Not Whether, How Much

The whole preschool thing has affected John. Obviously. I mean, first I yank him from his beloved preschool. Then I enroll him in a non-play-centered preschool with unfun, bitchy teachers. Then I send him to a boring, Glorified Daycare for three months, only to introduce him to yet another school via its summer camp weeks in June.

And here’s the kicker. Then I tell him that the summer camp school is his new school. That’s where he’s going in the fall.

This kid has been through the preschool ringer. I know it does nothing to help him to say that I feel responsible, believe I AM responsible for this. I caused the whole thing through bad decisions.

I keep talking to John about it in little snippets. I figure he can’t digest more than one mini-concept at a time regarding this whole mind-blowing preschool world tour. I told you that he asked, “Can I go to every preschool in the world?” When he talks about school and says, “They read books,” I’ll say, “At The New School?” and he’ll answer, “No, at all of them.”

He acted out at the summer camp/New School, and I couldn’t blame him. Each time I picked him up he did something different: kicking the chain link fence, spitting lunch on his tablemate, whapping a kid on top of the head (only I witnessed that one, and the kid didn’t seem to notice).

The teacher didn’t dissolve into expressionless observation when John did these things, though, like the teacher at the Glorified Daycare did. At the Glorified Daycare, at pick up one day, he went to hand me his coat and instead swung it around in a wide arc, hitting his teacher square in the face. I would have tackled him to the ground to prevent it, but he got her on the first go round and I had no chance of stopping it.

She just stood there stone-faced and looked at me while I spoke to him. At the New School, though, the teacher smiled and said, "That's OK! We'll work on it. Great job today, John!"

Amid all of this, John expresses him self so well. Like his Dad, he loves to talk out his thoughts. If I respond to him by asking a question about what he just said, or repeating part of it back, it seems meet his need to be listened to. He used to insist that we look at him as he talked and sometimes still does. “John! I listen with my ears, not my eyes!” I tell him. "I hear you! I'm listening!" (I wonder if Ben, who I ask to look at me when I talk to him, sees my hypocrisy when I say that.) But John talks and talks and talks. All day. If I had to look at him the whole time, I wouldn’t look away from him for the entire day.

I guess that’s the bottom line. We always saw John as the independent sort. He plays well by himself. He concentrates on what he’s doing for long periods of time. He had very little separation anxiety. But at the same time, he needs adult involvement. He needs to be listened to and played with, not just supervised or forced to sit and be quiet. As much as any other four year old.

On his last day of summer camp at the New School, he didn’t want to say good-bye to the teachers. I sensed that he felt upset about yet another good-bye. (I know, I'm so perceptive.) I knelt down and said, “You’ll see them again soon, honey.”

I walked out of the classroom and heard John’s voice from behind me. "Mama?"

He had stopped short in the doorway, and was looking down at the ground.

“Yes, honey?”

“Is this my new school?”

“Yes.”

“Hooray!”

A few minutes later he said he really didn’t mean that, and he doesn’t really like the New School that much. But he’s reeling, No. 1, and he’s got that need to disagree in his personality, No. 2.
Later in the week, we passed the school in the van and he said, "There's my school!" My school. After visiting just five times. By the way, he has never mentioned the Glorified Daycare. He made no connection with that place that I can see.

I know this year of revolving door preschool experiences has had a negative effect on John. How could it not? But underneath the confusion and frustration all of this has caused, I think he feels a bit of peace about this latest choice of preschool. And I think I do, too.

Hooray, indeed.

Firsts

We have had some firsts around here lately:

Ben lost his first tooth.


Ava sported her first mohawk. (I know what you're thinking. "What took you so long?")


Brian built his first swing set.


Ben played on his first sports team.


Then this weekend, Ava did not disappoint her adoring fans at her first birthday party. I'll write more on this later, and my video editing software is on order (I had to film sideways! I wouldn't have gotten her whole body otherwise!). But I just had to share this today. Despite the howling mom in the background and the questionable video quality, it's worth it!

It Comes in Threes, I Hope

I have caused two more mini-floods in my house since the kitchen incident last week. The first time was my fault, and even though I destroyed some of my favorite cookbooks, it was kind of funny. Sort of. I even took pictures to share with you, I just haven't had a spare second to post them.

