I'm "practicing" today. For my new job. That starts next Tuesday. That I'm dreading.
I have to be at my new job at 7am. That in itself sucks. But beyond that, I have to get myself up, get my child up, fed, and ready to go by 6:15 am so that I can drop him off at child care (where ever that is, more on that in a minute) at 6:30 and be at work by 7am. What am I thinking??
So, today, I practiced. I set my alarm for 5am, which I didn't need because I'd pretty much been up since 2:30am, got up, got myself ready, and then I had to wake up the poor munchkin at 5:45am to change and feed him. He was hungry, but he wasn't ready to wake up. Since mom came over to help, I didn't have to dress him or put him in his car seat. I just let him go back to bed. See, I've been wishing for him to sleep more at night...and now he finally is (11-12 hours with a feeding or 2 thrown in), and he doesn't get up until 7 or 8am...and NOW, I'm forcing him to wake up early. Poor guy.
Anyway, I was ready on time, I even had time to pump, and I walked out the door yawning at 6:30am. I drove the 10+ miles to my new company, witnessed umpteen million stupid drivers doing idiotic things in this fluke fog we're having (I have NOT missed the Wichita drivers these last 4 months), and arrived at the new place at 6:50am. I guess that will work. But, I wanted to cry the whole way, and today was only practice!! How am I going to leave Lil Major for 3 days a week? And HOW am I going to drag my butt out of bed at 5 am 3 days a week?? I know, I know, a lot of other people have it worse, but I'm still dreading it.
So, now on to the child care situation. I don't remember if I've blogged about my dilemma before, and I'm too tired to go look and link back to it...I haven't exactly figured out child care yet. Yeah, it's a little late in the game. See, my mom has recently decided that she might not mind helping me out with the kiddo while I work (it's not full time, after all). The problem is that a big reason why mom and dad retired and moved out here is so that they can travel...for extended periods...like weeks at a time. Well, that doesn't work so well for me since I work EVERY week. I have a couple friends that have volunteered to help, but their situations have changed lately, so that's not going to work either. So, I called a couple of home-based day cares that were recommended by friends. One of them is full, one of them decided not to do day care anymore, and the 3rd one hasn't called me back yet.
This is where the panic started to kick in, as well as the thoughts of, "God, are you trying to tell me NOT to work?" I called my MIL to see if she could help me out for a few days where I have gaps in the next few weeks (my mom is taking him the rest of the time). Well, she lives a ways away, and she's got a lot going on, so she told me about a lady in their church who does care out of her home. Within about an hour, MIL and I had both talked to her, and it sounds like she has an opening. I'm set to go meet her and see her house later this morning.
But, I'm still freaked out. Even if MIL knows and trusts this lady, I don't. And I will have to drop off my precious son and leave him with her while I'm gone ALL DAY. My chest is tightening up. Ok, I'm panicking a little prematurely. I need to wait and meet her. And all this is coming from the woman who used to swear that she could NEVER be a SAHM, and thought what was the big deal about day care? Yeah, yeah, add this to my list of things to eat.
And now I'm sitting in a coffee shop, all by myself, blogging to you, drinking my yummy caramel latte...and missing my son. Boy oh boy...has life changed. I dont' know how The Colonel is going to let me leave for 10 days with his son...I wouldn't let him do it! =)
Ok, I'm done with my rant, or whatever it was...so, to reward you for reading this far, I'll leave you with some recent pictures of Lil Major.
Here he is in one of my favorite outfits, getting ready to go to church. This was the last time he'll wear this shirt as it is now a midriff-baring shirt...how is he growing so fast??
Yesterday, Lil Major, Papa and I hung out on their deck for a little while, enjoying the cool overcast morning...
But, while we were relaxing, poor Mema was doing this...
And then Papa got distracted by this weird sound, so he and Lil Major went to investigate. The sound was a dying cicada (Angel, remember those??), and Papa and Lil Major decided to torture ME with it. If you look really closely, you might be able to see my Dad holding the dying creature in his hand. Notice that my son doesn't seem the least bit fazed...I, on the other hand, was running towards the house screaming. I'm SO in trouble with having a little boy.