School Daze

Oops, sorry, I've been MIA again. With Tony's crazy, minimum 16 hour day work schedule, I can barely look after myself, let alone Ciaran lately. But, I'll skip the pity party and (finally) get to the post I've been working on for the last week and a half!

Due to the fact that I'm always way behind in my posts, I thought about skipping Ciaran's first day of school and moving on to something more timely, but it was a pretty major milestone, so I had to fit it in. Better late than never, as they say. Sigh. Why is that becoming the motto of my life?

Anyway, I've been mentally preparing him for the big day for about a year now. I didn't want it to be a total shock like when he first started going to daycare. But it was difficult explaining things to him then. He understands much better now. Truth be told, his vocabulary rivals mine, with words like quite and fabulous, using them in sentences like "Mommy, these new shoes you bought me are quite fabulous." And "I quite like this CD, Mommy. I'd certainly like to find a comparable one." On second thought, I'd have to say his vocabulary is way more sophisticated than mine, although it does border on the grandmotherly side. 

So, to get him in the whole school mind-set,  I bought him a book about an annoying little bastard Franklin the turtle, and his wussy whining fear of getting on the school bus for the first time. We talked about what would happen when Ciaran started school, but he'd brush me off and say he wasn't going to school until he got bigger and I'd tell him that day was coming soon and then he'd either try to change the subject, or get all quiet and sad, making me feel more of that never-ending guilt.

But on his last day of daycare, I had to put it out there again. Explain that the time had finally come for him to start school. All the while keeping a happy (more like anxious-sounding) tone of voice. Telling him how exciting and fun it would be at his new school. About how many new friends and nice teachers he'd meet. He wasn't jumping for joy, but he seemed to accept the fact that he couldn't avoid going.

I, on the other hand, did not sleep a wink the night before. I was more nervous about his first day of school than I was on my own first day, so many years ago. I tossed and turned, trying to remember if I'd put a juice pack in his lunch bag. Should I pack an extra set of clothes? Were his indoor shoes in his backpack?

When my alarm went off the next morning, I dragged my butt out of bed and tried to pull myself together. As I got him ready, I tried to keep that happy-go-lucky tone in my voice although I felt like total crap. This was supposed to be an emotional, exciting day for me, but all I wanted to do was throw up and crawl back into bed.

At the school, it was complete chaos as we were herded to one classroom, told to go somewhere else and then back to the original class. The whole time, the principal and the JK teacher explained procedures to us as I looked back at them blankly, my head spinning. I must have looked like some cracked-out mom. Not a good first impression for my son's first day of school.

But, although I didn't take nearly enough pictures and was too tired to shed more than a couple of tears, in the end, it all worked out. He's a happy camper and actually enjoys getting up and going to school. And his vocabulary? Well, let's just say in the zombified state I've been in lately, it sure as hell kicks my ass!

Cuddling with Ducky before heading off to school

No ducks in the classroom!

Wordless Wednesday - Farewell to Summer

Ok, I know it's still technically summer, but the CNE (Canadian National Exhibition, for you non-Ontarians) always marks the end of the season for me.

This year we took my parents who were in town for their very first "Let's Go to the Ex" experience. They joined us in stuffing our faces with junk food, the most tiny, delicious doughnuts and watched Ciaran enjoy his first taste of cotton candy. I skipped the deep-fried butter, though. Cause, you know, that's just wrong! Cheryl from Mommypants would be proud of me for that, of this I'm certain.

Ciaran's First Tiny Tom donut

Trying their luck with the carnies

Look what I won!

Sleepyheads

Homeward bound

Cotton candy heaven!

I'm (Trying to be) Mrs. Bright Side

I recently blogged about being abandoned - albeit unintentionally - by my husband while he was away on business. Yes, it was tough, stressful and very tiring. But, in my typical Libra fashion, I must see both sides of every situation and I've come up with a list of things that were not all that bad about holding the fort on my own.

To keep what's left of my sanity and to avoid that horrible feeling that everything is falling apart at the seams, I've been really striving to think more positively about things. Otherwise, I'll drive myself crazy just thinking about everything that's beyond my control. I'm trying to "go with the flow" as the saying goes. To live in the moment and enjoy the little things without obsessing over the dishes in the sink. It's hard as hell, let me tell you but totally necessary if I don't want to wind up in the mental ward.