The second flood, however, which involved my washing machine overflowing this morning, was not funny. At all. I'm trying to get ready for Ava's birthday party tomorrow. My house is a disaster, I finally managed to get Ben's best friend over for a playdate, and every time I turn around they've pulled out some big mess I have to pick up. I haven't managed to do anything but put fires out all day. I shouldn't even be writing this, really. But I wanted to say a quick hello, and tell you there's some more flood stories coming.

That reminds me, when I checked the weather a few days ago, it said sunny and in the 70s for tomorrow. Perfect for Ava's party! The kids can play on the new swing set! My 20 family members can hang outside! Then I checked the weather again an hour ago, and discovered that everyone will be inside my house because there's a flood watch for the entire state for tonight through tomorrow.

Somehow that seems fitting.

DVD Giveaway: High School Musical

UPDATE: The winner is... Mary, of Fireflies and Frogs! Congrats, Mary, I hope your daughter enjoys it. Send your address to clouth@gmail.com and I'll get the CD right out to you.

By the way, CMHL, you still owe me your address, too!

High School Musical is a Disney Channel orginal movie aimed squarely at the "tween" market. I'm being lazy here and telling you to click the link to read the synopsis at Amazon. There's lots of singing and dancing as well as brainy people, theatre people and basketball players, i.e., something for everyone.

Usually I don't read the Amazon reviews on a movie before watching it. But, since I wanted to show it to my boys, and didn't want to have to screen it first, I did. Apparently this movie has quite a following. Am I, like, the last parent of a tween to see it? Many people left comments saying "I'm an adult and I loved this movie!" I will not be one of those people. In fact, I think that reading all the raves made me expect more. It's no Grease. By the end, though, it had me laughing out loud. Granted, I was laughing at the plot line and the cheesiness factor more than anything. But hey, a laugh's a laugh.

I liked:

• The G rating. Do you know how few G movies come out every year? Like, two.
• The absence of violence. There was a food fight, but a playful one.
• The innocent romance between the two leads.
• The way everyone ends up sharing their feelings, understanding one another better and showing each other kindness and support. It's pretty much an after-school special set to music.

Ben LOVED this movie, and wanted to know, "Is there a "High School Musical 2, 3, 4 5 and 6?!" If I gave my only copy away, I'd be in trouble. Fortunately, I received two copies of this DVD, so I can offer a brand new "Encore Edition" copy (with extras including subtitles and music videos) to a lucky commenter. Leave a comment between now and Friday at 9 am EST. I'll announce the winner Friday afternoon.

To make it fun for me, because this is all about my personal amusement, tell me what click or group you belonged to in high school. I belonged to the "no friends" click. Sure, there weren't many parties, but the peer pressure was nil!

Killing Me Softly With Her Night Waking

Ava has always been a good sleeper. Pretty much. Overall.

It's just ... She turns 1 next week, and she still wakes to nurse at 3 am and again at about 5:30 or 6:00. I know that 6 am doesn't count as night waking to some people, but to me it does. I also know that I'm lucky she goes back to sleep at 6:15.

However, sometimes she will even wake up at 11 pm and demand to nurse. We have tried to deny her this, only to have her cry until 1 am then end up in our bed for the night.

Brian always tries to get her back to sleep if she wakes before midnight or after 6 am. Often, he succeeds. But I always wake up, even if he's the one to deal with her.

I think I have a point here. Oh, yeah. I am exhausted. I am just so, so tired. Normally when the grind of being home with small children gets to me, I get up early to have some writing time before the chaos begins, or I carve out some time at night. But I just can't do that until Ava starts sleeping through that 3 am feeding.

Also, this is the boys' last week in school. Judging by how tired I am after spending the last few days with them in our 90-degree back yard, I'm thinking it will be a long, long summer.

For now this means that my posts may be sporadic until September. Because I'm so tired and won't get a break from the boys, instead of blogging in my spare minutes I will be comatose. But I will be here as often as I can, and I at least have a nifty give away planned for this week.

In the meantime, I took this video of Ava last week, on that awful day that we don't mention out loud anymore. As you can see, my video-taking skills suffered on that day, so I apologize for the sudden walking around and the turning of the camera sideways and the length. What do you expect from someone who spills 8 billion sunflower seeds on her floor then floods her kitchen? Anyway, if I knew how to edit the video I would, but I don't, and like I said, I'm tired. I'm trying hard not to use swear words to tell you how tired I am.

