Daycare.

Tonight's a big night guys - we're meeting Ms. Chrissy and getting a tour of the ever-so-popular Caterpillar Room at Ingrid's new "school/daycare." I still remember that fateful day when I received the call that we indeed did "get in" to our number one daycare choice. What a weight off of our shoulders. Here's how it went down:

During my pregnancy, we toured one daycare, fell in love and stopped searching because A: I didn't have a job. B: We loved this particular center. Easy right? Not so fast Go-Go-Gadget.

Ingrid was about six weeks old when I learned that our number one choice was EVERYONE'S number one choice and our odds of getting in were slim-to-none. The rejection confirmed that we indeed, didn't get in. Oh well, I was unemployed.

Then I got a job offer. Fuck. Now what? When does she need to go? What can we afford? When is Dan going to work? Ahhh! We were manics. Hitting up every reputable daycare in the Oak Creek/St. Francis area Anything central to downtown was bat-shit expensive. Dan hit his breaking point when he toured four centers in three hours. This one didn't have the flexibility we need, this one was 20 miles away, this one just wanted a deposit, this one had a year long waiting list and this one had three kids in a corner crying with a TV blasting away. This one didn't feel right.

With a little persistence, I worked with our number one choice daycare to come up with a schedule that worked for Dan, Ingrid and myself and now - phew - SHE'S IN! Great ratio, great reputation, flexible, affordable. Check, check, check - love it!

Now the anticipation mounts. Will we like these teachers? Will Ingrid be happy? Be safe? Have fun? Be stimulated? Will I be a hot mess dropping her off next week? Will I cry at work (dreading that one).

I know that sending her to daycare part-time is the best decision for our family, right now. I'm curious to know how we'll all feel knowing that someone other than a close family member or friend is watching her - she'll be in good hands, just not ours for a few hours a week.

Irish Fest.

What makes an ordinary day extraordinary? I pondered that little nugget as I was heading out of Irish Fest - and onto Anthro and the Public Market. I couldn't put my finger on it - the day was just great.

Ingrid and I enjoyed Sunday Mass with thousands of other Milwaukeeians. Then we third (or fourthed?)-wheeled it with my best-friend and her husband as we enjoyed an Irish coffee, sampled some sweet Irish-inspired treats, listened to good music and watched those curly-haired Irish dancers do their thing. Normal day right? But there was something about the morning that kept me smiling all day long.

As I walked out of Anthro empty-handed (no damage to the bank account!), it hit me. I've enjoyed this fest for the last three years with three completely different groups of people at three completely different times in my life. Let's take a stroll down memory lane...


2009 - My girlfriends and I leisurely enjoyed about four Irish coffees, browsed the market for non-cheesy Irish stuff and I'm pretty sure I had about three shamrock cookies. We continued the celebration all afternoon - and I'm pretty sure into a dinner and multiple cocktails downtown.

S and I enjoying Irish coffees. 

2010 - My mom and sister were in town to celebrate Dan and mine's engagement party. At Patty's Pub we threw back vodka tonics and laughed with friends and family. My mom, sister and I dragged ourselves out of bed and enjoyed a morning of good ol' Catholic mass, coffee and treats. As I waved good-bye to my family, I broke out my Martha Stewart Wedding Planner and started dreaming of outdoor reception sites. Little did I know that I'd be getting married in the best venue ever in a few short months.

My mom and I enjoying normal coffees. 

Somethings have remained the same - my love affair with those damn Irish coffees, my tendency to skip a real meal in favor of treats - and that fun, leather Gaelicy cuff.

And a whole lot has changed - I got my braces off!

Seriously though, I can't wait to continue our tradition of attending this fest next year, with toddling Ingrid and Dan. Hopefully, I'll only be carrying one small bag of kid-stuff instead of my 15-pound-baby-supply-filled-satchel. So I can double-fist those coffees.

(Not Really) On My Playlist: John Mayer - Waiting On The World To Change

Like most of the world, I've come to grips that the once-beloved John Mayer turned into a serial-dater ego-manic. But, every now and again, that smooth-lyricist gets in your head and painfully, your heart. Damn that voice!

