit snack!

Mr. Slinky is thirsty!

Mr. Slinky doesn’t have a leotard that fits him, I don’t think he can go to gymnastics naked.

 

So after Mea told me all the silly things her slinky could do, Mack came home as a surprise.  She was going to dinner at my Mom’s, and I had invited her to go to gymnastics with us before dinner.

After much snuggles, and loves on her sissy, she started telling Mack all the incredible things Mr. Slinky could do.

When we got home from gymnastics, her Daddy got an earful of what Mr. Slinky could do as well.

Mr. Slinky was a very busy guy yesterday.