So, without further blathering about fatigue, here is Ava enjoying her cup of apple juice. She doesn't have juice very often, but she'd just cried it out at nap time (with multiple visits -- but no hugs -- from me), so I figured she deserved it.

Have you ever seen anyone so completely in love with apple juice? Good Lord, I think I could've weaned her right then and there. Too bad I can't give her some of that at 3 am.

More on My Monday

Thank you all for your kind words about my sucky day. My duct is still kind of cloggy, but much better than it was Monday.

As the day progressed, I decided to write up a little "day in the life" post, just for fun. Because, as I said, it was one of those days. And I left a bunch of other little things out in my previous post.

7:00 a.m. My alarm goes off. I'm feeling relaxed because Brian's home this morning, so I turn it off instead of hitting snooze. Fall back asleep.

7:30 a.m. Startle awake. Hit Brian. We make the bed together, then go get the boys up for school.

7:50 a.m. Put hot compress on clogged ducts. Nurse Ava. Break a sweat and breathe through the excruciating pain. Try to be quiet because every time I make “I’m in pain,” noises, Ava pops off my breast and looks at me. A Web site I’d read the night before says clogged ducts never cause excruciating pain. I beg to differ.

8:50 a.m. I am bringing John to the summer camp at his fourth preschool this year. He says, “Mom, can I go to every preschool in the world?”

9:00 a.m. Realize I forgot John’s towel and change of clothes so I’ll have to come back.

9:02 a.m. Driving home with Brian, I ask when he’s planning on taking time off this summer. We end up in a fight.

9:10 Return from John’s preschool, again. While working on a sink full of dishes, I remember that I ran out of laundry detergent over the weekend so there’s extra laundry. Plus, John wet the bed twice this weekend. Crap.

9:20 Greet Aunt Flo.

9:30 Visit Paper Napkin who sends me to WantNot.net who sends me to Overstock to get 10 percent off which reminds me that I wanted to order two folding Adirondack chairs. Get out credit card, get excited that I can save $40 on them, get pissed when I realize there’s only one left. Crap.

10:00 Do endless laundry.

11:00 Hot pack then nurse. Ava falls asleep in my arms but starts screaming when I put her down in her crib. Give up and bring her downstairs.

12:00 Go outside with Ava, Brian and Ben. Finish edging my adopted flower bed and snip some of the weed “bushes” that my neighbor lets grow through her chain link fence. Grumble.

12:45 Feed the baby. Go get John.

1:00 John walks over to me at pick up and kicks the chain link fence as hard as he can. His teacher tells me he was in a “kicking mood” today, kicking everything outside even after being told not too. Great.

1:15 Get home. Say bye to Brian, who will be home after the kids go to bed. Put something on the TV so I can do a hot compress then nurse Ava down for her nap. Ben and John ignore the TV and go outside. I scarf down some vegetable dumplings from Trader Joe’s. The entire package.

1:45 Get the boys back inside and in front of the TV. Use hot compress.

2:00 Bring Ava upstairs for self-torture, i.e., nursing.

2:09 Bring sleeping Ava to crib, put her in, and leave the room as she begins to scream.

2:10 Go to bathroom and deal with personal hygiene disaster.

2:15 Write a blog post about what a sucky day I’m having. Visit Ava intermittently to offer my sympathies and crush her little psyche by leaving again.

2:30 Ava gives up and goes to sleep. I let the boys outside and clean up lunch. The boys vanish into the woods, and I go out to bring them back into the yard. They both mouth off to me about how lame I am and tell me they “know where they’re going,” in the woods. I choose to ignore them.


2:40 Back in my yard, I find my neighbor, the one with the manicured flower beds. She’s here to see whether we’ve finished the swing set yet, the one Brian and I have been talking about since last fall, the one she likes to tease me about not finishing. We stand and look at the pile of wood. She tells me she took her son to McDonald's that afternoon and they have the Cars toys now. I don't realize it at the time, but this is an omen. Ben and John go under the deck, which is dangerous and against the rules. I get them out, while my neighbor tours my flower beds, to use the term loosely. “You’ve got a coral bell in there,” she says, pointing to a three-foot mass of weeds.

2:50 Go check on Ava. She’s in a ball on her face jammed underneath her activity center, still whimpering. This was her first “cry it out” experience.