On my way home from work, I heard this classic John Mayer tune and was transported back to 2008, election season. That fall, I went on a solo trip to Racine to see then, Senator Barack Obama speak. I remember walking out of that rally with so much hope and thinking that this man had the power to bring people together for real, actionable change. This isn't a political rant, keep reading! As I continued to listen to this song, I thought about all-things Iraq/Afghanistan. Somehow our presence over-seas has outlasted Barack's energizing campaign, John Mayer's position on the pop charts - and then some. My husband is 30 and went "over there" three times about a decade ago. I have nothing cheerful or uplifting to bring this post to a close - except to say, can you even believe that somehow John Mayer is still somehow relevant? What. A lucky bastard.

Hours in a Day...

I remember reading a Fitness (or was it Glamour?) magazine in college where a reader posed the question: "I don't have anytime to workout? What should I do?" - LoveHandles in Louisville. Or, the ever-popular "My family goes out to eat four nights a week. Help me with easy recipes!" - T.G.I.Friday's Addict.

I remember thinking that this poor women was really lacking in the organization department. How hard is it to find 45 minutes in the day, slap on some shoes and go to the gym - or talk a walk? Or, just hit up the grocery store of spending your money on at Chili's (or worse...Applebees. The horror!).

Well, Dan and I did our fast-food equivalent this week - we treated ourselves to a Veggie Pizza (plus sausage...) at Papa Murphy's. Doesn't that make us sound like a couple of food-snobs? In reality, we both gain about .2 pounds just looking at the Golden Arches.

Back to the issue at hand.

I think LoveHandles in Louisville was really struggling with was the guilt of spending yet another hour away from the house - and, away from her family. When I was home with Ingrid, I didn't feel an ounce of guilt when I would go to the gym, a coffee shop or over to a friend's house for a few hours of Bravo (ugh, when does Top Chef return!). I spent 24 hours a day with Ingrid - spending 23 or heaven-forbid, 22 hours was fine with me.

Now that I'm working full-time I seriously don't get how I'm supposed to make everything happen. Dan's a champ and does a better job than I do with keeping the house in order - I'd just like to go to the gym a few days a week, take a yoga class (or 12) and make dinner a few nights a week. Doesn't sound hard, but when you slice away eight hours a day for working, plus nursing, plus sleeping - I seriously don't get it. As much as I love being hyper-organized and have my "ducks in a row" (oh no - here come the work-phrases...) - I don't want to be chained down to a schedule and feel forced to go to the grocery store or the gym.

I feel like a whiny-snob complaining about this too - but it's a tough balance. Invest time in yourself or take away time with the family? I guess one viable option would be to stop putzing on the internet and do a yoga DVD at home. Like right now. But, I'd rather watch this week's Project Runway.

Preparation.

Confession, I'm a hoarder. An information hoarder. 

When I develop a new interest I tend to gather information to a fault. Cooking, sewing, yoga - you name it. Example - Dan gave me a sewing machine last year for my birthday and I have only created three items in over a year. I was too bogged down with checking out books from the library and scouring the internet for inspirational blogs to actually...sew. Information gathering, to a fault, at it's finest. 

Around Ingrid's 10th week, I started receiving emails with tips on going back to work. This was yet another painful reminder that I was unemployed. But, I happily deleted these emails and thought about how lucky I was to hang with Ingrid (and stay in elastic-waist pants all day long).

I'm pretty sure that Ingrid is now 18 weeks old (it's getting hard to keep track...) and with my start-date looming, I decided to hop online and search for "nuggets of wisdom" from other healthy, balanced, normal, quirky, fun, working (out-of-the-home) moms (if there isn't such a thing...). 

After ten minutes I wanted to throw my laptop out the window. Based on what I read, I prepared for the worst. I should just buy stock in Kleenex, because apparently I'll be sobbing the day away. Then at night, I'll be frantically running around the house trying to find clothes that fit. How appealing. Why am I doing this again? Oh yeah, to put food on the table and pay bills. 

Then, I came across this wisdom-nugget. The skies parted and there was hope of normalcy in my life. I found this on Real Simple's website:

 

Stop thinking of yourself as split into separate but equal roles: mother, worker, me. 

Listen to philosopher John Locke, who said that a person recognizes himself as the same being throughout his life, in different times and places. You are one person, indivisible, who just happens to wear many hats. And while I get that the weight of all those hats can wear you down, at least be happy you’ve got something important to do.

Exactly, I have something important to do. Be a good mom. Be good at work. Have fun. And be a good role-model to Ingrid. And have time to work out, read and be normal. Easy, right?  

