the begining of the tales 4th grade nothing

i made it. it took a few days, i chewed off every nail, but i made it through the first day of school. never mind the children, it's the moms who have to run that marathon. i still haven't purchased the supplies, and i had to stop at publix pre-drop-off for juice boxes, but even with those snafus i made to the "parent loop" 15 min early, managed to take a decent picture and get to work on time. phew
this is great considering that a week ago i was still waiting for my private catholic school to call me about this wait list thing. you see i had filled out all the paperwork, but in the midst of the new baby, my mother in law living in my house for months to care for said baby, my unemployed husband moving to new york to work, and a pending foreclosure, i forgot to send in the paperwork.
on the last day of school the teacher surprised me by saying "too bad you won't be back next year." my reaction was a very spears-like "huh?" followed by a sprint to the principal's office and getting on a wait list.
i worried over it all summer. my kid needed stability, and i was a horrible mother. how could i have forgotten? the only thing that was the same as last year was school, and i had to do everything in my power to make it happen.
all summer, i called the school weekly to check on the list. nada. two days before school, i just gave up or should i say in, and went to the principal to "beg" yes beg. my son had instructed me to "literally beg mom, ok?" so i did. and i also cried. i let it out. i had a complete meltdown on the principal, and she was very kind to allow it. it had been building up.
i knew then it wasn't so much about the school as much as my insecurity. i cried because my son was being punished because i had been careless. i cried because i knew that was the last time i was going to see the walls of that school, and i cried because i always do when something ends, or in my mind "dies."
the catholic schoolboy days are over for nik. he's no longer going to be babied, protected by the holy trinity from the evils of the world. his old fashioned education had given me, whether real or not, peace of mind. at 9 years old he has outgrown it, and as is usual i'm the last one to notice. i'm also the parent who takes the death of something through the entire stages of grief. he's a big brother now and can take a faster paced and more diverse education. he's ready, and i have to be confident that i've done a great job.
if everything else in our lives has changed, why not the school then? i fought it, and i fought it hard. i feel satisfied to loose; i'm a sweaty boxer who didn't get knocked out. the blows to the head brought me clarity, and with new perspective i'm ready to take my family to the next level.

fiesta si, siesta no

i put baby to bed and am too tired to shower. self doubt kicks in and i wonder what is the right way to put a crying, tired child to bed without a tantrum. i do the routine, i read the story, mood music in the background, eyelids droop and then bam! fake tears wholehearted screeching and wailing. the works. welcome back migraine.
i leave him in the crib and go up to my room. he quiets down. i know he's listening, hunting for signs that mom is around. a misstep, he heard me stumble on a stair. screeching begins again. waaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! louder than before, piercing.
my instinct says get him, but i don't. he has to go to bed. he has to be alone. who says? i do. i know it all right? this second child has humbled me. i don't have all the answers and whatever worked for my fist kid, doesn't necessarily work for the new baby.
for years i was lucky, numero uno was easy. eat sleep, poop. low maintenance for years. he was portable and adaptable, hardly ever noticeable. god knew i couldn't handle anything else. this one is hungry all the time, for company, for food, for fiesta.
the change of pace has been harder on me than i care to admit. just because i'm humbled and humiliated doesn't mean i'm ready to change. it's always been hard for me to accept certain things are different and move on. even harder when its me being wrong. my brain knows it, but my soul just wont give up. i'm just like the crying baby downstairs. when will we learn. now we're both crying ourselves to seep. at least he's clean.

holiday

i’ve been and continue to be in recovery. from what? my vacation of course! as i’ve recounted my recent trip, i continue to relive the instances, that in order to survive, i had blacked out. i have selective memory, and getting stuck in the subway revolving door with the stroller, while my sister was stuck on the other one, baby in arms, is just the beginning.
the first couple of days, hung out with my eldest. i had the tenacious undertaking of helping him navigate the new york subway system and taking him to camp. i had reserved a hotel which turned out to be a 217$ a night roach motel. we left after one day, but not without having to ride around the city, and into new jersey in a bus and three subway trains, alone. have i mentioned the million degree weather, humidity and rain? walking into my brother in law and his new wife whilst sexing?
yeah, it sucked, but back to my escapades…the last 4 days, my wonderful sister (let’s hear it for the mommy support team….woot) and the baby joined me. after a lot of grief, I had sorted out the hotel mess, so i waited patiently with my eldest to see them reunite after 4 weeks apart.
few things make me happier than having my whole family together, and to be in nyc with them was supposed to be marvelous. speaking as a self proclaimed car hater, i did miss my vehicle. yeah, i said it now wipe off that victorious smile. never having thought that it could be warmer and wetter than florida, i didn’t preface the trip with any special plans, and was left to my own limited devices, like a survivor contestant who swapped the amazon for an urban jungle.
at times i had no water or shade, making hauling my laptop and purse really difficult. i never thought to bring an umbrella and once there didn’t feel like toting more junk. not to mention the extra weight i’m carrying in scorching (literally) jeans. shorts and skirts would lead to chafing which would've been an unwelcome addition to my list of toils. i’m also on a budget which made taxis, decent food, and bottled water not viable at all times. at one point I bartered my last dollars for a hotdog and water at grays papaya under the guise that I was “eating for two.” i know, cheap shot.
adding baby to the mix only exacerbated my inadequacies. i’ve already cited getting stuck in the subway, but the worse was getting around in a decidedly not urban stroller. those sidewalks are dangerous, and the puddles! oh the puddles! feet wet, i kept thinking of my rain boots in their box at home, happy, dry. having to be on time for various forms of transportation, given the obstacle course nature of the city, drove me and my control freak ways mad. babies and nyc are like oil and water, they don’t mix well, especially if you’re a novice.
it wasn’t all bad, the time we finally spent together was great. attending my son’s first movie premiere was awesome and hanging out with ecuadorian immigrants in queens was an eye-opener. a true learning experience, this nyc “family vacation” was full of surprises; and in the end, i made it. does this mean now i can make it anywhere? well, at least for 10 days i can.