3:00 Weed for a few minutes then follow the boys back inside for snack time. Give Ben some “beer bread” I made from a mix the day before, with whipped cream on top. He eats the cream and leaves the bread, then asks for candy, giving me my first good laugh of the day.

3:20 Brian comes home. Scheduling snafu. He finds me sufficiently Cinderella-ish, on my knees cleaning the toilet. I feel a sense of relief that he’s home. Ben is, of course, still hungry, so he has some banana yogurt while John eats a pear.

3:30 Brian goes outside to work on the swing set. I do more laundry and clean up the kitchen again, then call my mother while I weed some more. She tells me she can’t come with me to the zoo the next day. We had talked about joining Ben on his field trip. I feel disappointed but later decide it was for the best.

4:15 Get Ava up. Sit her in the high chair. Her eyes are still red and glassy, but she forgives me.



4:18 Reaching for Ava’s cookies in the hall closet, I knock down a container of candy-coated sunflower seeds that the boys chose at Trader Joe’s. The floor explodes into a gigantic mess of earth-toned choking hazards.

4:20 Take a few pictures of Ava. Decide I hate my camera because the flash keeps going off even though there is plenty of light. When I turn the flash off, the autofocus stops working and the pictures come out blurry. This is what $600 gets you! Why didn't I buy the damned SLR??

4:45 Take Ava outside and put her in the play pen. Tell Brian I’m going inside to clean up the sunflower seed disaster and start dinner. Get involved with time outs and other discipline issues with Ben. Bring him inside and put him in his bedroom. Bring Ava back in but leave her gated in the family room. Ignore the sunflower seeds.

5:00 Spend several minutes walking in circles in the kitchen, trying to clear off the counter and get organized. Have a flash of brilliance and decide to let Ben clean up the sunflower seeds. He bitches and moans the whole time but it’s still a very enjoyable experience.

5:15 Ben goes back outside. I set a pot on the counter and position the filtered water faucet over it and turn it on. Then, inexplicably, I go outside to put Ava back in the play pen.

5:16 Decide to pull a few more weeds before going back in the house.

5:18 Remember the pot on the counter! Run in the house to discover a flood!

5:19 Looking at the toaster and the microwave and the electric tea kettle all sitting in water, call out to Brian to come in the house. Standing under the 12-foot structure he just erected, he yells, “I can’t walk away from this.” I yell back that I just flooded the kitchen and am afraid I’m going to electrocute myself! He gets the boys and comes inside.

5:25 Brian and I take everything off the counter and sop up water with towels. A bunch of my cookbooks got wet. Ben calls up from the basement: “There’s a leak down here!” Brian squashes some sunflower seeds on his way downstairs.

5:30 I realize the baby’s way out in the backyard, in the play pen but all by herself, and I run out to get her. I come back and start to put her down, but realize there’s still sunflower seeds all over the floor. Making Ben do it was fun, but would have been more so had he completed the job.
5:40 Feed the baby a late dinner while staring at the empty pots on the stove. Remember my neighbor's mention of the Cars Happy Meal toys.

5:50 Go outside and tell Brian we’re buying McDonald’s for dinner. Show incredible strength and depth of character by not ordering chicken strips and a large fry. Order the Asian salad.

6:30 Steal some of Brian’s fries.

6:40 While we eat our McDonald's food, I gaze at the many cookbooks spread out around the room to dry. A few large ones are standing, wide open, in the middle of the table. The irony of this scenario is not lost on me.

6:55 Brian asks if he can go back outside and work some more. I ask if he hates me.

7:10 While Brian gives the kids a bath, I open the cabinet under sink and discover that it’s flooded with water. I sop it all up.

7:35 I run around putting laundry away while the kids get in their PJs.

7:50 Ava’s sleeping. The boys are playing games, getting up "to go pee," 50 times.

John says, "Not 50, Mama. Did you mean four times?"

Brian wants to throttle them, but I convince him not to. Instead we get a trash bag and take some of their toys away, which they seem to hate. Sweet!

8:00 Boys still awake. I’m trying to file news links on DotMoms.

8:30 Doing dishes again. Er, still.

9:00 Drinking a beer, feet up, ice pack on boob. Ask Brian if the basement flood is taken care of, he says yes. (The next morning, I found the entire laundry room floor, including piles of clean clothes and outgrown baby clothes, soaking wet.)