So, without further ado, here are some of the things I embraced about being a single mom for a two and a half weeks:

• No dirty socks under the sofa.  No matter how much I bitch and complain, my husband has deemed it his manly right to roll up his dirty old socks and shove them under the sofa. It's not uncommon for me to find 4-5 pairs as I'm dusting beneath the furniture on a Saturday morning. So, it was nice not having to worry about clogging up the vacuum with smelly socks. 

• Whole wheat carbs!  I'm a bit of a health nut. Ok, not always, but I was raised by parents who brainwashed me into thinking white bread was "poisonous", so I'm all about the whole grains. Hubby, on the other hand, loves his squishy white bread & pizza dough and while we buy separate loaves of bread for our individual tastes, the dough and pasta is always a battle. I've made him whole wheat versions on numerous occasions, but whenever he does the grocery shopping, that damn bleached crap is the what winds up in our cupboards. 

• No snoring. Ahh, the  pleasure of sleeping in my cozy bed without hearing those freight train-like sounds was pure bliss. I'm not sure if it was due to sheer exhaustion or having peace and quiet in my bedroom, but I slept like a champ. 

• No opening & closing drawers at ungodly hours. There is nothing more irritating than to be awaken by the sound of dresser drawers repeatedly being opened and closed. I don't mean just once, twice or even 3 times to get socks, underwear and whatever else he frantically searches for at 6:00 a.m. It's not like there's even all that many drawers. He just keeps opening and closing the same ones. Over. and. Over. I definitely did not miss this, nor his "closing" the front door much harder than what surely is necessary.

•  After Dinner Dancing. This was my favorite part of the 2.5 weeks. No, I did not sneak in a boyfriend after my son went to bed (how could I, the kid doesn't go to bed until 10:00, sheesh)! Lately, whenever Ciaran hears a good song, he jumps up and "shakes his feather tail" as he so adorably puts it. So while Tony was away, dancing before, after and sometimes even during dinner became our ritual. We'd hop up from the table, grab each others' hands and get our grooves on. After a few minutes he'd insist that I pick him up and dance with him in my arms, which is not an easy thing, with a 40+ lb child. But, with my new "enjoying the moment" mentality I told myself it was a good workout for my arms. Sure, I lost all feeling in them after like 10 minutes, but hey, no pain no gain, right?

Updates, Chaos & House Guests

I know I haven't posted in a while - as many of my other bloggy friends have also expressed - this summer has been an extremely busy one (not to mention a little on the stressful side) for yours truly.

First there was the move (still haven't unpacked everything - shamefully our entire basement is filled w/ boxes). Stuff is everywhere, but not where it's supposed to be.

Then, Tony went away on business for what was supposed to be one week, but has now turned into 2.5 weeks. Fortunately, Ciaran has been pretty well-behaved, but it's still hard doing it all on my own, plus working, taking care of the house, yada, yada, yada. By the weekend, I just want to crawl into my bed and never come out, but with an energetic little boy jumping all over my barely-conscious self at 8:00 a.m., relaxing on the weekend is not an option.

Also? How the hell that child doesn't collapse by the days end is beyond me. I know the saying "youth is wasted on the young", but seriously - he does not stop. He doesn't even slow down. Not one iota. It's go, go, go, run, run, run, talk, talk, talk, all day long. I love his exuberance, but it's also completely draining me.

The worst part is, he's decided he just doesn't want to go to bed at night. It's like a 2-hour process getting him ready & tucked in. And right when I think, ok, yes! I've got him in the bed, he's lying down, he's rubbing his eyes - bam! He'll jump up for just one more hug, kiss, drink of juice, question, remark, anything his little mind can think of to keep me in there for as long as he can. And I'm too tired to fight him. He's got me beaten down. He knows this all too well.

But help is on the way. Tomorrow my parents arrive from the East Coast for a week-long visit. So, although I've been running around getting things ready for them, once they're here, Ciaran will have 2 more adults at his torment entertainment disposal.

Which is a really good thing, because I'm starting to look & feel like this (minus the teenage girl):

Who knows? Maybe while they're here and when Tony gets home I can even sneak in a blog post or two. That would be totally awesome. *Fingers crossed*.