Sleep is but a breath away.

Me: Hey there! I am calling to see about the Fall registration for my son. I came for a tour a few months ago and you said to call back in June.

Daycare Centre: Right. What age group is he?

Me: Well, he's actually only 14 months old but he'll be 17 months old by the time September comes. I was told enrolling him a month earlier wouldn't be a problem.

Daycare Centre: Right....of course. Did the toddler room supervisor indicate that there would be spots available at that time?

My heart sinks. I just knew this sort of questioning might happen. At the tour way back in March, I wanted to give the Centre money, gold, anything at all to secure a spot for baby. They promised that there should be a spot for him come June. Can you say "promise," and "should" in the same sentence?

Me: Yes, yes, totally. In fact, she said there would be three spots in the Fall. (I begin thinking of what jewelery I can give up for bribe money.)

Daycare Centre: Alright, then why don't you come in tomorrow and fill out some forms about your child. As long as he is walking by September then it shouldn't be a problem....

Me: Right......Sure......he's walking..........

I would put baby on stilts if I needed to.

Ok, so the whole daycare thing has been a bit of a mess. Currently, I am on two waiting lists, one of which told me to that baby could basically earn a PhD by the time he is able to see the inside of their building. Ya, thanks for that. But really, what the eff is with this city and it's catastrophe of a daycare system? We live in what would be deemed a "transitioning neighbourhood." In other words, our neighbourhood has six Cash Money shops and young women who bounce around with their Bugaboo strollers. We have lots of dollar stores, and one organic meat shop. I like that I can peruse my local fruit market and get great veggies for cheap and grab 3 dozen tulips for $10.00. I suppose being in a "transitioning neighbourhood" means that while the newbies to the area have money, the local shops and businesses remember that the older locals may not. That being said, we have plenty of daycares in our area-seven that I know of. I hadn't even given the cost of daycare a second thought while I was pregnant. Sure, it would be costly, but look at our neighbourhood. Really, how much could it be?

Oh sweet, naive me. Sweet, sweet naive new mom me. Sweet, sweet, sweet, naive new mom me who was just quoted $85/per day for 5 of the 7 daycares in her area. Say what?? Surely, the woman on the other end did not just say $85.00??

Me: (choking on own saliva) Excuse me? It sounds like you said $65 per day??

Daycare #1: Oh, no, no, no. I said $85 per day. And there is a waiting list.

Me: Can you believe I was just quoted $85 per day? Really, that's absurd. What's your price now?

Daycare #2: Umm....our's is the same price. You can apply for a subsidy if you want.. But we have a waiting list to get in with one.

Me: So.....I was wondering....

Daycare: Sorry, we have a waiting list and we are no longer accepting applications. (Hangup)

So let me get this straight: Girl goes to University. Girl travels. Girl goes back to school. Girl marries. Girl gets good job in her field. Girl has baby. Girl is sleepless for a while. Girl goes back to work. Girl earns more money on E.I after the daycare is paid.

Does this make sense to anyone? 

In the meantime, our little one is with his Auntie FiFi (a very patient, loving, nurturing mom herself) and then it's Nana and Grandma for the Summer until he walks and can go to a private daycare centre in the Fall (that we will only pay $175/week for. Score!) 

The only question that remains is this: Does anyone have a baby sized pair of stilts I can borrow?

Sleep is just a breath away

Student A: So this is your first day back at the school?


Me: Yep, and so please, please. please be patient with me, guys. I may be a bit rusty. Do you all know what the word "rusty" means?


The class nods in agreement and smiles.


Student A: Teacher, you had a boy or  girl?


Me: (with a huge ass grin on my face) I had a boy.


A collective "awwwww....." is said in the room.


Student B: What is his name?


Me: (with a huge ass grin on my face) If I start talking about my baby, I am really afraid I won't stop and you guys will learn nothing for 2 weeks.


Student A: That's ok, Teacher.


Student B: Do you have a picture?


You don't have to ask me a second time as I furiously reach into my purse.


There was so not going to be a lesson happening today..............

Do not get me started talking about baby. I swear I don't want to be one of those crazed new moms who constantly berate the teachers' room with stories about how the sleepless wonder did the cutest thing (again) this week. Or that the sleepless wonder (almost) walked this week, or that he (almost) said "mama", or that he (almost) used a spoon. Yep, I need restraint. However, all gloves are off when a student asks. I mean, there is something culturally significant about learning how to raise a Canadian baby that I can teach to my international adult students (yes??). There is something important about talking about sleeping habits and the delights of a one year old (right??).
I detest getting up and showering right away, blow drying my hair, and trying to make it out the door on time. Admittedly, this past week has been pretty smooth and our morning routine with the three of us getting ready at the same time has been less painful than I thought. However, how long before the little butterfly of excitement wears off and the bitterness of working everyday sets in?  If I am being honest, I really liked being at work this week. I even liked the commute (horror!) as it gave me some time alone before having to face the workday. Dare I say I even enjoyed wearing something other than the same old skinny jeans everyday (or if I am being entirely truthful, that I enjoyed wearing something other than my pjs that I sometimes lounged around in all day)? Yep, I was a working gal again and let me tell ya, I sort of had a strut walking to work.