9:10 Notice how red the clogged-duct area is. Start Googling "mastitis" and "breast abscess."

9:30 Decide I don’t have mastitis yet, but I’ll treat it like I do. I continue with the ice and go take some Advil.

10:00 Watch Hell’s Kitchen. Reminisce about going into labor with Ava. We were watching it that night last summer.

10:20 Eat the bags of Cracker Jacks that my mother bought for my kids.

11:00 Got to bed. Wonder if the house will burn down while I’m sleeping.

One of THOSE Days

Today is the kind of day that starts out sucky and then just continues to suck in a myriad of different ways until the many facets of its suckitude overwhelm you with, um, suckiness.

Problem No. 1
It's Monday, so how good of day could it be, really? I mean, c'mon, people. It's MONDAY.

Problem No. 2
Today is the first day of me being "good," i.e., not eating chocolate scones and 12 servings of nachos right before bed every night and perhaps even getting some exercise. The idea is that perhaps then my underwear, bras, pants, shorts, shirts and socks might fit again, because have I told you lately that we are hemorrhaging financially and have been since I stopped working six years ago? And if I have to buy new clothes they will be from WalMart? Which is starting to sound pretty good?

So, it's Monday, and I'm starting a diet: Suck and suck.

Wait! There's More!
To add to my cheery demeanor, Brian has to work late tonight. On the plus side, he was home this morning, but the whole "Brian being home on a weekday morning" thing didn't prove anywhere near as fun as it sounded at first. He worked on putting together our kids' new swingset/backyard albatross and I, well, did laundry and dishes. Hello, every day of my life is EXACTLY the SAME! I am Cinder-frigging-ella!

Actually I did go out and edge one of the beds in our yard, which is so full of grass already I think it's too late. I can't keep up with the yard at all, so I decided to adopt one bed and try to make it look decent. I spent a good deal of the time clipping the junk bushes that our neighbor lets grow through her chain link fence. That really pissed me off. I know, I know: Big surprise!

Still Not Done Complaining
Ava won't nap. Right now it's 2:30 in the afternoon, and she is messing with me by quietly playing in her crib, lulling me into thinking that she may doze off when in fact she has no plans of doing that, none whatsoever. OK wait, now she's screaming. That's better.

Actually, I'm Just Getting Started
What's the thing that makes this day suck the most, the thing that pushes it from just the usual crap day to the most suckitudinous day of all? Two words: Clogged ducts.

Last night my boobs were flopping down on my stomach like they like to do so much and for some reason I grabbed them in both hands and lifted them up, as if by doing so they might stay there, if only for one blessed moment. Instead, I felt the tell tale hard lumps of clogged ducts. At first they didn't hurt, so I spent about an hour trying to remember the last time I did a breast exam and wondering, How could the tumors have grown so FRIGGING FAST?? How do I tell Brian that I'm going to DIE??

Then Ava nursed and that burning-needle-through-the-boob feeling appeared. I am telling you, if I ever have to give a talk encouraging women to breastfeed and the topic of clogged ducts comes up, I will have to just hand out the damned Enfamil coupons and leave the room. Thank God this doesn't happen to me very often. Ava favors the right side and I guess I got lazy about making sure she drained the left side well enough. My boob is so riddled with lumps it's more like clogged boob than clogged ducts. And BabyCenter is no help. They just say to nurse (ow!) and rub the lumps firmly (ow!) and point the baby's chin where the lumps are, which would mean nursing Ava upside down. With every going the way it is today, I am so not attempting upside-down breastfeeding.

Just One Last Thing, I Promise
Oh yeah, I got my period today, too. I swear I'm not making this up. I should just rename this the PMS/Period Blog: One Women's Monthly Journey to Hell and Back. It'll be funny, I promise! Look, I'm laughing right now! Hahahahhahahahha!

DVD Giveaway: Nanny McPhee

UPDATE: The winner is ... Bridget! Send your address to me at clouth@gmail.com, and I'll get the DVD right out to you!

Brian and I watched Nanny McPhee without the kids last weekend, to see if it was a candidate for our family movie night. During the opening scene, in which the evil children take delight in eating the baby, we glanced at each other and said, "No way." But by the end of the film, we decided that if we prepare them in advance for that opening scene, they can watch it.