Four Months

I'm procrastinating. I should be packing, cleaning and making a list of things I need to do tomorrow. We're headed up north for the weekend and I'm excited to just relax with the family and good friends. Ok, I'll start packing during the new episode of Jersey Shore. Or, maybe after Jersey Shore... 

Here's Ingrid's month - in pictures!  

She had her first taste of real food. This chick loves her avocados! 

I caved. Ingrid loves her over-priced squeak toy Sophie!

Hey whad-did-you-say-about me? 

Why I oughta!  

Your first of many "pictures by weird animals in Wisconsin" Get ready for Mouse with Cheese!

Her hand-eye coordination is really improving. She loves gnawing on this ring. 

What a lovely family picture...by a dumpster. Seriously, we had a fun night.

This month, we had our first night away from Ingrid. We enjoyed a few adult cocktails and celebrated the Lloyds!

New Gig.

After "my company" moved to Alabama - and after I stopped frantically applying to any job labeled "marketing." I sat back, looked at my edited resume and started applying to realistic opportunities that sounded like a good fit.

My "wish" list for the ideal job definitely changed since having Ingrid. I didn't want to spend 45 minutes a day in my car commuting to and from work. I wanted to be close to Ingrid's daycare. I didn't want to be a cog in a big corporation. This became apparent after two phone interviews with Milwaukee-based corporations. I couldn't even speak their language. I wanted to do something fun, something new, something challenging. I knew that this would be hard to do and with unemployment on the rise yet again (ugh, aren't we all sick of this yet?) - I couldn't be too choosy.

I start my new gig in a few weeks and I'm excited. I'm excited to be contributing to my household.To stop claiming unemployment benefits, to stop searching for new jobs, to stop creating cover letters, to stop receiving rejection letters. Lesson learned: keep updating your resume and stay in touch with your contacts.

This job meets the majority of my "wish list" items. Now, I'm preparing for new challenges:

I'm entering this job as a mom. Weird! I've attempted to read a few parenting blogs/websites for tips about going back to work. It sounds like I'll be a hot mess at first. Please feel free to share any tips for success. How do you balance the two and keep stay sane?

And challenge number two. Finding work-appropriate pants that fit.

As the Dust Settles.

This weekend I was out-of-control bitching about nothing. Bitching about Ingrid, bitching about daycare and bitching about bitching. Dan gave me a look that read "Are you seriously still talking?" and suggested that he take Ingrid - solo - on his work-trip up to LaCrosse and see Grandma and Grandpa Atkinson.

Two days, alone, without Ingrid? What would I do? Oh no, here comes the guilt! But I've taken a few yoga classes (and renewed my love-hate relationship with Bikram), have a sparkling clean apartment and completed checklist - I am in agreement - that break was needed.

The past 11 months have been nuts. Dan and I have had many "what are we going to do about wedding/pregnancy/unemployment/family/Ingrid/daycare moments." With everything but daycare figured out - we're finally able to stop. Stop stressing about everything and every purchase. Stop talking things to death. Stop being so fucking crazy.

I can't wait for Dan and Ingrid to come home today. I no longer have to spend hours upon pointless hours job hunting. I'm looking forward to spending stress-free time with Ingrid before I have to go back to work in a few short weeks.

With a little bit of luck, a whole lot of work and positive thinking - everything truly does have a way of working out.

On Formula

Have you guys read Tina Fey's Bossypants yet? Wowsa, it's hilarious. I painfully attempt to quote this book and explain its hilarity to my friends. So, you get it - this book is funny and I love it.

In one of my favorite chapters, There's a Drunk Midget in My House, Tina writes about her daughter, breastfeeding (and coins the phrase "the Bret Michaels" to describe the side-laying breastfeeding position - hilarious and gross). And then, she addresses formula:

"Shortly thereafter, we made the switch to an all-formula diet. If you've ever opened a can of infant formula mix, then you know it smells like someone soaked old vitamins in a bucket of wet leaves, then dried them in a hot car. 


Yes, that is EXACTLY what it smells like! Appetizing, huh? And whenever I crack open the formula container, the guilt starts to set in. In an ideal world, we would give Ingrid 4 ounces of formula a day (basically, one feeding) - but some days, she's a hot mess or uninterested. Or, I want to indulge and have some cocktails.

Now that we've been in a regular routine with nursing, it seems to be easier and quicker and finally - it hit me - this stage is incredibly short and precious.

Basically, I'm over bitching about nursing, because some day soon, this will be yet another milestone/stage that we'll both outgrow.