A coworker of mine told me I was going on a "baby vacay" before I left for my mat leave. I thought it was the funniest thing ever until another (already a parent) coworker quickly piped in and said that a year off with a new baby was nowhere near a vacay. At the time, I though he might be correct, but I have to say, walking with my strut this week, I felt renewed, refreshed, like I had been on vacay this whole time. Sure, there was  no beach and let's face it, the sleeping wonder has only been sleeping through the night for 4 months, but still, as grateful as I am for the time off with baby, I am almost equally as grateful for that separation from work. I feel reinvigorated in a way that can only come from being detached from the workplace for so long and I hadn't expected to feel that way at all. Perhaps we all need our own little baby vacay every 10 years or so, a sabbatical of sorts. Wouldn't the workplace be such a happier place? Or we could all have children of our own and then I wouldn't feel so bad scrolling through my phone with all the latest pics of my little one (almost) standing on his own. Awwww......isn't he just soooo cute???

We're gonna get some food (and sleep) in the house tonight.

Husband: I think he's still hungry.....


Baby: Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!


Husband: No, he is definitely still hungry. What can I give him? He needs something. Now.


Me: Here, give him some cheese. The soup is still cooking.


Husband: Hurry! Good god, he's eaten the cheese already. Forget heating up the soup, pass me a piece of bread. Anything! Stat! He's freaking out here!


*I furiously open the bag of whole wheat bread and throw a slice across the kitchen to my husband's waiting hands. Baby is foaming at the mouth. Geez, this is already breakfast number two. 

The sleepless wonder is an eating wonder. He eats everything. Pasta? No problem. Meats? Please. He practically asks for the BBQ sauce. Fruits and veggies? He can't get enough! Curry? It's like he's already been to India. I tell ya, there is nothing this boy won't try (and eventually demand more of). How did we luck out? For starters, luck may have played a small role in his eating, but I like to think we helped with his ferocious appetite.

There were a few conscious choices my husband and I made while the sleepless wonder was still all cuddly in my belly. For one, we always wanted him to eat with us. We were going to make every attempt to integrate him with our meals. That means we would prepare food in front of him and talk him through the process as though he were watching something on the Food Network, "I like to use mushrooms in my pasta sauce. It brings a certain texture to the pasta."  To help with this, we didn't invest in a super expensive high chair that wouldn't fit in our house anyway. Instead, we bought a Chico chair that has hinges that go on any space with a ledge i.e the dinner table or our kitchen island. When the sleepless wonder was old enough to sit on his own, we put him in his chair at the kitchen island and I cooked in front of him. We also began to eat in front of him and at 6 months old, we gave him his first taste of rice cereal (after staring at our mouths awkwardly while we ate). He went crazy and thus began his obsession with food.

Secondly, we decided to prepare all our own baby food- that way the transition from what he eats to what we eat wouldn't be all the different, and he would be introduced to a larger variety of foods. At 7 months old, after making sure he had no allergies, we began to make delicious combos of yummy fruits and veggies- rice, spinach and curry; sweet potato and nutmeg; strawberry, blackberry and mango; baby couldn't get enough and surprisingly, it was super easy to do and we felt pretty darn proud of ourselves once we lined our little freezer with all his favorite foods.

Lastly, we began giving baby finger foods that were soft and easy to swallow early on. Baby loves to pick at food, touch it, feel it squish in his mouth, and occasionally share a couple of servings with the dog. We have allowed him to try to use a fork and spoon and not worry about the mess (although having Charlie clean up the aftermath certainly helps!)  He screams and points when he wants more (and by scream I mean a full ear piercing holla!), but otherwise, meals are fun, not rushed, and we all sit together (actually, the dog sits under the baby's seat-she has hit a gold mine there!)

So how much have we influenced baby and how much it just him? I'm not so sure, but I like to think of every positive as something we have somehow  taken a part in. I can only pray that his love of all food goodness continues.

Sleep, my little darling.

Me: I feel like the worst mother ever. I know I have to do it. I mean, I want to do it. But it just seems so soon....We finally have a good routine going on here.....gah! 


*tears begin to slowly make their way down my face. Jesus, what is this, like the tenth time I have cried about this??


Husband: Do you really not want to go back to work?


His voice trails. He feels sad about me going back, too. God, this sucks.


Me: No, I do. I just feel like I am going to miss out on so many things. *a huge sob escapes and now I am crying  in the nook of my husband.


This will get easier, right??

It is the Sunday before I return to work. Luckily for me, I actually don't start work until Wednesday so I don't feel those anxious Sunday night blues quite yet. After nearly 14 months off, I am torn between feeling desperate for adult interaction of the work kind and utterly devastated that someone other than me will take care of the sleepless wonder. I also feel like I've been out of the work loop for too long. What if I forget how to do my job?? "It will come back to you in no time, " everyone around me reassuringly says, but I'm not so sure. My husband asked me a basic grammar question the other day and my super keen brother-in-law who was a part of our little debate googled the answer I gave and I was wrong! (and was super annoyed at that stupid Iphone. And google. Pff!) I'm an ESL teacher for foreign adult students and believe me, they are just waiting for me to make a mistake. Remember in elementary school when the teacher would misspell a word on the board and the loudest and most obnoxious student would yell, "Miss!! You spelled that wrong!!" Ya, some of my students are just like that. Except they are 20 years old and paying a lot of money and I can't threaten them to the corner for being rude. Dammit! I'm so screwed.....

I also feel so sad. Like, really sad. And guilty. What if he walks when I'm at work? Says something brilliant? Or says anything beyond, "Da da da ga ja ja?" My head knows he will be ok. My head knows that for every one thing I miss, he will be at home and do ten things that will wow me. My head knows that I want to work, that I love my job (most days), that I have great co-workers. My head knows that I can't wait to dress up a little and head downtown everyday. My head knows that I went to school for 5 years so I can earn my own keep. My head knows that my baby needs this, that he'll do so well with other kids, that he will do so well learning and playing without me. My head knows all of this. If only my heart would catch up.