Colin Firth's character is a widower with seven children who sabotage 17 different nannies brought in to care for them. The baby-eating incident ends his relationship with the nanny agency, and that's when Nanny McPhee makes her supernatural entrance.

Nanny McPhee has five lessons for the kids, such as get up and go to bed when told, say please and thank you, and listen to one another. She tells the resistant, ring leader older son that once they learn these lessons, and once they "want her but don't need her," she will go away. She uses magic along the way, but her magic doesn't work in matters of the heart, much to the kids disappointment when their dad decides to marry a crass, child-hating woman.

The movie held my interest, which says a lot these days. In one scene, one of the kids hits a nanny over the head with a frying pan, but that's the only violence. Nanny McPhee becomes more attractive as the children learn their lessons. Is this stereotypical Hollywood "evil=ugly" and "good=pretty," or is it merely the children's perception of her that changes? Either way, the film contains lots of positive lessons on treating each other well, sticking together as a family and the power of love.

Would you like to win a brand new, widescreen edition copy of this DVD? I'll enter all commenters between now and Sunday into a drawing and announce the winner on Monday.

To make it more fun for me, if you have kids, tell me what you would like Nanny McPhee to teach your children once and for all. I'd like my kids to learn to LISTEN TO ME, THE FIRST TIME I SAY SOMETHING!! NOT THE 20TH!! Ahem. Thank you.

Monday Morning Miscellaney

• Thirteen years ago today, I descended the stairs of my Worcester, Massachusetts apartment in my wedding gown, waved to the garbage men collecting trash by the limo, and headed to the church to start the rest of my life. To celebrate our anniversary, Brian did not clean the litter box or take out the trash, and I made a point to bitch at him about it. Then I did something I never do: I cleaned the litter box myself.

Happy anniversary, honey. If this ain't true love, at least we don't know what we're missing.

• Right now, John's playing at his new preschool's summer camp. I read their mission: to make every child go home thinking "I'm special." A few other kids had their first day today, too. I saw the lead nursery teacher sitting beside a student, rubbing his back. She said, "I'm going to sit here and get to know you. You'll be here with us in the fall." I know we made the right choice. UPDATE: When I picked him up I was told that he "spit his lunch on someone." I am so proud.

• Saturday night at 10 pm our doorbell rang. It was one of those quiet, dark, rainy nights, with nary a car or a person anywhere. So Brian and I did what we thought was right: we freaked out and didn't answer the door. We figured if it was important, they'd ring again. They didn't. However, since then, I've convinced myself that a serial killer rang out bell as a warning that he is watching, will slaughter us all at his first opportunity, but wants to scare the hell out of us first. It's a good thing a don't read horror stories, eh? Maybe I should write them.

• Please check out my latest news item over at DotMoms, about "trama season." If you dare ...

Thank You, and Girl Stuff

Thank you for the comments yesterday. You were unanimous in your advice to send John to the better, local preschool already and to stop beating myself up over choosing the wrong school (again) in February. Thank you for not calling me an idiot, or at least keeping it to yourself. Thank you.

Last night, while reading your comments to Brian I found myself saying things like, "Well I don't know them, know them, but ..." and "She's a former schoolteacher, and she's a lawyer," and, "She won a BOB award! These aren't just random Internet people!"

Brian had me convinced that John would hate me if I didn't send him back to the out-of-town preschool, so it was nice to get advice from people who are not emotionally involved. And who don't know that I promised John he could go back to the out-of-town preschool if he didn't like his current preschool.

Yeah, I promised. More than once.

That's ok though, because I don't have to tell John about the switch for, oh, a few weeks. Or months, depending on how many times I lose my nerve. Either way, that leaves time to bake him several batches of Toll House cookies and also hypnotise him while he sleeps to erase the out-of-town preschool from his memorybanks.

As for my one child to whom I have not yet broken any promises, she will turn 1 next month. Since Ava's birth, people have asked me how she's different than a boy. So far my answer has been, "She's not. She's just a baby." But today, something changed. First, she picked up my sock and tried to put it on my foot. She tried to dress me!

Then, she took my nail file, which she had never seen before (a good indicator of my hygiene habits of late). As babies, Ben and John were obsessed with the nail file and would do whatever it took to prie it from my hands. But once they got it, they just crammed it down their throats, stuck it in the VCR or used it to file their fingerprints off. What did Ava do?

She tried to file my nails.

Yes, it's official everyone. I have a girl.

When the Wrong Choice Feels Right

For any of you who didn't read the whole preschool debacle we went through this past winter (it's in the archives, January and February 2006), here is a recap: Way back when, I put Ben in an out-of-town preschool. The reason why is a whole other story. We love this preschool, so last year at this time, I enrolled John. John started there last fall and loved it. I, however, realized that the 45 minutes to bring him and another 45 minutes to go get him was not working for me anymore. I have a baby now, and the drive messed up her naps. I also have an older child in grade school near my house. Things had changed.

So, in January, we put him in the public preschool in town, which was not a good experience to say the least. After five weeks, we took him out and enrolled him in his current preschool, two minutes from my house. John just wanted to go back to the out-of-town preschool, but they had filled his spot, so that was not an option.

OK, now we're back to the present day. John never really connected with his current preschool. He likes it ok, but he still talks about and misses the out-of-town preschool. He is enrolled there for the fall, but I am having a very hard time accepting this. I cannot see myself driving 45 minutes in the morning and again at lunchtime three times a week, just so he can go to the out-of-town preschool. I don't want to do it.

I have visited John's current preschool and all I can say is ... meh. They're ok. The teachers hang in the hallway chatting with parents until 15 minutes past the class' start time. They are all nice enough, but they seem to be going through the motions. They don't interact with the kids all that much, and most of the time John's there is essentially freeplay, which is not what they described to me. It feels to my husband and I like a glorified daycare, which was not our first impression at all. If we wanted John to be surrounded by toys and distracted adults, we could do that at home.

The toys they put out are ok at first glance, but after three months I realize that they don't change stuff around much. For example, on a typical day it's paint, Legos, play-dough and a sand table, which they told me they fill with "all kinds of fun things," but has been filled with sand virtually the entire time. On top of all that, they have told me several times that John "has a mind of his own," and they've asked me how to handle it when he won't cooperate. We use time outs, but they don't want to do that, which is fine great because he gets enough of that at home. But my feeling on this is, they are the professionals, they should know how to handle uncooperating preschoolers.

Our 2nd choice preschool, the one we decided against sending John to when we moved him in February, has openings for the fall. I called them last week. The reason I called them is because my great niece goes there, and I think it is what we are looking for. It's nurturing, like a great big hug. The teacher's cried at my niece's graduation last week. They let the kids pull out whatever toys they want. They emphasize academics more than the other two schools, they have the coolest toys, and the teacher's interact with the kids the whole time. They play with them in the snow and in the pool. The LIKE to play with the kids. And they have the highest teacher-to-student ratio.

In other words, I chose the wrong school in February. Again.

At the time, we didn't choose the 2nd choice preschool because it was a lot more expensive and they only had afternoon classes available. My husband was concerned that John would be tired during class. As you can guess, money is no object at this point. And now we realize that afternoon works better for John. He likes to sleep in, he's slow eating breakfast. If he went in the afternoon, none of that would be a problem. Also, Ava will be napping in the afternoon by then so it works for me. And, it would give me a little alone time with Ben when he gets home from first grade, so it works for Ben. The other two schools do not offer afternoon classes.

When I told my mom that I felt like an idiot about this whole thing, she said, "Don't tell anyone." So here I am writing about it on the Internet. You guys are all allowed to call me an idiot, and I won't care because I know it's true.

When I called the 2nd choice preschool, they told me about their summer camp that they run through June. John will go five times over three weeks, starting Monday, which will be nice because his current preschool ends before Ben's kindergarten. I'm also hoping he'll bond with this place and he'll want to go in the fall.

Trouble is, I have to cough up a deposit, like, now. I have to make the decision. And we all know how good I am at the preschool decision making.

I'm frozen. Do I send him to yet a fourth preschool for his second year? I know he'll love it, and everything about it, the hours, it's location, everything, is better for me, for the family. Do I leave him at his mediocre current preschool, which he is not so happy at? Or do I throw my weekly schedule for next year into turmoil so that he can go to the out-of-town preschool?

Somehow selling my house and buying a new one near the out-of-town preschool seems like the easiest option. Clearly, I could use some advice.